#OC 05 Wave

[redlerred7]

Brooding Alone on a Rooftop

Fifth on my list of OCs is Arthur Rodriguez, an emotionally constipated know-it all.

Backstory/character summary under the cut

Arthur grew up believing his brother could do anything. His brother could fix electronics, cook meals, teach his school lessons better than his teachers, and all sorts of other stuff. Then one day he just stopped doing those things. He stopped helping around the house; he stopped playing games with Arthur; he stopped smiling. After a certain point, he even started locking himself in his room and barely leaving. Arthur just didn't understand what was wrong.

And then one day, he found out that his brother was now dead. His brother had committed suicide, his parents tried to explain to him. At the time, he didn't understand. Years later, he understood it better—he read enough books about the mind make an educated guess as why his brother decided to do what he did—but his feelings about it didn't change.

Rather, it did change, but it did so by becoming stronger. No longer was he confused or afraid. He furious. What he felt now was a full-blown hatred of death and all those who cause it.

By the time he was in highschool, he was weighing his options for the future, his hatred of death still on his mind. Become a cop to stop murderers from killing people? Become a paramedic to stop people dying from injury? Become a therapist to stop people from choosing to end their lives? Due to what happened to his brother, he was honestly leaning towards becoming a psychological therapist.

But before he was truly able to make up his mind, a terrible day came wherein some guy walked into school with an AR-15 and malicious intent.

Teachers told them all to take cover. Because of the frequent drills they did for this very kind of event, everyone in Arthur's class remembered what to do. Unfortunately, such frequent drills made them treat the real thing as if it was just another drill.

It was only when the school shooter entered the class and took aim that it clicked for everyone that they were really in danger. Except for Arthur who was moving towards the gunman before he even realized it.

The gunman shot Arthur dead, but not before Arthur was able to wrench the rifle out of his hands and allow his teacher to tackle the man to the floor. As Arthur bled out, he angrily cursed the man for succeeding in killing even one person.

Arthur then re-awoke within the Dream with the power to conjure firearms that magically cannot kill people. Seeing the irony of such a power, he uses it to hunt the Nightmares that haunt the Dream.

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Satoru Gojo [ch.02]

short series

Summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

Tags of the series: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, masturbation, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n

Words chapter: 4,4k

Notes: I can’t believe the amount of support the first chapter got, it’s truly unbelievable. The series will most likely be 4 chapters and a epilogue. And to be honest the name of the fic is nothing like the song (well a bit yes) but in Taylor’s song she says that her father loves him but here he doesn’t, they hate Satoru.

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Two days had passed since the party where Duke Gojo had asked for your hand in marriage and since then he had established himself in your house. Your parents had hated the idea and had let you know as soon as the party ended. You had to wear long-sleeved dresses to hide the bruises that had appeared on your arms. And you had barely left your room in those two days due to the intense pain in your legs caused by the blows that night.

At first the idea of ​​marrying Duke Gojo had seemed extremely frightening and crazy to you, but now you believed that it was the only escape you could have.

You haven’t seen Duke Gojo in those two days, but you knew he was in the house, because Rose has told you about the handsome Duke that was staying there.

You heard some knocks on your door and left the book you had in your hands.

“Come in.” You said walking away from the window.

You were expecting to see Rose or any other of the maids, what you were not expecting was to see Duke Gojo entering your room. A flush waved through your body as you realized you were just wearing a light dress that barely covered your body. I didn't expect the duke to come visit you, the only visits you expected were from your maids. That was why you had put on that light dress.

“Angel.” He said with a smirk crossing his face. “Were you waiting for me?” He said, closing the door behind his back and resting himself on it.

“Duke… I wasn’t expecting you to come to my room.” Your voice sounded almost as a whispered.

He chuckled and moved himself around the room. “I thought I was going to be able to see my future wife more if I stayed here but it seemed it was not the case.” He sat down on the sofa you had in your bedroom.

“I was sick.” You lied, you could not tell him what your parents did to you or else the family’s reputation would decline. “And I could not…”

“Show them to me, angel.” He stood up and with a few steps, he positioned himself in front of you.

“Duke what are you…?” Your words were left hanging in the air when the Duke held your wrist making you wince due to the bruises you still had.

“Was it them?” He muttered in a cold and angry tone. You denied, you couldn't tell the truth or then the punishment would be worse. “Angel, look me in the eyes.” Hesitating you looked at him and curiously you felt protection. “I will ask you again… was it them?”

Feeling your heart beating faster, you murmured. “Yes…” You saw something in him flicking and his eyes turning darker. “Duke please, don’t do anything.” You held to him, reading his intentions.

You didn’t know that man and you didn’t know what he was able to do, but seeing his gaze you could read he was capable of doing terrible things.

“Angel, you want me to let it be?” He held your gaze.

“Yes, please.” You whispered the last part. “If… if I get marry to you, I will be able to leave this place and not see them again.”

He chuckled and tilted your head. “So you are going to use me as your getaway?”

It sounded bad, but he was your best option and maybe your only option. “Yes.”

“I’m hurt. But alright angel.” He sat back down. “But you know they are against this marriage and besides, didn’t you tell me you wanted to marry someone out of love, and as far as I know you don’t love me, right?”

“No.” You looked down. “But maybe…”

“I will change that.” He took your hand and he pulled it, causing you to sit on his lap.

An extreme embarrassment took hold in you as you realized the position you were both in and as your dress had risen to your knees, the Duke placed his hands on your hips and squeezed them lightly. Your legs tensed and the heat you had felt in your lower abdomen resurfaced.

“Duke, this is not…” You tried to free yourself.

“It’s embarrassing for you angel?” He got closer to you. “You know once we are married, we will be doing a lot of things together right?” He whispered close to your mouth.

You swallowed harshly and looked away from his gaze. “But I don't think it's appropriate…”

“Don’t worry angel, we won’t be doing anything yet.” He said touching your leg up and down.

The inner heat began to grow in you and the way he looked at you was almost addictive. You wanted to get off her lap, but at the same time you wanted him to continue giving you the caresses he was giving you.

The duke smiled and buried his face in your neck. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you duke.” You whispered surprised for the sudden comment.

“Call me Satoru.” He said.

He looked up to you and you felt how your body reacted to his gaze, for a moment you swore you felt butterflies dancing around, almost as if you were reading one of your romantic novels. But a knock on your door made you stand up faster than anything.

“Yes?” You tried to sound as normal as possible, although your body was shaken.

“My lady, it’s me.” Rose spoke on the other side. “Your parents want you to have lunch with them and Duke Gojo, so you can discuss some matters.”

“Alright, I will be ready soon.” You looked at the duke, who was peacefully sat on the couch.

“If you need anything my lady, please call me.”

“Don’t worry.” You heard her leave and walked to the duke. “Duke I think you should leave, if someone sees you here they might think wrongly.”

“I was just here visiting my future wife.” He kissed your hand. “But I will leave, to let you change. Although I would love to see you change in front of me.”

The heat was all over you once again, making you feel weak. If the duke was able to get you like that with simple words, What would happen once you consummated the marriage. Red took over your face and with clumsy steps you walked away from him. After a few seconds you heard how the door to your room opened and closed, you had been left alone again but this time with a whirlwind of emotions sailing inside you.

After a few minutes Rose entered your room and started helping you dress properly. The words you wanted to speak to Rose were stuck in your throat, you knew Rose was married to her love childhood and probably had experienced intimacy, she was also older than you. She was your closest to and the person you trusted the most.

“Rose…” You whispered while she was stroking your hair.

“Yes my lady?” You saw her smile in the mirror.

“How is it to be intimate…” You held your hands nervously. “I mean… now that I might get married to the duke I will have to be ready and…”

Rose slightly laughed at your comment. “Haven’t you read enough erotic books to know about it?”

You blushed. “They… are romantic… not erotic.” You defended yourself.

“My lady, you probably know enough, you don’t have to worry so much.”

“But what if… if he thinks I’m bad at it?”

“Not everyone is born learning, we learn with the time. Once the moment comes you will learn and be better at it.” She brushed your hair.

“But… he probably has more experience than I do.” You said. “God he even sat me on his lap this morning and he didn’t flinch.” You said that without realizing you were supposed to hide the fact the duke came.

“The duke came here?” She said with a surprise look on her face.

Rose's penetrating gaze looked at you waiting for a response. “He did… Please don’t tell my parents.” You turned to look better at her. “They will scold me and who knows what else they will do if they find out the duke has come to my room.”

Rose shook her head and warmly smiled at you. “I won’t say a single word to them, don’t worry. Now smile, you look absolutely beautiful my lady.”

You turned back up and looked at yourself in the mirror, you indeed looked beautiful. With a shy smile appearing on your lips, you thanked Rose and exited your room. With your head tilted up, you walked straight to the room where you were going to have a meal with your parents and the duke.

Your heart raised once again, at the mere thought of his presence and remembering his sense embracing your body. That sensation on your chest and body began to take over you. But you shook those feelings away when you stood in front of the door.

Touching the necklace you were wearing, you took a deep breath and tried to calm your whole self. With shaking hands you open the door, seeing your parents already there and the duke sat next to them.

“Sorry for being late.” You bowed the head.

“This kid…” You heard your mother whispering under her breath.

“It’s okay my lady.” The duke stood up and walked towards you, standing right in front of you. “You look beautiful today.” He said holding your hand and placing a wet kiss on it.

A blush painted your cheeks as you looked at him and especially at those intense blue eyes.

“Duke Gojo!” Your father spoke. “Let’s begin this meal please.”

The duke nodded and you sat next to your mother. You could feel your mother's angry look on you.

Your father cleared his throat and began to speak. “So duke Gojo, why do you want to marry our daughter?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to marry your daughter sir?” He grinned.

“Our poor daughter has a poor health and you sir leave far away from here, I don’t think it’s…” Your mother began her speech but soon enough was cut by the duke.

“I heard that you wanted her to marry Mr. Harrison and before that Sir. Lucas, who lives far away near the mountains.” He said, taking the cup of wine in his hands. “I don’t think you care about your daughter’s health but rather about your own safety. Am I wrong?”

You looked at your parents who looked at each other, scared at the duke’s words. “How dare you?!”

“Father please.” You begged, looking how your father stood up from his place.

“Shut up!” Your father screamed back at you, making you flinch.

“We let you stay in our house and even make a whole show about marrying our daughter and you say those things to us?” Your father approached the duke.

“Sir, I'm just stating what I have seen and what I think.” He smirked still firm on his seat.

“This meal is over.” He walked to the door, he turned to you and with fierce eyes he spoke. “Come with me now.”

You nodded and gave one last glance at the duke as you exited the room. You followed your father and your mother, you knew what it was about to happen and you were scared to death.

Your parents' steps were quick and you could feel the tense atmosphere building with each stride. When you entered your father's office you felt your skin turn cold and your breathing hitch. Your father sat in his seat and slammed the wooden table.

"You realize the mess you've gotten us into." Her voice was high and she penetrated you like daggers.

You wet your mouth, which had been dry to speak but your mother spoke first. “You probably went and seduced him, right?” You looked at her, surprised by her words. “In that meeting you had, you spread your legs for the duke, right?”

“No! Mother, father, I would never do that.” You held your breath.

“Shut up!” You closed your eyes, scared. “You know in what you got us into?” Your father spoke. “Your marriage to Mr. Harrison was already ready, but now… now we have to deal with that duke.” He sighed in his seat. “He will ruin our family, our honor.”

“Mr. Harrison is double my age…” You murmured wrinkling your white dress.

“Excuse me?” Your mother said. “That doesn’t matter, Mr. Harrison is the perfect choice for you.”

“Why?” You replied, you had never replied back, you had always stayed quiet. But now…

Before asking another question you feel your cheek burn, your mother had slapped you. You could taste blood in your mouth, she had hit you with one of the gold rings she was wearing. Holding your face, tears began to well up in your eyes.

"Don't you dare talk back to us like that again, do you understand?" Your mother yelled at you. You just nodded, feeling yourself shrink with each exhale you released.

“You better make the duke feel disgusted with you and break up that stupid marriage proposal. You understand?” Your father said from the table, you nodded. “Now out of my sight.”

You left the room with your heart racing and feeling tears running down your face. Crossing the backyard, you walked along the path that you knew so well and liked to walk so much to get to the beach. When you got to the beach you let yourself fall face down on the ground, causing some pebbles to get stuck in your knees. But they didn't hurt, they didn't hurt like your soul hurt at that moment.

Muffled by the sound of the waves crashing against the nearby cliff, you let your sobs wash over you and consume you. You loved that place, not because of your family, no. You loved it for the tranquility and peace it gave you, but now you wanted to run away, you even wanted to run towards the sea and turn into bubbles, like that story of the mermaid and the sailor that you had once read. You wanted to disappear.

“Angel…” You heard his voice muttering your nickname.

“Go away!” You screamed not looking at him and hiding your tears.

“Angel, let me see your face. Please.” For the tone of his voice you could tell he was worried.

“Why?” You murmured against your skin. “Why do you care about me?”

He sighed and you felt how he sat next to you on the sand. “You want me to be honest with you angel?” You stayed silent but carefully listening to him. “The truth is that I might be a bit bad after all.” Your body tensed up hearing him. “But not to you… I could never hurt such a beautiful flower like you.” He whispered.

“How are you bad?” You whispered.

“Because I do want to ruin your family.” You tightened your grip around yourself at those words and trembled slightly. “But don’t get me wrong my angel.” He continued. “Not gonna lie, at first I wanted to ruin you too, but after seeing you on this beach, so beautifully, so ethereally reading a book, something on me shifted.” He explained. “I didn’t want to ruin you and when I saw what your parents did to you, I knew that I only wanted to ruin them and not you.”

Sniffling, you looked up at him, your eyes red with tears. “Why do you want to ruin them?” You whispered.

He looked at you and swallowed, you saw how his throat moved. His cold fingers touched your cheeks, causing you to close your eyes against the sensation or the pain, you no longer knew. “Was it them?” He whispered to you, trying not to hurt you.

You looked away and breathed. "It's not the first time." Looking at the horizon you tried to calm your agitated heart. “But please answer me.” Your voice came out like a plea, you needed to know the truth.

He sighed and dropped his hand to the side. “I was ten when my brother became to new duke after both of my parents die. At first everyone thought it was a failure of the carriage and that was why they had fallen down the ravine. My father died instantly, but my mother lay dying for hours until she died. “My brother was 17 when he inherited the title, but he always believed there was something strange about his accident.” She ruffled her hair. “As the years went by she began to investigate and little by little she discovered loose ends that had never fit together.”

You turned your face to look at him as he continued speaking. “My parents, well my family has always been very close to the royal family and they had always supported the king, so much so that my father was his right-hand man for years. But 20 years ago a group of nobles opposed the king's reforms since it would take away wealth from the nobles.” You had heard about it. “My father and the king repressed and punished them for it, it was considered a betrayal.”

“My family was part of them…” You whispered.

“Yes.” He sentenced. “My brother also found letters with your father’s signature talking about sabotaging my family.” You felt how you turned pale and the blood ran cold in your veins. “Before he died, he had collected enough evidence to frame your family and three other noble families.” He whispered, clenching her fists.

“Duke…” You whispered, his eyes were thirsty for revenge and that caused you to tremble in your place.

When the duke heard your voice, his shoulders and gaze relaxed and he looked at you with serenity. “Angel… I don't plan to hurt you, you are not to blame for what your parents have done and you have also suffered because of them.” He whispered, bringing your foreheads together and letting them connect.

You felt the warmth of his body transfer to yours, and that fear you had felt disappeared from you, to be replaced by a feeling of calm and protection.

“Duke…” You whispered.

“Call me Satoru, when it’s just the two of us, angel.” He whispered.

You nodded at his request. “I… I want to leave this household.” You closed your eyes. “I’m scared but… aside from Rose you are the only person who has stood for me Duke…”

“Angel… Call me Satoru and whatever you tell me to do I will.” He firmly said.

“I want you…” You took a deep breath. “I want you to take my first time. I know that once my parents find about that they won’t care if I marry you because they will despise me.”

“Angel, are you sure about what you are asking me?”

“I’m sure du- Satoru.” You looked at him.

You saw how the duke stood up and walked slowly from one side to the other, then kneel before you.

“I really thought you would ask me to do something crazy like murder them.” He laughed. “But this angel? You really drive me crazy and I would love to make love to you on this same beach. Admire you and make you gasp with pleasure right now."

His words caused an intense fire in you, so much so that you had to squeeze your legs before the new sensation that had been established in your intimate area.

Satoru approached you and cupped your face with both hands. “I'm going to kiss you my angel.” And before you could reproach or say anything, his warm, wet lips were on yours.

That was your first kiss, you had never kissed anyone before, always behaving too well and too into your books, where love stories gave you butterflies in your stomach so you could live your own love story. Satoru deepened the kiss, leaving you lying on the sand and him on top of you. With each passing moment you felt like you were getting hotter and hotter.

When you were both short of breath, Satoru pulled away from you, biting your lower lip, causing you to let out a small whimper.

“I will see you tonight, angel.”

He got up from the sand and with one last kiss on the forehead he disappeared from your sight. With your chest rising and falling agitatedly you tried to compose yourself, your entire being was an accumulation of emotions that were mostly new to you and you needed time to process them.

You turned your head to look at the place where Satoru had left and thought about what would happen that night.

☆*:.｡.☆ .｡.:*☆

You hugged yourself, feeling the cold of the night hit your exposed skin. You were barely wearing a thin cloth that covered your most intimate parts. The duke had said that he would visit you once the sun had set and the moon was shining brightly in the sky.

Your heart was beating strongly in your chest and a warmth had established itself in your chest. You could hear the hands of the clock moving, indicating the passing of time. And with every minute that passed, your uncertainty and your nervousness only believed a little more.

Two touches on the window of your balcony brought you out of the momentary trance in which you had established yourself. Turning on your heels you could see the large figure of the duke on your balcony.

With a light step you approached the balcony door and opened it. “How did you get up here?” You inquired.

“I have my secrets, angel.” He whispered to your ear. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Thank… thank you.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks turning red.

“You know we can still wait until we are…” He started talking.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to, I have always followed my parents orders and I’m tired.” You looked down. “I love this place but… I want to leave and I want my parents to know that I will never follow their orders, that I’m tired of their abuses and their treatment.”

The duke held your face back up and smiled down at you. “That’s my angel.” He said before kissing you.

That was your second kiss and just like the one at the beach, your knees trembled and you felt weak under his soft lips. You felt how your hand left your face and began to go down your body, tracing each of your curves. An intense heat settled on you when his hand reached your thigh and with a quick movement he raised it, causing you to be even closer to each other.

You gasped against his mouth as you felt him stick so close to you and you swore he smiled against your lips as you heard that lewd sound come out of you.

Separating himself from you, he began to leave kisses on your neck, causing you to tilt your head back to give him more space. You felt ecstatic, you could feel how your entire body vibrated with every kiss, every bite that the duke was leaving on you.

“Duke…” You whispered when you felt it go down to the area of ​​your breasts, which were only covered by a thin layer of silk.

“Angel, I told you to call me Satoru when it’s just you and me.” He whispered against your skin causing the already growing heat inside you to grow even more. “Shall we go to the bed my angel?” He whispered in your ear biting the lobe.

Nodding, the duke or rather Satoru grabbed your hand and guided you to the bed where he sat down and with his strong arms he sat you on top of him. Causing once again a small gasp to escape your lips as you felt that hardness collide against your intimacy.

Your dress was completely hiked up, exposing your thighs, and the straps had been lowered causing your breasts to be about to be exposed to the man who had turned your world upside down.

“I will gentle with you.” He whispered grabbing one of the straps and pulling it down, exposing yourself to him. “If you want to stop, say so.” He brought her hand up and trapped your chest with it, causing you to thrash on top of him. "Alright." He said before beginning to caress your nipple.

You closed your eyes tightly against the new sensations that a simple touch on your nipple was causing in you. You had read about this but you had never thought that it could feel like this.

Your back arched even more when you felt his mouth rest on your nipple and begin to suck. With one hand you held onto him to avoid falling and with the other you covered your hand to prevent those moans that were building up in your throat from escaping.

You felt embarrassed by everything your body was feeling at that moment, but it felt really good and you wanted more of him. Unconsciously you moved your hips rubbing against Satoru's erection.

“Oh angel, don’t do that I won’t be able to hold back.” He whispered looking up at you.

“I am sorry…”

“It’s okay, I know you are anxious but me too.” He took you from the waist and supports you on the bed, leaving him on top of you.

He dressed him as he got rid of his jacket and then his white shirt, exposing his body. You felt that familiar warmth inside you again. Satoru grabbed your leg, causing your underwear to show, leaving you even more exposed. With your leg in his hands, he began to leave kisses on it, while he went higher and higher.

“Angel…” He whispered to you. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

You shook your head, you had never done it, you had read about it, but you had never done it, since you felt that it was something too vulgar.

“Alright angel.” He took your hands and pulled you, sitting you on the bed, both of you chest to chest. “I'm going to stand behind you and teach you how to touch yourself.” He whispered close to your ear. "Do you think it's okay?"

You nodded and Satoru with great agility positioned himself behind you, your back against his chest. You could even feel his heartbeat pounding against your back.

“I will guide you okay?” He took your hand in his and started to descend.

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @satoracyxys @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop

[mikashisus]

ABANDON SHIP

SYNOPSIS: with one of the remurian fleets hot on your tail and stolen treasure of the crown on your ship, you were ready to take to the eastern seas. when one of your crewmates catches a mermaid of all things on the outskirts of the dark sea, you finally think you've hit the jackpot when it comes to treasure. in the end, however, you come to a startling revelation: is all the treasure in the world really worth more than a life? and suddenly, you have to make a choice... either a huge sum of gold, or the man you've fallen head over heels in love with.

PAIRING: neuvillette x fem!pirate!reader

CWS: mentions of trafficking, foul language, mentions of alcohol, mild violence, mentions of trauma, mentions of non-descriptive torture, mild blood and injury, suggestive here + there.

NOTES: had this fic up months ago but took it down because it was barely getting any traction. decided to try again and repost it. originally, this fic was supposed to include wriothesley, but after a while of deliberation, i decided not to. instead, one of my ocs is gonna be a second lead to fill in the love triangle. if u get attached to my oc, im sorry. dw tho, he also appears as a second lead in one of my venti fics ;). this fic is very canon divergent and takes place a few hundred years before the archon war. mc would definitely have a pyro vision if this was post-archon war.

the regula solis epoch | playlist

01. like a love song, the sea calls me home

02. man’s world / full speed ahead

03. the west wind calls, the east sea rises

04. like a shadow, you haunt my thoughts

05. never love an anchor

06. beneath the waves

07. like icarus, i have fallen from grace

08. you’ve dug open your own grave

09. love me like i’m dead

10. twisted like thorns, your love pierces my heart

TAGLIST ! @wystiix @https-sourlimes

VOLUME 1 OF THE REGULA SOLIS EPOCH.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[katuschka]

Blowing Smoke masterpost

Tom (m!OC) x Josh Kiszka x Aiden (m!OC)

Chapter 01 Chapter 02 Chapter 03 Chapter 04 Chapter 05 Chapter 06 Chapter 07

Huge thanks to my dear @edgingthedarkness, who came up with the initial idea for this fic and later offered it to me to write it, so I think of this as a collab. Thank you for your consultations, babe. Mwah. If Tom sounds familiar to you, you're right – it's the Tom from Usually Sexual and A Rollercoaster Ride with Tom&Jerry. I just really like the character and he fits in perfectly. :) Warning no.1: This is going to be pretty intense. Full of smut, angst, deception and intense emotions (if you know me already, you know what to expect...)

Here's my taglist, if you're interested.

TEASER BELOW contains heavy angst, foul language and a dose of violence.

“I’m not interested in hearing the whole tall tale, you asshole. Get to the point. DID.YOU.FUCK.HIM…?”

The silence that followed should have shattered the window wall. Physical laws should have succumbed to the power of their internal screaming. They could both feel it: the supersonic wave of go-to-hells and suck-my-dicks. However, nothing happened. On the contrary, the setting sun kept mocking them as it continued to cover the room in its warm glow. How fucking romantic! It once was, when they were both equally loud, but for completely different reasons…

Tom couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed his still half-full whisky tumbler and smashed it against the wall, dangerously close to Josh's head. To make him say something. 

Again, nothing happened. Looking at now utterly bewildered Josh, Tom thought the hell must have frozen over during those last few horrid minutes they spent yelling at each other, because that was the only explanation for Josh’s sudden loss of speech. For years, those puppy eyes filled his heart with joy and his dick with blood, but now they only made him SICK. 

“Nothing? Not even a simple yes or no? I thought I deserved more than that. But you know what? Don’t bother trying to explain. I already know you did. You finally did it! We’re done.” 

Finally? FINALLY!!! The sheer hypocrisy of Tom’s accusations finally helped to untie Josh’s tongue. Hitting the very same wall with his own fist, he bellowed back: “Yeah, because he told you, huh? This was your plan all along! You played me…” 

“Not this! Not this public parade. I never wanted this...”

The last words left them both deflated. When Josh finally spoke again, it was with a shaky voice: “No, that was his plan. He played us both.”

I started a joke which started the whole world crying But I didn't see that the joke was on me oh no I started to cry which started the whole world laughing Oh If I'd only seen that the joke was on me

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @wetkleenex-gvf @lyndz2names @gretasfallingsky @clownstarr @lipstickitty @gvfmarge @emojakekiszka @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @wetkleenex-gvf

[cieloclercs]

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 , cl16 — chapter five

pairing. charles leclerc x senna!oc part. 5/? warnings. basically just pure angst 🫠 yeah it’s gonna be like that for a while 😭 swearing, arthur is such an icon in this icl word count. 5.7k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

05. everything changes (nothing changes)

author’s note. so i’ve had this chapter written for about 2 months. no i don’t have an excuse as to why i haven’t posted it yet 🫠 but i figured i’m going through a bit of a dry spell in my writing at the moment so i may as well post it 😭 hope you guys enjoy, and as always, please leave a comment or reblog if you did !! <3

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter four next ➜ chapter six

Nice Côte d'Azur Airport 8 February 2021

NOA DOESN’T SEE Charles for another two weeks. She doesn’t hear from him either, not including his brief message confirming her flight’s arrival time. He’s giving her space, just as promised, and she finds herself grateful for that. The time in between their meeting at the café and the looming date of her temporary move to Monaco is for setting the record straight. When Noa breaks the news to her parents, they immediately assume the best of the situation – they’ve patched things up, got over themselves and finally rekindled their friendship. She flushes bright red when she has to cut off her mother’s delighted cheers, and her heart aches to see the grin on her face fall. We’re not friends, she tells them firmly, despite the pain it causes her. Noa is doing this for her career, not for some distant, nostalgic memory of the boy she’d once thought the world of. No. It’s her turn to be selfish for once.

Flávia is understandably upset. Just as Pascale considers Noa to be like her daughter, she has always viewed Charles as a second son. Even though she tries to deny it on several occasions over the weeks before Noa’s flight to Monaco, she isn’t stupid. The first few months after she and Charles stopped speaking to each other, Flávia had been fairly vocal about what she thought of the whole situation. She understood the hurt that they were both feeling, but as far as she was concerned, they still needed each other. Her greatest fear was that they would both continue to grow into the cut-throat world of racing without the person they trusted most at their side. As someone who experienced how difficult life could be at the pinnacle of motorsports, even as only a family member of one of the racers, Flávia worries for them. She had Gabriel to lean on after Ayrton’s death – her best friend and the love of her life. Noa and Charles, as long as they’re apart, don’t have that.

Speaking of her father, he seems to understand her reasoning a little more. Gabriel Borges is ambitious if nothing else. He fought tooth and nail to win his championships and solidify his place in the Formula 1 hall of fame. It’s a trait he’s passed on to his daughter. Sponsorships like this are important now, with racing becoming more and more lucrative with each passing season. In order to succeed, a driver needs the backing of some of the most influential brands in the world. For a rookie, it simply doesn’t get bigger than Chanel. Both Noa and Gabriel know that this is an opportunity she can’t pass up, no matter how difficult it may be for her with Charles there. They need to make it work.

He may not necessarily agree with her ‘keep him at arm’s length’ approach, but if that’s what she thinks is going to work for her, then Gabriel will support her through it.

With Luiz and Eloísa settling into their apartment in Italy, it’s only her parents who wave her goodbye at the airport. Noa has never been a fan of flying. The seats are too cramped and the people too noisy – she can never find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep. Sometimes it can be peaceful simply watching the world pass by beneath her from the window, but eventually, miles upon miles of ocean gets a little boring. So Noa spends the first thirteen hours of her flight wide awake, silently begging the couple in front of her to do something about their screaming baby. Stopping off at Heathrow for the change over feels like a slice of heaven. Just to be able to get up and stretch her legs for a little while is pure bliss. But within an hour she’s back on a different plane, looking down over the English Channel, over Normandy and eventually, the south of France. The nerves begin to set in then. There’s no going back once this plane lands – she’ll be stuck in Monaco with the person she most wants to avoid in the world for the next three weeks. Granted, she’ll have her second family there with her too, but Noa doubts she’ll be able to shake the awkward feeling even when they’re around.

Jetlag’s a bitch, is all she can think when she steps off the plane and into the harsh winter sunlight. It makes her skull ache, beating down on her, yet offering little to no warmth – typical Europe. If only it was summer here like back home. She’s grown accustomed to heat in the high twenties and sleeping with all the windows open. Checking the weather app on her phone, she sees that right now the temperature is barely breaking ten degrees. Lovely. On top of that, Noa hasn’t slept for practically an entire day. She can already imagine the headlines if she gets photographed – Gabriel Borges’ daughter spotted wandering airport sleep-deprived and wearing no makeup! The press would have a field day with that one.

She just about manages to haul her suitcase through security before collapsing on one of the lobby benches. It’s her own fault for overpacking, really. She’s never been one to prioritise well when it comes to clothes. Noa pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly refreshing it to see if Charles has messaged her yet – sure enough, sent seven minutes ago: I’m outside. Do you want me to come in and help with your bags? Despite the contempt she still feels towards him, Noa could have cried with pure joy. She sends back a brief yes before struggling up off the bench, all but dragging her luggage through the lobby now. She can only hope he gets here quickly, because her arms are surely about to come out of their sockets if she has to carry these any further.

When his figure appears in the distance, the nerves return. He’s dressed like he doesn’t want to be spotted, in a grey hoodie and shorts, large enough that he can practically hide the entirety of his face in the collar. No one seems to notice him. For the moment anyway. When Charles eventually spots her, he seems to hesitate for a moment – like she’d seen him do at the café, arms hanging uselessly by his side as if he wants to outstretch them towards her, but remembers at the last minute that he can’t do that anymore. Noa’s eyes are glued to the ground as she walks towards him. They meet in the middle. He murmurs a brief hello, and when she doesn’t reply, takes her bags without another word.

They walk out to his car in silence. It’s a black Mercedes G63 – inconspicuous by his standards, and perhaps those of the travellers milling around them (many of them are en route to Monaco, after all). It has black tinted windows, she notices. Charles tells her to climb into the passenger seat while he loads her bags into the back. She hasn’t the energy left to complain. It takes everything in her not to fall asleep as soon as she’s sat down, eyes drooping in the dimmed light, a hazy warmth taking over her body. She jumps slightly as Charles opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. He starts the engine. Before Noa can really process what’s going on around her, they’ve already left the airport.

"How was your flight?" Charles asks after a few minutes, soft spoken and hesitant. An absentminded hum is what greets him.

"It was alright." she murmurs back, fighting off the sudden urge to yawn. There's an edge of discontentedness in her voice, an air of frustration and annoyance about her. Noa has always hated flying, he thinks. Even as children all those years ago, she'd kick up the biggest fuss possible before so much as stepping foot on a plane. His mother always joked about it being because she can't sit still for more than a few hours, which, he supposes, had a fair amount of truth. Charles knows it's because the whole thing made her anxious. He's held her hand at takeoff enough times to have realised it, even if she never spoke the words to him out loud.  The memory almost makes him smile. Then he remembers where he is, and his jaw clenches shut.

“Just to let you know, Maman, Arthur and Lorenzo will all be home when we arrive.” Charles is, once again, the one to speak up when they lapse into silence, “They’ve planned a, uh, sort of welcome home – welcome back meal.” He relays, glancing at Noa anxiously out of the corner of his eye. She’s slumped in her seat. The only sign she’s even listening to him is the tiny hum she lets out. “I can tell them you’re too tired to do it today, though, if you’d like. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind pushing it back to tomorrow –“

“No, it’s fine.” Noa cuts across him quickly. “That’s really sweet of them.”

Charles nods. He thinks back to that morning; helping Lorenzo pin up the ‘welcome home’ banner above the archway leading from the kitchen to the living room; watching with a wistful smile as his mother set out a tray of paçoca, the little cylinders of peanut butter Noa used to love when they were younger, on the kitchen table. Where she managed to get hold of them Charles doesn’t know, considering they’re a sweet pretty much exclusive to Brazil. He tries not to think about how Noa will react to it all. The thought digs up old memories he'd rather stayed buried, for the sake of his heart.

“If you want you can get some sleep now. I know you’re probably jetlagged.” He speaks up again after a beat of silence, quieter this time, “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Noa doesn’t reply for a moment. She’s still turned away from him ever so slightly, but as he glances to the side, he can see her expression reflected in the window. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, biting down hard from the looks of it. He doesn’t know if it’s his imagination, but her eyes appear glossy, brimming with unshed tears. There’s an ache in his heart that he’s not sure how to properly describe. Cathartic might be the only word close enough. It hurts, but at the same time, it’s almost freeing.

“If that’s ok with you.” She finally speaks, after what feels like an age. Her head turns to the side until she’s looking at him. Charles keeps his gaze on the road, but he can see her in his periphery.

“Of course.” He mumbles, a little hoarse. His heart is screaming at his head to turn, to smile at her, to show a little of the warmth they used to share for each other, in the wildest, most fanciful hope she may be reminded of it and find it in herself to forgive him there and then. In the end, he doesn’t turn. Instead, he hears the faint rustling of fabric on skin as Noa curls up a little to the side, leaning her head against the window. It falls silent again. Now Charles is the one with glossed over eyes, battling himself.

“Thank you.” Her voice, melodic as ever, cuts through the quiet. This time he does turn – but she’s not looking at him, already half asleep, eyes closed and fluttering ever so slightly underneath their lids. He watches her until he runs the risk of coming off the road. Charles knows she’s already asleep before he has the chance to say anything in reply.

Noa tends to have very vivid dreams. She remembers many a time closing her eyes and being greeted with an explosion of colour, scarlet race cars screaming down asphalt tracks, her flag: emerald, gold, deep blue, waving her across the finish line. A glinting trophy is thrust into her hands, and she lifts it high into the air, watching the crowd raise up their arms with her – a sea of red and yellow. But today, Noa closes her eyes and sees nothing but darkness. Charles is nudging her gently awake, it seems, less than a split second after falling into her slumber. Bleary-eyed, she sits up. The Leclerc house, her second home, sits gleaming in the frosty winter sunlight like a beacon. A thrill of excitement grips her heart. It’s been so long since she’s seen Pascale and Lorenzo – far, far too long. Her head turns, a half-smile on her face, to find Charles watching her. It falls. The sky seems to darken.

“You ready to go?” he asks. Noa nods solemnly, waiting for him to open the car door and climb out before sucking in a deep, shuddering breath. When she too steps out onto the pavement, her expression is steeled.

Charles is holding her bags in either of his hands. He gives her a look that, after years of knowing each other, she can interpret in an instant – Don’t even try it, I’m taking them in for you. She feels a small surge of gratefulness, but every positive emotion seems to be drowned out by her crushing nerves right now. Noa’s not exactly sure why she feels so nervous. These people are her second family, after all. Maybe it’s the nagging fear in the back of her mind that too much has changed; that things will never go back to the happy, perfect way they used to be.

The doorbell ringing brings her back the present. They’re stood on the front porch now, shoulder to shoulder, tense and stiff. Noa pulls at a loose thread on her joggers, focussing with absolute resolve on the door in front of her – paint peeling away ever so slightly at the edge. She knows if she brushed her fingers over it, they would come away dusted with white paint flakes. A second, maybe two passes. The door swings open.

All her nerves simply melt away as soon as she sees Pascale; arms already held out wide and motherly, eyes glistening with soon-to-be-shed tears, and the most genuine smile Noa has ever seen anyone wear. She looks only slightly older than she remembers. A few more wrinkles perhaps, a couple more grey hairs, but in essence, exactly the same. Constant. At least this much hasn’t changed.

“Ma fille!” My girl. Pascale gasps loudly. She’s rushing forwards, pulling Noa inside and engulfing her in a hug before she even knows what is happening – but the familiarity of it is so easy to melt into. The young woman rests her forehead briefly against her shoulder, suddenly unable to stop smiling, when before she’d been wondering how she would manage to fake one. Of course, she’s known all along how much she’s missed Pascale. The woman has been like a second mother to her for practically a decade. But being here now makes her realise the full force of the emotion. It feels like returning home after a long vacation, when all you want to do is sleep in the comfort of your own bed and relish in the sensation of being utterly safe. That’s how Pascale feels to Noa. Safe.

“Oh, look at you!” she gasps again, pulling away to place her hands on either of Noa’s cheeks. “You’ve grown so beautiful!”

In the two years it’s been since she last saw the Leclercs, Noa has blossomed. From a scrawny eighteen-year-old with skinny elbows and seemingly untameable curls, she’s truly grown into herself. Thanks to training, she’s attained the ‘athlete’s build’ she always craved as a teenager. Days spent soaking up the Brazilian sun on Ipanema beach have bronzed her skin, giving it an almost golden hue. Perhaps it’s the salt air, but even Noa’s unruly curls seem to have matured – instead of going frizzy in the heat and falling messily over her eyes, they now frame her tanned face perfectly. Honeyed streaks of blonde run all the way through to the ends. She looks different, she knows that. But it never hits her until she meets people again who have been absent from her life for years.

“Thank you.” Noa can’t help but giggle. Pascale merely holds her tighter, seemingly inspecting every inch of her face for anything else that may have changed. She can see the surprise and the elation in her eyes – but there’s sadness too, an odd mixture, as if she’s battling with regret. Noa supposes it’s to be expected. They went from seeing each other at least every month to all but no contact for two years. Pascale is as affected by it as she is.

As soon as Noa is released from her grip, she turns to face the other Leclerc brothers, who have been watching the whole time with fond smiles and wide eyes. She goes to Lorenzo first, since Arthur has already seen her fairly recently. The eldest of the brothers opens him arms to her gladly, and she steps straight into them. Lorenzo has always been like her protector. As the boys got older and, as boys tended to do, teased her or played too rough (case in point Arthur almost drowning her at the beach one time), he was always the one to give her a hug and scold them afterwards. With only little brothers (Charles didn’t count, as her best friend), Lorenzo was to her the older brother she never had but always found herself wishing for.

“Woah, how much have you grown? A foot?” he says, pulling away only slightly so her arms are still clasped around his back, and his come to rest on her shoulders. Noa giggles softly. It was a long standing joke that, even at eighteen, she barely rose to the height of Charles or Lorenzo’s shoulder. Miraculously, her long-awaited growth spurt arrived once most girls her age stopped growing entirely. Now she stands at a fairly respectable five foot six – though still short enough for Lorenzo to use her head as an arm rest, he quickly realises. Noa waves him away with a playful glare.

“Did he talk to you in the car? Or was it deathly silent?” he asks, not even needed to use Charles’ name for her to know exactly who he is talking about. His eyebrows raise as if he’s joking, but Noa can sense the hard edge of frustration in his voice. She smiles at him sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t know. I fell asleep.”

Lorenzo snorts. That’s all they say on the matter, because Arthur is soon weaselling his way in between them to give her a welcome hug. Apparently, a minute is far too long for his brother to spend with her whilst he’s stuck waiting on the sidelines.

Charles’ feet padding on the carpeted staircase draw Noa’s eyes unwillingly to him. She hadn’t even noticed him exit the room, too caught up in reunions and holding back tears to pay much attention to her surroundings. He’s taken her bags up to her room, he tells her. She merely nods in reply. The tension doesn’t remain for long – Pascale doesn’t let it. Soon enough, everyone is gathering in the kitchen, all proud, knowing smiles from the Leclercs and gasps from Noa as she catches sight of the ‘welcome home’ banner strung up across the archway. She’d known, of course, that they were planning something, thanks to Charles’ warning, but she didn’t expect something like this. They’ve brought another long, wooden table from God knows where into the room, placing it end to end with the main kitchen table to make more room for the spread set out across it. A white floral tablecloth covers the wood, and on top of it, tiered stands of seemingly all the food she could ever eat – fresh strawberries, watermelon, French cheese (which Noa had been introduced to by the Leclercs, and was shocked to find she actually loved), pineapple, even some chocolate and cupcakes (something she’ll later say is just a one off to her nutritionist), and finally, in the very centre, a bowl full of paçoca, her favourite childhood sweet. She remembers Charles calling her strange for essentially eating peanut butter on its own – but even today, it really is her one weakness.

“Oh, meu Deus.” Oh my God. She whispers. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, holding back the half-sob she can feel bubbling up in her throat. “This – this is too much. You really didn’t have to –“

“Noa.” It’s Arthur that cuts her off, rolling his eyes fondly, “Just let us do something nice for you. Call it a late birthday gift.” He adds with a smirk. Noa scoffs. A part of her had thought maybe they wouldn’t remember her birthday – of course, she was wrong about that.

“This is amazing.” She speaks up softly after a moment, “Thank you so much.” Her throat closes around the words ever-so-slightly, vision blurring, heart aching in the best way possible. Pascale moves forward to pull her body into hers, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“We missed you so much, petit ange.” She murmurs, “We’re just glad to have you back with us.”

I’m glad too, Noa thinks. She’s not naïve enough to believe it will all be smooth sailing from here; not as long as the pair of sad green eyes burning into her back remain. But this, she believes fully, this she can deal with. Reuniting with her second family has been a long time coming.

They eat like it’s the old times, bar Noa and Charles’ playful bickering (fallen flat, almost dead now). Pascale insists on piling her plate as high as possible, mumbling something about athlete’s diets being too sparse (or at least, that’s what she could make out with her questionable French vocabulary). Arthur doesn’t spare a thought before diving straight into the cupcake and chocolate stand, ignoring his mother’s protests about him letting their ‘guest’ choose first. Lorenzo opts for the fresh fruit more than the confectionary. Charles tries to resist the pull of sugar, better than Arthur admittedly, but his attempts are short lived. By any right, that amount of food should never disappear as quickly as it does – but before they know it, every last morsel is gone. Noa sits back in her seat, deep in conversation with Pascale about latest goings on in her family life, finding her eyes growing heavier with each passing second. Everything around her feels pleasantly hazy; comfortable. It’s the same way she feels sat at home with her parents and her brother after a good meal, lounged on the living room sofas watching cheesy Brazilian telenovelas. Like she’s safe to just be herself.

Pascale tells Lorenzo, Charles and Arthur to collect all the dirty plates and begin the washing up. They know that refusing isn’t an option, so it isn’t long before she and Noa are alone. It must be mid-afternoon by now, the Brazilian woman thinks, but her limbs are as heavy as if she’s stayed up all night and well into the morning – which, she supposes, technically she has. Pascale is observant enough to have already noticed, luckily for her. They’ve spent all of five minutes talking in the living room when she tells her to go up to her room and sleep off the jet lag.

“Oh, but –“ Noa is quick to interject, “I haven’t even asked how things are going for you yet.” She says guiltily. Pascale has been so fixated on catching up with every single moment of the last two years she has missed, that there hasn’t even been time to cover anything else. Noa is acutely aware that the last time they saw each other, it had only been a year since Hervé passed away. She knows as well as anybody that sometimes the people that look the most put-together are the ones who are struggling the most. She just wants to make certain that Pascale is doing ok – truly ok.

“I’ll still be here tomorrow.” The woman reassures her with a gentle chuckle. Noa’s concerned expression falls into a tired, but content smile. That’s the beauty of it – right now, they really do have all the time in the world to catch up. Until of course the new season begins. But three weeks before her soon-to-be packed schedule feels like a lifetime.

Noa retreats slowly upstairs, not so much as sparing a glance towards her unpacked bags, or even attempting to change out of her airport clothes before she collapses onto the bed, and almost immediately falls straight to sleep. The ease with which she already seems to have slipped back into life in the Leclerc house (which almost feels like home) is unexpected, but by no means unwelcome. She just hopes she’ll be able to carry that feeling of safety with her into the coming weeks, when undoubtedly, some difficult conversations will need to be had.

By the time the Leclerc brothers have finished the washing up – a difficult task, what with Charles and Arthur squabbling over who gets to dry the plates and who has to do the unpleasant job of actually washing them, whilst Lorenzo, serene as ever, allocates himself the task of sorting the various items of crockery away – Pascale is sat alone in the living room. She looks calm, quietly assured, but at the same time, they can sense a level of disappointment that wasn’t there before. Charles fears, before his mother’s gaze even turns in his direction, that that disappointment is meant for him.

“Où est allée Noa?” Where did Noa go? Lorenzo asks, taking the seat next to Pascale and looping his arm fondly around her shoulders. Arthur, not so delicately, throws himself face down on the long sofa facing the television, leaving Charles to occupy the lone arm chair on the other side of the room. It’s ironic, that he’s separated from his family that way, when he’s been feeling separated emotionally for far longer.

“A l'étage. Pour dormir.” Upstairs. To sleep. Pascale answers, soft-spoken as ever. Lorenzo nods, as Arthur flips his body around on the sofa so he’s no longer lying face down, but rather looking up towards the ceiling.

“Ah. Le décalage horaire?” Ah. Jet lag?

“Oui.”

Charles stays quiet. He knows full well his family are waiting for him to say something – maybe they’re not sure what, but then again, he isn’t either. Noa hasn’t spoken a single word to him. All of her attention has been directed towards his mum and her questions, or to his brothers and their playful teasing about how much she’s grown. That still doesn’t take away from the fact that he knows she’s doing it on purpose. Most of him doesn’t blame her, but there’s a small part in the back of his mind that feels almost…betrayed. It takes two to end a friendship, after all. Noa didn’t exactly attempt to salvage the wreck they’d made.

“Well I think that went pretty well.” Arthur speaks up first in French, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed over his stomach. Charles looks over, trying to catch his eye. He must sense it, but his gaze remains turned away. Another beat of silence passes.

“She’s quieter.” Lorenzo says thoughtfully. He’s right too. It’s not just in the way that she doesn’t talk half as much as she used to, it’s something in her demeanour as well. There used to be a spark in Noa’s eye that Charles would look towards whenever he needed cheering up. Now when he searches for it, there’s layers upon layers shrouding the once happy memory. Like he’s peering through thick fog, trying to make out a landscape he’s long since forgotten.

“Je ne suis pas surpris.” I’m not surprised. Arthur muses. All eyes turn to him, Lorenzo frowning, Pascale already prepared to question what exactly he means by that. Charles thinks he knows. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious isn’t it?” the youngest of the Leclercs scoffs, sitting up from his relaxed position on the sofa. His eyes are dark, frustrated, perhaps even angry. “First he takes her chance at being offered a Formula 1 seat – with Ferrari, her dream team.” Arthur begins, jabbing a harsh finger in Charles’ direction. He winces, “Then her mother almost dies, and she has to give up her career just to be with her. She’s a Senna Borges. Racing is in her blood. And we all know how hard she worked, just to fall short at the final hurdle – not even through her own fault.” He takes a pause to breathe, eyes now blazing. Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale sit watching in some kind of fascinated horror. It’s rare to see Arthur so worked up. He’s always been the kind of person that can make light of any situation, no matter how grim. But there’s something about Noa and the cruel hand she’s been dealt in life lately that makes his blood boil.

“Now she’s finally made it to Formula 1, where she deserves to be, but she’s also stuck with the person who ruined that dream for her the first time around.” He goes on, turning now to Charles, “Look, I don’t care about what happened between you two. There’s nothing you can do to change it now. But Noa is like a sister to me, and as long as you both refuse to talk to each other, we’re never going to feel like a family to her again. Like we used to.” Arthur speaks, almost alarmingly softly, his jaw clenched hard, “For once just stop being so selfish and look at this from someone else’s perspective. Preferably hers. You know you owe it to her after –“

“Arthur!” Pascale’s voice cuts through the tense atmosphere like a knife, silencing her youngest son immediately, “Do not call your brother selfish. You don’t understand the full story – none of us do.”

That seems to bring him back to his senses. Everything falls silent, but also on the brink of chaos, teetering on a knife edge. Nobody except Lorenzo notices the faint tremor in Pascale’s hand, which he tries to quell by rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. Charles is sat, rigid back, white knuckles, in the arm chair, glaring at Arthur from across the room. Meanwhile the aforementioned blinks as if he’s just awakened from a trance.

"Je suis désolé." I’m sorry. He murmurs, “I don’t know what –“

“Maman’s right.” Charles cuts him off tersely, “You don’t know the full story. You don’t know the things I said to her that night, or the things she said to me…” he trails off, breathing shakily even at the memory of it, “But you’re also right. I took the opportunity of a lifetime from her. She has every right to be angry at me, every right to hate me. That’s why I’m trying to make this right – and believe me, Arthur, I am trying. It’s just…it’s hard.” Charles’ gaze drops to the ground, almost shamefully, “So much has changed.”

Guilt is the most overwhelming part of this whole mess. Even though much of the misfortune that Noa has endured in the past two years has been entirely unrelated to him, he still can’t help but feel partly responsible. Perhaps it was his actions, something at the time he considered to be a mercy, that began the snowball effect. Perhaps if he’d never accepted Ferrari’s call, even though he so desperately wanted it, everything would be as perfect as he remembers. There’s so much uncertainty it’s impossible to predict. But Charles knows, at least from his side of the story, ever since the moment Noa walked out of his life, it’s gradually been growing duller and duller and duller. In a sick sort of way, he half hopes it has been the same for her.

“You do know she could never hate you, right?” Arthur speaks up softly. Charles’ gaze lifts from the ground, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively, “Mon dieu you’re both so stubborn.” He laughs humourlessly, shaking his head, “Noa may act like she can’t even look at you right now, but I know her just as well as you do. Maybe even better now, if you can’t see it.” He arches an eyebrow, “She’s hurting, Charles. You know what she does when she’s hurting? She pushes the people she cares about the most away.”

Winter break, 2014, Charles thinks. Of course. How could he forget?

“I’m just saying,” Arthur goes on, “If you mess this up any more than you already have, then she will end up hating you. But I can see it. Right now, she doesn’t. Not even close.”

Later, Pascale says something to him of the same effect. Hurt can fester. There are only two ways that things can go from here, with them both being kept so close to each other for the first time in so long. Either it brings them closer together – they work through their differences, overcome the mountains that stand in their way, and emerge on the other side even stronger because of it. Or, they’ll push each other away.

“I know what I would do if I were you.” Pascale tells him solemnly, “But you two need to figure this out on your own.”

It’s easy to say that, Charles thinks, when you haven’t made the mistakes they’ve both made. It’s so easy to imagine himself explaining how he thought he’d be protecting her by not telling her Ferrari had approached him. In his mind, she’ll listen and understand, and everything will go back to the way it used to be. But every time he runs the words he might say to her through his mind, he draws a blank. What mere words can salvage the ruins of a near decade-long friendship? What words can do justice the longing he feels to have her back in his life, not just as a distant memory, a relative stranger, but as his best friend. And even if he could find the words, there’s no guarantee Noa will even listen to them. Despite everything, she seems set on keeping her distance. Maybe Charles doesn’t blame her. Or maybe he wishes she’d fight a little harder.

taglist: @harrysdimple05 @ricciardosheart @azxulaa @cxcewg @dakotali @hopingforpeace @flowerchild-69 @destourtereaux @wordsthatwaterflowersinyoursoul @luckyladycreator2 @roseamongthorns13 @chasing-liberosis @laneyspaulding19 @lordperceval-16 @sainzluvrr

if you’d like to be added to the taglist just leave a comment on this post!

[literalliterature]

[ID written by the artist @ultrasopp : stylized drawing of the northern lights. bright green “waves” drawn in thick lines cover the upper left corner of the drawing. the rest is a dark blue sky filled with stars. End ID.]

guess i'm some kind of freak: a laika borealis playlist

(yes it's another TTRPG OC playlist yes she is named after the space dog)

[Spotify]

01) 10,000-Year Earworm to Discourage Resettlement Near Nuclear Waste Repositories (Don't Change Color, Kitty) -- Emperor X

the radiation that the change implies/can kill, and that's a fact

02) Look Who's Inside Again -- Bo Burnham

when you're a kid and you're stuck in your room/you'll do any old shit to get out of it

03) The Mind Electric -- Miracle Musical

scattering sparks of thought energy/deliver me and carry me away

04) Mariella -- Kate Nash

i'm heavy-handed/to say the least/my mother thinks i'll be an awful clutcher

05) Just a Girl -- Florence + the Machine

oh, i'm just a girl/take a good look at me/just your typical prototype

06) Next Up Forever -- AJR

this is my imagination/this is how it looks and sounds/but i gotta go so much bigger/so they can never shut me down

07) Brass Band -- Jukebox the Ghost

boredom is a gift/but i've had enough of it to last a lifetime/give me something shocking

08) Second Child, Restless Child -- The Oh Hellos

and they saw trouble in my eyes/they were quick to recognize the devil in me

09) Numb Bears -- Of Monsters and Men

far across the ocean alone/while numb bears at home/said i could never get there/but i'm already there

10) Haven't You Noticed (I'm a Star) -- Olivia Olson

haven't you noticed i made it this far?/now everyone can see me burning

11) I Like That -- Janelle Monae

but even back then, with the tears in my eyes/i always knew i was the shit

12) Scrawny -- Wallows

if i'm offending them i don't mind/maybe they all should listen to me/it isn't all about what you see

13) Problems -- Mother Mother

i found love in the strangest place/tied up and branded, locked in a cage

14) Blah Blah Blah -- The Oozes

get out of there/you don't deserve that chair

15) Carnivore -- Bear Attack!

you took my heart and ate it/but i won't be your victim/can't take it anymore

16) Saint Bernard -- Lincoln

you always said how you love dogs/i don't know if i count, but i'm trying my best/when i'm howlin' and barkin' these songs

17) Never Love an Anchor -- The Crane Wives

it's a secret i keep tucked inside my chest/with this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful

18) The Mind Electric -- Chonny Jash

it seems those beams of light have caused some glare/freakish and dismal, hollow and bleak

19) Neighborhood #2 (Laika) -- Arcade Fire

when daddy comes home/you always start a fight

[merichita]

(Goddamn I was finally able to write at least my character's personality and more, buaa. Btw this was translated so any mistakes are not my fault!)

Dr. Harlow

Personality:

Kind and calm at first sight but inside he is just someone empty who needs to use everything in his favor to survive and cure himself of the parasite that consumes him. Harlow is the type of person who will always be kind to manipulate others for their own good, he resorts to this only when it is new information about a possible cure for his parasite or also for other personal reasons, you never know...He has the perfectionism syndrome, where you want to achieve impossible goals and have everything perfect at the same time, which can be understandable due to where you work and what you specialize in, nuclear physics and radiation. He is a little "dishonest" with his own things, in fact almost all of his sanity has worsened since he became home to the parasite or rather: part of it. Even so, his morality is based on the fact that death is not the solution to diseases, that there may be something far beyond where we can find a cure for everything. Basically someone very ambitious for the common "good", he is such an excellent persuader that you will not realize the consequences of the actions required by Harlow's request. He still tries to be useful and help, understand and seek cures, these thoughts originated in his childhood.

He has a fear of getting sick, since his body does not have the best defenses like others. This fear originated as a child and continued until he was an adult, but now with the parasite he no longer gets sick as often, according to his words...Something that not even he admits is that he has hysteria, influenced by his family, specifically his mother's family, deep down he lies to himself that everything is fine with his mentality and health, although not be true.

Family and childhood:

Mother, father and a younger brother! (I will talk about him later since they are both united in each other) childhood is considered the helplessness of not being able to have done anything to cure his mother of her madness. When Harlow was born she was occasionally mistaken for being delicate because she got sick quickly, which her mother associated with her being a "delicate child" and was given the name "Lily" whenever her mother was awake or quiet...Her mother suffered from schizophrenia and was also influenced by family hysteria, which is why she often had violent attacks on her own children. Harlow's father was not present at all, probably sleeping with other women because his wife did not satisfy him for being "crazy." And lastly, to his brother, when he was born, Harlow always protected him from his mother's outbursts so they were always together like this, although their relationship is too complicated at the moment, they are both on thin ice and if they make a bad step everything will crumbles. (I will talk about this when I upload information about the brother since he is another of my ocs that I want to talk about :3!)

SCP Foundation:

He discovered the SCP foundation by persuading a co-worker about where he worked, successfully getting his co-worker to take his recommendation to the SCP foundation, which worked well, and he was admitted and joined the research department, specializing in nuclear physics and radiation, thus over time raising the security level with a lot of effort. He has too much grudge against 05 because they did nothing regarding the parasite case, yet he refrained from doing anything foolish knowing that he is on thin ice with them so he continued to be cooperative with the SCP Foundation to have more trust from his superiors and make the most of it. He mostly isn't so hard on the newbies because he somehow feels some empathy because he reminds him of his brother. So if you see a man waving at you from a distance, get closer, he's just the one wanting to start a conversation with you and get to know you better.

Personal data and details!!

(his clothes, his open eyes and how his hair works)

• Has nosophobia and hysteria

• The brooch that he wears around his neck was a gift from his mother, his brother also wears one of his but the jewel is a different color than his.

• During a containment breach he met SCP-706, where they had a small talk where they became friends, since that day Harlow occasionally visits SCP-706's containment cell as he sees her as a younger sister.

• The four little moles under each eye is something unique among his family that was inherited from his mother

• His favorite animals are owls and seals

• he is a person who can convince anyone of anything

• His favorite flower is hydrangeas and the ones he hates the most are lilies.

• he calls himself with his last name but never with his first name, since he has never mentioned it.

• One of the employees who has never gone to therapy and does not even attend the monthly psychological evaluations, ignoring that, no matter how much he needs it.

[actors-manor]

1-5 for the superstitious ask meme with whomever is most suseptible!

Superstitious Ask Meme

“Not for me?” A smooth voice sounded out from the shadows. Bored, as he leaned forward into the light, crossing his red robed arms atop his cane. Two brown eyes batted at you, framed by equally red eyeshadow, before he sighed and waved a hand. “Alright. I suppose it only is natural you’d want to know more about my stupendous creations, Darling~”

With a snap of his black gloved fingers, the room shifted. Actor fading from sight with a sigh as Illinois quite literally dropped from the ceiling. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he was Actor’s most superstitious ego. Completely insane though, with how he tried to play those superstitions to his advantage.

(01) Is your OC superstitious?

Yes.

(02) Would your OC be phased about walking under a ladder?

Depending on the situation. He’s definitely tried to lure people under a ladder.

(03) What would your OC do if a black cat crossed their path?

Illinois would look around, then pick the cat up and continue down the path . Wondering what trouble it brings and just accepting it. That, or if he really feels like it’s necessary, walk in a circle before continuing on.

(04) How would your OC react if they broke a mirror?

He has broken mirrors. Purposely. Smirking the whole time as he does. He’s always said there’s something truthful weaved into every little folktale and superstition, and he intends on at least working it in his favor.

(05) Does your OC avoid any certain numbers? If so, which ones, and why?

Illinois has a lot of numbers he avoids at any given time. Depends on the region he’s in, who he’s dealing with, and how much he feels like testing his own luck on any given day. One number that always makes him feel ill, however, is 79.

[noemitenshi]

Masterlist

Here you'll find all the things I create (all type of fics, gifs, metas), conveniently collected in one place. So far I'm obsessed with Cursed and Fear the Walking Dead (which has one common theme, Daniel Sharman). Enjoy 🧡

Fear the Walking Dead

Fanfiction

Troy Otto

Ghost 2,126 words, WIP, angst, sad, exploration of Troy's headspace immediately after the last scene we see him at the dam, what did surviving this do to him?

Troy Otto x Alicia Clark

s8 AU Troy Otto x Alicia Clark, no official wordcount, WIP, angst and fluff, What if Alicia were Troy's wife instead of Serena

[Series] Sick like you [01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05] Troy Otto x Alicia Clark, 9,850 words, finished, smut, so much smut, slight dub-con, D/s undertones, part one is canon compliant, Alicia is done being the good kid, but then she feels bad about it, cheating, enemies to lovers, unhealthy to healthy relationship

Troy Otto x Crazy Dog (Lee) || Troy Otto & Crazy Dog (Lee)

Addicted to mess Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 185,730 words, WIP, (lots and lots of) smut, fluff, angst, wholesome, enemies to enemies with benefits to lovers, watch them turn an unhealthy relationship into a healthy one , also have I said smut yet?

Fool me twice Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 33,449 words, finished, smut, dub con, unhealthy relationship, Troy Otto has a deathwish, Crazy Dog takes advantage

Just around the corner Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 4,185 words, WIP, fluff, AU - no zombies, In a world without zombies Troy finds a different purpose

Love, endless Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 1,029, finished (for now), unhealthy relationship, angst, dark, tragedy, COMIC

Moonlit Kisses Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 32,750 words, finished, fluff, wholesome, sweet, first kiss, first time, smut, canon divergent, teeny bit of angst, some whump

Paint your body in hues of red Troy Otto x Crazy Dog x OC, 1,933 words, finished, smut, fluff, established relationship, wax play, facesitting

Sex Worker AU Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, no official word count, no WIP and not finished but a secret third thing (idea I had I'll probably never write), AU - no zombies, Troy sells the ranch after his father dies and decides to have some fun, includes but not limited to hiring a sex worker (Lee), client to friend to lover, imagine

Soup Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 696 words, finished, fluff, Troy loves soup

Surprise Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 625 words, finished, fluff, Troy has a surprise for Crazy Dog

[Series] The easy part is always hardest to see [01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 04 (alternative version) - 05 - 06] Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 42,204 words, finished, smut, teeny bit of dub-con, a lot of fluff, some angst, pining, whump, enemies to friends to lovers

[Series] The melody of sand and waves and hope and schemes Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 2,629 words, finished (for now?), AU - Royalty, arranged marriage, fluff, cute, pre-relationship, Princess Troy series

The monster that brought me here Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 28,323 words, WIP, dark, angst, hurt, little comfort, sad, Troy is dealing with the trauma of having been raped, Crazy Dog has his own trauma to work through, canon divergent, second part of a series, fallout from 'I'd do it all again'

The moon bathes your face in gentle light no official wordcount, finished (for now) Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, angst, fluff, Troy survives s8, saves Tracy and runs into a familiar face - the two former enemies bond over their similar grief

This insanity you give to me Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 29,551 words, finished, smut, fluff, teeny bit of angst, instead of avoiding Crazy Dog after their initial encounter in 'Addicted to mess' Troy seeks him out. After all, that asshole can't just do things like that to him and then leave, spin-off of 'Addicted to mess'

What's it gonna be, Troy? Troy Otto & Crazy Dog, 8,146 words, finished, oneshot, soulmate AU, angst, fluff, pre-relationship, enemies to friends (soulmates)

You're the sin that I've been waiting for, Troy Otto x Crazy Dog, 19,450 words, WIP, fool me twice... spinoff (fluffier version), angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, Troy and Crazy Dog have been playing a dangerous game with Troy's life. A game neither one is able to (or wants to) put an end to. But maybe they can change it… At least in this version

Troy Otto & Jake Otto

Cozy 353 words, finished, angst, some fluff, what was running through Troy's mind during the hug with Jake in s3ep9 (right before he was exiled)

Troy Otto & Madison Clark

Moral Compass no official word count, no WIP and not finished but a secret third thing (idea I had I'll probably never write), a stab at deepening Troy's and Madison's relationship (really just the beginning of it), a mututal madness

What should've been - Troy's revenge 1,242, finished, angst, hurt, some comfort I guess, fix-it I guess, how s8ep11 should've gone

When home becomes a strange place Troy Otto & Madison Clark, 3,370 words, finished, fix-it, hopeful ending, bittersweet, what would it take for Madison to actually start caring about Troy

Troy Otto x Nick Clark || Troy Otto & Nick Clark

I'd do it all again Troy Otto x Nick Clark, 10,185 words, finished, dark, angst, hurt no comfort, non-con (rape), suicide, not a happy story, what if things at the dam went a bit different - and how will they live with the consequences of their actions?

Sketch Troy Otto & Nick Clark, 337 words, finished, angst, hopeful?, fix-it?

That Crazy Bastard Troy Otto & Nick Clark, 728 words, finished, fluff, Troy had been vanishing for over a week now, refusing to tell Nick what he was up to. Until today

Troy Otto x Crazy Dog X OC

I can't stop imagining hurting you Troy Otto x Crazy Dog x OC, 9,424 words, finished, smutt, fluff, Troy gets introduced to the concept of spanking

Lost & Found Troy Otto x Crazy Dog x OC, 32,554 words, WIP, fluff, angst, Troy Otto being saved after the dam, finding his way back to himself, fast-burn, 'Addicted to mess' chapters 1 and 2 happened in this universe too, rest of s3 happened as in canon

No title Troy Otto x Crazy Dog x OC, no official word count, snippet, fluff, angst, abusive!serena backstory

Troy Otto x OC

Earn your keep 131,622 words, WIP, Troy gets a redemption arc, major character death (happens in the first chapter), Troy Otto centric, slow burn, grudging allies to friends to lovers, angst, fluff

Follow me (down the streams of sweat on your body) Troy Otto x unnamed female (could be reader, could be author, could be OC, could even be someone from canon), 5,612 words, finished, smut, slight D/s undertones, bondage, aftercare, fluff, praise kink

Kept 14,893 words, WIP, dub-con, past sexual abuse, AU - no Clarks, dark, angst, suicidal thoughts, bad BDSM etiquette, unhealthy relationship, slow burn to a better place, two broken people trying to figure things out between them, will get worse before it gets better

Unlovable no official wordcount, finished, more an imagine than a fic, angst and fluff, some smut, Troy's girlfriend finds a certain jacket in his closet. She proceeds to show him just how lovable he truly is

Troy Otto & his parents (Jeremiah Otto, Tracy Otto)

Childhood memories 2,084 words, WIP, angst, hurt, dark, child abuse, a study of Troy's childhood, his mother's complicated feelings, what happened with the rabbits

Troy Otto & Tracy Otto (daughter)

Reunion no official wordcount, Imagine, finished, angst, fluff, Troy survived s8 and rescues his daughter

Lark or And silently loom the shadows of my past Troy Otto & Tracy Otto, Troy Otto & Madison Clark, 2,148 words, finished, angst, hurt, some fluff, Troy's daughter loves to cause mischief - but this time she may have just gone too far

Gifs&Lyrics

I will do it again

Who are you to say that?

Asks & Metas

Jake Otto

Jake Otto as a Brother

even more

Troy Otto

...and Boundaries

...and the Horde some more thoughts on his headspace during that moment

...as a father

Favorite Troy scene(s) and why

'I don't drink'

'I'd do it all again'

...in a relationship

...in love

...being hit on

'It's the first time I've felt fear'

On killing Mike

Post s8 thoughts

Troy and Madison

Troy's feelings in his last moments (s3)

Troy's sexuality and more on his sexuality

Virgin Troy

Why Troy didn't get poisoned like the other Militia members

'You stayed at the ranch because you love me'

Cursed

Fanfiction

Empty ways can cloud your eyes The Weeping Monk x Reader, 20,268 words, WIP (though ch 11 is a good place to end things), redemption arc, crisis of faith, friends to lovers, fluff and angst, whump

Madness is a narrow bridge The Weeping Monk, finished, oneshot, angst, dark, no comfort, a heartbreaking glimpse into the weeping monk's mind while he hunts his own

Gifs&Lyrics

The Weeping Monk & Squirrel, AOV by Slipknot

The Weeping Monk & Gawain, Custer by Slipknot

The Weeping Monk & his faith (i guess), Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons

The Weeping Monk & his guilt, Lech by Slipknot

The Weeping Monk & his doubts, The burden by Slipknot

The Weeping Monk & Father Carden, The In-between by In This Moment

Daniel Sharman (rpf)

Fanfiction

You're not really my type~ Daniel Sharman x OC, 20,268 words, WIP, smut, fluff, angst, my kinktober contribution, daniel meets a woman who may be more than he bargained for, sub!daniel

[redlerred7]

Nimble Danger

This Nightmare is the embodiment of a pirate's fear of death at sea. Its Domain is a vast open ocean, where everything is in cannon range. Don't stop moving or it'll blast you apart!

It's my birthday today! Enjoy the art of my OCs.

[thegigilwriter]

05 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Fluff, slight angst

05 | The Dive 🌊

Monday June 19, 2023

“How—“ Bradley breathed deeply as he lifted himself on the stern. “Did you... stay down there... for so long?ˮ

“Breathe slowly,ˮ Lucy crouched down beside him, draping his backside with a towel, and rubbing it soothingly. “Youʼre going to wear yourself out.ˮ

It was a beautiful Monday morning, and Lucy was able to access a company yacht with the help of a few friends who pulled some strings. A few days after the dinner at the Vineyard, Lucy reached out to Bradley if he wanted to go out for a swim. Of course, Bradley didnʼt pass up the chance to see Lucy in a bikini — an olive- colored two-piece at that. They dove beneath the pristine ocean waters, swam among the sea life, and basked beneath the sun on the gunwale. Now, sitting together on the stern of the ship with their feet dangling in the waves, Bradley and Lucy shared a mango from Lucyʼs snack basket.

“Want some more?ˮ Lucy offered, beginning to peel another mango with her little blue pocket knife

“Iʼm okay Angel, thank you.ˮ Bradley smiled.

“Suit yourself!ˮ She replied, relishing yet another slice from the porcelain bowl. Bradley chuckled, enjoying the view of Lucy, as she wiggled her shoulders jauntily with every bite, the way her salted locks swayed in the breeze, and her infectious smile.

“How long have you been free-diving?ˮ Bradley asked her.

“I really started when I moved out here for college,ˮ She told him. “But Iʼve always loved to swim — ever since I was a little girl in El Nido.ˮ

“Have you ever held your breath for more than 12 minutes?ˮ

“You timed me?ˮ Lucy raised a brow.

“After our second dive in,ˮ Bradley answered.

“I have,ˮ Lucy nodded staring out into the horizon. “Itʼs not impressive — most divers can hold their breath for 10 minutes or so.ˮ

“Why do you always sell yourself short?ˮ Bradley frowned, as he tucked her into his side with his arm. “Donʼt you know how amazing you are to me?ˮ

Lucy laughed and with a growing blush on her cheeks, she turned to him in his arms and let her fingers trace the scars on the side of his face.

“What happened?ˮ Lucy whispered.

“A bad car accident,ˮ Bradley paused before telling her. “My mother had just died… and I was drinking.ˮ

“They must have really hurt,ˮ Lucy kissed them. “Iʼm sorry.ˮ

“Iʼm alright now Angel,ˮ Bradley smiled. “Theyʼre only reminders now.ˮ

“Badass reminders,ˮ Lucy affirmed. “And you wear them so handsomely.ˮ

“We make a good-looking pair you and I,ˮ Bradley smirked. Lucy offered another morsel of mango and Bradley gladly took it between his lips. He stared down at Lucyʼs chest — and above her lovely breasts were her string of small pearls, her little metal cross, and Bradleyʼs butterfly charm scintillating in the sun.

“You know— I can think of another place we can bring that basket of yours,ˮ Bradley smiled.

Okay I really gave in to this headcannon and thought it would be a really cute date ✨ Jump to 06 | Picnics at Golden Hour for more of Lucy and Bradley! I think he’s going to make an important move very soon 👀

[sheyn3812]

Hi, have more decaying winter OCs and some tidbits about them Do note that: Although we do try to stick to the canon lore (it's a struggle), there's obviously some changes for our own fun, eg. Wave 04 has more groups sent and Wave 05 is basically rescuing the Wave 04 survivors.

◈ Agent Bennie

Filipino Hivemind

Traits are Impatient / Fearless / Professional

Does goofy aah gestures, part of wave 04

◈ Agent "Diablo"

Edenborn Drifter

Traits are Impatient / Manic / Violent Tendencies

An inappropriate bastard, part of wave 04

◈ Agent Gulliver

Filipino Berserker

Traits are Fearless / Dependable / Methodical

Bennie's younger brother, part of wave 05

[reidsaurora]

"Part Thirteen: I Have To" ~ S. Reid

Summary: Spencer shows up at Imogen's door, one thing on his mind: how he has to love her. No matter her response.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Imogen Sterren (bipolar!OC)

Word Count: 2,357

Content Warning: explicit language, small mention of church (is that a warning? idk but) small mentions of Spencer's drug addiction, tiny mention of puke, this whole chapter is mostly Spencer having a panic attack, mentions of bipolar episodes, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: Angst to Fluff, i'd say

Extra Notes: i… i may have almost cried while writing this 😀

Based On the Song: Soon You'll Get Better by Taylor Swift

Originally Written: 02/07/2023 (re-edited 03/05/2023)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

"Soon You'll Get Better" series masterlist can be found here!

"𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭? 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬?" - 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐜𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

It was nearing sunset and Spencer still hadn't found the courage to knock on Imogen's door.

Every time he even thought about stepping onto the yellow-accented front porch, knocking on the robin's egg colored door, coming face to face with brown waves and the shade of green he often found himself missing, he panicked. His hands would quiver, his airway would tighten, and his mind would start to feel so enclosed that he felt like a tiger trapped in a cage at a zoo.

After a while, he started using anything he could as a distraction, taking a particular interest in his surroundings. Sure, it was nice to smell the fresh air after being stuffed in a police precinct for two days, and the sky was a beautiful array of oranges and pinks, but Spencer knew deep down he was just doing what he always did when it came to confrontation: stalling.

It was nearing six o'clock and yet, there he sat—fiddling with the fastenings of his cardigan, taking as deep of breaths as he could manage, and only occasionally looking up to see if somehow Imogen was watching him from the doorway or the window.

At some point, he found his thumb hovering over Penelope's number in his list of emergency contacts. He glanced at the clock in the upper right corner of the screen, realizing that another fifteen minutes had already passed since the last time he checked it.

He let out a deep breath, whispered a quick, "Fuck it," and hit the call button, finding the tiniest bit of solitude in the buzzing sound that rang in his ear.

After three rings, Penelope answered, her voice as gentle as a mother holding her newborn baby. "You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" she asked, a slight tone of disappointment coating her voice.

He shook his head as if she could see him before answering, "I don't know if I can, Penelope. What if I set off another episode? What if seeing me triggers her and I undo all that progress she's made? What if-"

"Oh, boy wonder," she interrupted, her tone staying even but nurturing, "you and all your 'what ifs'."

She wished she could place a comforting hand on his shoulder while simultaneously wishing she could just slap him and say, "Can't you see?"

But Penelope, being ever the peacekeeper, simply said, "I know only a sith deals in absolutes, but who cares what Obi-Wan thinks anyway? Anakin was hotter, both figuratively and literally."

Her rambling elicited a chuckle from Spencer, and the mere sound of it made Penelope smile. She basked in it for a moment, taking in that sweet sound she hadn't heard in at least a week.

After a beat, she spoke up once again. "You shouldn't waste your life away worrying about all the what ifs. There are literally so many other things—more important things—to think about it. Like the fact that you have the ability to give Imogen the best life she could ever ask for. You can be the one to help her any time she has an episode, whether it be a manic high or a depressive down. Spencer Reid, you could be the one who helps her gain custody of August again. You can help her get better."

Spencer let out a deep breath, his fingers flying up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sat there stiffly, knowing she was right, but also believing he didn't have the strength to do it.

Spencer could also be the one to fuck up her life. Spencer could also be the one to cause a manic high or a depressive down. Spencer could also be the one to make her worse off again.

Penelope spoke up again, her voice stern yet sincere when she said, "But you are not going to accomplish a damn thing sitting on that bench and staring at her front door."

Spencer's expression change to one of confusion as he started to ask, "How did you-"

"Turn around."

He turned, and not ten feet away, there she stood—go-bag in hand, wearing an orange dress and sporting off her new red hair color that the sunset behind her only complemented, tears welling in those blue eyes that hid behind cerulean glasses.

"What are you doing here?" he managed to ask, stepping toward her with open arms.

She wrapped her arms around his sweater-vest-covered midsection, basking in his embrace. Neither Spencer nor Penelope would ever admit it to their therapists, but they were becoming quite codependent on each other.

After a moment, she pulled away and placed both her hands on either side of his face. "Spencer, I love you. You are quite possibly my favorite person ever, besides the perfect hunk of chocolate that is named Derek Morgan. So please know that I say this out of love."

He looked down at her, cracking a half-smile and finding peace in the fact that she was there. The one absolute Spencer had in life was there, standing in front of him, and doing the one thing he asked of her: being Penelope.

"Do not be an idiot. I know you think that's something impossible for you to do since you have that two thousand IQ score and all those PhDs, but if you walk away from here without at least telling her you still love her, you will officially win the Guinness World Record for biggest idiot."

He pulled her back in for another hug, leaving a soft peck on her hairline. "Where would I be if I didn't have you to keep me in check?" he chuckled, his chin settling atop her scalp.

"I love you, and this moment has been super sweet and all, but I need you to stop using me as a distraction and go get your girl," she mumbled into the fabric of his sweater.

And so, he gave her one last peck on the head before stepping away, sliding his shaking hands into the pockets of his slacks. But, before he could make it to Imogen's door, he stopped. "Hey, you didn't tell me why you came."

"I needed to be here for you," she answered, as if it were a given, as if it didn't need explaining. "I needed to drive you home and comfort you if it went badly, but I also needed to be here if it went well and we needed to go out for drinks and celebrate. Plus, you know I couldn't possibly pass up on a chance to join in on one of Emily Prentiss's sin-to-win weekends."

He chuckled, a sound Penelope just couldn't get enough of on that breezy October night, and stepped up to the wooden door that blocked him from winning back the love of his life.

He slid his hand out of his pocket before tapping on the door, unsure if he'd even hit the door loud enough for someone to hear him.

But, after about ten seconds, the shuffling of slippers could be heard on the other side of the door, and just the mere sound had Spencer on the verge of passing out.

The door opened agonizingly slow, but what hid behind was well worth the wait.

Light brown hair that used to dangle near her mid-back had been darkened to a chocolate brown and sat just under her chin. Bennington pajamas had been replaced with lounge clothes that Imogen picked out, not anyone else. And tired, misty eyes had been replaced with youthful eyes, accompanied by a sweet yet confident smile.

Imogen eyed Spencer up and down, her grin only growing as she realized he too had had a confidence makeover since their parting. Short hair had been replaced with shoulder-length curls, he'd abandoned his silly, plaid-print ties and replaced it with his new favorite brown sweater vest, and his closed-in shoulders had been replaced with assured, broad shoulders, his posture signaling that he looked much more confident than he felt at that particular moment.

"Hey, you," she sighed. A content sigh. A sigh that signaled she would be content staying just like this for the rest of her life if it meant Spencer was there and real, not a ghost visiting her dreams. "What are you doing here?"

All confidence and assurance left his body when his hands started to shake and his eyes darted down to his worn-out Converse. He racked his brain for a response, as if he didn't know the exact reason why he'd showed up at her house on a not-so-random Friday in October.

He exhaled hard before forcing himself to look back up at her. "Can I come in?" he forced himself to ask.

She gave him a closed-lip smile before moving away from the door. "Of course."

He found himself mesmerized by how she decorated a space that was hers. No one else's, Imogen's. From the pink throw pillows on the couch to the cross-stitched photo of a tulip bouquet hanging on the wall, it was clear that she'd made this place her own in the nearly three years she'd been living here.

Spencer was tempted to see if the gray, cloth couch felt as comfy as it looked, but resisted, forcing himself to speak the words that had been sitting on his mind since he arrived earlier in the day.

"Imogen," he started, his chest suddenly feeling constricted by the button-up sitting beneath his sweater, "there are so many things I need to tell you. I need to tell you how you've only grown more beautiful with each day that has passed. I need to tell you that I am so proud of you for taking the steps to get yourself better. But none of that matters until I say this."

He swallowed back every tear that had been threatening to fall that day before continuing, "I know you said that we needed to be away from each other. But I can't anymore. OK, you may have had to go away, but there is something I have to do too—love you. Wholeheartedly. I need you to know that not once in the entire 1,384 days that we've been apart have I ceased to love you. Hell, I even started going to church for you at one point. I mean, I guess that was essentially canceled out when I started taking drugs to distract myself from you-"

He stopped himself, shaking his head. "None of that's relevant. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is this: I have to love you. I just have to. And I don't care if you throw me out of here and you never wanna see me again, I will continue to love you, even if that happens."

"Spencer-"

"I don't care if you tell me you hate my guts. Truth be told, I probably deserve it after not manning up and admitting to myself that I needed to help you."

"Spence-"

"None of that matters now. All I know is that I love you. And I love every single thing about you. Every quirk, every trait. I love how you organize the condiments in the fridge by color when I can't even remember to check the expiration dates. I love that you dot your i's with open circles. I love that you somehow always smell like fresh linen, even though I'm fairly positive that's not a scent in the wide variety of women's perfumes that this world has to offer. I even love that you dog-ear your pages, even though it drives me bat shit crazy when my coworkers do it on the plane. I love you. That's all I know. That's all I've known since that night you coached me through that bad panic attack when I was literally seconds away from sobbing on the bathroom floor. And you know how much I hate touching places where people have stepped."

Imogen giggled, a real genuine giggle that Spencer hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime. A giggle that sounded like honeysuckle, and happiness, and home.

She forced back tears that welled in those perfectly teal eyes Spencer couldn't get enough of. "Can you give me just a few minutes? You can sit there on the couch. There's just… I need to give you something."

He nodded, his heart heavy with anxiety as she walked toward what was presumably her bedroom. He was tempted to shed himself of the constricting fabrics that clung to his chest and arms, but thought better of it, all things considered.

His anxiety only grew worse as he considered his tangent, thought after thought racing through his brain. What if I said too much? What if she hates me? What will she think about drug addiction? What if she comes back and shoves me right back out the front door?

But, much like a guardian angel, that beautiful, melodious voice that belonged to one Penelope Garcia rang through his ears. And suddenly, he was OK. It didn't matter if Imogen accepted him. He was there, he'd made peace, and he was purely, absolutely, wholly himself. And that was OK.

Three minutes that felt more like ten hours had passed before she came back, and with every breath Spencer took within those minutes, he felt as though he'd vomit all over her shaggy brown rug, despite the comfort in the voice that sounded through his ears.

When Imogen walked back into the room, she didn't say anything. Instead, she just placed a chestnut-colored envelope in his hand, her t's still crossed with the same curl she always used.

He didn't have to open the letter, he already knew by the smile on her face what her response would be.

Still, in the most comfortable silence he'd felt in three years, he opened the envelope, pulling out pink, floral stationery that felt just so inherently Imogen.

"Dear Spencer,

You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.

Ever again.

I mean it. - Imogen 𖤐"

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞." - 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧

Welcome one and all to what was originally the end of SYGB 🥲

The last two parts were technically the epilogue but because I just couldn't get enough of Spencogen (as i'm choosing their ship name to be), I wrote a bonus chapter which is now the finale.

But could you imagine if it ended here? Open ending, not really any closure? It's kind of sad to think about.

All that aside, I hope you guys enjoyed the second of the final three SYGB chapters. I know I had a lot of fun and a lot of emotions writing this one 💖

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @wwwonzeee @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @rexorangecouny

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

[alder-saan]

The Path of Poisons .5

Sweet Brier

Larissa Weems x Gn! Oc

the Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]

words count: 1.2k

WARNING: I'm translating this from French to English. As it takes sooooo much time to do it myself, I use an automatic translator. BUT neutral doesn't exist in French so even if I proofread to change every "he/him/his" or "she/her/hers" in "they/them/their" I might miss some.

"Yeah, hello Thalia?"

*Rei ? Are you ok?*

"Yes, yes."

They switched the phone to her ear and jammed it with their shoulder so they could do their nails properly, sitting at the small table in their tiny greenhouse. At the other end of the receiver, they could hear Thalia tinkering.

"Say, I'm calling about your proposal to advise me to Mrs. Weems."

*Yeah? Have you thought about it?*

"Mostly I asked if the florist needed people and she said no, so well…"

*perfect, I'll plead your case*

"You don't tell her who I am, you just say I have degrees in botany, which is true. No mention of the book, no mention of ANYTHING that would allow him to identify me."

*okay boss!*

"So, how are things with Elizabeth?"

*Pretty good.*

"I'd like to meet her one day!"

*If you become a teacher, you'll meet her. Ouch, shit!*

"Are you okay?"

*Yeah, yeah, I pricked myself with a tooth from my saw.*

Rei chuckled and then made a face, they had a little overflow with their black varnish.

"What are you doing?"

*I'm making a birdhouse.*

"It's a little late, you know?"

*It will be useful for next year.*

"Especially for the wasps…"

*Well, it's gonna be a wasp house.*

"Be careful, 200 stings are deadly."

*who gets stung 200 times?*

"I don't know..."

*Well, I'll leave you to it, and submit it to your new crush right away.

"Stop calling her that."

*Don't act like she doesn't do anything to you. What did you say last time? "Why does she have to be so beautiful?"*

"Yeah, okay, I think she looks pretty good. But that doesn't mean she's my crush!"

*Yeah, for sure. Ciao.*

"Ciao"

And Thalia hung up. Rei tried to slide her phone along their arm. They couldn't touch it with their hands, because of the nail polish that wasn't dry. They waved their hands a little to dry it and then went back to their little house. They wanted to buy some flowers. They put on their jacket, their shoes, and then got on their bike. The city was not far from the land they had inherited, and from the little house that was on it.

After about 15 minutes of pedaling, they arrived in the city center. They hung their bike on a fence and walked through town to the florist. They stood for a while and looked at all the plants on all sides. The urge to buy everything on the spot was growing inside them. They looked for the flowers they liked best to put in a bouquet in ther house. Sweet brier. It's nice, it's pretty. They asked the florist for a big bouquet and she went to prepare it.

The door opened. It was Larissa, in her perfect updo, perfect dress and perfect make up. Rei tried not to stare.

"G… Good morning, Mrs. Weems."

"Oh, please, call me Larissa. May I call you Raine?"

"Of course you can."

Apparently, Thalia hadn't told her yet about the job. Good.

"Do you know anything about flowers, Raine?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. There are so many choices, I could use some advice."

"Well it depends on the occasion, is it for someone? Is it just to look nice in your living room? If it's a gift, who do you want to give it to? A relative? A friend? A lover? And then if it's for you, it depends on where you want to put it, and what that place looks like."

Larissa thought for a while. She hadn't anticipated all these questions.

"Well… I'm not sure. It was to put in my office at Nevermore. I like a little color."

"So you can match your office colors, or your colors…. Red roses would go great with the color of your lip ink."

Larissa blushed. Was Raine flirting with her?

"Oh, I see… But red roses are really meaningful… Isn't there something a little more… Neutral? Understand, I don't want everyone to start speculating about a fictitious lover."

"You're single!"

That wasn't a question. It was an observation, and amazement. Maybe a little hope, too.

"Uh… yes. Is that a problem?"

"What? No! I just… I just thought that a woman like you couldn't be single."

"What's a woman like me?" Larissa laughed a little. "And why is that?"

"I thought all the most beautiful women were already in a relationship."

They smiled at her. Larissa looked away, trying to hide her pink cheeks. She coughed.

"So, what do you recommend?"

"In that case, I think primroses would be great. You can choose the color."

"Renewal, huh?"

"Absolutely."

She smiles at Rei.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

"I'd really like to, but I'm busy, I have to go home. It wasn't sensible to come to this store, I could spend all day here."

They headed for the counter when the florist notified her that her bouquet was finished. Larissa's smile disappeared when she saw the bouquet of sweet briers.

"Nice to see you again, Larissa Weems."

"Yes, thank you again."

Rei left, and put the bouquet of flowers in the little basket they had on the back of their bike. They were a little embarrassed that Larissa had seen the flowers… She might wonder.

Sweet briers, huh? Did they mean to give them to someone? Maybe it was nothing? Or was she mistaken? She had to check the meaning of the rosehip. She pulled out her phone as Thalia's number came up. Larissa picked up immediately.

"Hello, Thalia?"

*Hello, Larissa. I'm calling because I have a new candidate for the botany teacher position.*

"Who is it?"

*Raine. They've studied botany extensively. They don't know much about teaching but I can teach them. To be honest, they're going to run out of money soon and are desperate for a job, so I told them I'd plead their case with you.*

"Uh… Yes, we'll think about it, tell them to make a form, you will bring it to our next meeting."

*no problem, thank you very much.*

Don't forget to tell them to apply for housing if they want to sleep on the academy. And if they want to live there with someone else, they should specify that.

*They has a house, I think it will not be useful*

"Have a nice day"

*You too*

Larissa hung up the phone, a little annoyed. She had tried to get information about Raine's potential relationship status, but it hadn't worked… But who buys a house to live alone? Oh well, too bad. If Raine wasn't single, she wasn't going to make a big deal of it either.

[glacierheart]

you were born, bluer than a butterfly. beautiful & so deprived of oxygen, colder than your father's eyes. ❄

you were born, reachin' for your mother's hands ... VICTIM of your father's plans to RULE the world. too afraid to step outside, paranoid & petrified what you've heard.

THE TALE OF THE HEIR OF JACK FROST . son of the ice king . an original character crafted from the son to a villainous jack frost & a concoction of a summer personification heroine for a mother (aestas) to create an elaborate story of choosing between good and evil, being the embodiment of both sides of the moral alignments. a character born with bad and GOOD ingredients.

delving into how a potential villain becomes an ANTI-HERO. themes of chasing for a controlling father's approval, child neglect, trust issues and abandonment issues. stepping outside of his mother's good will & turning down a dark path (before getting back onto the good one). teetering on the fine line side of wrong and right. the savior or the villain? feeling a void from a broken heart and a cold childhood. needing a reason to be good. icy eyes, warm heart. living behind a facade. pretends to not care, but deep down .. cares a lot. protective. a prankster, morbid humor, sarcastic and witty. emotional and unpredictable.

based in the world of : DC, DISNEY / DISNEY'S DESCENDANTS, THE HUNGER GAMES, STRANGER THINGS, WEDNESDAY AND A MODERN WORLD VERSE.

name origin: caspian theros frost. caspian, meaning, 'white' like snow. and theros meaning an old greek name of 'summer' & his last name frost– after his father jack frost. his name is a combination of winter and summer, just like his parents.

memes. / open starters. / verses are under cut. / rules are under cut.

rules.

01. mun is 21+.

02. i am not based in just one verse, so pls– if you're not into the disney, thg, st, wednesday or dc/marvel world(s) then keep in mind i do have a normal modern world verse setting!

03. be mindful of triggering themes such as blood, death, drowning or child abuse on this blog. caspian was grown up with a very toxic, abusive father– so it'll be difficult to avoid mentioning these themes at times.

04. i am super welcoming of other oc characters and canon characters, i love them all.

05. i love different fandoms and crossovers, so do not hesitate to write with me if you apart of fandoms i may have not even mentioned on this blog yet.

06. if you follow me, pls feel free to reply to any of my opens or send in memes at any time! there's no expiration dates on those. if you're the type that loves to plot, then def come to my IMs but keep in mind i'm not the best at plotting until i get an idea flowing.. so coming to my IMs with an idea already in mind is your best bet if you'd rather plot !! <3

07. i ship with chemistry so no force shipping or godmodding, pls. <3

verses.

disney / disney descendants verse. the lost winter prince. caspian frost is the son to mother summer & father winter that are apart of their own separate seasonal kingdoms in auradon. when a combination of a warm hearted young woman and an ill-tempered, glacier hearted man wed and share a child they get both of their natures intertwined. the ice king had a skill for perfect persuasion– so charming and manipulative. he found grand interest the mother of warmth, aestas or as she liked to be called florence. the queen of summer is adorned with nothing but radiant waves, a symbol of abundance and prosperity. her presence heralds the arrival of the season of warmth, light, and growth. aestas is revered for her power to bring forth the earth's bounty, nurturing the land and its inhabitants with her life-giving energy. as the embodiment of summer, aestas represents the joyful and vibrant spirit of the season, inviting all to bask in the warmth of the sun's embrace. so what did father frost want, with a woman the complete opposite of himself? to destruct all of that, use florence as his greatest challenge to glaze over her summery heart, turn her on his side of all things glacier and then make her the queen of the winter kingdom. the ice king became very charming on his ploy to wrap himself around mother summer's heart. perhaps, kind deeds and months worth of finding out jack frost's romanticizing side had created a soft spot in her heart. perhaps, a warm spot... had melted a small hole in his frozen heart itself whether he wanted to remain in denial of that or not. perhaps, that's what fueled his anger all the more in the end. he promised to wed her, have the child she always wished for, jack frost was certain he had the queen of summer delicately wrapped around his icy finger. but when she wouldn't join him and his winter kingdom after understanding his scheme all along, to get her to join forces with him, he took it bitterly and hatefully because in his mind... he really thought she wouldn't 'betray' him then froze her over when she least expected it. caspian was a newborn and never learned the true events of what happened to his mother all from his father's manipulations and lies he fed the young frost. how his mother had abandoned them both and ran off with a new family because he simply wasn't good enough. his father took him under his wing and tried to mold caspian as his last option to being the future ruler of the winter kingdom one day. the ice king is equally as a controlling father as he is a ruler and eventually into caspian's teen years... he begins to find that out the more caspian strays off his father's plan and path of destruction the more he pries into how his mother was like the more demanding his father becomes. and the day he finds out how she really died, is the day the winter kingdom brews an ugly storm and a terrible argument between father winter and his child of winter that unfortunately held the eerily identical anger in his eye as his mother summer had the day she wished to 'betray' him. caspian's only choice left was to flee in fear he would kill him too... during that journey he ends up on the ISLE OF THE LOST. in this verse, caspian does possess a few powers as both of his parents have them. (all inheriting from his father, however.) he can create tiny snowflakes from the tips of his fingers. he has a special white rose that could be used for bad or for good, one touch of it and he can either create beautiful icy rose sculptures – or one drop – and freeze over endless acres of land. he posesses cryokinesis: ability to control temperature and moisture in the environment, which he can generate ice and cold. however, he doesn't have total control on his abilities and his volatile emotions of sadness and a lot of anger have a lot to do with how well he can control them.

the hunger games verse. the president's son: the hunger games. going entirely au for this by sort of reinventing the snow's with the frost's. the difference is unlike coriolanus, caspian has a long run battling between doing the right or wrong thing and inevitably chooses the right decision to scheme a plan to end the hunger games since the other difference is he's the presidents son. son of president frost. but – until then, his morals can come across skeptical. it's easy to assume what he may be like if going anything by his dictator father (which caspian despises). is he a bad person like mr. frost or has he taken a good streak after his late mother? getting accused, categorized in with his father, looked at as the next monster in line... sometimes makes him have difficulty believing he's any thing less. that's something that can certainly get in the way of trying to be a good person. especially with the brainwashing's of his father to topple on top of that. but there's a secret to still be unrevealed, something happened a long time ago when his mother tried to make a good impact on his father and out of anger of his mother's attempt to turn him good... he found a way to rid of her. all these year's caspian's believed a rebel is the one who did it but the day he finds out it was his father all along; things drastically change among that newfound betrayal.

wednesday verse. (to be written) ..

stranger things verse. (to be written) probably will be a test subject type thing, if i don't change my mind.

dc & marvel verse. anti hero. for this verse i may base him off delores winters son. but this is also to be decided and written!

modern verse 1. the president's son: modern day. in modern day setting, caspian winters lives an unordinary life as the son to the united state's president mr. jack winters. his entire life he's been shoved into politics, even if his mother, the kinder parent– has gave the best of her ability to allow him to live as a normal child. still, growing up with zero siblings and a small group of friends has created this loneliness inside of him he wishes he didn't have. sometimes he yearns for an escape from all of it all while the pressure to be next in line to take the throne is shoved down his throat.

modern verse 2. the mayor's son: modern day. this modern verse allows me to write caspian in more of a normal setting. his father's still able to be some kind of man in power, but he's allowed to live more typically and hide in the shadows better. attending university in his home city of chicago, in a band on the side, keeping up with his love for theatre. caspian's definitely always been that theatre kid. it's the only healthy thing other than his band in his life that keeps him out of his usual trouble he tends to find himself causing or in the middle of. he has a rebellious attitude, that tends to lead him there a lot. always caught on either side of right and wrong with zero positive role models in his life.

[winterandwords]

OC in 15

Thanks to @duckingwriting for the tag!

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

These are for Noah my contract killer with a midlife crisis from November Breaks (complete and available as a free download from winterandwords.com)

01

“There aren’t people who do what I did. There are people who have the same job, but they don’t do what I did.”

02

“Fine. I promise to spend more time staring at numbers on a screen and worrying about them, so you can unclench now. All right?”

03

“I don’t own any clothes appropriate for somewhere that’s one step above having sawdust on the floor.”

04

"People should clean up after themselves.”

05

“I’m not sure what part of our acquaintance gave you the impression that I work well with others, but I don’t.”

06

“Listen. I do what I do, the way I do it. I don’t want to work for you and I don’t want anyone working for me. It would not go as well as you think.”

07

“What do I pay you for if I still have to come here and try to stay awake while people in suits talk about money?”

08

“Say please again. Just like that. Go on.”

09

“There but for the grace of god, my recently deceased acquaintance. Or the grace of someone, anyway.”

10

“I’m getting my shit together, like you keep telling me to do. You don’t get to be difficult about it.”

11

“I have no rules and a lot of exceptions."

12

“Shot in the shoulder, stabbed in the thigh, both occupational hazards. No tragedy here either.”

13

“You’re going to get hypothermia. You won’t even drown. There’ll be no romance or drama to it. You’ll just freeze and die. It’ll be painfully dull.”

14

“I dreamed about the tide coming in, rising too high, right up to the house. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t daylight either. The light switches didn’t work and the doors wouldn’t stay locked. Outside, there was water everywhere. Huge waves, swelling and covering everything. All that water, but it felt like home and I walked right into it.”

15

“How dare you? It’s not spaghetti anything. It’s bucatini.”

Tagging @sparrow-orion-writes, @k--havok and @reininginthefirewriting if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in 💙