#SO tired of pretending to be surprised and/or justifying myself for not being surprised | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heliobitchio · 22 hours ago

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Per Volar Sunata

Chapter Twelve

Several hours before…

The kettle whistles quietly, waiting for someone to attend to it. Soon enough, a gentle hand does, pouring two cups. The second is taken by a yellow glove. “Am I old enough to know now?”

Janus laughs wryly, stepping away from the counter. “You always were, Patton.”

Patton follows Janus to the couch, holding his cup close. “And you always weren’t, Janus. Did they start when you were 14? When you moved Remus and the others away, telling me what to do?”

Janus wafts a hand slowly over the curling steam of his drink, closing his eyes. “... So what if they did, Patton? These ends don’t justify my means. I’ve caused so much… only to be left here.”

Patton tilts his head. “You said you wanted to talk. I- think I’ve calmed Roman down, but we both know it’s a long shot. I wanted to hear what you have to say. All of you are younger than me. You’re all my kiddos.”

“Kiddos…” Janus shakes his head, taking a glove off to take a cookie. “Is that all we are, Patton? Just stumbling children, reaching for the light of God?”

“Well, now, I didn’t say that.” Patton laughs softly, leaning back in his chair. “I only use the word in the best way. I see myself as a guide, just as you do, Janus. I’m just trying to give out advice. Sometimes, that advice is good, and we all get better. Sometimes, it’s bad. And we either fix it, or live with it, as best we can.”

Janus pauses at that, looking down. “When did you find out about the nightmares?”

“When I heard your song.” Patton smiles as Janus’ face quickly turns. “Don’t be too surprised. I keep a closer eye on Roman than he thinks. I’ve heard it. A sound like that could only be made of love, Janus. And I know really well that love means fear.”

Janus laughs softly, sipping on his cup now that it’s cooled. “... I’m tired of being what I’m not, Patton. I fall asleep as myself, and wake as you, or Roman, or Virgil now. Why was I gifted the name of a god? Why was I given this ability I didn’t ask for? And why does my fear… keep me from the one person I want to speak freely to?”

Patton’s quiet a moment. The clock ticks on the wall as Janus removes his second glove, dusting the chocolate off his hands.

“I don’t know.”

Janus looks up. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that.” Patton shrugs. “I don’t know. I won’t always have the answers, I won’t always be able to help.”

Janus blinks. “That is… so comforting.”

Patton raises a hand, putting his cup down with the other. “Well- okay. I’m tired of pretending too, you know? I have bad days, I have days of anger, and hurt, and days I never want to leave my room. Sometimes my bed. You know what helps with that, Janus?”

“What?”

“Talking.” Patton smiles. “Talking, and laughing, and baking. Choosing to channel that energy somewhere else. It doesn’t always work. Sometimes, the hardest decision is getting up, and it doesn’t always happen. But since those days, when I couldn’t face Thomas, I’ve looked in the mirror and told myself I’d always be proud of who looks back at the end of the day. And somehow, that’s made things a little easier to face. I know I’ll still have bad days, but I also know my family’s here for me.”

Janus is the one who’s quiet this time. Patton lets the silence stretch on, he’s seen this before in Virgil. He takes a second cookie off the plate, sitting back and letting him think.

“Then…”

“What, Janus?”

The Side looks up. “Who- should I talk to? About all of this?”

“Well, you’ll always have me at your side, no matter what.” Patton nibbles on his cookie. “And you could always talk to Thomas.”

“What? After all of this?!”

Janus hisses. Actually- hisses. Patton thought Virgil was exaggerating.

He stifles his laugh, tilting his head. “Well- I know I haven’t been the best, to Thomas or anyone. When he found out I’m a lot more than just morality or his good feelings, I thought he’d push me away too. But- here we are. And we’re stronger for it.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Patton hesitates. “We won’t know until we try. Thomas might hurt. He might be angry. He might- yell, or be scared, or he may take it in stride. We won’t know, Janus. Not until you decide you’re ready for it.”

Janus looks down at his hands. “I don’t… when?”

“Right now. Take what little courage you have, and go for it. Make the leap of faith.”

Patton reaches over, gently hugging Janus. And for once, the serpent doesn’t pull away.

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

Roman paces in Notre Dame. His father tried to comfort him, tried to say Thomas still loves him, but when he left, Roman knew. He still feels awful, he knows Thomas won’t go back on his word, he knows that he screwed something up.

He just doesn’t know how to fix it.

He paces, and paces. As the light shifts outside, he turns to the angel Gabriel. Thinking. About what’s out there, about what’s changed. His temporary truce with Janus is done, and he doesn’t know where to go from here.

The light shifts through Gabriel’s mural. The brown hair doesn’t look brown on the floor. It looks…

Orange.

Roman gets an idea.

He grabs his sword from the pew, his breath catching as he races from Notre Dame, whistling. Pegasus flies down and he catches the side of the horse in stride, jumping on and urging Pegasus to fly. Framed by the setting sun, he wheels for the gorge, flying in too fast for Remus to react. Still, he’s there at the door, his sword brandished.

“Roman, what the hell are you doing here-?!”

“Get out of my way!”

Roman unsheathes his sword and slams into his brother. Remus can see in his eyes- that’s rage, fear, shame. There’s no holding this brother back. Still, he tries, sweeping at Roman’s legs and shoving him back with his sword, racing after him.

Roman’s ready, swinging to the side. Remus blocks with his blade, shockwaves down his arm. Roman suddenly turns and cuts, gouging Remus’ arm like he did so long ago. He yanks the sword from his brother’s hand when he stumbles, racing away.

“ROMAN!”

Roman makes it to the hourglass, Remus hot on his heels. Only Rem’s sword and Janus’ spell can break it. Roman laughs in victory, driving the sword hilt deep in, shattering the hourglass with a gigantic explosion.

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

Virgil was walking in the forest when the shockwave echoed across Mania. He grabs the nearest tree in support, dug into the ground and still pushed back four inches. He looks up, eyes wide, terrified of what could cause such power.

Remus’ castle, ablaze.

Silas suddenly appears beside him. Where’s Janus?!

“Hell if I know! What just happened?!”

Roman attacked suddenly, tore the hourglass open! If we’re not careful-

A roar echoes across Mania, only halfway human. Virgil raises his hands, shaking. “What… the hell…”

Silas grabs him by the shoulders. Go get Janus. I've got to get Remus out. Go!

Virgil races off to Janus’ secondary entrance to the subconscious, the only place his fear-filled brain can think he’d be if he didn’t feel that blast. As he turns back at the Parthenon, he sees someone- no, something- forming out of the castle’s fire.

“What the hell just happened?!”

Taglist:

@radar-chaos @reansunrivaledchaos @beauty-and-passion

#sanders sides #writing #ts roman #ts patton #thomas sanders #ts virgil #sanders sides fanfiction #ts remus #ts janus #felix writes

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steelycunt · 6 months ago

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hi! this is very unrelated to your blog, but you seem pretty reasonable, and everyone i ask for advice gives me different answers lol. i’m currently applying for internships and have been to so many interviews already that i’m quite tired of it.

i’ve been offered an internship at one place, and they seem very nice and accommodating to my needs. however, it’s an organization i don’t fully agree with because it’s in the agriculture business and isn’t very environmentally friendly. it’s kind of a political organization that is trying to avoid a climate tax and not deal with the climate crisis. i’m not a climate saint myself, but i do care and try my best, so i’m unsure if it would be hypocritical of me to work for a cause i don’t fully support. they even asked me in the interview how i would handle people reacting to my working there, which surprised me because i wasn’t aware people had such strong opinions (what if people judge me??)

i might be able to get an internship somewhere else (no guarantee), but the tasks sound less interesting, and they won’t allow me a day off for my therapy lol. pls help me and don’t judge me lol :(

hiya! must admit im extremely flattered that you find me reasonable enough to take your query too…adding this to my CV and saying it’s an advice column of mine.

as for your predicament!! i dont feel comfortable or justified in expressly telling you what to do and i can see that this is a tricky situation to be in…i suppose it’s a decision that just involves you weighing up your priorities at this point in your life and career and also how those priorities are best served in the long run. obviously i don’t know the ins and outs of this company, although the idea that they would ask you how you’d handle your association with them seems an extreme enough question to suggest that they’re pretty controversial?? if it’s something you feel strongly about to the point where it’s going to cause you anguish then id say don’t do it, because it’s likely to make you miserable as well as contributing to what appears to be a pretty unethical company. if there is a route that allows you to avoid being a part of that, that’s always going to be the desirable one.

on the other hand this is an internship rather than a job and as someone also currently looking for an internship or a job or anything at all, it’s kind of a beggars can’t be choosers situation for most of us, where to get any experience at all is quite a desperate ask. and at the end of the day getting experience and then moving on is the idea behind internships, so if you feel that getting that experience in order to go on to a job where you’re in a position to do that good is the trade off here that’s another way to look at it.

idk again without knowing the specifics im not comfortable telling you to go and intern for a morally dubious agricultural company, so if you feel theres a strong possibility you can find something else workable im inclined to suggest you do that, but i also won’t pretend i can’t understand why you’re conflicted over this. i can’t speak to the risks of people judging you and whatnot and i wouldn’t advise basing your decision on fear of being judged rather than fear that it would resonate with your own disagreements with the morals of the company. if you think people would judge you because you can see that it’s something that deserves to be judged, that probably speaks more to your own feelings and is an indication that you shouldn’t go for it. again i can’t tell you exactly what you ought to do, but those are some ways of looking at it and things to consider. hope you’re able to come to a decision that feels good!

#please don’t read into my advice any more than you would a friend u are talking to at the pub because i really don’t know what im talking #about any more than that and have no real credentials to be giving out advice other than you sending me this ask. good luck!#telegram #anon

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weepylucifer · 4 years ago

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Tosses another dinluke at you. This one’s about caring for each other

Luke awakens from uneasy sleep filled with nightmares, and immediately can tell that today is going to be terrible.

The occasional phantom pain in his wrist, that he can take. The old, flaring ache, the strange feeling that the hand is still there, which somehow makes both wearing and not wearing the prosthetic feel uncomfortable - well, it’s a drag, but it’s only one part of his body. With meditation to aid him, he finds he can usually sequester it off, away from the rest of him, and go through his day more or less like normal. But sometimes, each and every scar caused by the Force lightning clamors in pain, especially when he’s been dreaming about how he got them. This is the worst, because he hasn’t found a good way to cope with it yet. He can’t make the pain stop, and it’s driving him up the walls.

There’s no way he can teach his padawan like this.

Fortunately, Grogu’s father is visiting, and will probably be more than happy to entertain the kid for a day.

Luke hasn’t gotten the measure of the Mandalorian yet. He talks little, projects an aura of intimidation, being covered in armor all over like that, but he seems very attached to his child, so attached that Luke reckoned upon getting Grogu that breaking their bond would do a lot more harm than good. He’s come over for a few visits to far, and he practically curls over Grogu like a loth-cat over its young. But Luke doesn’t exactly know anything about him besides that.

Also, it’s dawned on Luke that he knows nothing about Mandalorians. He knows Boba Fett is one, but that’s pretty much it.

So he’s not exactly comfortable admitting his plight to the man. What if he perceives it as weakness? So when he emerges from his bedroom to greet him, he is brief, almost curt, making himself speak through the pain.

“I’m sorry, but there’ll be no lesson today. Can you just watch Grogu for me? I’m... something else has come up.”

The Mandalorian looks... like an expressionless helmet on a suit of armor. But his voice betrays some surprise when he says, “Um, yeah. Sure. Not a problem.”

He’s justified in his surprise; Luke has never cancelled Grogu’s lessons before. “Thanks,” Luke says and repeats, “Sorry this is on such short notice.”

The last thing he sees before beating his retreat back to his room is Grogu cooing and reaching a little hand out towards him in concern, doubtlessly feeling in the Force that something is amiss with Luke. He closes the door but can still hear the Mandalorian reassuring the kid to the best of his ability, “Sorry, buddy, your bajuri seems to be busy. No floating stuff today.”

Grogu emits the sad coo again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna go to the pond and look for frogs?”

...

“We can take the Phoenix over there.”

A happy squeak tells Luke that the plan has met approval.

“You like flying with the jetpack, huh? Yeah, me too.”

Their voices recede, Grogu babbling happily and his father talking back pretending to understand him, and then the temple is silent. It dawns on Luke that the Mandalorian is attractive, the juxtaposition between the gleaming armored fighter and the father so gentle with his kid intriguing. The thought is brutally cut short by another sharp flash of searing pain.

He whines and flings himself onto his bed, curling up and tugging at his hair with both hands, hoping beyond reason that the pain in his scalp will distract him from the pain in his everywhere else.

Luke has been trying on and off to meditate or at least nap for several hours, when he hears a knock at the door. It can only be Mando.

“Um. Master Jedi?”

The Mandalorian has never asked Luke’s name, maybe he reckons Luke goes by his self-assumed title, just like he seems perfectly comfortable going by Mando. Yes?, Luke wants to ask, but he’s scared it’ll come out an undignified whimper.

“I made some dinner for the kid,” the Mandalorian continues. Is it dinner already? “I thought maybe you’d want some, so I’ll leave it out here.”

Luke blinks at the door. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s, ah. Aruetiise usually find our cooking too spicy. So I made some bread to go with it, it. Helps. With the spice. I used some stuff from your storage for it, hope that’s okay.”

The silence persists.

“Putting it down now. Okay. Good luck with your... Jedi business.”

There’s a sound of, indeed, something being placed on the floor, then footsteps walking away.

Luke opens the door. There is a tray of food waiting for him. An amazingly delicious smell wafts from it and his stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten today.

So this man can cook. This man baked bread for him. Luke tries to imagine him, in the kitchen, doing that. Maybe he put Luke’s apron on over the armor. The thought makes him giggle for the first time today. Truly Grogu’s father is full of surprises.

It’s already getting dark out when Luke carries his empty plate back to the temple’s little kitchen. He finds Mando there with Grogu on his lap, as always in complete armor, simply watching as Grogu plays with a small silver ball.

Luke clears his throat. “Hi,” he says eloquently and carries his plate to the sink.

The Mandalorian nods in greeting. “All done in there?”

“Not exactly.” Somehow, Luke can feel Mando refocus on him, even through the helmet. He knows he must look rumpled, his hair mussed, his face drawn, and using one of his robes as a shawl. He wishes he had the ability to suffer more attractively, or at least the energy to make himself up a bit.

He sighs and sits down at the table with them. Somehow he feels like, as fair payment for the meal, the Mandalorian deserves his honesty in return. “Full disclosure, I wasn’t doing... Jedi stuff in my room. I just... I’m unwell.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Mando’s head tilts towards Grogu. It becomes apparent why when he asks, “Anything catching?”

“No. No, Grogu will be fine.” Luke folds his hands on the tabletop. Well, he’s already at it being honest. “Do you ever get the feeling of... old scars, hurting again? Like they’re new?”

“Your hand?” the Mandalorian asks. Ah, of course, he’s perceptive, he’s noticed the fake hand.

“Not just the hand. Everywhere. All over.” Luke grits his teeth as his nerves alight again along the lightning patterns. Maker, he hates this. It’s like the shrivelled old prune continues to torture him from beyond the grave.

“All over?” Mando repeats. The helmet’s modulator dulls emotion, but Luke guesses it’s concern he hears.

“Yeah. Look.” Following a sudden impulse, he gets up and shucks his robe, unbuttons his shirt and slips that off too. “Here, see?” He turns himself this way and that, catching the warm lamplight. “And yes, they go all the way down.”

Helmet or no, he can hear the Mandalorian’s breath catch. His hand, the one that’s not keeping Grogu from tumbling off his lap, twitches... rises... reaches out... Luke keeps himself very still. For a breath or two, he thinks that if the Mandalorian were to touch him, trace the lightning bolts on his torso with his gloved hand, then he might feel better. Might be soothed.

The hand is lowered to the table again as if embarrassed. Luke lets out his breath and tries not to slump in disappointment. “I’ve never seen scarring like that before,” the Mandalorian says. “And I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Force lightning,” Luke explains, before remembering that his companion knows nothing about the Force. “A Sith torture technique.”

“You were tortured?” Mando asks, then amends, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Luke sits back down, hugging his knees to his chest. “Pffft. It’s not like I’m not already thinking about it.” He rubs his hands down his arms at another shiver of pain. “The Emperor did this. When I went to confront him on the second Death Star.”

“It was you on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks.

“Yeah. The Emperor wanted me to join the dark side. I refused. I had no idea he’d just start frying me with lightning. I had no idea this was something the Force could even do.”

“But then you... killed the Emperor?” The Mandalorian is clearly guessing, and Luke finds himself astonished that there’s someone out there still who doesn’t know the whole Luke Skywalker Saga.

“I did not,” he says. “My father killed the Emperor. All I did was lie on the ground and be tortured.” He picks at his wrist where the synthetic skin joins the organic. “I’m not even bitter about that. It ended up saving my father’s soul. But sometimes, I have nightmares about it, you know? And in those dreams, my father... doesn’t help me. He just stands and stares at me and that’s worse than the pain. Because, when it actually happened, there was... a moment when I thought he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t care and he’d watch me die. For a moment there, I lost hope, and that’s the worst of it really, knowing that about myself.”

“Why was... your father on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks, and huh, apparently he hasn’t heard about the Luke-and-Vader-connection either.

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, because it is, and he’s tired. His scars still hurt, not in these sudden flashes anymore, but as a pulsing, bone-deep, constant ache. But his chest feels a bit lighter for having talked about it.

The Mandalorian now gestures at said chest, instead of asking for the story again. “Can you take painkillers for those?”

Luke shakes his head. “They don’t help much. The pain’s in here.” He taps his temple. “I’ve just been trying to sleep it off, but it hurts too much to get to sleep.”

Mando hisses out a breath, and Luke is by this point fairly certain he’s commiserating. “Phew. Sounds like you need a drink.”

This makes Luke laugh, and he appreciates that. “You know, I’d love a drink, actually.”

After Grogu is put to bed, Luke gets a glass of spotchka and Mando’s company (he tilts the helmet off just far enough to free his mouth in quick, almost furtive gestures and takes tiny sips). His head’s starting to feel pleasantly swimmy when he says, “You know, I’ve just bared all my troubles to you - well, not all, but some, and pretty hefty ones - and yet I know... three facts about you, maybe.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair,” the Mandalorian says amusedly. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name would be a good start,” Luke suggests.

The way the Mandalorian fidgets with his glass, he looks almost flustered. “Ah... Din. Din Djarin.”

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke grins and reaches across the table, ignoring the pinpricks of pain up his arm, to grip Mando’s - Din’s - hand. “It’s nice to have met you, Din Djarin.”

-----

In the following months, these flare-ups return occasionally, but none in such intensity. Luke knows that it’s only a matter of time, though. He’s beginning to suspect that this might stay with him forever. But he’s not as horrified at the prospect as he once was, after talking about it to Din and being neither judged nor pitied. After Din didn’t look at him worried like Leia, or attempted clumsily to walk on eggshells around the topic like Han, and didn’t think less of Luke, and didn’t act like Luke’s admittance to his issues tarnished some sort of larger-than-life image of the glowing Jedi hero. How odd it is to think of a future that has someone in it he can rely on in such an uncomplicated manner. He hasn’t had anyone in his life to rely on - or dared to think of himself as needing this - since... well, since Aunt Beru, probably.

During these months, Grogu has steadily progressed in his studies. Din has visited the temple with some regularity, but Luke has yet to get used to him. How could he, when there’s so much new and exciting to discover about Din still? He finds himself looking forward to these visits, and missing Din when absent, almost as much as Grogu does. Din can only ever stay a few days at once, and Departure Day is a sad one for all two inhabitants of the makeshift Jedi school. (Luke’s not sure what Din does when he’s not here. It can’t be so important, right? Surely not more important than spending time with Grogu? Than talking to Luke?)

This time, though, when Din shows up at the agreed-upon time, it’s weird. He speaks even less than usual, he seems to retreat into his armor even more, he opts to sleep in his ship instead of one of the many empty bedrooms in the temple that Luke has yet to fill with more students. And he barely holds or even touches Grogu, and that tips Luke off. These other observations he could chalk up to paranoia and his own desire to coax Din out of his (figurative!) shell. But that last one tells him that something is off.

Grogu can feel it too, and confusion and worry is seeping off of him into the Force. Luke tries to calm him and get him to sleep, but in the morning, Grogu’s still a bit anxious, and their collective worry mounts when breakfast passes by and Din fails to emerge from his ship. The two of them are reflecting their worry back off each other, and it’s getting aggravating, so Luke gets up and resolves to investigate.

“Okay, Grogu, can you go in the garden and play with Artoo? I’ll go look what’s up with your dad.”

Grogu immediately calms now that he knows the matter is being taken care of, and it warms Luke’s heart to see how much the kid has grown to trust him.

He gains entrance to the ship - it’s not the same one that Grogu has shared memories of with him, but similar enough in layout. The cockpit is empty, so he descends down a narrow ladder into what probably passes for crew quarters here. Peering around a corner, he finds Din hunkered down with his back against the durasteel wall, his threadbare cape wrapped around him as a blanket. He hasn’t noticed Luke come in yet, and that’s wrong in and of itself, and he’s shivering so hard it makes his beskar rattle slightly. As Luke lays eyes on him, he breaks into a horrid wet cough beneath the helmet, the modulator rendering it rasping and metallic.

Okay, something must be done.

“Din?” Luke asks, peeking his head out into open view. “It’s Luke, I’m in here now. You sound like my dad, kriffing-- how long has it been like this?”

Din’s head whips around in Luke’s direction, and he probably only doesn’t flinch because he’s trained to not flinch at things. “I’m fine,” he claims - outrageously lying - and tries to drag himself to his feet, hands bracing against the wall behind him.

Luke is already rushing to his side. “No, no, just stay down. There, that’s right, just sit. Are you wounded? Sick?”

Din tilts his head back against the wall. “Not wounded.”

“Well, that’s... good.” Luke squats next to him, unsure how to proceed. In the Force, he can feel exhaustion and pain radiating off of Din, but that doesn’t tell him what exactly is wrong. He tries to touch his wrist and, of course, meets beskar.

“Din, I realize this might be a... big ask, but can you remove your helmet so I can check your temperature?”

A stuttering sigh comes out through the modulator. “I don’t...”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Luke hurries to add. “It’ll just be for a few seconds. Oh, oh I have a blindfold back at the temple! I can run back and get it.”

Din shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’ve seen it before.” He reaches a shaking hand up and with a hiss, the locks on the helmet disengage. He slides it up and off and Luke takes in his face. It’s flushed, his hair matted and sweaty, his eyes bleary, and yet. It’s as attractive as Luke remembers.

Shaking these thoughts off, because there certainly are more important things now, Luke reaches out and puts his ungloved hand on Din’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he hisses. “I’m taking you back to the temple, I have medicine there.”

He’s already in the process of wrapping an arm around Din’s torso to help him up when Din shakes his head. “No. Gotta stay here.” His speech is washed out, his eyes glassy, and Luke’s concerned he’s not talking sense.

“You’ll be more comfortable at the temple.”

Din tries to brush him off with alarmingly feeble hands. “No. The kid.”

Ah. “I don’t think Grogu can catch anything off of you. Different species and all that.”

“You don’t know.”

Well, strictly speaking, Luke doesn’t. Yoda never mentioned anything like that. For a moment, Luke looks around the room, but his old mentor’s ghost is unhelpfully absent. He settles for promising, “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

Din shakes his head again. “Kid’s going to...” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit. “...try to heal me. Don’t want him to overdo it.”

Even miserably sick, Din’s first concern is for the child. It makes something warm swell in Luke’s chest, and he realizes with no small start that Oh, this might be something a lot more than attraction he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t matter now. “I’ll make sure Grogu doesn’t overtax himself then. I’m his teacher, it’s what I’m here for.” Not at home to any more protests, Luke uses the Force to help him lift Din up in his arms. “Try to have a little faith in me, okay?”

“I’m fine here on my own,” Din insists.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Luke says distractedly as he starts off towards the exit ramp, bridal-carrying a whole Mandalorian warrior.

Din is not cooperative, doing his damndest to make himself a dead weight. “I’m Mand’alor,” he mutters, eyes half-closed. “I don’t have to take that tone from you.”

Luke doesn’t know what that word means. Maybe it’s a special type of Mandalorian. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. “Right now, you’re sick, that’s all,” he says, taking them at a brisk pace back to the temple. “You need attention.”

Din’s answer is a displeased groan. “My own damn fault for taking off the helmet.”

In the moment, Luke wonders if he means that in a metaphysical sort of way, like he’s being punished by the ancient Mando gods for his heresy. He’ll later discover that it’s much more prosaic than that: Din has worn the helmet since he was a child, and it’s protected him amiably against any airborne diseases. Now that he’s decided to start taking if off occasionally amongst other people, his immune system is being thrown into a panic by all these new unfiltered things to be breathed in, and he has prompty caught some kind of space flu.

For now, he gets Din into bed, armor and all, and heads for the ‘fresher and the aid kit he stashed there.

Din is burning.

Din is glacier-cold.

He sleeps irregularly in this soft bed he doesn’t recognize, and wakes himself with fits of coughing. He gropes for lucidity and gives up on it again in intervals. At some point, someone took his helmet - no, he remembers taking it off, or was that a dream? He has a memory of being carried in somebody’s arms, but who would carry him in full beskar? Who would care to? He’s not on his ship and he’s not alone and this is wrong. He’s been sick before, even with the helmet: from infected wounds or bad food or bad water or being out in harsh weather too long during a job. He’s always ridden it out by himself, if he was too far off to stumble his way back to the covert. But this isn’t the covert - that’s long gone, isn’t it? - and someone is here.

The person, at some point, helps him sit up and removes his armor, and Din would panic - does - but the person’s hands on him are gentle, and there’s some voice telling him that “It’s just to make you more comfortable, I’m putting it right next to the bed, I’m not taking it away, see? It’s right here waiting for you” and he’s too exhausted to put up a fight, and why would they lie? If they wanted the beskar for themselves they would’ve killed him already. But the person doesn’t. The person gives him water when he’s coughed his throat raw. The person drapes a blanket over him, which he shucks off during the hot spells only to grope for it again during the cold ones. The person puts a hand on his forehead and it’s even more cool and soothing than the damp cloth they also provide.

At some point, the person puts something in the bed with him - some alive thing, some small and fussy thing, some important thing with small green claws and wide moon eyes and large ears that are the softest thing that Din’s ever touched. He reaches out for it on instinct, just to pet the downy white hairs on its little head, and the person’s voice says from somewhere far above, “Okay, Grogu, I promised your father to take this slow. We’ll do this gradually, so you don’t tire yourself. You understand? Small healing. Easy.”

The small and precious thing makes a displeased sound, and Din wants to soothe it again. The voice replies, “I know how you feel, I know you want to fix it all right now, but I promised, okay? Your father will be very disappointed in me if we don’t do this just like he’d have it. And we don’t want that, hm?”

Din hears a coo close to his ear, feels a tiny, three-clawed hand touching him, and then there’s a sudden warmth spreading in his chest, not like the clammy heat of the fever but different, pleasant. Suddenly it seems easier to lie back and get some real, truly restful sleep, and this he does.

This instance repeats several more times, over days, until there is a point at which Din wakes - still sore, shaky, and with his muscles aching from having trembled so much - but with the fever broken and his head clear enough to string a coherent thought together.

He’s vaguely aware of a warbling voice a short distance away that he can’t quite yet discern. The room is dim, with only a singular lamp by his bedside spreading a warm light. There is a window above the bed but no light is coming in. It must be late in the evening - Grogu’s bedtime, is what Din’s inner alarm clock tells him without fail. And indeed, when he raises his head, he spots a small crib across the room that can only be Grogu’s, and Luke is there, rocking it in gentle motions. It is him who’s doing the crooning - singing Grogu to sleep, Din realizes abruptly. As he focuses, the lullaby slowly starts to make some sense: it’s in Bocce, which Din is about as conversant in as Tusken. He’s actually heard the tune before; it’s a nonsensical little ditty that settlers on Tatooine sing to their children.

He stretches out an arm and points a shaky finger at Luke.

“Hick,” he accuses, his voice gritty like he gargled a mouthful of sand.

Luke spins around, his blue eyes widening. “If you’re trying to insinuate that only sand-encrusted, desert-dwelling hicks speak Bocce,” he says, “then you are correct.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you back with us.”

“You’re from Tatooine,” Din says, and wonders why this is so important to him. Maybe it’s because learning things about Luke is like putting a puzzle together. There’s somehow a whole bunch of people that Luke is - he’s fascinating, he’s vexing, he’s confusing, and Din has no idea why he’s this interested in the first place. Well, he does have some clue, but it’s best not dwelled upon. Luke has his Creed and his life, Din has his wholly different Creed and life, and it’s not like the interest can be mutual anyway.

Or can it? Luke seems to have been here for days, watching him heal. Din’s mind veers away from phrases like “nursing” and “caring for” because, well, it implies a needing and a being needed that’s not usually extant for him. He takes care of himself, mostly, that is how it’s been for years. Decades...

Luke nods. “Anchorhead represent. Go Womp Rats.”

Din wrinkles his nose. “Anchorhead? There’s nothing there.”

“You’re telling me! Come talk to me about it when you’ve lived there for nineteen years.” He crosses the room to come perch on the edge of Din’s bed. “Which you won’t, you’re the king of Mandalore.”

Oh, shit. Yeah. He’s probably missing a council meeting right now. Wait. “Who told you?”

“You talked a lot when you were feverish.” Luke passes a hand over Din’s brow. He’s done that before, but it’s very different now that Din is awake for it. “It seems to have broken.”

“You had the kid heal me,” Din surmises. He can’t waste breath right now on wondering what else he said to Luke, when the fever had him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I had him heal you slowly, step by step, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Just a little every day,” Luke explains.

“He okay now?”

“He’s-” Luke begins to answer, then stops himself. A truly mischievous smile spreads on his lips. “Prince Grogu is resting, your highness. But yes, your majesty, he’s perfectly fine and healthy.”

“Stop.” Din swats a hand at him. “Not... ‘majesty’. We don’t even do that. It’s just ‘Alor. Actually, it’s just Din.”

Luke dodges his hand and almost falls back onto the bed, laughing. “Oh, dear. Please, your worship, accept this humble Jedi’s apology--”

“I mean it, stop--” He probably sounds petulant. He can’t bring himself to care.

Luke’s smile gentles. So do his eyes, impossibly blue. Huh. He’s beautiful. “I’m just teasing you,” he says, beautifully. “I know this doesn’t change anything here. Just another facet of the man I’ve been getting to know.”

“Ah. So you’ve been.” Din clears his throat. That feels awful, as it is still very dry. “Getting to know me. Huh?”

Does this qualify as flirting? This is probably awful. Din’s not good at this. And anyway, it’s still unclear if Luke is actually--???

The softest pair of lips in the galaxy (the galaxy!!!) is on his forehead. Din’s chest implodes. He can feel Luke’s smile on his skin. He’s never felt anything like it before. How is this happening? He’s most likely still sick, and this is a fever dream.

“I’d like to get to know much more of you,” Luke says, withdrawing, still smiling, his eyes like sun-streaked oceans. Din has no breath in his chest.

He delays his reaction two seconds too long, and Luke’s expression begins to falter. “I’m... sorry, you’ve just recovered, and here I am putting... this on you.” He gestures broadly at himself in his entirety. “I... hold on, I’ll go get you, um, a glass of water or something...”

Din would like a glass of water. He would not like Luke to leave. The latter wins out. “Wait.” He grasps Luke’s wrist before he can get up. “I didn’t mean... I would, um. Like to get to know you also.”

Luke stills, his face a turmoil of emotion. How is this the same man who looked so utterly serene to the point of expressionlessness when they first met?

Din figures it’s way past time he made a move. Luke’s already gone and bared himself so much. It’s only fair that he meet him halfway, Din thinks and kisses him.

#dinluke #skydalorian #hurt/comfort #sickfic #this one's about two guys who don't normally have people finding themselves having someone #it got longer than expected!#did i give din djarin the corner virus by accident #big yikes #posts by me

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Twenty-One ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4032

Warnings: None

A/n Hello! Sorry I’ve been absent! Life got a little crazy with family visiting and school starting again, but I’m happy to be back! I’ll see you again Wednesday with the regularly-scheduled update :)

I wake with my face buried in the crook of someone’s neck. Pushing against the solid mattress, I raise myself up and try to remember where I am. But the solidness beneath me isn’t the mattress at all. It’s Haldir’s chest. I sit up straighter, realizing that, in the night, I’d pulled myself almost completely on top of him.

He moves as he chuckles, bringing a hand up to tuck my surely wild hair behind my ear. I look down to find him smiling up at me, looking much more awake than I feel. “Good morning.”

I purse my lips, trying not to show how much I enjoy the sight of him in my bed, the feeling of waking up with him. I lower myself back down, settling against his side. His arm wraps around me automatically, securing me in place.

“Good morning,” I reply, tucking my chin against his sternum. “How did you sleep?”

He chuckles, lazily running his fingers up and down my arm. “Better than you can imagine. Though I did have an elbow digging into my stomach, there were, amazingly, no snores. And your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.”

I grin, twisting so I can better see his face. “Well, if you can suffer through being stabbed in the stomach all night, you are welcome to share my comfy bed any time you like.” I furrow my eyebrows, considering. “For the next two nights, I guess. After that, you’re welcome to share the grass beside my bedroll.”

He throws his head back in laughter, the sight so beautiful that my own giggles dies as I take the time to stare at him. How can he be so carefree and joyful when he knows his death is only a few decades ahead of him?

Our conversations last night pretty much disintegrated my resolve to end things with him, not that I had much resolve from the moment we actually allowed ourselves to be together. So weak, I chide myself. But, as Haldir has reminded me time and time again, he is an adult and can make his own choices. I have to respect that, just as he has respected that for me on numerous occasions.

But part of me worries I’m just using that as an excuse to justify my selfishness.

Because no matter how well I love him, how much joy I bring him, how happy I make his life, I will always be the one causing his death. He’s not doing the same for me. I’m the one who will kill him.

Haldir moves his fingers from my arm to my hair, tangling his fingers in the waves. I love it when he does that.

He smiles at me, distracting me from my gloomy thoughts. “I am excited for you to see Lothlórien. What do you have left to do before we leave?”

I sigh, shrugging and leaning against him. “Not much. I’ve got to tell Alex about us, hopefully he’ll take it well, but you know how he can be. I imagine Lavandil already knows, but I would still like to talk with her. After that, just packing, but I can probably put that off until tomorrow night. Packing will be easy — oh, that reminds me — do you have an extra bag I could use? That’s actually what I went up to your room to get the other night, but you confessed your love for me which was really inconvenient, because I never did get that bag.”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Please accept my most sincere apologies. Before any future proclamations of love, I shall ask if there is something you need to cross off your to-do list, first.”

“Thank you,” I huff, feigning relief. “That’s all I ask.” Once our laughter dies down, I turn the question back to him. “What about you?”

I feel him shift under me as he stretches to look toward the curtains pulled over the window s, likely trying to gauge the time by the rays of sun peeking through. “I have a few meetings lined up, as well as continued training with the guard. They’re in quite good shape, but you can never be too prepared. And, as much as I hate to say it, I must get up.” He rolls so I am under him and places a sweet kiss to my forehead. “I have stayed in bed far too long.”

I grin up at him, catching his lips in a proper kiss before following him from the warmth of the blankets. “If you must.” I eye my closed door, now fully aware that we are well into the morning hours. I cross my arms, shifting my weight between my feet. “People will see you leaving my room.”

He looks up at me, back leaned against the wall as he pulls on his boots and laces them up. “Yes?”

I shrug, taking a few steps closer to him. “Well, they’ll talk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the beginnings of a smirk playing on the edges of his lips. “Would you like me to exit via window?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No.”

“Then let them talk.” He places his foot on the ground and meets me in the center of the room. “I’ve no intention of hiding you.”

I grin broadly, surprised by how much that sentence pleases me, and pull him down for a final kiss. “See you after dinner for training?”

“Yes,” he nods, letting his hand trail over my waves as he backs towards the door. “Your armor should be done by then. I’ll bring it with me.”

“I’m not wearing it,” I shout through the open door as he passes through.

“Yes, you are,” he calls back in a confident, almost lilting voice.

I grumble.

“Ah, good morning Ríneth.”

I freeze. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.

“G-good morning, Marchwarden,” comes the stunned response. As the attendant passes my open door, she sneaks a look, her eyes widening when she sees me standing in the center of the room. I raise a hand and wave.

She scurries off.

Stifling a chuckle, I close the door and head to the bathroom to get ready for one of my last days in Imladris.

{***}

I decide to tell Alex first. Between him, Lavandil, and Baranor, Alex is the most likely to have a sour reaction, so I’d prefer to just get that over with.

He welcomes me in after one knock and I try to contain my surprise, immediately noticing the explosion of books, scrolls, and papers scattered across his room.

I step over a large pile of volumes to make it through the entryway. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Elrond said I could take some books with me, but they’re too bulky to travel with, so I’m trying to copy down as much as I can before we go.”

I nod, trying to find an area clear of stuff large enough for me to place my feet. “I bet Lothlórien has a good library.”

“I hope,” he agrees, bending to move some books so I have space. “But what’s up?”

“Um,” I press my lips together, suddenly feeling very, very nervous. My hands twist themselves in and out of each other as I look for anything to distract myself from the way my heart races. “I wanted to tell you…” Just get it over with. “Haldir and I are — together.” I wince. That doesn’t even begin to encompass how I feel about him, but how the heck do I describe our relationship?

Alex raises an eyebrow, setting the books in his hands down on the chest of drawers. “Yeah, for a while, right?”

I blink. Of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected that. “What?”

He tilts his head. “Wait, this happened recently?”

“Uh, yeah,” I huff, a little put out that he’s been thinking I’ve been secretly with Haldir and just hadn’t said anything about it. “What made you think it happened earlier?”

Alex shrugs, throwing his hands in his pockets. “Well, I don’t know, it was just kinda obvious something was there. I assumed the two of you acted on it around the time we got to Imladris and have just been trying to keep it a secret or something.”

“Wha—um,” I sputter, completely floored. “We’ve been avoiding each other for three months,” I defend, suddenly self-conscious of my apparently obvious feelings.

“Yeah,” Alex shrugs again, hauling a bag filled with books onto his bed. “I thought that was part of it — pretend to avoid each other to quiet the rumors, but then meet up when no one was paying attention.”

“Rumors,” I squeak, not liking the sound of that.

“Well, I didn’t hear any,” he corrects, noticing my panic. “I just, you know — the two of you seemed to click. I figured other people noticed it, too.”

He’s not wrong about that, I think, remembering Lavandil’s excitement and, before he changed his mind due to my mortality, Rumil’s.

Alex speaks again, the slightest shift in his tone. “I also figured that, well, your attachment to him is what was making you want to stay here and not work so hard to get home. Because, honestly Cosima, I can’t wrap my head around any other reason that would be strong enough to keep you away from your own world.”

“Oh. Right.” I look down at my hands, guilt buzzing in my stomach.

“But now that it’s official, I’m guessing you’ve decided?” Alex comes to stand in front of me, arms crossed in front of his chest. He doesn’t look angry, like I thought he would, just resigned.

I sigh, hating the disappointment I know I’m causing him. “Yes. I will help you figure out how to get home if you still want that, but I—I’m staying here.”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “And when I get home, what should I tell your family?”

I suck in a sharp breath. Ouch. I drop my hands to my sides, pleading with him. “Can we just—not? Please? I don’t remember them, Alex, I don’t even know if they exist, aside from nonna, who passed away five years ago. And here…well…” I sigh, mind drifting to Haldir and Lavandil and Rumil and Orophin and Baranor, and even Glorfindel. “My family—the family I chose—they’re all in Arda.”

Alex nods slowly, regarding me thoughtfully. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

I try to ease the hurt. I don’t want him to be sad. “But I’ll keep helping you, I promise. If there’s a way home, we’ll find it.”

He sighs and then smiles, though it looks tired. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right. Thanks, Cosi.” He steps forward and pulls me into a hug, the action surprising me. Blinking against the shock, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. “I suck at showing it, but I am happy for you, you know,” he whispers, squeezing my shoulders.

He releases me then, and I smile up at him. “Thank you.”

{***}

After my unexpected conversation with Alex, it’s time to find Lavandil.

It’s not difficult.

Her high-pitched giggle catches me on the way to lunch, her hands whirling me around into a wall of curls. She surprises me by grabbing me in the briefest of hugs, then pulls away, gripping me tightly by the shoulders.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Orophin told me last night — he’s upset of course, but he does acknowledge that he’s never seen Haldir as happy as he is when he’s with you! And I honestly think Orophin just needs time. Bottom line, he wants Haldir to be happy and loved, and you’re doing just that. But okay, now that that’s out of the way, you must tell me everything.”

I laugh, trying to catch up with her enthusiasm and rapid-fire words. I pull her to the side of the hallway, closer to the stone wall. People are, of course, bound to find out as the week goes on, but I’d rather not shout the details of what I consider to be my most cherished moment. In a hushed voice, I recount the night Haldir and I decided to go for it, Lavandil squealing and grinning through the whole thing.

“That is so sweet,” she gushes, eyes bright. “Who knew Haldir had such a way with words!”

“I know, right,” I agree, pleased to finally be able to talk about this with one of my best friends. “And kissing him?” I place a hand over my heart in a mock swoon, earning me a delighted laugh. “I could do that forever.” But then I bite my lip, not sure how she’ll react to what I’m going to tell her next. “He uh—spent the night last night.”

Lavandil’s eyes blow wide. “Did you—”

“No.” I hurry to clear that up. “But, I mean…it’s difficult not to want to…” I sigh, feeling much better upon seeing her understanding nod. She gets it. “How do you and Orophin manage? For eight years?”

She grins somewhat bashfully. “Well, it does help that we don’t see each other very often. And a lot of times, we have to stop ourself before we end up getting married without a second thought. But it all just comes down to us acknowledging the reality of our situation — we don’t want to get married and live apart, but neither of us was ready to give up our homes, families, or careers, not until recently, so we had to wait to take that step. It was a decision we were both okay with for a while. But now…” She shrugs, her smile softens and a faraway look enters her eye. “That time is over. He’s staying here with me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.”

I smile at her, happy for my friend. “Do you…” I tread carefully, not sure how much more I can ask without intruding, “think you’ll get married then?”

“Oh, for sure,” she grins, crossing her arms over her chest. “And soon. All our reasons not to have conveniently been taken care of.”

I take her hand in mine and give it a quick squeeze. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy for me, too, she jokes, winking cheekily. We laugh, and then she dissolves back into her interrogation of me. Dutifully, I answer each and every one.

{***}

When it’s dark outside, Haldir knocks on my door. In his hand, he carries a dark brown bag that makes a suspicious clanging sound with every step he takes. I eye it warily. He smiles, bringing the palm of my hand to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m sorry it’s so late. The drills ran long.”

I shrug, pulling him farther into my room and shutting the door behind him. “Don’t worry about it. I was with Lavandil until about an hour ago, anyway.”

He looks at me, a note of hesitation in his eyes. “And how did that go?”

“Better than expected,” I laugh in relief. “She’s very happy for us and says Orophin shows signs of feeling better. I talked to Alex too — can you believe it, he thought we’ve been together for months!”

At this, Haldir raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. “What would give him that impression? We avoided each other for almost the entire time we’ve been in Imladris.”

“That’s what I said!” I hold up a hand to stop him. “But I’m actually not going to talk to you any more until you open that bag. I need to decide if I’m going to be mad at you or not.”

He grins broadly, setting the bag gently on the ground. “I don’t know why you would be mad when all I’ve done is bring you a present.” Haldir reaches inside and draws out silver chainmail.

“Well, take it back,” I grumble, having correctly guessed the contents of the bag. I cross my arms over my chest.

“See?” Haldir smiles, straightening with the chainmail in hand. “It’s not as bad as you thought. It can even be worn under your clothes if you like.”

I grimace, taking a step forward and running a hand over the cool metal. Experimentally, I gather the bottom of the piece and hold it in both of my hands. It’s heavy. I look up at Haldir, unimpressed. “There’s no way this is comfortable.”

He shrugs. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, I’d rather have you uncomfortable and alive than comfortable and dead.” He steps forward, presses a kiss to my temple, then walks past me to lay the chainmail over my table.

I sigh. He’s just trying to keep me safe. “Alright, fine,” I acquiesce, following him further into my room. I step in front of him, trying to will my annoyance away. “Thank you for doing that.”

He smiles softly, though there’s a hint of humor in his eyes as he knows the effort I’m putting into making my tone polite. “You are very welcome. Now — go stand in the center of the room. I want to go over a few more techniques before we pause training to travel. And tomorrow, we’ll practice with the chainmail.”

I groan.

{***}

Haldir stays with me for the remaining two nights in Imladris. It’s very convenient — not only do I love having him with me, but it gives him and Rumil some much-needed space.

Over the course of our remaining days, we only had a few things on our to-do list: Inform Baranor of the development in our relationship — he didn’t seem surprised, just like he was making a very conscious effort to appear happy for us—prepare the horses, and pack our belongings and adequate provisions for the journey. On the morning of our departure, we’re set to meet at the bridge that marks the entrance to the city. Haldir leaves me while it’s still dark, kissing me while I’m half asleep and telling me goodbye. He went to ensure the horses were ready and ‘tie up a couple of loose ends,’ as he put it.

Despite the desire to sleep in, I rise with the sun, knowing we don’t have long before we leave. When I spot the chainmail laid over my table, I begrudgingly pull it on under my clothes, knowing Haldir will just send me back to get it if I don’t. It’s heavier than I want it to be, but he’s right — if we were attacked, it would provide an additional measure of protection. I don’t have to tell him that, though. Once I’m dressed, all that’s left to do is say my goodbyes and get on the horse.

I don’t want to say goodbye.

Lavandil meets me at my door. Wordlessly, she shoulders one of my bags and walks with me to the front of the estate. We step onto the lush grass, which still glints with the morning dew. Soon, autumn will creep in and the green of Imladris will turn into brilliant reds, golds, and oranges—or so my friends tell me. I hope that I will get to see it one day.

At the start of the bridge waits the rest of my company. I notice Haldir off to the side with both Orophin and Rumil. Unlike his brothers, Rumil doesn’t look up or wish us good morning. That stings—bad—but at least he’s talking to his brothers.

I search for Alex and, with a note of surprise, find him behind the horses, speaking with Elrond. I raise an eyebrow, but don’t investigate. If Alex wants to tell me about their conversation, he can.

Lavandil and I approach Faervel, who whinnies in recognition. Since Orophin is staying in Imladris, his horse is as well. Horses are apparently quite fond of their owners, so we agreed not to hurt any of them by pulling them away from their home and taking them back to Lothlórien. That means Alex still rides with Baranor and I will ride with Haldir — for now. Maybe if Rumil ends up forgiving me, I can ride Roch at some point.

I loop my bag into the straps on the edge of the saddle, securing it in place. Lavandil does the same with my other bag, tying it on Faervel’s back.

Someone behind me clears their throat, and both Lavandil and I turn around.

Elrond smiles in greeting, inclining his head. “Lavandil, would you mind if I had a moment alone with Cosima?”

“Of course,” she smiles, waving at me as she hurries off to join Orophin. This isn’t goodbye, I remind myself. I’ll catch her again before I leave.

Elrond pats Faervel on the head. “Cosima, I wish you safe travels.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

“Promise me,” he continues, voice turning serious, “that when you arrive in Lothlórien, you will speak to Lady Galadriel without delay. I believe she can help you and Alexander.”

I agree readily. Elrond has been so kind and helpful, of course I’ll do as he asks.

“Good.” He nods. “And, well…” he sighs, sadness entering his ageless eyes. “I pray to the Valar that you will have a happy, fulfilling life.”

Despite the well-wish, grief collects in his features and I suck in a breath, remembering exactly who his daughter is and who she loves.

I open my mouth to say — what? That I’m sorry? That I wish it were someone else? What can I say to an ellon whose daughter will die for the same reason Haldir will?

I close my mouth.

Because no, there is nothing to say.

Elrond inclines his head in understanding and steps back, bidding a final farewell to us all before returning to his estate.

Rumil, Baranor, and Alex mount their horses.

It seems there is no more time to waste. Lavandil comes to stand in front of me, sniffling. “I guess this is goodbye.”

Tears enter my own eyes and I bite my lip, desperately not wanting them to escape and betray how sad I feel.

“The shop won’t be the same without you,” she whispers. Then, in a movement so fast I barely register the change, she flings her arms around my shoulders, drawing me in for a brief, tight hug. “Be happy.”

I pull back, smiling despite my sadness. “You too. Write to me?”

“Of course.” She gives me a watery laugh and tosses her curls over her shoulder. “Who else can we complain about them to?” She jerks a thumb in the direction of Haldir and Orophin, who put on identical expressions of affronted disbelief, and I break into actual laughter.

But when our laughter fades, Lavandil falls back, stepping out of the way of the horses and into Orophin’s outstretched arms.

Haldir walks up next to me. He crouches, ready to help me on the horse and, before I can look at the sadness on Lavandil’s face and burst into tears of my own, I put my boot in his hand, allowing myself to swing onto Faervel’s back. In the next moment, Haldir lands in front of me, taking the reins in his hands.

“Now what are all these tears about?”

I jump, startled by the loud, unexpected voice.

None other than Glorfindel, followed by four armored members of Imaldris’s guard, gallop down the path.

My golden friend sidles his horse next to Faervel, winking at me. “Good news, my dear lady, we shall not be parted so soon! Your commander—or should I say lover, now—” both Haldir and I make a face at the term, “asked for an escort through the mountain pass. My troops and I are happy to oblige.”

Haldir nods to him, serious despite Glorfindel’s exuberance. “Thank you for coming.”

Glorfindel smiles, returning Haldir’s nod. “Of course, mellon nîn.” He calls out a command and our company, much larger now, moves forward. I allow myself one final wave to Orophin and Lavandil, as well as a last glance at this shining city that had just begun to feel like home.

Before I know it, we have crossed the terrifying bridge and left the safety of Imladris behind.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day <3 And to everyone who responded to the last chapter: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, THANK YOU!!!!!

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#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction #double heart

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andraaste · 4 years ago

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I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 2

I am currently writting chapter 10, but for now, here is chapter 2 translated into english ;)

(Link for Chapter 3 here)

Chapter 2 : Everything is your fault

I woke up in a room that I knew all too well, especially since the last few days. The infirmary was perfectly silent and only the lapping of the water flowing in the room accompanied me. Staring into space, I put an arm over my face when a sly pain in the blank made me wince. I realized then that my clothes had been changed and that I was wearing a top that was unknown to me. Lifting it up, I realized that a red stained bandage was covering my stomach. The reason for my presence here came back to me then.

Lance...

I had started bleeding, for no reason, in Lance's presence!

Since waking up, I felt like I was losing my mind. Memory problems, dizziness, bleeding and other strange phenomena were accumulating in me and no one was able to explain it. At the same time, no one before Leiftan and I except the Oracle had lived in the crystal.

But yes, Leiftan, how was he? The latter woke up shortly after me and strangely, I had hardly ever seen him since. The aengel had refused to join the Sparkling and since then he seemed to be doing his best to escape any presence. But one thing was certain, it was that I never saw him in the infirmary, the lucky kid.

Snippets of voice slowly reached me and I listened to try to figure out who it was.

- I don't understand what she has ...

- .... had a link? ...

I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher the conversation I overheard.

- .... don't know ... bring her back ...

Hearing muffled footsteps moving in my direction, I hurriedly closed my eyelids, pretending to be still asleep.

When they reached me, a warm and comforting hand rested on my forehead. Eweleïn's, I was beginning to know it by heart.

- She is stable and her fever has subsided, we will bring her back to her room, she will be more calm to rest. I'm counting on you to watch her.

- Very good.

My stomach contracted at the sound of that voice.

- Are you telling me she started bleeding for no reason? Are you sure you didn't hurt her, even without doing it on purpose?

A silence heavy with innuendo spread between the two interlocutors.

- I understand it's strange, but that's what happened, Eweleïn.

- Alright ... in that case, I'll let you bring her back.

When the dragon's arms encircled my body again in minute detail, I unwillingly tensed in fear and apprehension. Before lifting me up, he gently lowered the shirt over my wound, and when his fingers touched my skin as gently as a caress, I felt an electric current flow through me. Lance lifted me up without difficulty and without really knowing why, I resolutely kept my eyes closed, squeezing my eyelids a little too tight.

Without a word, he carried me like a lifeless rag doll, weak and silent, to my new room. With each of her steps, I could feel her calm, deep breaths against my neck. Why was it that I didn't come forward, exactly? I felt like I was paralyzed. He finally opened the door to my room and stepped silently into it. The pole closed behind us, cutting us off from the outside world. He suddenly stopped and began to sigh for a long time.

Lance seemed marked by fatigue and worry, which piqued my curiosity. Cautiously, I opened one eye and watched it in the wake of my lashes. His jaws, covered with a growing beard, were contracted and his expression, she, expressed the same weariness as her sigh. When he started to move again, I pretended to sleep again as he gently laid me down on the mattress. While withdrawing his hands, he crouched down very close to me and despite my resolutely closed eyelids, I felt his sad gaze pierce me. But it was the intonation of his voice, like torture, that upset me the most.

- I'm sorry, Andraste.

My hands clenched against my stoneware on the bed sheet. Keeping my eyes firmly closed, I couldn't help but answer, even lower than him.

- Everything is your fault.

- I know...

The dragon didn't seem surprised to hear me answer him. How long had he known I was awake?

Timidly, I forced myself to open my eyes. I thus discovered a Lance perfectly different from the one I had seen in the market. His gaze filled with infinite sadness, he looked at me as if I was the only person in the world able to cure his ailments.

- You're not trying to justify yourself? I asked him, intrigued not to hear his answer immediately.

- My actions are unjustifiable, I just try to live with it and redeem myself with each passing day. But you ... I dreaded for years when you were finally going to wake up. I don't know how to react in your presence when, on the contrary, I know more than anyone how much you must hate me. I won't try to redeem myself from you because I know it's impossible.

His words grabbed me. The tone of his voice, so calm and composed, totally hypnotized me. But I could not nevertheless keep my questions about him.

- So what are you doing here ?

I was sincerely curious as to why it was precisely he who had taken care of bringing me back to my room.

- Eweleïn asked me to watch you.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, which brought a slight smile of amusement to his marble face.

- Sorry ?

- As you have surely noticed, your state is very unstable since you woke up.

- But what do you mean, she asked you to watch me ?

- Since you obviously start to bleed yourself for no reason, Eweleïn and Huang Hua have decided that you have to be watched closely. Plus, it's not yet clear how things will turn out now that people know the Oracle Chosen One is awake. The news has surely spread outside of HQ already and your safety has become a priority.

At these words, I straightened up quickly.

- You mean we could try to take it out on me?

Lance's gaze fell on mine for the first time since the start of our exchange.

- Nothing will happen to you.

- Anyway, why is ...

- Most people admire you for what you have done, but human nature being what it is, many are wary of what they do not know. You have accomplished something incredible and totally new, but like all admiration, there is always an element of mistrust that lies dormant in the unknown.

- But anyway, it's insane, nobody can decently think that I can be dangerous !

The young man was silent for a moment, letting me digest the information he had just taught me.

- Obviously, this is a simple security measure, mainly as long as your condition remains uncertain. When you get better, we will focus on teaching you how to defend yourself.

- I already know how to defend myself !

His slightly haughty raised eyebrow made my hair bristle with anger.

- Do not be offended, but from what I saw earlier, you seem to have lost a lot of energy since your stay in the crystal.

Touched . I decided to swallow my pride for now, I was too tired to argue with him again.

- So what's the plan ? I inquired.

- This is where I come in. I know you don't trust me, but strange as it sounds, I am the best person to keep you safe and your training.

A cold sneer escaped me, stretching the smile that had started to mark the dragon's face a moment earlier.

- So you're telling me that you and I have become inseparable?

- I'm sorry to tell you.

At least he had the decency to sound as thrilled with the news as I was.

I was lost. Completely. How could the Guard have thought it was a good idea to cram the two of us together? It was just insane!

I pinched the bridge of my nose, irritated by all this flood of information.

- Besides the fact that I'm not a fragile little thing, something the Guard seems to totally ignore, no one else can take on this role? Lance, it's simply impossible! I can't accept it, and you know it as well as I do!

Still squatting, one of his forearms resting on his lap, he let himself fall back against the wall behind him.

- Andraste, I'm not trying to brag about my merits, but if there's one thing I'm good at, it's fighting. I am the most qualified here to protect you in times of need and to teach you the best way to defend yourself.

Anger began to take hold of me again. Was he really serious ?

- But anyway, do you realize what you're saying ?!

- It is indisputable.

- And foolish! You tried to kill me, you used me, you manipulated me. How do you want me to accept this wisely? You're still blowing hot and cold! You apologize and then you give me orders !

- I'm only obeying those of the Sparkling.

A frank laugh escaped me this time.

- Seriously, are you saying that ?

A flash of defiance crossed his icy gaze. An ambient electricity hovered between us.

- You have to believe that I am ready to listen wisely to the orders to protect you.

He then straightened up and looked at me from his full height.

- Times have changed, you'll have to get used to it, he added. Being the chosen one of the Oracle is not going to be easy to take on, believe me. People are going to expect a lot from you, whether you feel like you can or not. Hope you are ready for this too.

Surprised, I remained silent. What shocked me the most was not this overwhelming truth that Lance had just confessed to me.

It was that he was the only one who had done it.

And that turned everything upside down. Who could I sincerely trust here? Can our enemies one day become our allies ?

He walked to the door and put a hand on the doorknob, before adding:

- Rest now. I won't be far, if you need to.

Then he rushed down the hall.

(Chapter 3)

#eldarya #eldarya lance #eldarya new era #eldarya fanfiction #lance eldarya #lance #fanfic #i am not your enemy

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laequiem · 4 years ago

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Queen of Nobody [ONESHOT]

/ Cardan has been teasing Jude for a week, and she decided to get her revenge. Sub!Cardan, Dom!Jude, PWP.

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 1,769

His gaze was wild with restraint as I sat facing him and grabbed the soap. While he did not move, I could see his tail whipping from left to right, a cat waiting to pounce. I made a show of washing myself, scrubbing dirt and sweat from my body. I was very aware of his intense stare, the way he grasped the sides of the tub until his knuckles were white.

“Jude…” he whined.

“You’ve been so eager to tease me this week. Isn’t this fair, husband?”

Read it on ao3

For the last week, we barely had time to ourselves. I attended Oak’s birthday party last weekend, which Cardan had to skip on to deal with a visit from Queen Nicasia. The rest of the week was filled with the usual: revels, diplomatic dinners, boring meetings... As always, we sat on opposite sides of the table at dinner. During our meetings with the Living Council, we kept our façades: the irreverent king and his fierce queen, never looking like they enjoyed each other’s presence. Our sleeping schedule was staggered. I crashed first, tired from my training and stressful days, and Cardan would join me a few hours later, wasted after entertaining our people at the night’s revel.

Day by day, it was getting harder to slip out of his arms when I woke up to train. Not only did I miss the warmth of his body as I changed out of my night clothes, but I missed the… intimacy. He had done his best to tease me all week. His tail trailing up the side of my leg as we pretended to ignore each other at revels. A hand brushing my hair when he walked past me. On days when he had more to drink, he would risk more public displays of affection; coming up behind me and tugging me to him as he kissed the nape of my neck.

I met with the Ghost and trained harder than usual, trying to get rid of this tension building in me.

It did not help.

When I got back to the room to bathe, I was surprised to find Cardan lounging in the bath, eating from a bunch of grapes. As I drank the sight of him in, I realized he meant for me to find him here. Everything about the picture before me seemed deliberate. The bathwater, sprinkled with golden petals, was milky white, hiding the lower half of his body. He had kept most of his jewelry on, I noted, as my gaze went up his body. Even his crown, tilted over his damp curls. His makeup was perfect, which makes me think that it wasn’t leftover from yesterday - he actually did his makeup before getting in the bath.

His grin widened as I stood there just gawking at him. I had to say something. Not let him see how much I want him.

“How surprising to see you here, Your Infernal Majesty. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m exactly where I want to be. I cancelled the meeting.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “What reason did you give, this time? Hangover?”

“Something like that.”

I sat on a low stone bench and started undoing the lace of my boots. When I tugged off the second one, I looked up to find Cardan staring at me. I smirked, then turned my back to him. Bending way more than necessary, I removed my leggings. I heard him inhale sharply as I got back up. I unbuckled the strap holding my knife to my thigh and let it fall on the floor, though I doubt he would mind if I kept it.

“How convenient that you’re here exactly when I come back to bathe myself,” I say as I turn around to face him.

I kept eye contact as I started slowly undoing the laces of my tunic, then tossed it over my head. I saw him straighten and inch forward a little as he drank in the sight of me in my mortal underwear: a dusty pink lace bra that left little to the imagination, and a white lacy thong. Not the worst combination, but definitely not matching.

“A lucky coincidence,” he whispered. I wondered how he could justify this not being a complete lie. If he said it, he must believe it to be true in some way.

I slipped one arm behind my back and easily unclasped my bra. I saw his throat bob as I slowly, so slowly, removed my bra, then my panties, until I was bare before him. He kept staring as I walked towards him and joined him in the bath. The royal bath was more close to the jacuzzis we have in the mortal world. It’s a large tub with benches, enough space for a king and a few consorts.

“Jude…” he whined.

“You’ve been so eager to tease me this week. Isn’t this fair, husband?” I chuckled. He snarled.

I put down the soap and crossed the distance between us. I sat on his lap, facing him, his erection pressing hard against my aching core. His hands were instantly in my hair, pulling it while still pushing my head towards his as he claimed my lips with his own. His tongue explored my mouth and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest. It always felt so right with him.

“I missed this, my cruel queen,” Cardan whispers as he broke the kiss to nip at my neck. “I miss you.”

I could not find words, so I just hummed in response. It was enough, he understood. He always had. Suddenly, he turns us around and lifts me to the cold lip of the tub and parts my legs.

Just as I thought he had snapped and would take me right there, he ran one of his fingers through my folds. Once. Twice. He teased the entrance, but quickly removed his finger. He cussed when he saw the slickness already on his finger, then brought it to his mouth and sucked on it. “I missed your taste.”

Then, he lowered himself and flicked my clit with his tongue, and I couldn’t help moaning his name. I felt him grin against me as his tongue explored my folds. I grabbed his hair and pushed him into me, grinding against his face as he sucked on my bundle of nerves. That wicked mouth of his worked me, prodding and licking and sucking in a steady pace, until I was close to the edge. And as I pressed his face harder into me, he brought two fingers to my entrance and pushed into me, curling exactly in that spot where I wanted him. I went over the edge, twitching and screaming his name through my orgasm, clinging to his hair as if it was a lifeline.

As I came down from my high, I let go of his hair and let my head fall down against the cool wall behind me. As I caught my breath, he got up to kiss me slowly, gently.

It might be the orgasm making me vulnerable, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I missed you too, Cardan.”

He kissed me again, then got out of the bath, offering me a hand to stand as well. I saw him reaching for his robe, but I caught his arm.

“Who said we were done?”

Surprise shone on his beautiful face, then that amused grin. “My mistake, my Queen.”

I traced a finger down his torso, to his length and gently poked it. “Get on the bed.”

“Are you commanding me?” I couldn’t command him anymore, not with magic at least.

“Yes.”

He backed up to the bed and laid on his back, one arm behind his head, waiting. Smug. I approached slowly, hoping I looked like a predator approaching a prey.

“While you were busy… teasing me last week, I thought of ways to pay you back in kind.”

He was biting his bottom lip, staring at me intently. I got on the bed on top of him.

“I hope you will find me merciful,” I said as I tried to give him the most wicked grin I could muster.

From above him, I could see how his makeup had smudged, his hair going in all directions. He looked like a mess. A glorious, pinned down, submissive mess. I felt heat pool in my core at the thought. I lowered my face to his and kissed him fiercely, quickly. I pulled his bottom lip with my teeth. I kissed my way down his neck, his chest, leaving a trail of bruised marks I know he loves. I pulled on the jewelry on one of his nipples with my teeth, pinching the other with my fingers. I felt him twitch against my belly.

I continued making my way down his torso, leaving a particularly nasty love bite on his ribs, until I reached his cock. I looked up to see him staring at me in anticipation, still trying to look cocky through his long lashes. I traced a finger up the length of him, while my other hand cupped his testicles.

“Jude, please…”

Such a whiny child. I took him in my hand and he moaned as I licked the tip slowly. I started moving my hand around him, watching as the precum built up at his tip.

Cardan might have the expertise, but he had been my only lover, and I knew how to please him. I ran my index finger through the precum, coating the pad of my finger.

I looked up at him and grinned. “I wonder if I ever did this to you when you fantasized about me.”

He screamed my name as my finger entered him. Slowly, I moved my finger in and out of him as I took his cock in my mouth. My finger worked gently into him, my other hand moving up and down his length in time with my mouth. When he lowered his hand to tangle in my hair, I crooked my finger up to probe at his sweet spot. His grasp tightened on my hair, and I increased my pace.

As I felt him get close, I continued my ministrations with my finger but removed my mouth from him and sat back. I watched as he spent on himself, his head thrown back, moaning my name.

Once he was done, I laid next to him and kissed him tenderly.

Cardan put a hand on my cheek. “You wicked thing.”

I smiled at him. “I love you, Cardan.”

He put an arm around me, bringing me closer to him, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I love you, too.”

#the folk of the air #tfota #cardan #cardan greenbriar #holly black #jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #fanfic #smut #folk of the air #pierced nips cardy g

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lailannajacobs · 4 years ago

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Breakfast with a King, How Romantic. | GIBP II

Pairing: fey!Loki x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: Loki tells his court about your arrival & the two of you have breakfast together.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: So this chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but in the midst of finals I only had time to edit about half of it, so here it is! And also, I know I’ve added a bunch of marvel characters to this world, but I promise it’s about it! Hope you enjoy! It makes my day to hear what you think! <3

When Loki awoke a little before dawn, his body felt unnaturally tired but he ignored the feeling and pushed out of bed. It was nothing a little coffee and breakfast wouldn’t cure and he got ready for another day of fending off the vultures that were his council. He stopped for a moment, half dressed, reminding himself to breathe. Walking out of his room as anything other than king would only jeopardize everything he’d been working toward.

Before leaving for the kitchen, he listened for any sound that YN might be awake. The silence reassured him that she wasn’t about to walk out of her room and ruin his entire plan before he had a chance to properly put in place. He didn’t want the council getting wind of her arrival before the pre-dinner drinks tonight.

The hallways were empty at this hour and he was thankful he could mosey over to the kitchen through hooded lids and heavy steps. Loki basked in the silence until laughter burst from the kitchen, letting him know his court was already there. He had been hoping to get something in his stomach before answering all their questions, but they’d beat him here. The thought of going back to bed crossed his mind, but he rarely had all of them in the palace at the same time and knew he had to catch Bucky before his assassin disappeared for the next few days.

Bucky smirked when Loki walked in, “rough night?”

The Dark Elf was in a good mood this morning, the brollochan that shrouded him like dark smoke wafting further away from him than usual. The air around Bucky was cold and dead, but the morning bustle of the cooks and the heat of the kitchen smothered most of it — one of the few reasons they spent more time in here than in any of their offices. Bucky took a bite of his muffin, pale blue eyes assessing then took his booted feet off the table and sat up straighter. Loki had been hoping he’d be able to pretend nothing had happened last night until he’d eaten something, but nothing got past his assassin.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, light-hearted grin gone.

The tone caught his commander’s attention. The angel righted, breaking off her conversation with Gamora to come a little closer. Gamora stayed where she was, a knowing little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She knew exactly what was going on, but she’d be no help to him, choosing to sit back and enjoy the show instead.

Loki’s master of information cocked her head curiously with a kind of calm opposite to the tense energy that radiated from his assassin and commander. He nodded at Wanda and took in a deep breath.

“Can I get myself a coffee before the interrogation begins?” Loki asked.

Nebula raised a brow, tucking in her metallic, indigo wings to let him go by, “that’s already your second this week.”

“Next week I won’t have any,” he grumped, then tried to soften his tone, knowing the coffee and chocolate rations weren’t any more her fault than his own, “I found YN.”

Everyone stopped moving.

“Where is she?” Nebula, never one to be stunned for long, was all business, her mind already going through a million different scenarios.

Loki knew he was about to be scolded so her turned toward the counter to make his coffee, “sleeping in the princess’ room.”

“And you didn’t think to wake any of us?” she snapped, “just because that thing gave us her name doesn’t mean that YN isn’t a threat to us.”

“I’m pretty sure he knows that, Neb,” Bucky chuckled, shooting her a teasing grin that earned him a punch on the arm, “Loki can take of himself…Or at least I hope he can. And anyways, if we’ve never heard of her, she can’t be all that powerful a fey.”

Loki only tensed for a second but he should have known they wouldn’t miss it.

“She is Fey, right?” Wanda asked warily.

Loki turned around slowly, his court’s eyes all on him with an intensity he knew was justified. They’d been trying to find YN for over two moons now and when they’d concocted this fake queen plan, they had always assumed she would be Fey. Convincing the council that Loki had a love he’d been keeping secret for all this time and been near impossible when he’d only had a name to go on. Finding her, only to realize she was human, didn’t make things much easier.

He shook his head.

Wanda bounced her fork up and down off her other thumb, “what is she?”

Gamora answered before Loki could, “human.”

They all whirled to face her. Loki was about to ask her why she hadn’t warned any of them about this if she’d seen what YN was, but she pressed before he had a chance to.

“No I didn’t see it,” she snapped as if she’d read his mind, “I saw her wandering the halls on my way here, and unless she’s an elemental, she looked very much human to me.”

Loki’s heart dropped in his chest.

“You let her roam free?” Nebula shouted incredulously, her wings flaring slightly.

He winced, “technically, I left her in her room.”

Bucky grinned, a look that earned him a deadly stare from Nebula, “you’re off to a great start with your future queen,” he laughed.

“We won’t have a future queen if she’s wandering around the palace and gets caught by the wrong people,” she chided, “is that what you two fangslugs want?”

Bucky tossed her a a bread roll that she caught deftly mid-flight, “between the five of us, I think we can find one human.”

Loki gulped down his scalding coffee and was about to rush out but was hit with a thought before he could make it past the door.

He spun to face his court, “no one approaches her for now. She’s human in a realm full of Fey and a palace full of council members who won’t hesitate to make her life miserable. I don’t want her scaring.”

“Don’t you think a friendly face would help?” Wanda pointed out, sliding the pad of butter to the least friendly face there.

Nebula scowled.

Bucky crossed his arms, a cheeky grin on his face, “I don’t know what you mean? We’re friendly.”

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle, “somehow I doubt a human will find any of you friendly looking.”

“If she walks into the library and finds me,” Maximoff said, grinning along with the rest of them, “there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m just doing my job.”

Loki knew that out of all of them, Wanda’s human-like appearance probably made her the least threatening. He nodded thoughtfully, “Maximoff, do your thing. If she finds you fine, but don’t seek her out. Everyone else, give her space.”

Wanda gave him a thumbs up, “sure. You’d better go find her, Laufeyson. Who knows where this terrified human you’ve brought to our palace has ended up.”

Loki rolled his eyes at Wanda’s sass but knew she was right. He needed to find YN before she did something incredibly stupid.

The halls were quiet this early in the morning, but you did cross several maids as you roamed. Few had looked up as you’d walked past and the ones that did, didn’t let show that there was anything strange with your being here.

You were surprised you’d managed to get some sleep after what had happened last night. The only explanation was that you’d never slept in a bed so comfortable in your life and that it had somehow managed to combat your whirling mind. Once you’d woken up though, you knew there was no point staying in bed. If you could find the Hand before the king found you, then you could be out of here before you had to fulfill your end of the bargain. And that was a gamble you were willing to take.

The pendant was heavy against your chest and you had the sinking feeling that it was colder than it was yesterday. You stopped at an intersection in the corridors, twirling it between your fingers, trying to settle the mix of anger and fear bubbling up inside you. You felt rooted to the floor, lost in a maze of hallways, wearing a stranger’s clothes you’d found last night in a drawer. You didn’t know what you were doing. You wanted Nat at your side. You wanted to know that she was safe and that everything would be okay. You wanted to know that all the time you’d be spending here wouldn’t make everything worse, but you knew all those wishes were in vain. The two of you had barely been managing for too long now, and your luck was bound to run out sometime. You couldn’t help but feel terrified that the sometime was now.

You stopped picking at the skin on your lip, rolled your shoulders back and jut up your chin. It wasn’t much more than the illusion of confidence, but the act made you feel a little better anyways. Worrying and complaining would only set you in the wrong direction. Pick a destination and steer toward it, my little lion. The memory of his voice steadied your heart and you focused on your two choices: find the Hand or pretend to be the future queen of Asgard. No pressure either way, right? You snorted. Right.

“Do you always mutter to yourself?” he asked.

You jumped. You hadn’t even heard him come up and you definitely didn’t realize you’d been talking out-loud. You closed your eyes, not wanting to turn around just yet. Deep down, you knew he’d find you. You’d just hoped it wouldn’t have been this soon.

“Was there anywhere in particular you were planning on going?” the king continued once he realized you weren’t going dignify your muttering with an answer.

“No,” you sighed, “just somewhere that wasn’t with you.”

“Unfortunately for you, the whole point of this thing is for us to be seen together,” he pointed out, “and before someone kicks you out of the palace for not knowing who you are, I would recommend that more people see us together.”

You turned, “stellar plan, king of Asgard. Did you come up with that all on your own?”

He raised a brow.

He stood a few paces in front of you, dressed in a dark tunic, looking fresh as a daisy with his damp hair neatly slicked back. His expression flirted the line between bored and curious as if there was nothing in the world that could faze someone like him — other than maybe his sister trying to steal the throne from him, and even then, he’d been so flippant about it, you didn’t doubt for a second he was used to getting his way all the time. A coward and a spoiled brat. You were going to have to find the Hand before this sham of a coronation, because you weren’t sure how convincing you’d manage to be.

“I did think of it all by myself,” he said, “but it would have been more if effective if it had occurred to you first.”

You crossed your arms, “maybe I wanted to get kicked out.”

“Then why didn’t you leave last night?” he asked, the beginnings of an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

“I wanted to sleep in a comfy bed,” you retorted, but even to your ears, you knew it was weak.

You both knew that you had no reason to leave.

Seeming satisfied that he’d won, he said, “you must be hungry.”

You didn’t know why your first instinct was to refuse him, but you knew it was a stupid reaction. Just because you didn’t want anything to do with him didn’t mean that you were going to let yourself starve. Letting him feed you wasn’t letting him win — your pride wasn’t going to get in the way of basic necessities. Your stomach answer before you could anyways.

He nodded at the sound, “there’s a quiet terrace in the city that serves delicious breakfast if you’d like to eat there.”

“In view of a whole bunch of people?” you mocked.

“Very few, actually, and all regular citizens. I didn’t think you’d enjoy being the centre of attention on your first day here, but if you’re up and looking for trouble, we can always go down to the dinning hall and eat with the soldiers,” he replied with a wicked grin.

“That’s fine,” you grumbled. It wasn’t that you didn’t think you could handle the attention. You just didn’t think it was worth the effort.

“Really?” he half turned as he was ready to head there right away, “it’s no trouble.”

You snorted and pushed past him. Then you quickly realized that you had no idea where in the seven hells you were going. Gritting your teeth, you turned around and to find a fully-fledged arrogant smirk on his lips. You tried not to let your anger get the best of you and motioned for him to lead the way even though it killed you to do it. He pursed his lips as if he was trying not to laugh. You forced a long inhale through your nose, ignoring the itchy feeling at the base of your spine.

“We’ll need to get you more clothes,” he said, glancing at your makeshift outfit as he strolled down the hallway, “it wasn’t today’s plan, but seeing as we’ll be near there, we can stop after breakfast.”

You ignored his pointed tone and took note of the way you were going, doing your best to orient yourself in the maze of hallways that all looked the same. The route you were taking didn’t seem the most direct, but did seem more deserted than some of the others you’d walked down. You tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t doing it to confuse you but it was hard to when he’d just finished saying how we should be seen together.

“Am I going to be able to do anything on my own?” you demanded, suddenly realizing that you were going somewhere with him after breakfast.

He stopped and listened, turning in the opposite direction of where you’d been heading as if he was avoiding something. Yet, his voice was casual when he said, “most of the time.”

You were only partly relieved. You were still going to have to go through a slew of theatrics to get the Hand. You were still going to have to pretend to be in love with him. You were still going to have to be queen…You didn’t know why the thoughts were running through your head now even though you’d agreed to them last night. This was real. This was happening. You were going to have to behave like a queen. You were going to have to behave like a woman in lov—

“I think we should set ground rules,” you blurted.

He raised a brow.

“Limits,” you supplied, “you know, boundaries. Respect. Or is that not a thing here?”

“Why don’t we wait until we’re out of the palace to discuss these matters.”

It was phrased as a question, but there was a warning in his voice. You nodded, realizing he had a point. There might not have been anyone around at the moment, but you weren’t going to get caught because of something this stupid. The surprise on his face when you didn’t say anything made you want to call him a whole slew of names. You were smart enough to figure things out and knew how to hold your tongue when you had to — even if you hadn’t done a very good job of it so far around him.

He led you through gates you hadn’t noticed on your break in, heading out the back of the palace. You tried to decipher what part of the city you were walking into, but it was nothing like the port market. Actually, it looked like you’d just stepped into a completely different realm.

The palace was set at the top of a massive valley, with a maze of streets and colourful building sprawling down the jungled mountain sides to a wide river at its base. The streets were made of pale yellow cobblestone that practically growled in the early morning sun, the narrow streets winding dangerously down the hill.

Beautiful, lush vines with orange flowers lined the tops of buildings, their fragrance mingling with the smell of morning dew, and their rooftops made of some kind of metal that reflected the sun and made it look as if the old gods had lit them on fire. The houses and shops were dyed bright purples, yellows, and turquoise and the air crackled with magic, hope and possibilities.

Despite the hour, a number of people were milling about, already up and ready for their day. Most of the citizens were Fey, but there were Dwarves, Elves, a few demons and you were sure, the longer you walked through the streets, that you’d see people from all 9 realms. Most of the nodded their ‘hello’s when they saw him and continued on their way with a bright smile. No one seemed surprised to see the king strolling through their streets. If the streets in Niflheim ever looked like this, it could only have been during a time when Odin wasn’t king. You inhale the warm weather and the peaceful energy of these people, trying not to be angry at them for a decision their king made hundreds of yers ago.

“This is Natalos,” he explained, taking you down a smaller alley, “it’s Asgard’s capitol city and it can only be accessed through the palace. There are a few other cities on the island, but mainly, everyone lives here. The city is naturally protected by the valley walls and the river. Those of us of at the palace guard the only other way in.”

You tried to ignore your surprise. Just because these people had built their city in a way that put their king on the front lines didn’t excuse them for cowering in the first place. In an attempt to conceal your emotions, you asked a different question.

“What was the market I walked into?”

He smirked, “a market. The vendors here trade with outsiders whenever they need supplies but they can do so in a space that keeps their homes and their families far away from possible threats.”

You clenched your jaw, trying and failing to keep your face impassive. He knew there were threats. He’d made all of you outsiders and left you to those threats. You wanted to shake him. You wanted to ask what in the seven hells he’d been thinking during the war, but the peaceful city around you was your answer. Their home was intact and they had the ability to keep it that way with magic — magic far beyond your comprehension. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat and you couldn’t take a deep breath to save your life. You were so far out of your league without your abilities. You’d gotten used to only relying on your human senses, but you couldn’t even trust those here. You tried to tell yourself that this was no different than being in Odin’s palace, but for some reason, it wasn’t working. You could feel yourself panicking and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“For someone who broke into a palace guarded by magic and then preceded to point a dagger at me, you seem awfully worried about a simple breakfast,” he commented, stopping in front of a tiny door.

You didn’t bother with an answer and focused on your breathing, especially that the same dagger he was talking about was tucked into your boot. That particular thought eased your pounding heart. He shrugged and lead the way, bending over in half to fit through the door. There were a few tables in the dimly lit restaurant, all of which were already filled with people and steaming plates of food. A young dwarf who didn’t look past the age of thirty approached with a warm smile for the king. Her long black hair was tied back in a series of intricate braids and she had an apron pulled over her simple shirt and pants.

“You’re here earlier than expected, King Laufeyson,” she said by way of greeting, her voice surprisingly deep, even for a dwarf.

He took her hand gently in his, “my apologies. Something unexpected happened this morning. I hope we haven’t caused you any inconveniences.”

He didn’t look at you, but it wasn’t hard to guess that you were the something that had happened this morning. At least now I had something of a name for him.

“Always so polite our king,” she looked you up and down with a pleased little grin on her face, “come. I’ve prepared the terrace as you asked.”

You followed her out the back door and your breath caught in your throat. You had spent so long living in Flaik that you had almost forgotten what lush jungles were like, their massive trees acting like tent filtering the light through leaves like liquid gold. Everything was such a deep green, with only a few flowers in bloom this time of year. The sight almost brought tears to your eyes. You had been so sure you would never see anything that resembled home ever again and you took in a deep breath as if you could hold a piece of your surroundings inside of you. It wasn’t quite like home, but it was close.

You opened your eyes, not realizing that you’d closed them. He was staring at you, his hands on the back of his chair, his head cocked to the side. You glared at him and sat down. He rolled his eyes and took a seat in front of you.

“I’ll be back with water,” the dwarf said, glancing between the two of you with that same knowing smirk on her face.

“Thank you, Volula,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair as if it was a sofa.

Laufeyson didn’t say anything, staring at you. He was all cheekbones and sharp edges and looked far too pretty for his own good. His eyes, almost glowing green against the jungle, gave away nothing more than faint amusement. You would have said he was bored if you hadn’t been able to feel the energy in the air, drawn tight as if he was a wolf stalking its prey.

“Your population is very diverse,” you said when you couldn’t take the silence any longer.

He shrugged as if the war hadn’t made all the realms wary of one another, and opened his menu,“it just happened that way.”

Your fingers tightened around the fork you had unwittingly started playing with. You forced yourself to let it go gently and place your hands on your lap where he couldn’t see them.

“What about the population where you’re from? he asked, keeping his eyes on the menu.

“We’re not going there,” you warned.

“So I’m not going to know anything about you? Seems like a great plan,” he said, folding his menu shut, “but, as long as it convinces the council, it’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

You held his gaze, daring him to tell you that this wasn’t going to work unless you told him every single detail about your life, but he didn’t push like you thought he would, eventually raising a brow as if it was your turn to say something. It only made you trust him less. Who let a complete stranger — a thief at that — become queen of their realm without knowing a single thing about them? There had to be hundreds of other women who would gladly do it. It didn’t make sense and you hated that you had no idea what he was planning.

Volula came back, a bright smile on her face, “have we decided yet?”

Laufeyson tilted his head, looking to you as if you’d been the one she was talking to. You hadn’t even looked at the menu, but you weren’t about to ask him for advice.

“I’ll take your most popular breakfast,” you answered with a polite smile.

She nodded and turned to the king, “the usual?”

He smiled, “that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

She let you know that she would be back soon with the food and busied off to one of the other tables on the terrace. You searched for the anxiety that was always palpable whenever Odin was around civilians, but there was nothing like that here. Everyone had seen the king walk in, but no one had paid him much attention other than the pleasant smiles as we had walked by. Even the other customers eating on the terrace as well were either focused on their food or their conversations.

“Why are we doing any of this?” you asked, “it’s clear these people are fine with you being their king.”

“Old laws. The council have always had the power to decide who's king. Apparently they know better than their people,” he said.

You couldn’t help but be surprised that he’d show his feelings about his court so obviously, “you might want to keep the disdain out of your voice the next time you see them. They are in charge of your regency.”

“I’ll do my best,” he learned further back in his chair, “especially that the next time I do will be with you.”

You groaned, “tell me that won’t be any time soon.”

“Tonight. Drinks and appetizers before dinner,” he huffed a little laugh, “don’t look too enthusiastic.”

“Because drinks with a bunch of stuffy old men sounds fun,” you retorted.

He tipped forward, letting his chair fall back onto all four legs again, “how do you know they’re old men?”

You sighed, Odin’s council coming to mind, “aren’t they always?”

He chuckled, though you had the impression there was nothing he found funny about the whole situation, “seems they are.”

Volula came back with your food before you could ask him more about the council. She set a steaming bowl of grey mush that had a strangely greenish hue to it in front of Laufeyson and plate filled with scrambled eggs, fruit —- some of which you’d never seen before — a small bread roll and a little bowl filled with a dark purple liquid you couldn’t identify.

“It’s for the bread,” she said with a wink, “enjoy the meal.”

Tentatively, you ripped a small piece off the loaf and dipped it into the liquid. You looked up at Lauefeyson and he nodded encouragingly. You eyed him warily and he rolled his eyes again, digging into his mush. When you finally gained the courage to pop it into your mouth. It was tangy but sweet, an eruption of flavours you couldn’t name, and paired with the airy texture of the bread, it was amazing. It was so good, you dipped your eggs into the sauce just to see what it would be like. You weren’t disappointed. Laufeyson had his head dipped down, eyes focused on his breakfast, but you could see a faint smile on his lips. You wanted to tell him off, but really he hadn’t done anything. And anyways, you were starving.

“You wanted to talk ground rules?” he asked after another few bites.

You nodded and swallowed your bite, “I’m not doing any of this without a few precautions.”

He scraped the last of his putrid look slop from the bowl, “what did you have in mind?”

You hadn’t forgotten his little show last night, and although there wasn’t even the faintest echo of pain, you weren’t interested in going through anything like that ever again.

“You don’t use magic on me,” you warned, “ever.”

He held your gaze, body relaxed when he said, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

If he was lying, his assurance and ease made him damed convincing . Still, it didn’t mean you believed him. You knew he wouldn’t tell you the truth if he was lying so there was no point in dwelling on his answer.

“And no physical affect unless it’s absolutely necessary,” you added, staring him down, “and if possible, I want a heads up before it happens.”

“Romanic,” he chuckled, leaning back into his chair again.

You crossed your arms, “it’s part of my terms.”

“It’s fine,” he said with a little wave of his hand, “anything else?”

“Not for now. But just to be clear, all I have to do is convince them we’re in love, right?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’d never been in love and you’d never seen the appeal of it, but if you had ever imagined what it would look like, faking it to some foreign king with Nat’s life on the line wasn’t exactly it.

He readjusted the spoon in his bowl, changing it from the right side to the left, “right.”

You shook your head. He was so casual about everything and all you could do was ask as many questions as you could think of to try and kill the sneaking suspicion that this half-baked plan was doomed to fail, “and all this is because your sister wanted the throne.”

“Yes.”

“Who’s the rightful heir?” You pushed on, searching his face for more information than his one-worded answers gave you.

His face remained impassive but he took a second to long to answer, “technically she is, but the position fell to me years ago.”

You weren’t going to ask what he meant by years, not wanting to know whether or not he’d been king during the war. If you were going to pretend to love him, you didn’t need another reason to hate him.

“Why not leave it to her if it’s her birthright?”

“Why not keep it?” he countered, tucking his hands into his pockets, “you said it yourself. Everyone’s fine with me being king.”

“That’s not an answer,” you pointed out, observing him closely.

He shrugged and changed the subject, “if you’re done, we’ll head to the seamstress.”

“Great,” you muttered, thought it didn’t escape your notice that his sister was definitely a touchy subject.

He smirked, “again, your enthusiasm is contagious.”

“Excuse me for not being excited about a deal I was blackmailed into by a man who’s name I don’t even know,” you whisper yelled, leaning forward across the table, barely able to control yourself, “right after going through a set of rules to impress a set of snobby old men because of your conniving sister.”

He looked like he was going to say something then stopped and looked out into the jungle. He nodded slowly, took in a long, deep breath and turned back to face you.

“Loki. Lauefeyson,” he extended his hand — a human gesture, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You nodded and stared at his hand. When the silence droned on, he leaned in closer so that we were both hovering above the table, “I will need to know your name, sweetheart.”

“When you do, you’d better use it because you ‘sweetheart’ isn’t convincing anyone,” you grit out.

His lips pulled into a wicked grin, “I think it is, sweetheart.”

“YN,” you snapped, backing off, “YLN.”

He stood from the table, leaning casually on the back of the chair, “are you ready to go, YLN.”

You sighed, “if I have to.”

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #fan fiction #fanfic #fake dating

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nexyra · 4 years ago

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Okay so This is just a way to let out some frustration so I can put it out there and stop mulling on it bc I'm bad at this sort of stuff - Feel free to ignore it

I'm putting this under Read More; if your fav past-time is to call anyone who likes Ironwood's character or was disappointed by his V8 turn to villainy a stupid bootlicker who "should have seen the signs he was always a tyrant !!" please don't interact with this post. You're ultimately free to think what you want but honestly I see enough of that in the main tag when left alone, I don't need it on my blog it doesn't make me feel good.

Anyone else... well you can read if you're interested but you don't have to either. Feel free to respectfully disagree though, I'm not that bullheaded that I can't partake in a friendly argument =) I'll just be listing some things about Ironwood's reading by the FNDM who get old or draining as someone who doesn't like the V8-characterization they went with

Can people please stop just... copy/pasting real world issues on a world/characters that have nothing to do with them or a completely different context ?

Like,, I genuinely try to educate myself on real-world issues. I know I'm rather privileged so I try to listen and hear out people who speak out about the issues they live through day by day. I know why the "ACAB" moniker exists. I understand the problem that lies within the american police system (and likely other countries as well). I see why the army, on our blue planet, is criticized & its many failings. Etc, the list can go on...

But I'm sorry to say, Remnant isn't OUR Earth. Their Army's primary job is to fight actual evil soulless monsters, not people. The Ace Opps or Huntsmen are not an organization directly inherited from slave-hunting groups. James Ironwood isn't the US army general bombing Middle East. Clover Ebi isn't the racist cop you want in prison. So WHY are they treated as such by so many people ? Stories are not a 1-1 where you can take everything you know and just apply it to a completely different world.

Has Atlas been presented as a country that suffers from racism & classism ? Certainly. Has it be shown this way ? That's already more debatable since the only racist arguments we got were in Mantle (which is the city we're supposed to be rooting for so that's a weird choice but eh it's whatever). Are the characters, as persons, shown to evoke these issues in a way that deserve our scorn ? Not really.

Is Ironwood depicted as particularly racist for example ? I wouldn't say so seeing as one (or more considering Tortuga) of his Ace-Opps are Faunus & it seems perfectly accepted; and he hates Jacques Schnee's guts. So why does he get to shoulder all of our real-world issues as if he was responsible for them, in a context where (pre V8) his army had most likely never killed anything else than Grimm and was shown to elicit very positive reactions from most of the population (V3) ? (In direct contrast to the polarization that the US army might evoke for example.)

You can totally hate Ironwood because of the feelings he evoke, the trope he stems from or the parallels to be made. That doesn't mean however, that he IS truly guilty of every one of OUR world issues (pre-V8)

Just because classism is prevalent in Atlas society does not make Ironwood the figurehead & leader of this issue.

Is classism an issue in Atlas ? Yes. That's been made clear because of Mantle's state as well as Jacques Schnee entire existence & even Cinder's backstory. Does that mean every single one of Ironwood's decisions reeks of classism ? NO

Trust me, as someone who found Ironwood's V8 characterization not... well-executed & too much; there's nothing more annoying than being assaulted by posts about his fall going "it was so obvious !! look at -" only for them to then list reasons in a really biased way or even headcannons based on (again) irl problems. An exemple...

Reasons his turn was good that I see thrown around : "Ironwood left Mantle behind because he only wanted to save the rich. He's a selfish coward & an asshole !"

What we were actually given : "Ironwood suffers from PTSD, and faced with Salem's imminent arrival, he tried to save what he was CERTAIN to be able to protect aka the flying city and all the people on it including Mantle evacuees. There is absolutely no text backing the idea that he wanted to leave with Atlas because it's rich. We could even suppose that he would have left with the 'poor' Mantle if it was the flying city and rich people were hanging safely on the ground. There is indeed an issue with Atlas & Mantle disparity, but Ironwood isn't directly responsible for it."

Does that make his decision to leave Mantle behind a morally right one ? That's of course NOT what I'm saying. The situation is still very ambiguous. But the classism theme has NO place here.

"Ironwood leads Atlas & Mantle. As such, he inherently holds responsability for the issues plaguing it." THIS is an acceptable reading according to me. I would probably argue that even if Ironwood's the only Atlas leader we're shown; he actually only oversees the military & academy (where we haven't ever seen classism issues), so putting Atlas' classism issues on him still doesn't sound fair to me. However the idea & argument is sound.

Acknowledging only how his actions look/the tyrannical surface reading and not the reasonnable justifications or glimpses we were given (pre-V7) of Ironwood being more than his trope

I'll probably stop after this one, but the last thing that is both tiring & annoying after too much of it; is seeing people boil down all of Ironwood's character to the most basic summary, inherently written to paint him in a bad line. And then saying that everything led up to his downfall by using these watered-down versions of the show's events to justify it. Or worse (imo), saying that people who are not satisfied with his V8 characterization that THEY don't understand how good a character he is and don't really appreciate him.... All the while only ever highlighting his characters flaws. Please stop this.

"Ironwood brought an army to the peace Olympics why are you surprised he turned out this way ?" ==> Ironwood brought an army to a country where the civilians visibly have no issue with said-army, to protect a peaceful event that he KNOWS to be targeted by foes. It's definitely overzealous & his conviction that threats should be dealt with by blunt force IS one of his flaws; but pretending that he did it for fun or because he's a tyran is just as misplaced.

"Ironwood said he'd shoot Qrow if he were one of his men why are you surprised he shot Oscar ?" ==> Do I really need to flip through every joke in this show and consider it as absolute truth & proof that the character would enact these words if given the occasion; even when we're shown with certainty that they actually don't mean it ? (IW hugging Qrow to welcome him, refusing to attack Qrow when he's certain Qrow IS attacking him...)

"Ironwood has his military all over Mantle, there's a curfew, all of this is tyrannical why are you surprised he's also down for genocide" ==> Damn, it sure is criminal to have Mantle defended from the litteral monsters roaming inside & out, and to make sure with a curfew that the people are not at risk during the night. I wonder if any recent events could make us reconsider our stance on how evil a enforced curfew is. Mhmmm maybe a pandemic ? Nah I must be imagining things. For real though, at what point did Tyrian's framing/lies (IW has his soldiers all over Mantle because of politics/he's a tyran who refuses opposition) became the truth of the situation for the FDNM too ? Again Mantle's situations SUCK, and that's a problem in itself. Making up problematic reasoning for the situation is dishonest though.

To end this, I'll just make clear. I do not condone any of Ironwood's actions post-V7. I don't think he had to be the big hero of the Atlas arc. Nor that he was without faults. I merely think that he'd have been a better antagonist than villain. And that it'd have been nice to keep the ambiguity/morally greyness that surrounds him; the knowledge that he's TRYING hard to do what's best for everyone; that he has good intentions. That he cares about individuals too to a lesser degree, and that he had people who cared about him as a person.

For short... Ironwood as an antagonist with understandable issues, flaws & failures; making questionable choices but with good intentions ? Hell yeah. Ironwood as a villain, more irredeemable than Hazel, willing to kill people for NO reason or even wipe out a city ? I'm not convinced.

#rwby #rwde #rwby thoughts #rant #fndm discourse #james ironwood #pro ironwood #canoncrit ironwood

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vlovers19 · 4 years ago

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After watching The Soop and hearing JK admit his and Tae's relationship was not the same and even said awkward at times & The fact that Jimin was some how in the middle of sitting those two down to talk. It makes me wonder if both have feelings for Jimin and it put tension/strain on Vkooks friendship and Jimin was tired of being in the middle and sit them down. I just keep thinking about Tae being passive aggressive not once, but twice, about JK not letting Jimin hangout. You think it's possible

There are various possibilities. What you just said is one of such possibilities. Many people will view this situation in different ways. Some say they drifted apart because Taekook broke up and didn't know how to communicate with each other, after wards causing an awkwardness in their relationship. Some say one of them wanted their friendship to progress further but the other refused. There are also talks that Jungkook and Jimin are dating so this doesn't sit well with Taehyung which causes both he and Jungkook to become distant or it's the other way around. Now, when we consider all of these, what are we to believe?

From what I could deduce from Taekook's conversation, these awkwardness became more prominent due to the covid19 when everyone started being on their own but i know Jimin is definitely not the reason why they drifted apart. If he were, Bts would have long disbanded. Not one of them would have been able to handle the love triangle. It's not even something you can come to a compromise over. You can't even pretend you're okay with it because you see them every day and the realization that the one you like doesn't like you back feels like you are loosing your breath. It can literally make you go crazy. If you have been in a one sided love, i think you'll understand what I'm talking about. Even if none of them are dating, it's still going to be difficult working together and no matter how much they settle their differences, they are still bound to have confrontations from time to time that might even escalate to a full blown out fist fight. Fighting for love is no small matter. It can cause an irreparable damage to their relationship.

If the reason for them drifting apart was because of Jimin, it wouldn't be just Taehyung and Jungkook having the discussion, it would be the three of them but in a private setting away from the cameras and away from everyone else where they can air their grievances but unfortunately get hurt again and again because nothing good will come out of it. Even if it's just the two of them talking about how to resolve the tension with Jimin, they wouldn't do it there out in the open. Something that private should be kept that way... private.

Justifying the possibility of Jimin coming in between Taehyung and Jungkook because Taehyung got passive agressive over Jikook spending time together is not feasible. Everyone knows that Jimin and Taehyung have stopped doing vlive together. It has been for a long while now, more than four years and it's for reasons best known to them. I won't be surprised if when one is having his vlive, the other knows where to disappear to. I also think that Taehyung mentions Jimin when he responds to fan's questions concerning Jimin whereabouts. The second time when he mentioned that Jungkook wouldn't let Jimin come and do the live with him. I somehow saw it as an excuse for him not to invite Jimin over. (I have no idea why they are so against doing vlive together. What's the big deal?)

However, we know he and Jimin spend time together. They have both personally admitted how they sneaked away from the dorms to spend time with each other. Let's not forget when Taehyung said he invited Jimin to come over to his room at around 3 to four am in the morning on the day they got number one on the billboards music charts but according to him, Jimin refused.

(The happenings that took place that day are still suspiciously unclear and very confusing because none of the statements correlated so I am very unsure about what really transpired that day)

However, the fact that he could tell Jimin to come to his room at such an odd hour shows that they do spend time together and it's quite a frequent habit but let's get back to Taekook.

Let's start from the beginning. Taehyung and Jungkook used to be very close during their debut days. Jungkook had a lot to be grateful to Taehyung for because he helped him to overcome his shyness. Just fifteen years old, far away from home and confused, Jungkook found a family in the members most especially Taehyung who we all know is a social butterfly. They were so close that they even formulated a hand shake signal exclusively for the two of them. (Betrayal occurred because Taehyung later taught Jimin that very hand shake signal).

However, over time changes started to happen but the one who changed the most was Taehyung. He started getting quieter. Started having other celebrity friends. I think this came about mainly due to the popularity Bts started to gather. They started to get more busy with their lives and soon, just getting to do the simplest things like watching a movie became quite difficult.

Jungkook is a very conservative person. He could stay indoors all day and never come out. He is satisfied just stuck in his room. This is a fact acknowledged by not only Jungkook but by the rest of the members.

Someone like that wouldn't take the initiative first in a relationship. If you care enough, the other party would have to take a step much like how Taehyung did later on. I also think this is one of the reasons Jimin and Jungkook are so close. Jimin understands Jungkook's nature so he takes the initiative when it comes to their relationship. If he just leaves things as they are, then they would have drifted apart like Taehyung and Jungkook did.

I think Taehyung felt the need to talk to Jungkook especially in the soop. Being in an environment where they weren't doing anything official, where they weren't preoccupied with work like they usually are and were just lazying around doing domestic things and being normal probably made him realize how his relationship with Jungkook has deteriorated especially since the covid19 started. He could have felt guilty about the direction their relationship had gone and as the elder, decided to take the initiative. Using Jimin was more easier because he's closer to Jungkook and Taehyung felt awkward approaching him first. You can tell by the way he was acting like a teenager all the time he was waiting for Jimin to bring Jungkook out to meet him.

I think the reason why that moment was broadcasted was because it was a very crucial time and was bound to make people react. it was also going to explain the reason why Taehyung and Jungkook seemed distant and not as close as before. I think they felt the need to address the issue. This could have been brought about due to a decision by the editors

However, one interesting thing to note was how Jimin and Jin kept lingering around and playing ball around them while they were having a deep discussion. They didn't seem to be cautious about how they were throwing that ball around, almost as if they were deliberately trying to distract their conversation.

I kept asking myself.

What were they even doing there?

Why did they think it was okay to start playing ball during that time? And at night?

Maybe they were curious and they wanted to somehow spy on what they were talking about? Or they just wanted to stick around? Maybe we shouldn't read too much into this because we can't possibly tell what they were thinking. Thanks for the ask.

This is edited.

#Vmin #jimin #Taehyung #bts #jimin and Taehyung

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years ago

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I liked your ava post, do you have more aboout usm. The WHOle usm team?

I can’t say I have many many hcs but I’ll give you where I think they might end up after SHIELD, and two songs that fit them if that works.

Peter: I don't know why but I feel like Peter would want to look for his parents once he leaves SHIELD and while doing so, he ends up in a lot of team ups and building up more of his rogues gallery. Basically I imagine stuff from the comic with spider clones, dating MJ, briefly rejoins the Avengers then leaves. Yeah I don't have much for him since comic history leaves people to choose what they want. Imagine Dragon's Beliver because he does have such a heavy pain inside, but that's the thing, he keeps it inside until he snaps them into his fight for justice. "First things first, I'ma say all the words inside my head. I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, The way that things have been.Second thing second, Don't you tell me what you think that I could be. I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea...Taking my message from the veins. Speaking my lesson from the brain. Seeing the beauty through the pain!"

Danny: I'd like to think that he stays in NY to start Heroes for Hire with Luke as soon as they leave SHIELD. They're bros, and he justifies the absence that New York needs Iron Fist more than K'Lun for the moment. He also tries his hand at getting Rand Industries back on track. I also think he does return to K'Lun eventually as King and mystical head. After his work at Rand Industries, he feels more confident as a leader and is willing to stand up to the monks when it comes with changing some of the old ways. Allowing him to travel back to NY to see his friends while keeping the mystical origins of K'Lun sacred. I think Nature Boy rather fits him, soft and melodious and Danny learning he is not alone sort of. "There was a boy. A very strange enchanted boyThey say he wandered very far..Very far over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye. But very wise, was he." Les Miserables’ Who am I mainly because I imagine Danny has some identity issues between feeling worthy of the Iron Fist, feeling torn between the US and K'Lun. Ideally, he would end up learning being one does not give up the other part of himself. As one would say they can coexist in a balance. "Who am I? Can I conceal myself forever more.. Pretend I’m not the man I was before?....How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again?"

Luke: As said above, with Danny, when they leave SHIELD, they create Heroes for Hire, they ride or die forever. Together they clean up their part of New York and Luke comes to terms with some of his past and the people he dealt with in jail. He also meets Jessica Jones during this time and she becomes his new partner (in more ways than one) when Danny leaves for K'Lun. He sometimes does freelance work for SHIELD, mainly at the behest of his parents, sometimes as a favor to Fury. He also sometimes comes by the Helicarrier to be a surprise mentor to whatever new hero they pick up. He is the main instigator of team reunions.

Adam Levine’s If I got locked away totally fits him after the time he spent in jail and scared of being seen as weak, it really fits him and his insecurities. "If I got locked away And we lost it all today. Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same? If I showed you my flaws. If I couldn't be strong. Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same?" One call away also fits him simply for his caring nature and how he'll do anything for his friends, "I'm only one call away. I'll be there to save the daySuperman got nothing on me. I'm only one call away/ Call me, baby, if you need a friend. I just wanna give you love...No matter where you go, know you're not alone. I'm only one call away."

Ava: I think once Ava leaves SHIElD, she has some trouble with the amulet whether form being on her own, knowing SHIELD isn't there watching her every move or just cockiness that she can handle it now. Either way, I see her as taking a break from the amulet. Reasoning her father wanted her to keep it safe, it didn't mean she had to put it on and be a hero. Ideally, she goes to therapy to work through all these issues before ever putting it on again. I imagine she goes home to PR too. I think she could go into bounty hunting, it's more freelance, she helps put baddies away and she can put her investigative skills to good use. Eventually she'd be White Tiger again but for more superpowered threats than every day patrolling. Just breathe from In the Heights not only for the spanish influences but also the utter fear of returning a failure, "Straighten the spine. Smile for the neighbors. Everything's fine, everything's cool. The standard reply: Lots of tests, lots of papers. Smile, wave goodbye and pray to the sky, "Oh God!" And what will my parents say? Can I go in there and say, "I know I'm letting you down..." Alyssa Greene from The Prom. The lyrics speak for themselves of the utter perfectionism and drive, "The hair has to be perfect. The As have to be straight...Trophies have to be first place. Ribbons have to be blue. There's always some competition or hoops for jumping through. Just have everything perfected by the time you reach eighteen"

Sam: Admittedly I don't know much about Nova lore or backstory as the others but I think he'll go back to space. Not necessarily as part of the Guardians because honestly I think they had enough members without him. Maybe as a solo act before he finds the other Nova Corps. I definitely see him as becoming a trainer there, finally being the leader he always wanted to be. I also want him to reconnect with his family so he does travel back to Earth to visit them and then swoops by NY for some reunion with his old team before heading back to space.

Bieber’s Lonely fits Sam because at the heart of it all, I think that's what he is. Lonely, he's still young and trying to navigate these powers and his place in the world and space and what his identity is. And no one else can quite get that. "Everybody knows my name now. But somethin' 'bout it still feels strangeLike lookin' in a mirror, tryna steady yourself and seein' somebody else. And everything is not the same now. It feels like all our lives have changed Maybe when I'm older, it'll all calm down. But it's killin' me now. What if you had it all, nut nobody to call? Maybe then you'd know me 'cause I've had everything. But no one's listening and that's just f- lonely." Shawn Mendes' Wonder works for similar reasons. Mainly I imagine him singing it to his missing father who inherited so much but knows nothing personally about him, "I wonder why I'm so afraid of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint. I wonder, when I cry into my hands. I'm conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man and I wonder if someday you'll be by my side and tell me that the world will end up alright. I wonder..I wonder." And then a party song for each

Sam: All I do is win by DJ Khaled "All I do is win, win, win no matter what. Got money on my mind, I can never get enough ('Nough) And every time I step up in the building Everybody hands go up And they stay there And they stay there, up, down, up, down, up, down 'Cause all I do is win (Win), win (Win), win And if you going in put your hands in the air, make 'em stay there"

Luke: Finesse by Bruno Mars, "We out here drippin' in finesseIt don't make no sense Out here drippin' in finesse You know it, you know it We out here drippin' in finesse It don't make no sense Out here drippin' in finesse You know it, you know it"

Peter: Another one bites the dust by Queen "nother one bites the dustAnother one bites the dust And another one gone and another one gone Another one bites the dust Hey I'm gonna get you too Another one bites the dust"

Danny: Normally, I don't think Danny would be into party music, too much cursing, too much noise to distort the mind, that stuff. But Rihanna is catchy. "I wanna take you away, let's escape into the music, DJ, let it playI just can't refuse it, like the way you do this Keep on rockin' to it Please don't stop the, please don't stop the music I wanna take you away, let's escape into the music, DJ, let it play I just can't refuse it, like the way you do this Keep on rockin' to it Please don't stop the, please don't stop the, please don't stop the music"

Ava: Woman by Ke$ha "I'm a motherfucking woman, baby, alright I don't need a man to be holding me too tight I'm a motherfucking woman, baby, that's right I'm just having fun with my ladies here tonight I'm a motherfucker" This other cool blog is much more into USM and has tons of hcs if you want more of this stuff, @im-rewriting-ultimate-spider-man

#ultimate spiderman #usm #peter parker #spider man #ava ayala #white tiger #danny rand #iron fist #luke cage #power man #sam alexander #nova #my hcs #my headcanons

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deadupondaylight · 4 years ago

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I’m Sorry But I’m Not About To Change

Hello, I interrupt my hiatus briefly to give you fanfic of @knivestothroats series “In The Woods Somewhere” because I have zero inhabitation about writing smut. I give you smut. Do I think Buck and Fletcher would make a happy stable couple? No. Do I want to see them f*ck? Yeah. This is non-canon. CW: past abuse mentions, paranoia, blow-job, consensual smut with dubious power dynamics

the reviews: “This is deadass just porn written like a horror movie “ - @delightful-dreadful

Buck tried to sleep. There was never anything else to do, so he might as well lay in bed. At night, the lodge creaked as the foundation shifted. It gave the illusion that someone was up and moving around. Most nights, Buck could ignore it. He would focus on the ever present chorus of crickets in the woods surrounding the lodge. When he closed his eyes, he could sometimes pretend he was outside there with them, resting on soft grass and damp soil under an open moon.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

It was windy in the way that suggested a storm was coming in. The gale shook the trees outside, pressed in through cracks in the lodge, like a breath through a wood instrument - it whistled. Every time he caught himself starting to drift off, he would hear it. It sounded like whispers. His mind filled in the rest, turning the wind into a Russian lilt. Words could not be comprehended, but he felt Petrova in the dark, and like the prey he was, it left him alert.

His eyes burned each time he flicked the lights on only to find the room empty. He repeated the ritual until it broke any last hope he had for sleep tonight. He could be grateful for the tiniest kindness that Fletcher had traded the bracelet for being chained to the bed. Buck left his room.

He passed closed doors, each hiding its own horror in the form of Fletcher’s students. They would sleep without disruption, somehow not weighted by their past actions, their future ones. Buck despised them for that.

He headed downstairs, wondering if he could lay down in the garden without the bracelet alerting Fletcher. He wasn’t sure he cared if it did. Whether Buck acted out or not, Fletcher still beat him. Nothing he did mattered.

The lights were off downstairs except for a glow coming from the lounge. Buck’s breath got caught in his throat. He tried to recall if every bedroom door was shut, but already he was doubting his own memory. The wind pressed against the lodge and again he could hear Petrova’s whispers. Buck shut his eyes, expecting her to attack on sight, but nothing happened.

“Buck?”

Buck’s eyes fluttered open. Fletcher sat cross-legged on the couch, illuminated by the tv screen. They ignored it in favor of examining the look on Buck’s face.

“Are you okay?” They asked.

“Fine,” Buck answered, curtly. “Just...couldn’t get comfortable.” He didn’t want to explain. By now, Fletcher should already know the psychological damage they had put him through. If they didn’t, they either were truly a sociopath, or they didn’t care.

“What are you doing up?” He debated asking to be let outside. Buck remembered how well that had gone last time, still feeling a ghost of pain where the bear trap had landed.

“It’s my fucking house, Buck.” It was hard to argue with that answer. Buck was about to turn and head back to his room when Fletcher elaborated. “Needed a little ‘me’ time,” They said, pointing towards the television. “Now that the kids are in bed.”

“Should I leave you alone?” Buck couldn’t tell if that was a subtle hint.

“Nah, I’ve seen this one before.” Nonetheless, their eyes returned to the screen. “You could watch,” Fletcher offered. “Maybe then you’ll finally develop some taste.”

Buck sat on the other end of the couch, leaving a conscious space between himself and Fletcher. “Uh, yeah, sorry I had actual cool interests before I became the lodge’s pet.” Images flashed inaudibly on the screen, the volume muted. Instead, Fletcher had the subtitles turned on. Buck skimmed them, tired and unengaged in the film.

“Is that what you think of yourself?” Fletcher questioned.

“I really don’t know what to call myself,” Buck confessed. ‘Pet’ seemed too friendly of a term. Prisoner held some dignity he didn’t seem to possess.

Buck relaxed into the leather of the couch, cold until it warmed to his body temperature and worn enough to be comfortable. Fletcher similarly readjusted for comfort, Buck assumed. He noticed weight on the back of the couch behind him, Fletcher sprawling out casually, yet closing distance between them.

The movie went on, viewed but unwatched by Buck.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Buck spoke up.

“Hm?”

“I don’t like it.”

Fletcher laughed. “You’re really trying to get your ass kicked, huh?” They ruffled his hair playfully, which turned into their fingers resting in his hair. Buck swallowed. They stroked his hair back, smoothing it out. Hair follicles tingled where he was touched. Buck stole a glance at Fletcher. Their eyes were intent on him. Dark but reflecting light from the screen that continued on without their collective attention. They bore an expression Buck wasn’t sure how to read. They looked like a wolf with their prey gutted before them - no more chase to be had nor fight to win - just meat to be ripped from bone and consumed.

“Are you aroused, Buck?” Fletcher asked him.

“No.” The comfortable plaid lounge pants Fletcher had given him to sleep in were feeling a bit tight around his groin. It wasn’t related, Buck told himself.

“Liar,” Their lips pulled into a smile. For a moment, Buck swore their teeth were sharpened at the canines, but it was a trick of the light.

“So? It’s the gentlest anyone has touched me in a while,” he justified.

“It has been awhile for you, huh?” The wolf prowled closer. Fletcher had a scar over their mouth. It was old and faint. He’d only noticed now that he had gotten a good look at their lips.

Fletcher slid off of the couch, now kneeling on the ground. Their arms traced along his thighs. “Not much kindness for you to be had in this house,” They mused to themselves. Buck wasn’t sure where they were going with this. Well, he had a good guess. He knew where he’d like it to go, but wasn’t convinced he wasn’t walking into another bear trap.

Their hands got dangerously high. Buck hissed in a breath.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Buck asked.

“No.” They tugged at the waistband of his pants. Buck shifted, helped shirk them down. “Quite the opposite.”

Cold air touched warm skin, flushed with blood. He felt vulnerable, not dissimilar to when he had been tied up in the basement, hands over his head so he couldn’t defend himself even if he wanted to. Fletcher’s breath crept along his member, causing it to further stiffen. Buck leaned his head back, his neck sinking into the plush back of the couch. He anticipated the welcoming warmth of Fletcher’s mouth, but it didn’t come.

Buck peered at Fletcher before him.They were situated comfortably between his legs, looking up at him with that same bared teeth smile.

“Yes?” they asked him. Buck blinked.

“Um, yeah. Sure. Why not?”

“I’m not going to do it if you don’t want me to,” Fletcher explained.

“This is the first time you’ve ever asked me for consent on something,” Buck pointed out.

“I’m not a monster.”

That was debatable. Buck’s retort was silenced into a moan as Fletcher’s mouth covered him. He couldn’t tell if Fletcher was particularly skilled or if it was the lack of action that so easily caused Buck to melt in pleasure.

He reached to card his fingers through Fletcher’s hair, but no sooner did his hand touch Fletcher, they pulled away, training their dark eyes on him.

“No touching,” they ordered.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands once Fletcher resumed. Buck found himself wishing Fletcher physically restrained him first to give his hands an excuse to be idle. It took him a moment to relax and allow his mind to go blank.

But once it did.

His breath hitched with every sweet sensation that darted through his veins. Buck covered his mouth with his hand as another moan ripped through his throat. Despite choosing to do so, a part of him imagined it was Fletcher silencing him. He pretended the fingers pressed to his lips were Fletcher’s and squeezed even tighter as if to say ‘quiet, so the others won’t hear you.’ What would the students do if their teacher was caught in the act? Buck had a feeling it would somehow affect him more than it would Fletcher.

His hand slipped away from his mouth in order to speak. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice soft and raspy. Fletcher either failed to hear him or didn’t care, for they didn’t let up on his member until he released inside.

Buck continued to stare at the ceiling, focusing on steadying his breath. He was cold and wet where Fletcher detached. Fletcher invaded his vision, leaning over his body. Yet another surprise, Fletcher kissed him. Their mouth wet and salty as their tongue pressed past his lips. Buck realized he was tasting himself.

They pulled away once more. Buck moved to cover himself. Fletcher was once again seated on the floor. Credits rolled on the screen behind their head.

“Do you want me to…?” Buck broke off.

“No,” Fletcher answered. They stood to turn the screen off. Buck’s mouth felt dry. He worried he did something wrong.

“Then why…?”

Fletcher shrugged. “I wanted you to feel good. For once.” Buck continued to track Fletcher’s movements with his eyes. They moved slow but with purpose. “You should head to bed,” Fletcher told him.

Hesitantly, Buck rose to his feet. Fletcher was waiting in the frame for him. They followed him back to his room, but didn’t enter after Buck. “This changes nothing,” Fletcher informed. They watched as Buck slid under the bedsheets. “Sleep tight.”

#original content

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itsreigns · 5 years ago

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Blurred Lines - Part 3

Henry Cavill x Reader

Henry especifically told (Y/N) that he didn’t do relationships. But lines get blurred. And crossed.

Warnings: Slight AU. Angst. Mentions of sex.

Words: 1,393

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Cavill Squad:

I barely sleep after that, just like I was expecting. I toss and turn around on the bed all night, until I finally decide to get up. It’s barely over 7 AM. Opening my bedroom door slowly, I get on the hall on tiptoes, trying to make as less noise as I could.

As I get closer to the living room, the sound of light snoring fills the room. Finally, I have him in sight. He looks so peaceful, sleeping deeply as he holds onto my fluffy blanket dearly. The sight makes me smile. I could get used to this.

I love this man way more than I cared to admit. I knew how out of reach he was, how a relationship was impossible to exist between us. Deep down, I considered what we have, or had, a relationship. But I wouldn’t dare to label it. Not after he was clear crystal about it.

I didn’t stand a chance.

Those thoughts make the smile disappear from my face. Once again, reality hits after I’ve been wandering around fantasy land. I curse myself every time for allowing myself to fantasize about the “what if’s”, the “what could’ve been’s”. It only hurts me even more in the end.

Unable to stop myself, I walk towards him and sit down on the small table in front of the couch. I stare at him for awhile, taking in every single feature: his full beard, his soft plump lips, the soft wrinkles in his eyes, his long eyelashes, his short yet curly hair. Everything about him. I want to remember everything. Because I know this is about to end.

I reach out my hand to caress his face, but I quickly retrieve it, having second thoughts. But I couldn’t stop it. I miss touching him so bad. I miss him. So, once again, I reach out to run my fingers lightly through his bearded cheek, then running them through his messy hair. I’m trapped in this Henry trance when suddenly he stirs in his sleep, opening his eyes carefully to adjust to the dim light already coming from the windows. I quickly stop my actions, but I’m terrible at dismissing things, so I know I just sold myself away. Seeing the look on his face I knew for sure. He’d caught me.

“(Y/N).” He mumbles sleepily, his voice hoarse yet very gentle. “Hi.”

“Good morning.” I reply, unable to stop the small smile creeping up on my lips. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, considering.” He admits, avoiding my gaze. He’s about to speak up again when I cut him off. I immediately cursed myself. I want to hear what he has to say, goddammit.

“I’m going to make some breakfast, you want some? Maybe some Tylenol?” I offer him.

That’s just who I am. I love him more than I hate him. And also, I had this feeling that there was something I didn’t know, something he wasn’t prepared to share yet, that would just make sense out of everything. It didn’t excuse what he did, obviously, but it might justify it.

“Uh, I… Yeah, sure. If you don’t mind.” He stumbles around his words for a while, seeming surprised by my offer.

I nod, shooting him a small smile, as I get up so I can go in fact cook breakfast. I’m about to walk away when he stops me. I freeze on the spot once he grabs my hand. His grip is gentle, and when I turn to face him, his gaze holds nothing but hope and regret. I see bits of something else, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

“Please, stay here for a while.” He quietly pleads, pulling out his loving puppy dog eyes card.

“I’m here, silly. I’ll just be in the kitchen cooking. You can join me if you want.” I smile, trying to dismiss my nervousness. I’m pretty sure he can feel me shaking under his touch.

“No.” He sighs sadly, as if he’s frustrated that he’s not being understood. “I mean, come here.” He stresses, patting the couch under him. “Let me hold you. Please.”

“Henry, I… we can’t.” I carefully decline his suggestion.

The way his face falls, and how he lets my hand go, breaks my heart and makes me sick to my stomach. Felt just like yesterday when I told him off and he walked away. I feel like I’m tearing him apart.

“We can… you just don’t want to.” He breathes out lowly, as he puts the blanket aside, sitting on the couch. He grabs the shoes that were by the couch, where I put them last night when I tucked him in, and puts them on. When he’s done, he gets up, getting ready to leave.

“I never said I didn’t want to. I said we couldn’t do that.” I feel the need to explain myself, but now it’s my turn to avoid his gaze. I can’t bring myself to see the hurt in those blue eyes again. Actually, I’m terrified of what I will find once I stare into them.

“If you want to, why can’t we do it?” He asks rather quietly, genuinely just wanting to know what’s on my mind.

It was now or never. I have to be honest with myself and him. Or else, we’ll be playing this game and hurting ourselves forever.

“Because you don’t do relationships, and this is more for me than it is for you already.” I confess, staring right at him, trying to read his features. But to no avail.

He doesn’t reply. He just stands there, looking at me with this odd blank expression on his face, his mouth slightly open. The silence lasts for some time. We just stand there awkwardly. I myself don’t know what to do or say, and I have no clue what’s going through his mind right now.

“Maybe you’re wrong.” I clears his throat, finally saying something. My eyes snap up to face him yet again, shooting him a confused look. “Yes, maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I do feel the same way as you. Maybe I do want the same. Maybe I just can’t right now.”

God, he’s pissing me off. He never says what he means. He beats around the bush with innuendos instead of being honest with both himself and me and say what’s on his mind, and it’s so fucking annoying.

“Stop dangling maybe’s, Henry. Say what you fucking mean.” I snap, feeling tired of all this push-pull game.

“I can’t give you more than this right now, (Y/N). I’m sorry.” He sighs deeply.

“Than this what? Sex?” I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “If that’s all you’re offering, I can find it anywhere, with any guy.”

“That’s true.” He replies, and my heart sinks in. “But they could never make you feel the way I do.” I look at him, expecting to see some arrogance on his face, but I see nothing but truthfulness. “But that’s not what I meant with what I said.”

“What did you mean then?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I meant that I can’t tell anything else right now. I need some time to figure this out.” He says, rubbing his temple as if trying to calm down his own thoughts.

“Henry, we’ve been doing this for months and months. So I’m sorry, but if that’s all you can give me right now, this, whatever this is, is over.” I inform, letting out a shaky breath. I’m breaking my own heart, but I can’t keep doing this. It’s ruining me.

“Please, don’t do this, (Y/N).” He begs as he takes a step towards me, but I take a step backwards, motioning him to stop. His face falls down, and when he looks up again, his eyes are filled with unshed tears.

“Go figure yourself out, go do whatever you need to, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having sex with you as if you’re nothing to me.” I manage to say, my voice getting all wobbly from emotion. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

A tear falls from his eyes but he quickly, and rather angrily, wipes it off. He storms off to the front door and opens it, but right before he leaves, he stops and looks back.

“I’m sorry.”

This is it. This was goodbye.

Give me feedback???

Part 4???

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill one shot

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years ago

Text

Wedding Colors (Part 2)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

9:00—mentoring. The buzz that Haymitch had been feeling was killed even before Peeta kicked him out of the hospital room.

The boy was angry. “What if I’d murdered the people who were trying to help us because I didn’t know they were trying to help us!!? Do you think anyone would be asking me to frost a cake for Finnick’s FUNERAL if I’d slit his throat!? I can’t even look at you right now. Just go.”

It didn’t help that Haymitch’s eyes looked so much like Katniss’s.

At least Peeta was becoming more lucid. Haymitch took the boy’s justifiable anger as a positive sign and respected his request to be alone.

At the other end of the hospital, he opened the girl’s door to find Johanna plugged into Katniss’s IV. They both looked up but neither moved an inch.

“Jealous?” Johanna sneered.

“Not my drug of choice, sweetheart,” though her comment was spot-on. To Katniss he asked, “Are you okay with this?”

“It’s fine.” She winced, and he glared at Johanna.

“What? She says she’s fine. Plutarch took her for a walk yesterday afternoon. He probably just held her leash too tight.”

“I can tell them I don’t need the morphling anymore...” Her threat wasn’t far from the truth, and Johanna knew it.

“It’s nothing personal. Plutarch has us all on leashes. Even your *mentor* there.” Johanna looked pointedly at the communicuff on Haymitch’s wrist.

Her mockery pissed him off.

“Plutarch talked to you yesterday?” he asked Katniss.

“Yeah. He’s planning a circus, and he gave me the job of looking happy.”

“You. Happy? I would’ve cast somebody else.”

“I can do it. Since the circus is Finnick and Annie’s wedding.”

“Right. ...I’m going to walk away now and pretend I didn’t see you two... bonding.” He motioned to the IV then said to Johanna, “If she’s screaming in pain later, I’ll be ripping that port out of your arm myself.”

Sarcasm dripped along with the morphling. “Sobriety has had such a calming effect on you.”

“Something for YOU to look forward to soon.”

Johanna’s expression was steady as stone. ...Almost. Nobody would have noticed the subtle flinch, except for an addict.

“Katniss, I’ll see YOU later.” Haymitch closed the door behind him.

So the kids knew about the wedding before he did. What’s the point of wearing this *shackle* on my arm if Plutarch doesn’t tell me anything?!

Haymitch made his way back to Peeta’s room and stood in the corridor looking in through the one-way mirror. The boy was sitting at the art table which orderlies had brought in days before. Delly Cartwright was by his side. They were painting with watercolors. Peeta’s brush stroked out an ocean scene with cresting waves and sea life. With the paintbrush in his hand, Peeta was calm. In that moment, he seemed almost like himself.

The damn communicuff buzzed, and a message from Plutarch appeared on the screen. “Change of schedule. Report for exercise at 10:00. Details await you there.”

Being outdoors sounded better than being shut out by the kids or seeing them in pain. They were still alive, but they were messed up. Like me... Or worse.

Mentor. Johanna’s ridicule settled in his bones.

***

10:00—exercise The staircase to the surface had been rebuilt quickly after the bombing. The tight control in 13 produced efficiency. He’d give Coin that much credit.

Climbing the stairs was more exercise than he’d get in the yard. By the time he got to the top, he was breathing hard.

“Now that’s a familiar sound.” Effie’s voice came from the shadows and lit him up.

He moved toward her. “Me out of breath? Typical.”

“Last night...”

“Not typical. ...And more fun than this.”

He was surprised to see her. She wore a heavy coat and carried a large canvas sack over her shoulder. Additional bags and a set of leaf scoops were on the floor near her feet. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going for a walk in the woods —with you. Plutarch’s orders.”

Haymitch was confused, but too amused to not play along.

“I see you’re bringing a weapon.” He tugged at the pruners which were hooked through a belt loop on her pants. “Are you gonna protect us from carnivorous trees?”

“Just me, sweetheart. You’re going to protect yourself.” She held out a second set of pruners.

As he took them, he lingered on the fabric covering her hand. “Is this the latest fashion?”

“Cloth is more practical than lace, but must EVERY stitch of fabric here be gray or white?!” She held out a pair of work gloves for him too.

“If I’m wearing these, then how am I supposed to touch you?”

“No touching, honey. We have a project to do. Coin is giving us two hours to gather enough foliage for the district to make wedding decorations.”

“I heard her announcement asking for volunteers. I just didn’t think she was talking about me.”

“You are here at MY request.”

He took a half-step toward her. “So you’re giving me orders to spend two hours in the woods with you without touching you?” He took another half-step and felt the buzz return as their clothing brushed.

“We aren’t in the woods yet,” she said, “You can touch me now...”

The hair on his chin grazed her temple. “Where?”

Warmth flooded her. “You choose.”

He stepped back. “Sorry, sweetheart. If you get to make me a gardener for two hours, then I get to make you wait at least that long.”

“Haymitch! Don’t bother turning me on if you’re just going to make me wait!”

“Well, aren’t YOU the pot calling the kettle black. ...Am I turning you on?”

“You KNOW you are—“

“I have your trackers.” They were interrupted by a security guard, armed with an automatic rifle equipped with a spotting scope.

“Lex, this is Haymitch. He’ll be the other person accompanying us.”

“Glad to meet you,” the guard said as he lifted Effie’s pant leg to fit the tracker on her ankle.

“Wait a minute. This guy’s coming with us, AND he gets to touch you?”

“No need for envy. ...He’ll be touching YOU too.” Effie smirked.

The guard proceeded to clamp the second tracker onto Haymitch’s ankle.”

“Just what I need, another shackle.” He was tired of being treated like a prisoner, and he was sick of sobriety. Even if he could take the tracker off and leave, where would he go? His house was still standing, far away in 12, but that place was just a shell. Nearly every person he cared about who was still alive was in 13. And his duty was here. He’d been waiting his whole life for this stand.

Haymitch scowled when Lex’s hands skimmed Effie’s hip as he clipped a communicator onto her belt loop.

“Look, man, this is just standard procedure. I’m not interested in touching your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” They spoke in unison, then looked at each other.

“Sorry. I just assumed... I’ll position myself in the center of the search area. Don’t wander more than 50 yards from me in any direction.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot us?” Haymitch asked.

“It’s not our policy in 13 to shoot civilians.”

“See there, even cave people can be civilized.” Effie muttered under her breath, talking mostly to herself.

“If you move too far out of range, I’ll message you through the communicator. Stay together.”

Haymitch pulled on the gloves then picked up two canvas sacks and the leaf scoops. Stay together. For a moment, it sounded better than ‘stay alive’

***

In the weeks since the bombing, the exit from 13 into the woods had been cleared and secured. Effie was grateful to not have to crawl through bent metal and broken blocks of cement.

As she stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped her in the face. It carried the fragrance of cedar, like a hope chest, and the smell of approaching rain. Dry ground indicated that none had fallen recently, and she wondered when it would come. Hopefully not before noon! She unzipped her coat just enough to reach inside and pull her sunglasses out from the pocket of her shirt. The lenses tinted the world rose. That view was more familiar.

The guard split off from them to stand watch at the top of the ridge.

“We have three sacks. Let’s fill each one with foliage of a warm color: red, orange, and yellow.” Wasting no time, Effie marched straight into the woods, following a narrow trail.

“The High Priestess of Nature is on a mission,” Haymitch teased from behind her.

Much of the vegetation around them was foreign to him. 13 was far north from the woods he’d forayed into as a boy, breaking laws in order to spend time at the lake. Other plants were the same.

“Uh, priestess... is there poison ivy in the Capitol?”

“Poison?” She stopped in her tracks, imagining a coiling plant about to sink its fangs into her. “I don’t know. What does it look like?”

He pointed to a vine near her feet, and she leaped back, nearly knocking him over. He steadied them both with a hand on her waist.

“THAT!?” she exclaimed, “Well, EVERYTHING here looks like that!”

“Because you’re taking us into a thicket of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“I AM telling you.”

“What will it do to me?” she whispered, fearing that talking too loudly might wake it up or something.

“If you don’t touch it, then nothing.”

“What if I touch it?”

“See how the leaves are shiny? That oil gets on your clothes and transfers to your skin. It gives some people a rash that itches like hell.”

“Maybe YOU should walk in front.”

“Why? So you can look at my ass?”

“Let’s call that a side benefit to the primary goal of not getting poisoned!”

He reluctantly let go of her waist, turned around, and led them out of the thicket.

They found a wider trail and followed it to a tree with large leaves, red as cranberries. Haymitch recognized it as the same variety growing behind his house. He didn’t pay much attention to that tree at home, except when it looked like this. It’s strange... a person can be around something so often but not think about how remarkable it is until it’s changing.

The wind whipped up again, and leaves were falling like rain. Effie was already scooping them up and filling the sack she’d been carrying.

“Wait,” he said, “Look...”

“What? More poison?”

He pointed to the sky, and she tilted her face up to a shower of red. She slid the sunglasses up to her forehead so she could see the true color. Thin beams of sunlight streamed through the branches. She squinted her eyes but didn’t close them.

“In the Capitol, nature is manicured — controlled. In Capitol Park, all the trees are planted the same distance apart. When leaves fall, a crew of Avoxes carts them away before the next morning. It’s nothing like this. This is wild.”

“...And familiar.” With a gloved fingertip, he touched her windburned cheeks then pulled a red leaf from the top knot of her kerchief. Over her coat he traced from her heart to the small of her back, following the path of the tattoo buried under her layers.

The memory of him holding her there the night before was a freight train barreling through her. “Ohh... this is why we agreed to not touch each other.”

“Yeah, about that... I lied.”

The leaf scoops dropped to the ground, and she interlaced her hands behind his neck. “Just for a minute, alright? Just give me a minute...” She kissed his cut lip, soft like she’d wanted to at breakfast. “Does this hurt?”

StoppIng this is what’s gonna hurt. He kissed her like when he was trying to get her out of his system. Only he knew better now, and he kissed her anyway, slow and certain.

She felt it like madness. “My hands were on my body this morning,” she murmured, “I pretended they were yours. In all the places you touched me. Haymitch... I came so fast.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m trying to control this. But...” I’ve wondered about it so long. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

In defiance of gravity, he pulled back from her. “Here’s what’s going to happen... We’ll collect the leaves, and we’ll figure out the rest later. Because if you say another word now about making yourself come, then I swear I’m going to lay you down right here—“

“And you’ll fuck me. ...Say it. Tell me you will.”

He could feel himself bending to her desires. It was unsettling, and erotic. “Yeah. I will. To hell with whoever’s watching! But it’s not just the guard. It’s probably Coin; it may be Snow; it could be anybody. I’ve already shown too much of my hand out here, and the clock is ticking.”

The reminder of Plutarch’s words and of the arena made her refocus. She caressed his neck as she let go.

They channeled the intensity into the work, meandering through the woods along animal trails. Scurrying sounds in the bushes made Effie’s heart race, but she avoided a heart attack like she evaded poison ivy.

“Scurrying things are mostly lizards, field mice, and foraging birds. The real threats are the things you DON’T hear coming.”

“WHY would you say that?! With all of the words you have to choose from in this situation, THAT is what you say to me!?!”

“I’m trying to ease your mind. Good ol’ Lex is up there watching from the ridge. We’re gonna be fine.”

They scooped and clipped foliage from a dozen trees. “Every leaf we collect must be freshly fallen or plucked from the branches. Nothing brown or decomposing is acceptable.”

“Nothing decomposing?! Who’s making these rules anyway?”

“I believe you called her ‘The High Priestess of Nature’.”

“What do you think is happening to leaves when the colors change? Poetry?”

“Maybe poetry. Why not?”

“This is a deciduous forest, sweetheart. These leaves are all dying. There’s nothing poetic about it. Death is a knife in somebody’s back or poison in her veins. And then nothing.”

“If that’s all it is, then why did you tell me to watch the leaves fall? And why did we feel so alive?”

He had no answer.

***

Returning to the fortress, Effie carried a sack across her back and the scoops in her hands. He slung the other full bags over his shoulders. Neither of them had much breath left to complain about their burdens, but they talked some.

“You’re stronger than you’ve let on.”

“I used to credit cycling classes at Capitol Spin. Now it’s endless staircase climbing in *the dungeon*.”

“What about the strength inside you? Where does that come from?”

“I... I don’t know. That’s not easy for me to feel.”

I feel it. “Thanks for getting me outside today.”

“Will you come to the dining hall this afternoon?”

“I’m all thumbs when it comes to making things like garlands. My parents’ craftiness skipped my generation.”

He seldom mentioned his family. There was so much pain there. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. But if she pushed, he shut down. So she took in his comments whenever they came and tried to piece together a picture of the early life his Games destroyed. The more the images came together, the more protective she felt.

And the more she knew of anger.

She’d always folded anger up tightly and locked it in a box. The act was subconscious. Compartmentalization was happening less readily now, if for no other reason than the boxes she’d stuffed unwanted aspects of herself inside were getting full.

“You don’t have to make anything... I’d just like to see you there.” I’m anxious about facing people.

“After lunch I need to check on the kids, but I’ll try to stop by later.”

“I wish Peeta was recovered enough to participate.”

“He’s decorating in his own way.”

“Is he??”

The trail widened, and Haymitch walked alongside her. “It’s Plutarch’s big secret. If I told you, then I’d have to kill you.” His smile was wide enough to show the gap between his teeth. “And that wouldn’t work because I want you alive.”

The wind rushed around them, and she thought again about how easy it would be to let it take her. “Keep those secrets for now. My world has suddenly become rather interesting. I think I’ll stay alive and find out what’s going to happen next.”

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cirilee · 5 years ago

Text

i just found a text my browser had saved on a word count website, and i apparently typed it last november while being sad - i just wanna have a place to post it, and it explains why i was gone for most of may through november last year.

if you’re interested, u can read, it’s basically just a long long long vent and i wanna save it somewhere :’)

(and if you wanna, you can tell me what u think of the whole thing, maybe share if something like that happened to you too, because man, this whole thing was WEIRD for me)

bottom line is: i’m much better now and have way better friends then back then and in general, i’m a pretty happy person again^^

My parents and me had been fighting a lot the past years. I still love them. For a while though, it was just shouting matches between us. We weren't really speaking to each other throughout january 2019 until april 2019, so i wasn't informed by them that they were planning to mOVE OUT. And the place they wanted to move to only had enough space for 2 people. now my brother and me had 3 months total to find and finance our own flats. i was desperate. 2 months i unsuccessfully searched for a job or a flat or a way to make a deposit for said flat, without any saved up money. an old school friend offered to move out together. i only saw him once every month for group activities. he was nice, but we also had a bit of a history. 3 years ago he had acted kinda scummy and tried to get me to be his girlfriend because "he couldnt find anybody else” - ending in a "movie night with friends" that turned out to be a trap, where the only one spending the night was me because he only invited me. creepy. he apologized and i forgave him and we were chill and it was normal between us. i realize now, that i should have just left him out of my life at that point. but time was running out, so i gave in and asked myself "whats the worst he could do. i’ve known this person for 12 years and the he's part of my friend group" we set up basic rules, how we would pay for stuff, etc. .. we moved in. it seemed fine. then i noticed that he talked A LOT. and he wanted A LOT of attention. after a day of working on my diploma or working at my job, he would assert himself in my room and try to engage in smalltalk. i am not the hermit type. i engaged with him, i joined in on his conversation. but when i was already tired he wouldn't accept "i'm gonna go to sleep". there was always something else he needed to talk about. I was trying to make clear to him that i needed alone time too, but no matter how honest i was, the message either didn't seem to stick, or he'd get upset and start asking me if i hated him. With that, i could have kept up with in the long run. Then he started knocking on my door. even when it was already late and i already told him i was gonna go to sleep. Repeatedly knocking on my door. At some point he just opened the door. It was 1am. I pretended to sleep. I could hear him breathing, it sounded angry. He eventually closed the door. The next morning i confronted him. He argued it away as him trying to warn me that he was going to take a shower, so that i wouldn't use the bathroom. He started commenting on how i wasn't funny enough around him. in that friend group, i'm the funny one :c. but i cant keep up that energy 24/7 (this was supposed to be a home, not a free neverending standup act, for this one guy). that confused him. the next day he asked me if i had depression. My parents had given me a griller/toaster as a parting gift (there’s a backstory for that too but anyways) my flatmate ALSO had that same toaster. He demanded we make up our minds which one to keep. i didn't understand why this was important to him and i hated discussing this useless topic with him so i stored the toaster in my room. He repeatedly suggested i throw mine away (?). One evening i got hungry and decided i'd make myself a toast in my room. So i made some toast. Suddenly he bursts in. And he starts ranting. "why are you doing this are you CRAZY you cant TOAST in your own room thats DANGEROUS you're gonna start a fire, don't ever do that again, we have a KITCHEN for that. why don't you want to use the kitchen you cant just HIDE from me every day, this is OUR flat and i want us to live TOGETHER!" He didn't stop talking and it overwhelmed me, so (this is embarrassing, but) i actually started crying and i turned away from him so i could try to control myself. and he just started babytalking me "awww its alright i didn't mean to scare you, but you see, you shouldn't have done that". he tried putting his arms around me, i told him to stop. "you need a hug right now" ...... i was so angry i think my brain might have short circuited because the next hour was me just acting the whole way through. i told him everything he wanted to hear. i was so sorry for almost burning the house down and made up some explanation that my parents were still making me sad, so i needed distance. The next big thing involved one of my best friends. she wanted to spontaneously go out for an evening. so i put on some pants and of course: HE appears in my room, asking where i'm going. i was surprised by the question and just answered "going out with Lina" he left it at that. then suddenly: "can i come too?" He threw me off with that question. Lina had said she needed some advice on personal stuff, so I said "no" because i didn't have a better answer. he got ANGRY. i explained. "Lina wants some privacy, i'm sorry" He starts arguing that Lina is just as much his best friend, and that he should be allowed to hear what she wants to say to me. Before i can reply he slams his door shut. "Don't even try to explain yourself", he says. I told my friend while meeting up with her and she began with the sympathetic "you should have said yes" and we argued about it and then she came out with this absolutely horrifying sentence: "you know how he is. you cant be *too* honest with him. he's sensitive. you need to lie to him so he doesn't get mad" it was as if i'd been splashed with cold water. i said i didn't agree with that. that that was actually unfair to HIM. nobody likes being lied to and treated less than. she called him, told him i was gonna apologize and he showed up with the angriest expression i ever saw in his face. he accused me of being depressed and that he now has the burden of my mental issues to bear. This he assumed because one night i told him about me dissassociating sometimes a few years ago. Then he wanted me to promise i would never leave him, because he's afraid i won't be able to pay my part of the rent. the crowning moment was my friend Lina mostly agreeing with him and both of them berating me for not having my life together because i still hadn't managed to find an open-ended contract job, only limited-time jobs. at the end he justified himself by saying he cant stand my parents phoning me. (at that point they had started calling me everyday and showed genuine concern ... i was trying to reform a bond with them) - apparently he resented that. he knew about my parents disciplining me with face slaps as a kid (when i was 9-11 yrs old) (they feel bad about it, and they they stopped doing it fairly early) in that moment my flatmate chose to tell me ..... (hoo boy i need to get ready to type this) .... "i'm concerned about you. if your father would ever beat you, i would beat him to a bloody pulp" then he repeated "i would beat him/kill him" a few times, VERY agitatedly. it was scary and at that point i was numb. i didn't really respond, i just said "its fine" or something to that extent. the thing that made me decide to move out (although certainly among many that followed that night) was this: one morning i informed him i was going to visit my parents that weekend. we had started talking again (as i mentioned before and i wanted to meet them without fighting for once). he says "but you're coming back, right". i say "of course don't be so nervous". i go to work. i get a LOT OF texts from him suddenly. i skim through it. he's mad about me calling him "nervous". i don't reply/read bc i am at work. Then he actually CALLS me. i don't pick up. now i'm thinking: What is so important, that he has to call me during work. there's a 4 paragraph essay in my inbox. "watch your mouth", "you have no right to speak that way to me", "you should have more respect". he was mad i called him nervous. i responded that i don't have time to reply. he argued back. at one point i said "if i cant even call you nervous then i'm ACTUALLY gonna stay with my parents" he fiNALLY didn't reply to that. after a 10hour day i come home. i wanna shower. i go to my room, close the door and start undressing myself. of course, there's knocking on my door. i say "No" he flips out. i calmly tell him i'm only half dressed. he flips out even more, says i'm a horrible person who WANTS to fight because my "no" wasn't a good enough answer and i should have explained in full detail why he couldn't get in. he was actually SERIOUS. this was his reasoning for flipping out. he goes away. not even a minute passes by and he hammers his fist against my door again. "OPEN UP THIS TIME I *HAVE* TO COME IN" at this point i'm beginning to get kinda scared so i say "come in" He comes in and says he needs me to disconnect with the wifi because he needs it for his work. i calmly say "ok" and disconnect my wifi. he goes away, leaves the door open. i stand up to go and close my door. HE ACTUALLY GOES AND PULLS AGAINST ME TO TRY TO PRY IT OPEN AGAIN. eventually he lets go and then he flips out FOR REAL. he starts screaming about how i'm a psycho, and that im crazy and awful and he has been nothing but nice and that he "saved" me and i haven't been thankful enough.

.... ..

yes, i was in a difficult position. but that flatmate arrangement was made on even ground. he had wanted to move out from his parents for years. i fled and left. called my parents, but they were miles away and laughed it off. i would have probably too. i called my friends. Lina offered to come and mediate. He continued screaming even with Lina there. It culminated with him roaring at me, pointing at the door saying "if you don't like how i treat you, there's the door, leave right now" with lina replying "don't say that, you NEED her money to pay rent!" it was awful, and an eye-opener. the next day, on the way to work, i decided i was gonna move out. and before i could tell him, i get a message from him (!). An ultimatum. he tells me i have 3 options. 1) leave immediately and take my stuff away within a week. i wouldn't have "pay any more than i've already payed" (it was the first day of that month and i had already payed my rent. nice) 2) stay for half a year, but immediately pay him something so that he knows i'll stay 3) stay indefinitely, but set up a " bevahiour contract" with him, so this "never happens again" i told him i'd take option 1 and then i stayed over at a friends house. then at a friends shared appartement. then at dormitary and soon i'm gonna move in with my younger brother. we've been estranged a bit but grown closer through this whole thing. now Lina and him are still friends and lina blames me for "everyone in our friend group" being mad at him. one of her first concerns, was that her birthday parties are gonna be weird now. i am completely done with her as well and don't want her in my life anymore. according to her, I left him with a rent he cant pay and i should feel bad for that. except i dont. should i though?

#vent #rant

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