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moonlarked · 9 months ago

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Wrote the beginning of this analysis like a year ago - posting the half-finished unedited version now because idk if I’ll ever get it done. Thoughts have obviously somewhat changed, but here you go.

In my opinion, Gertrude is one of the most important characters in Hamlet simply because of the relationship between her and her son. And it’s something of a negative relationship too - she’s portrayed as neglectful of her son’s grief. You could chalk this up to her having to bear the weight of the country on her shoulders, but there’s still a case to be made that she’s one of the main factors of hamlet’s mental downhill. It’s simply the fact that he wants her to love him, and she isn’t showing him that.

This is seen in the very first scene that hamlet appears in:

Ham.

(Aside.) A little more than kin, and less than kind!

King.

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

Ham.

Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun.

Queen.

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

Do not for ever with thy vailed lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust:

Thou know'st 'tis common, all that lives must die,

Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham.

Ay, madam, it is common.

Here, we can see that Gertrude is siding with her husband - after he makes the first comment about hamlet’s dejected appearance, she backs the king up, trying to reach to hamlet directly and politely request that he stop grieving.

It’s insensitive and harsh - “all people die, so you shouldn’t grieve” - and it’s a safe bet to make that they’ve been giving him this treatment ever since his father died. Since he’s a prince, he has to uphold his status.

Hamlet still lashes back at her - however, instead of making a sarcastic gibe like he did to the king, he genuinely tries to explain himself to her.

Oueen.

If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee?

Ham.

Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not

seems.

'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of fore'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief,

That can denote me truly: these, indeed, seem;

For they are actions that a man might play;

But I have that within which passeth show;

These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

Here he’s saying that although he shows his sadness through acts - such as his black clothing, his posture, his tears - they are not simply that, not acting, not putting on a show, not performing a little longer than the allotted royal grieving period. This sorrow comes from within, it is an actual, real emotion that he is feeling.

And he wants her to know that. That’s why he dumps all of this on her, not on claudius. He’s pleading her to understand him, and perhaps, to show a bit of that nature in her as well, because they both lost his father.

He wants her to know him. He wants to know her. And that’s a running theme throughout their interactions.

After this, we get claudius calling his grief unmanly and then demanding that he stay at Elsinore instead of going to Wittenberg. Hamlet doesn’t answer, however, until Gertrude pleads with him as well.

Queen.

Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:

I pray thee stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.

Ham.

I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

“Obey you, madam.” Not both of them. He doesn’t include claudius here. He is directly talking to his mother and obeying her wishes, because he does still love her.

This is something I will not budge on. Hamlet loves his mother.

But then. Then, we get hamlet’s first soliloquy.

But two months dead!-nay, not so much, not two:

So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,

That he might not beteem the winds of heaven

Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!

Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him

As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on: and yet, within a month,

Let me not think on't, Frailty, thy name is woman!-

A little month or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body

Here we get a bit of timeline. It’s been not quite two months, yet before it had been a month, gertrude forbade her grief, put on a lighter face, and started acting like hamlet’s grief shouldn’t exist. Therefore, for a month, hamlet has been stuck in this horrid state of having his emotions buried by the king and queen - and that’s the worst thing that can happen to him, because he’s a passionate person who loves with all of his heart and can’t bear to hide this love, or have others hide theirs from him. (That’s why his mask of madness fit him so well. It was the only mask he could wear that would still let him feel everything and show everything.)

It makes sense, how resentful of her he is at this point. He still loves her, but he is bitter.

He’s talking about how much his father loved his mother, and this becomes a running theme, both hamlet and the ghost lamenting on how much the old king loved her - not how much she loved him, but how much he loved her.

It seems, then, that hamlet has this almost obsessive idea of the perfect family, the perfect mother and father - yet, interestingly, the dynamic between him and the ghost almost run contrast to this. The ghost waxes about his love for gertrude, but nothing of his love for hamlet. And hamlet does the same.

Does, then, hamlet see gertrude as the last remaining link to the loving family he wants and probably never got? Does his reaction to her emotional neglect possibly stem from an ongoing problem?

She married: - O, most wicked speed, to

post

With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

It is not, nor it cannot come to good;

But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue!

Hamlet constantly talks about how incestuous this is, and, again, this is another thing he and his father have a pattern of doing.

This is two months after his father died. About one month after his mother married. And he’s still going on about it - again, this makes me think that there were family issues before canon.

Of course, there’s also the face that claudius was likely pushing his marriage into hamlet’s face at every chance he got - and this gives hamlet an even more personal reason to hate claudius.

In fact, hamlet and claudius’s first and last interactions both had something to do with hamlet’s treatment of gertrude.

After this, we get the ghost scene. And after telling hamlet about his murder, the ghost starts ranting about gertrude and claudius’s marriage - and I believe that this part of his speech is what fuels a lot of what hamlet says when he talks to his mother alone. Ironic, since the ghost told him to leave her alone.

Ghost.

Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,-

O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power

So to seduce!-won to his shameful lust

The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:

O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!

From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the

vow

I made to her in marriage; and to decline

Now, this is mostly the ghost talking about how evil claudius is compared to him, and how wicked claudius’s lust is, and how loving he was toward his wife. Which is interesting - if gertrude married claudius to protect the stability of her kingdom, why is the ghost talking about her backstabbing him? He was a king - shouldn’t he understand her political motivations?

There are two ways to see this - either gertrude truly did fall for claudius as quickly as it seemed, or the ghost is just using plain old misogyny to overlook the more complicated and explanation and pushing his misogyny onto his son. Instead of choosing to encourage his son to hold onto his love for his mother, he chooses to embrace that toxic masculinity and fuel the flame of it in hamlet.

I believe it’s a bit of both of these explanations- gertrude likely did fall for claudius, hamlet felt betrayed and lost, and the ghost took advantage of this vulnerable state in order to fuel resentment toward claudius. He manipulated his son’s broken relationship with his mother to achieve his own goals, which fits neatly with the theory that the king wasn’t a great father.

Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor

To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of

heaven;

So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,

Will sate itself in a celestial bed

And prey on garbage.

Again, here the ghost is, slandering his wife’s motivations in order to get hamlet to kill claudius.

However, the next time he speaks of her in his speech, he’s telling hamlet not to act against her and instead leave her to her fate - let heaven decide. I don’t know if this really can be described as love - he seems to want her punished, but not by his son.

But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive

Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven,

And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,

To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!

This comes back, of course, when hamlet does eventually act against his mother, but the ghost there seems to be telling hamlet to stop being distracted.

The next we see gertrude is in act ll, two months after hamlet encountered the ghost. Gertrude is talking to ros and guil, brought to figure out hamlet’s changed state.

Queen.

Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:

And I beseech you instantly to visit

My too-much-changed son.

So gertrude obviously sees that hamlet isn’t behaving normally - he’s been putting on his antic disposition for a month now and the king has ordered rosencrantz and guildenstern to keep an eye on them. She obviously doesn’t object to this, thanking them for coming instead.

We could view this as her feeling guilty. We see later that she guesses at what hamlet is feeling, and yet she still wishes for it to be other than her fault - through what polonius has theorized about ophelia.

I doubt it is no other but the main, His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage.

King.

Do you think 'tis this?

Oueen.

It may be, very likely.

So, yes, she’s going along with what polonius and the king say about hamlet being mad due to ophelia. I interpret this in a couple of ways - obviously she has to obey her husband and therefore agree with what he’s saying, even if she may not agree (she knows hamlet much better than claudius does), which would explain her 180 on why specifically he is acting that way. Again, she is also likely feeling guilty for how her son is behaving and wants ophelia to be the cause of his state.

I don’t think she would just “believe” what polonius says about hamlet. She’s a lot smarter than any of the men give her credit for. I do think she understands that hamlet is upset due to his father’s death - hell, he tells her this in the beginning. But she is a woman, and she is in a tough spot, and she is guilty. She’s a mother, and I do believe she has sympathy for what her son’s going through - this is evidenced later, which I’ll get to. Hamlet does very much have reason to be angry at her, and she views him as a lost, hurt child most of the time.

Pol.

You know sometimes he walks for hours together

Here in the lobby.

Queen.

So he does indeed.

Queen.

But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

Remember - this is a full two months after Gertrude’s first interaction with hamlet in act 1 scene 2. She’s had time to observe him and doesn’t seem to parry off his emotions as much as she did in the beginning, but she does somehow hope that there is possibly another way for this to be happening.

Queen.

I shall obey you:-

And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish

That your good beauties be the happy

cause

Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues

Will bring him to his wonted way again,

To both your honours.

Now, this interaction with ophelia is pretty interesting, much because it’s the only time gertrude talks to ophelia before polonius’s death - and after, she seems reluctant to talk to her. But we do get a bit of sympathy for ophelia here, and while a lot of it is likely because of formalities and, again, gertrude bowing to her husband’s beliefs, she likely does suspect that something’s wrong here. And she doesn’t want that because if it’s not ophelia, then she has to deal with her own problems. So it really is like a prayer here, and perhaps an expression of sympathy at ophelia for being used by these men.

#hamlet #gertrude

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thedysphoriadiaries · 2 years ago

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Entry 47 - 22 April 2023, 5:29pm

This was a post that I meant to post two days ago, but, never got around to doing it.

I still haven't cut my hair. It's a frazzled mess which extends to my shoulders (maybe a little beyond).

I still haven't cut it, despite the promises I made to a friend of mine with whom I'll be working. To that extent, I've decided to get tomorrow's shift cancelled. There's no point in going to work when all you want is to be left alone.

Come on la, I've already got so much on my plate, don't make me come chase you for these sorts of things. How many times have you let me down?

...

Why'd you lie to me?

...

I don't know why. I lie all the time, about being fine. I trust you don't want to know your friend has been sneaking out of the house at four in the morning when things get too much for them to handle.

I trust you don't want to know how your friend's appetite has been shrinking ever since they got off the patch which made them feel ever so slightly more alive.

I'm sure you don't want to know how they scribble in their little black book.

...

...

sigh.

...

I... don't know what to do now. The counselling appointment is... months away.

...

I will not participate in your delusion.

...

Is this all there is to it? Just a delusion? It makes me wonder if this is just something that I'll have to accept. That I was born male, and having a cis girl's body isn't possible in my lifetime.

I bet you're fucking laughing at me for questioning my own identity.

Yeah. Try living with those stupid feelings (of being different from other guys, and feeling crushes on basically every girl and woman you come into extended contact with) for over half your life before ever trying to talk to me about it.

Try living with your partner, only to realize that you want to be her. Imagine feeling that even more viscerally than love. Imagine being intimate with her (seeing, and feeling for the first times in your life that girls don't have dicks), and wanting her features for yourself.

...

It's why, I'm just... not going to remind myself of that. I'll just... cast it out of my mind. Lock it in the same box which I've locked Lynn in. Yet, even from within the box, she has some form of power over me, for she knows one thing I don't.

...

The happiness of existing.

...

It's why I strangle her. Whip her. Lash out at her, with my thoughts. Thoughts that this is just a delusion. That I should accept that I'm just a guy with weird thoughts due to neurodivergence or something.

But she absolutely refuses to give up or die - a trait both of us share, being two sides of the same soul. So, I lock her in the box.

I know the box won't do anything. Maybe it'll make me forget that she ever was there, when I pile the trinkets I collect over the course of my life, over the box.

But maybe, it's just another test of life. To see if I can accept something as fundamental as my own place in my body. And what if it's not? What if it's genuinely how my life is meant to play out?

...

I think about her. Cis (?) girl me, from that thought experiment I did over six years ago. I've never given her a name, and she hasn't told me yet, though, I know that she's a pretty reasonable girl. In a way, she is me, the same way I am her.

...

What would you do if you woke up beside a version of you that's of the opposite sex?

my answer to that still stands - try to find out how life was like for her.

Whether I want something more is yet to be seen.

...

cool song time:

but then, flofy wrote this entry

-saxophone plays-

it's a meme from Wirtual's videos on trackmania (but then, hefest got this run)

youtube

#Youtube

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animeomegas · 4 years ago

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Omega!Naruto Characters - Death from a broken heart.

Anon: I don't know if you do, but some aus say that a person can't sruvive after their mate dies, like they die from a broken heart. Do you have that in yours, can you write who would be most likely to die mayeb please xx

(I love this headcanon! In my au, I think that if a person feels like they have nothing left to live for after their mate dies, they die with them. This is my ranking for how the boys would react when you had been mated for a while, but before having children.

I wrote a Naruto one first, but I’m already half way through a BNHA version, so look out for that.)

Warnings: Suicide, major death, depression.

LEAST

1. Naruto – ALIVE – He is in mourning for a long time, but ultimately, he manages to turn your death into something meaningful. He memorialises you with a beautiful shrine in your home that he can’t bear to leave. He tries to ‘solve’ whatever it was that killed you. For example, if you died from sickness, he would assign lots more funds into the hospital and medicinal research. It’s not easy for him at all, but he could move on someday and take another mate, many years down the line. He has so much love to give and he wants to receive love in return, and he knows you would want him to be happy. However, he would never tolerate a new mate who was jealous of you or wanted him to get rid of your shrine. He could never do that to your memory. He picks a mate he knows you would love.

2. Iruka – ALIVE – He is deeply depressed when you die. He throws himself into his work as much as he can, distracting himself until he has a complete breakdown. He relies on his friends a lot during this time. Iruka eventually learns to distract himself in healthier ways, processing with your death in smaller increments rather than all at once. He might get another mate, but it would be very unlikely I think. It would be more likely that Iruka decides to adopt an orphan and throw himself into raising that child with as much love as he can. He would raise the child knowing you as their other parent, telling them stories about you, showing him pictures and visiting your grave with them.

3. Gaara – ALIVE – He is angry. It has been a long time since he was this angry. Gaara blames himself for a long time, which sends him down a dark path. Ultimately what saves him is his siblings. They keep him sane and happy to the best of their abilities and Gaara throws himself into his family as a result. It’s the only place where he can feel okay, if only for a little bit. If his siblings ever have pups, Gaara is committed to being the greatest uncle of all time and the pups love him. However, he can’t help but get lost in his thoughts sometimes, wondering what your children would have been like. He misses you every second of every day. He would be extremely unlikely to get mated again.

4. Shikamaru – ALIVE – He is furious. With the situation, with himself, and with you, for leaving him alone when you promised you wouldn’t. Another one who leans a lot on his friends and family to get him through the darkest time in his life. He lashes out at people and is very difficult to deal with after you die. I definitely see him as the kind of person to take on one of your hobbies to help him deal with your loss. Whatever it was you loved to do the most, he will start doing as a way to ensure that he will never forget you. He may get mated again, he may not, it depends a lot on if he meets someone he falls in love with again. But if the clan elders ever try and push him to mate again so that he can have an heir, he will flip his shit big time. He sees it as a direct attack on your memory.

5. Shino – ALIVE – He withdraws into himself. He speaks to no one other than his father for about a month after your death, refusing to go about his life as normal. Because it’s not normal and it will never be normal again. He takes a long hiatus from missions which he spends sorting through his thoughts and memories of you. The things he never said, the things he never got to do, the things he should have done. He tortures himself for a few weeks before his father pulls him out of his slump by force. They go for walks together, trying to find certain bugs, just like they did when he was a child. They cook together, Shibi closely monitoring Shino’s diet, knowing that hunger takes a big hit after the death of a mate. This is what saves Shino, but he will never mate again. He refuses. He couldn’t do that to your memory, but he also couldn’t do it to himself. Not again.

6. Neji – ALIVE – He gets so close to death. He stops eating, stops getting out of bed, stops working. He just lays there wasting away. He is convinced that he’s going to die and he feels weirdly happy about that. He doesn’t fight it at all, but instead embraces all his misery. It’s when his teammates come to visit him that everything changes. They find him close to death and panic. They rush him to the hospital, making sure that someone is with him at all times. They tell jokes, they organise games and read to him, anything to make him feel better. And it works enough that he can leave the hospital in a fortnight. Even after that, they keep up around the clock supervision for him, making sure that he is never alone with his dark thoughts for too long. Slowly, but surely, he recovers. But he never forgets. And he certainly never mates again.

7. Itachi – DEAD (kind of) - Itachi shuts down, but he doesn’t die, at least not immediately. He hyper focuses on his plan, following the steps automatically. He’s happy with every step he completes, because he knows the final step is his death. He clings to the knowledge that he will die soon, which ironically is the only thing that keeps him alive. He is colder than ever. From an outsider’s perspective it might not seem that he is that affected, but when he’s alone he just sits in silence, sometimes tears run down his face. When he is finally an inch from death at the hands of his brother, he smiles. He doesn’t think he’ll see you again. He doesn’t think he deserves that kind of happiness. People like him don’t deserve that. But at least, he hopes, it might stop hurting.

8. Kakashi – DEAD – He’s been through so much, that he thinks he should be able to cope by now. He knew this was going to happen after all. He waited so long to get mated, because he was scared, because he knew that you would leave him or be taken from him like everyone else. He’s tired. He’s so tired. He’s probably at least nearly 40 at this point, he’s far older than he ever thought he’d be. You taught him what it meant to truly live, not just survive. He can’t go back to how he was, he can’t. He goes to your funeral and stands there in silence. He accepts every condolence and offer of help with a silent nod. He promises his friends that he will go to a specialist therapist first thing in the morning. When everybody leaves, he sits by your grave all night, asking you for forgiveness for everything. For not being quick enough to save you, for pushing you away so much at the beginning of your relationship, and finally, forgiveness for what he’s about to do. He knows you would tell him to fight and survive the heartbreak, but he can’t. He heads back to his apartment for the final time, breathing in the air and taking in the sights. He piles everything he has that smells like you onto his bed and lays down in it. He apologises one final time before closing his eyes, knowing that he won’t be waking up.

9. Sasuke – DEAD – He should have known his would happen. Everything he loves gets ripped away from him, so why would you be any different? He’s furious when he hears the news. He destroys your house, throwing and smashing everything he can get his hands on. And when he’s destroyed everything, he just sits down in the middle of the living room floor and cries. He knows that people will show up soon. He knows that everyone knows he’s at risk for hurting himself, but he won’t let them take away his choice. He doesn’t want to do it anymore, he just wants to be with you. So he collects himself for a moment and then he runs. He doesn’t pick a place he just runs where he knows no one will think to look. He ends up sitting in between some trees on the floor of a training ground no one uses. He watches the stars for a few minutes, remembering every time he would do that together with you. He talks to you quietly, closing his eyes and convincing himself that you’re laying beside him. In the end, he doesn’t wait to die from his broken heart, he does it himself.

MOST

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

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hey guys !! i am back lmao ,, sorry ive been a bit busy with irl stuff but MANNN that quackity stream huh ????

i’ll be working on asks today, but first have this quick snippet i wrote up following that stream bc holy hell that’s gonna be the only thing on my brain for days now. take care of yourselves, and PLEASE be cautious - this is DARK content, thanks to this frickin arc jfc the streamers did NOT hold back huh.

for anything to do with quackity’s stream and its implications i’ll be tagging with -> q stream aftermath , so feel free to block that if you don’t want to see it!

tws: aftermath of torture, (physical/emotional) abuse, blood, head trauma, trauma, death mention, dissociation, mental illness, unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content, injury, c!sam critical, c!quackity critical

A hand runs through his hair.

Dream blinks, slow. His eyes are heavy. Sam's hand is in his hair, his head in his lap, and it's nice. It's so nice. He blinks again, feels his eyelids slide over his eyes, lashes brushing against his cheeks, and for a moment he doesn't know if he has the strength to draw them back up.

The hand in his hair stops, pulls. "I said stay awake, prisoner."

Dream's eyes snap open. The Warden stares down at him, eyes red and narrow through the mask. He's angry. Dream whimpers, pulls away, stops; that's not allowed. The hand in his hair tightens and another soft, high-pitched noise leaves his lips; his throat hurts.

The Warden sighs, and Dream stares at the wall. The block he's facing is crying obsidian; a drip runs down its leftmost edge, tracing a crack in the dark block. Dream watches. It's purple. Purple is a pretty color. He didn't have purple before the Warden put in the crying obsidian but now he has purple all around him and it's pretty. He likes purple.

The hand loosens, goes back to running through his hair, and Dream relaxes. It's nice. Nobody's done this in a while; it must be special, for Sam to be here. Usually it's the Warden (or worse, Quackity) but right now it's just Sam brushing gentle fingers through his tangled hair and making tap-tap-tap noises of his fingers against the obsidian and moving to the rhythm of his breathing at the side of Dream's face. Sam is nice.

Not many people are nice anymore.

"Prisoner-" the Warden is back again, pulling his head back harshly with one hand so he has to look up into the creeper mask, "What did I say about staying awake?"

Dream looks up, watches the Warden; he has to stay awake, or the Warden will be mad. He has to stay awake, or the Warden will be mad. He has to stay awake or the Warden will be mad. HehastostayawakeortheWardenwillbemad-

"Prime," the Warden grumbles, grips him by the side of his jaw, moves him to look at him closer. "He got you hard in the head, didn't he?"

Dream blinks.

"That regen potion better do what it's meant to do; we still need the information from the book." The Warden lets go of Dream's head, and it falls back into his lap. It's soft. Not many things are soft anymore either. He hears a heavy sigh above him. "You there, Dream?"

Dream nods. He has to respond when the Warden asks him a question. He'd talk, but his tongue feels heavy and his throat hurts and everything hurts if he thinks about it too much so he floats, instead, focusing on the feeling of Sam's hand in his hair.

"You can just tell Big Q everything, you know," Sam's other hand brushes over one of Dream's bandages, and he flinches away. Quackity went too far today, the Warden said. He nearly died. He's not allowed to die until he tells them about the book. His head is hurting a lot, just like everything is hurting a lot, but the world is going fuzzy in the edges a little like when he'd go floaty, push himself as far away from the cell in his head as possible. "If you just tell Quackity then we won't have to keep going."

It's tempting. Dream won't ever tell Quackity, because Quackity wants to hurt people and isn't going to stop at anything to get it. Dream saw it, during the election, then with the creation of Mexican L'manburg, then the first time he entered the cell - Quackity doesn't care about much at all besides his city, and Dream wishes he could care as little as him. He won't tell Quackity, he can't, but this isn't Quackity.

This is Sam, his green hair flopped over his face, crown shining soft and golden over his forehead, gentle hands smoothing Dream's hair from his forehead. This is Sam, holding him in a way no one has for months, warm and soft and kind, and for a moment Dream's back at the community house roof, sprawled in a mess of blanket and pillows and watching the fishes with his friends on all sides.

It's not a perfect image. Sam's armor is scratched and the air smells of blood and the eyes looking down at him are dark and flinty and cold, the Warden's eyes, and Dream aches all over in a way that makes it hard to breathe but it's - close. When he blinks and his eyes are closed for a moment he's away and out and the world is lovely and kind and it's enough.

It has to be enough.

"Dream," the Warden calls, voice steely, and the image fades. The knowledge he's kept locked rises in his throat, settles there. Sam watches him, prompting. "If you tell us everything, then we'll stop."

Please stop, he nearly begs. It doesn't matter if he does. He's learned that now.

He looks away, instead. He's done everything for this book. Lost everything, for this book. He can't tell, not when telling means Quackity can use it to hurt everyone, not when it's the last thing keeping him useful, not when useful is the last thing keeping him alive. The Warden sighs, heavy, damning.

"You better get ready for the visit tomorrow, then," the Warden says, standing, letting Dream drop to the ground. Something cold and sorrowful rises in his chest - where has Sam gone? Why did the Warden have to come back? "We'll continue this after, prisoner."

Sam, something in him calls, desperate, young. Please.

Out here, he just watches as the man disappears into the lava.

Sam is nice. He hopes that he can see Sam again, soon.

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

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Can we please get more tfota scenes from cardan's pov? Maybe something from qon this time 🙈

Happy New Year! ♥️🥂

It’s so great you guys are enjoying these Cardan POV pieces! This one sort of follows His Monstrous Bride and this other little continuation -- it’s taken from Chapter 18 of The Queen of Nothing when Jude and Cardan talk about her exile before meeting with the Living Council.

I don’t have a title for it -- let’s just call it His Monstrous Bride Part II. lol

(Also a shameless plug for my ongoing fic The Nine Terrifying Moons, which will feature a Cardan POV chapter coming soon. Wheeeee!)

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Cardan is well versed at hiding his emotions, but it doesn’t hurt to look the part. And the day that his High Queen is finally awakening, once again restored to Elfhame, is a day to dress for a very specific kind of battle. Jude has ignored him for months – now he must be unignorable. He has gold along his cheekbones and caps like gold knives at the tips of his ears. Jude likes knives after all.

He’s flanked by his guards at her door. (Their door? He’s unused to sharing.) The Living Council means to interrupt her convalescence, and he’ll have none of it. He’s there to make sure she is fit and ready, and he doesn’t have to do more than that, he tells himself. His envoy is at his sides at all times now, and still, in this moment, some part of him wishes there were more of them. Wishes he could shrink back from what may lie ahead.

“Your Highness?” His guards are waiting for him to do something. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been hesitating.

It’s just… it’s been months of endless rejection, though he knows now she never received his letters, but still…he’s not sure he can take one more. And his heart is still cracked and raw from her most recent brush with death.

He steels himself. And knocks at the door.

It’s Oak who answers with an innocent smile, which is something of a relief. With Oak around, Jude’s less likely to become stabby.

Although, at least if she’s stabbing him, she’s no longer ignoring him. And Cardan really can’t stand one more minute of being ignored by Jude Duarte.

She’s there now, and the sight of her standing catches him right in the chest. The last time he’d clapped eyes on her, she was bleeding all over his spider-silk sheets. He’d cleaned her blood with his own two hands, but now she’s upright and clear-eyed, dressed in a foreboding black number with silver at her collar and cuffs. Her auburn hair has been braided like a crown, and with smoky traces of rose around her eyes, she looks deadly and formidable once more.

It’s such a welcome sight. He has never been so thrilled to see her. And that’s such a treacherous and terrifying notion, since he thinks it’s very likely she’s might smack him in the near future if he can’t navigate the mess of crossed wires between them.

The thrill lasts only a moment, because then his stomach gives a lurch. He’s just realized that all of her sisters are there, too. And they’re all staring at him. And he’s been staring right back.

Suddenly, Cardan’s on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.

“Walk with me,” he finally tells Jude, eager to get away from so many Duarte eyes.

“Of course.” Jude’s brown eyes in particular seem uncharacteristically wide and confused.

Vivienne catches Jude’s hand before she can join him.

“You’re not well enough,” she objects. As if Cardan can’t take care of her. As if he hadn’t cleaned up her blood himself.

“The Living Council is eager to speak with her,” he says instead. Jude should be proud of how he’s learned to curb his tongue in her absence.

“The only danger anyone has ever been in at a Council meeting is of being bored to death,” Jude is reassuring her family, before stepping away, the guards folding in around them.

Cardan offers her his arm – he wants to keep her close, and he wants Vivienne to take note. It is different now, and he wants them all to see. Jude is cared for here.

He wants to take his time with her at his arm as they swap neutral business about the Roach, about the Bomb, about Madoc, but he can hardly even look at her. His head is full of visions of those nights he wrote to her again and again, outright begging in the end, and then lying awake, alone, certain his agony would be never-ending. Gods above, he’d even written once that his heart was hers, buried with her in the soil of the mortal world -- and she’d sent no reply. And though he knows now it’s because she hadn’t even received it, he’s still completely unsure of how to act.

It’s extremely unsettling how normal Jude seems in this moment. As if no time has passed at all.

And there are still so many eyes on them. Courtiers bobbing their heads as they pass. The guards just an arm’s length away. This is no place to try to sort through what he had written to her, what she needed to know. So maybe he just won’t, he thinks. Maybe it can just be like this for an eternity and he can go back to drinking away his feelings after this Council meeting. Maybe this is the most he should hope for.

But then, Jude says: “I need to talk to you.”

And his heart plummets to his guts. He’s not sure he can keep the dread off his face.

“It won’t take long,” Jude says, which is maybe worse. It means it’s simple: she wants to end their marriage. She wants to return to the mortal world. Of course she does.

But then, she says: “Whatever your scheme is, whatever you are planning to hold over me, you might as well tell me now, before we’re in front of the whole Council. Make your threats. Do your worst.”

What? What the bleeding skies is she talking about? This is such a mess he’s made. And it is, perhaps, the first mess he’s ever truly cared to clean up.

Cardan turns them away toward a corridor to the outdoors.

“Yes,” he agrees. “We do need to talk.”

He steers them for the royal rose garden, where he knows the guards will stop at the gate and leave them alone. He has only a few steps down a path of shimmering quartz stairs among the roses to decide exactly what parts of his heart he’s willing to reveal today. What exactly won’t hurt so terribly much should she throw it all back in his face.

“I assume you weren’t actually trying to shoot me,” he says, choosing first the obvious and easiest. “Since the note was in your handwriting.”

“Madoc sent the Ghost--” Jude starts, but then stops. Softens. “I thought that there was going to be an attempt on your life.”

This does not mean that she cares for you, he has to remind himself. He still doesn’t want to look at her. The memory of perceived rejection is still too strong, still too bitter.

But he’s not going to live with the regrets he’d drowned in when she’d nearly died. He tries to choose his next words carefully.

“It was terrifying,” he admits, feigning interest in a nearby bush of jet black roses, “watching you fall. I mean, you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you.” He swallows back the memories, threatening the periphery of his mind. “And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before.”

“Mortals are fragile,” Jude shrugs him off. She doesn’t get it.

“Not you,” he sighs. “You never break.”

There. Can that be enough? He’s made it fairly obvious now, hasn’t he? Surely she gets it now – he doesn’t want her to die, he doesn’t want to see her hurt. Witnessing it was the worst thing he’s ever seen. Because he cares for her.

If he has to spell it out, it might kill him. So, he just waits for what she has to say to that.

Jude’s looking at the roses, too, when he glances at her, her thick lashes lowered.

“When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you’d sent me messages,” she says, and oh, please, gods, not this. “You seemed surprised I hadn’t gotten any. What was in them?”

Cardan wants to vomit. No, he needs to vomit. If his nervous stomach would cooperate and vomit everywhere, he could still get away from this with a shred of dignity.

He clasps his hands behind his back so she can’t see how they shake, his smile telling the lies that the rest of him can’t. That he is cool and unaffected, not at all hopelessly in love with the mortal girl in front of him.

“Pleading, mostly.” He tries to say it like it’s a joke. “Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.” Maybe that little bit of tantalizing will flatter her.

It doesn’t. Actually, he’s not sure Jude can be flattered. She closes her eyes shut in no small amount of frustration.

“Stop playing games,” she growls. “You sent me into exile.”

“Yes. That.” Right, of course she doesn’t love that he’s beating around the bush. If only he could help it. He’s so goddamn nervous. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn’t you?”

The glare she throws him is so very Jude, though he loves it less when it’s directed at him.

“Of course it was a trick,” she seethes. “Wasn’t that what you said in return?”

Well, this is rich.

“But that’s what you do. You trick people.” Though Cardan’s starting to realize just how wrong he’s been about the things Jude enjoys. “I thought you’d admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you’d be angry, of course, but not quite like this.”

“What?” Jude looks like she could unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole. He might even deserve it.

He needs to put an end to this nightmare. There’s still a miniscule chance she’ll find some part of it amusing.

“Let me remind you that I didn’t know you’d murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,” he points out. Surely, the context will help his case. “My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalized in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over.”

But Jude’s face is unchanged. He isn’t seriously this good at trickery, is he?

“Think of it,” he presses, hoping she’ll follow along. “I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” Any minute now. Any minute.

“Pardoned by the crown,” he repeats to her blank stare. Right, so, this game isn’t funny anymore.

“Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen,” he explains, watching her eyes grow wider, wilder. “You could have returned anytime you wanted.”

When he’d first envisioned her figuring out the riddle, he’d expected probably a punch in the arm, maybe she would have even drawn her blade again. That would have been delightful. He’d thought about trembling beneath her again, about that searing look she got in her eye just before devouring his lips. That would have been – gods. He might have considered letting her murder more of his brothers to have that again.

But what is happening now is decidedly the opposite. Jude’s breath is quickening, her face flushing, and in the air between them, Cardan feels a rift cracking wider. He hasn’t played a trick – he’s done something horrible.

When Jude begins to back away from him, he thinks back to what it felt like to find Nicasia with Locke. What Jude’s face is doing now – that is what his heart had done then. She is recoiling from him. Jude Duarte is recoiling from him, because he has hurt her.

He honestly had not thought it was possible. He honestly had not thought himself capable. He honestly had not thought she cared enough.

She whirls then and marches away from him, and he has never hated himself more. Stop her, he thinks, but he’s still stunned. If he’d known she cared…

Stop her!

He runs after her. She has to know he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known. She has to know he will fight to keep her now that he knows. But when he seizes her arm, she hauls around and slaps him, hard enough to turn his face.

It’s not the worst hit he’s taken, not by a long shot, but its sting is entirely different. There’s something fiery in her eyes, and, for the first time, he’s aware that he is not the only one who has been in agony these long months. Oh, he would undo it all now if he could. He would pull her in and kiss her over and over until they both stopped hurting.

Except she still looks murderous. Getting close to her face is probably not a good idea if he doesn’t want to be bitten. (He does kind of want to be bitten, just…in a very different scenario.)

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, carefully, and his hand finds hers. To his great surprise, she lets their fingers lace together, and his heart seizes with a wild hope. It does not mean she loves you, he thinks. He fumbles. “No, it’s not that, not exactly. I didn’t think I could hurt you. And I never thought you would be afraid of me.”

“And did you like it?” Jude asks, narrowing her eyes.

His cheek is hot from the slap of her hand, and now with shame. Because how is he supposed to answer that? He didn’t hate being more powerful for once. He didn’t hate being the one with the answer to the riddle.

“Well, I was hurt.” He’s hesitated too long, and now Jude’s pressing on. “And yes, you scare me.”

Cardan finds himself taking in her full face then, the one that has always seemed so defiant and fearless and headstrong.

“You’ve always scared me,” Jude is saying, and this is what almost undoes him. She repeats it, telling him again and again each moment she had been afraid of him, and with each one, his mind bursts a little more. This doesn’t seem real. “And I am scared of you now,” she concludes, that defiant gleam in her eye til the end.

Cardan is speechless. And Cardan’s never speechless.

There was a time when he enjoyed playing a villain in her heroic story line, but she wasn’t supposed to be truly afraid of him. She was supposed to vanquish him and make him beg for her kindness. (And he would now. He really would.)

(Maybe he will.)

“You despised me,” Jude reminds him, because he does need reminding. He’s not sure now if he ever really did. “When you said you wanted me, it felt like the world had turned upside down. But sending me into exile, that made sense. That was an entirely right-side-up Cardan move. And I hated myself for not seeing it coming. And I hate myself for not seeing what you’re going to do to me next.”

At that, Cardan closes his eyes. Hopelessness is threatening to overtake him. Fear has created this monster before him, the one who irrevocably holds his heart. Is it possible to unmake such a curse? He’s certainly been unable to find a cure for his own fear, lifelong coward that he is.

When she’d first returned and his heart was freshly cracked, he’d thought back to a fairy story about a boy cursed with a heart of stone and the monster he took as his bride. It had been patience and fearlessness that had won over the monster in the end – something the boy had managed only because of his stony heart.

So, Cardan thinks of stones then. Of pulling together all his cracked and raw edges. Of being impenetrable and solid and fearless. He thinks of doing what needs to be done. He needs her, for so many things, and she must know that. Perhaps it is folly to wish for anything more than simply averting a crisis.

But he can’t manage it if he’s looking at her. He releases her hand and turns away.

“I can see why you thought what you did,” he says at last. “I suppose I am not an easy person to trust. And maybe I ought not to be trusted, but let me say this: I trust you.”

Patience. Fearlessness. Deep breath.

“You may recall that I did not want to be High King. And that you did not consult me before plopping this crown on my head. You may further recollect that Balekin didn’t want me to keep the title and that the Living Council never took a real shine to me.

“There was a prophecy given when I was born. Usually Baphen is uselessly vague, but in this case, he made it clear that should I rule, I would make a very poor king.” It hurts more than he thought it would to say it out loud. “The destruction of the crown, the ruination of the throne – a lot of dramatic language.”

He has to be cavalier about it; it stings too much otherwise. It’s been the bane of his existence, this prophecy. It is the reason his entire childhood was filled with nothing but dismissal and cruelty. It’s the very, very low standard he’s spent his whole life trying not to meet. The best his family had ever hoped for from him was his complete and utter disappearance – and he’d failed to do even that.

He turns back to Jude. Patience. Fearlessness. He has so much more to say. He has so much more he wants to be than this. Deep breath.

“When you forced me into working for the Court of Shadows, I never thought of the things I could do – frightening people, charming people – as talents, no less ones that might be valuable. But you did. You showed me how to use them to be useful. I never minded being a minor villain, but it’s possible I might have grown into something else, a High King as monstrous as Dain. And if I did – if I fulfilled that prophecy, I ought to be stopped. And I believe that you would stop me.”

Jude sputters at that, blinking hard.

“Stop you?” she echoes. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“Good.” And he means it. To die by Jude’s hand would be a dream. “That’s one reason I didn’t want to believe you’d joined up with Madoc. The other is that I want you here by my side,” and just for good measure, just in case she still isn’t getting it: “As my queen.”

But he can’t read the expression on Jude’s face when he says it – if it brings her joy, if it brings her more distress. He’s not sure what else he could have said to make it any more clear. And now her silence is threatening to eat him alive. This reeks of the beginnings of yet another rejection.

He smiles at her, instinctively, a last ditch effort to make this even slightly less awkward.

“But now that you’re High Queen and back in charge, I won’t be doing anything of consequence anyway,” he promises. “If I destroy the crown and ruin the throne, it will only be through neglect.”

He wants her to smile back. To roll her eyes at him and act like she isn’t amused when she so clearly is. He’s missed that, oh, how he’s missed that.

He gets all that and more when she blurts out a laugh.

“So that’s your excuse for not doing any of the work?” She quirks an eyebrow, and it makes his heart swell. They’re smiling together again. He’d needed that, too, more than he’d realized. “You must be draped in decadence at all times because if you aren’t kept busy, you might fulfill some half-baked prophecy.”

“Exactly,” he says. Exactly… It’s more true than he wants it to be. His smile fades. And Jude is looking more tired than he’s comfortable with. He hopes he has not pushed her too hard. He touches her arm, gently, not thinking. Her gaze catches his, soft and warm. He finds himself leaning in…

“Would you like me to inform the Council that you will see them another time?” he asks. “It will be a novelty to have me make your excuses.”

But Jude is stalwart and determined as ever. He expected nothing less.

He pulls back. She does not need him. Not like he needs her.

“No, I’m ready,” she says.

How he wishes he could say the same.

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Tagging: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @addies-invisible-life, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, @duarteegreenbriar, @thefolkofthefic, @alittledribbledrabble, @carmensworld17, @annejulianneh111, @amandlas, @elriel4life, @idk-what-name-to-use, @thewickedkings, @juliazato, @woodsbeyond1, @booksmusicandgoodvibes,

#jurdan #the folk of the air #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #cardan pov #fanfic #fanfiction #jurdan fanfic #jurdan fanfiction

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purplesurveys · 3 years ago

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1279

Are you and the last person you kissed in a relationship or just friends? I don’t keep contact.

Has anyone ever pointed out that your laugh was unusual? Hmmmm, I don’t think so. I feel like that would be the type of comment that would get to me so I definitely would’ve remembered it.

Would you get a lip piercing? I don’t plan on getting any piercings.

Nose piercing? Nopes.

What are you currently waiting for? For this fucking day to end so I can be closer to Thursday and to the weekend.

Do you have feelings for anyone? Nah.

Have you ever run over an animal? Nope. I’ve had extremely close calls with animals who suddenly dart into the road, but fortunately these have all been situations wherein I got to hit the brakes with nobody behind me.

Have you chewed gum after someone else already has? That’s disgusting, no.

When people sneeze do you say ‘bless you’? Sure, out of habit and just to be polite.

When was the last time you were on a bouncy castle? I don’t think I’ve ever been on a bouncy castle, but I’ve been on a lot of bouncy other things haha, like inflatable slides, soccer balls, Anpanmans, etc. The last time would probably be a nearly a decade ago; I definitely haven’t been near one in a while.

Have you ever went on a bouncy castle whilst drunk? Well no, because the ones I’ve been on were situated in school fairs, which is the last place I would want to be drunk in.

Have you ever entered an art competition? No, I have no justification to join one haha.

What is one thing you will never do? Try hardcore drugs. < Same.

What is one food that you detest? Pineapples.

Did you have a rebellious phase growing up? Yeah I was a bit of a handful to raise, but I’m in firm in my stance that it had a lot to do with the way I was raised. I grew up mostly without a father figure because my dad worked abroad and I felt neglected by my mom who had her own shit to deal with. There was no stable support system to lean on, so I ended up lashing out a lot in my puberty years. Unfortunately everyone else just saw a rebellious child and not a plea for help.

These days when I show off my achievements on social media, I’ll see congratulatory comments from my mom’s friends and she’ll usually go on about some “late bloomers grow with time” narrative and it pisses me off because nobody knows how much I’ve had to grow and mature and learn how to be happier all by myself, all from scratch. If I had just received the proper care and attention early on, I wouldn’t have had to do any catching up to begin with.

What religion were you brought up with? Roman Catholic.

Are you still that religion? Jesus no. I darted out of there as soon as I gained the consciousness to think about these sorts of things.

Do you often find yourself questioning your future? Sometimes, but I do my best to not let it get to me.

How many friends do you have on Facebook? Over 670.

What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? I started with punk rock in the first half of high school, so I had my Rancids, H2Os, Against Me!s, Cro-Mags, etc on my iPod. It evolved a little bit towards more indie, folksy sounds towards the latter half - Banks, alt-J, Hozier, Twenty One Pilots - which I largely attribute to the crowd I was part of at the time.

What pet names do you use with your significant other? I’m pretty straightforward so baby works out for me. Other, more specific pet names just grow naturally with the relationship, I think.

What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries? S&R.

Have you ever seen a theatre show? Yeah. Most of them have been required.

What’s your favourite vegetable? Broccoli or bell peppers.

Have you ever missed a flight? Never. I’ve experienced several delayed flights, though, which is always such a hassle especially if the delays happen in provincial airports since they never have any recreational offers to keep passengers from getting bored other than TVs that run the same damn five ads.

Do your neighbours have any pets? Have you ever met them? Yeah, a lot of have dogs. I’ve met some.

What color is your bedroom door? Brown.

If you were ever to become famous, would you grow annoyed at fans? Only towards obsessive ones who wouldn’t give me time to breathe or would go so far so as to stalk me or my loved ones. But I am a fan too, so I imagine I would actually be understanding of those who would ask for pictures or whatever as long as they were polite and not at all intrusive.

Have you ever met your favourite band/singer? Nah. I am terrified of meeting celebrities HAHA so I’ve always shut down the chance. I’m pretty sure I would actually turn down the chance to meet BTS if I hypothetically suddenly got the magic keys to that door.

Are you embarrassed by any of the songs/singers/bands you like? No. I feel like that sort of thing just happens in like high school, when your friends are still a bit judgmental. Nowadays I don’t see why I should be embarrassed of anything I like, especially if it’s not hurting anyone.

Have you ever written a story? I’ve made attempts but was always terrible.

Think of the last poem you wrote: What inspired you to write it? My homework that required me to write said poem hahaha.

Do you have a chance with the person you like right now?

What’s the weirdest thing you were scared of as a child? Watching commercials at night. It’s still a slight fear of mine but it’s mostly dissipated now.

Are there any embarrassing stories your family tells about you? About me? No. I don’t have a lot of those since I was a really shy kid who barely moved a finger anyway.

In your opinion, what is the funniest TV show? I have a *really* soft spot for Perfect Strangers, which I actually revisited yesterday :) The show was never super popular so it’s near impossible to find clips online, but when I checked YouTube I did see a slight increase in short snippets from the show so I had a really fun time binge-watching yesterday.

What is the maximum number of children you’d ever have? Three, but that’s pushing it. Ideally, I’d have two so my first would have company.

Have you ever been concerned you had a serious illness? Mental ones, yes.

Are you comfortable with who you are? For the most part, yes.

Would you date someone even if you knew you’d get made fun of for it? No. Why would it be any of their business?

Does popularity matter to you at all? I mean, yeah in the sense that I honestly aspire to be well-liked by as many people as possible. But I don’t necessarily want to rub shoulders with popular kids.

Would you ever consider homeschooling your children? Continued from sometime this week ider. No. I don’t think I’m capable of teaching, and generally I’d want them to be able to learn in a more open environment where they can have regular contact with different kinds of people.

Who told you about the band/singer you are currently listening to? Well Angela got into them first and since we’re best friends, there was a certain point where she just decided to loop me into conversations that involved them. I was impossible to sway for a long time, but then one day a video compilation of them showed up on my feed, and for some reason I actually watched it, and I watched all the way through, and I was immediately intrigued – particularly by J-Hope haha. I then asked Angela to tell me more about them and the rest was...financially irresponsible history HAHAHAHA

Do you ever read fanfiction? OMG yes. Funny you should mention that because my favorite author uploaded a brand new fic this morning, which I obviously couldn’t get to all day because I had to go to work. I’ll be reading it in all its 44,000-word glory tonight :D

Would you rather die in a plane crash, ship wreck or fire? Plane crash. Instant and mostly painless.

What are your top five favourite TV shows? Breaking Bad, BoJack Horseman, Friends, The Crown even though I was never able to continue it since...andddd that’s all I got.

What is your favorite superhero movie? Not a fan of superhero movies.

If you died next week, what would be the cause of death? Stress from overworking. I’ve FINALLY started to consider taking a leave for the first time this year because I’ve just realized just how fucking exhausted, burned out, and overwhelmed I actually already am from having no rest at all in the last 13 months.

Have you ever taken a break from Facebook or other social media? Why? Yes, I do mass deactivations when I’m severely depressed. These days I can’t really afford to that anymore, though, since my work is closely tied to social media.

Who is the most talented person you know? Probably Andi.

Are you currently platonic friends with anyone you’ve had sex with? No.

Where did you and your current interest go on your first date?

Have you ever experienced two people fighting over you (physically or mentally)? What happened? Nah. I’ve had two people like me at the same time, but there was never any tension to watch out for since they mostly didn’t know each other.

Have your parents ever thought you were gay? What happened? I think they know I dated Gabie and that we broke up because they’ve stopped asking about her. Everyone knew we were best friends, so the fact that they’ve avoided her as a topic for a whole year is able to tell me something.

Are your parents more liberal or conservative? Dad’s on the liberal side, mom dances around on the spectrum a little bit. I know she’s fine with things like tattoos and having LGBTQ+ co-workers, but she’s also conservative especially towards matters like religion.

What year are you going into at the beginning of the next academic year? No longer in school.

How far away does your closest family member live? A few footsteps away.

If you’ve seen both, did you prefer the Disney version or the Tim Burton version of Alice in Wonderland? It’s not my type of movie/genre to begin with.

Would you have sex before marriage? Why or why not? Yes. I don’t see the big deal; I’ve already done it anyway.

Are you more liberal or conservative? Liberal.

Who is your favorite Harry Potter character? Ooh not sure. I haven’t gone back to the books in a while, so I don’t remember if there was anyone I had an attachment to.

What’s the worst that could come out of letting gays marry? Nothing.

What’s the most sexual thing you’ve done? Had sex...I guess? And a bunch of stuff that comes with it.

Name something that you are against. Racial discrimination.

Why are you against it? Because it is infuriating to see, and it shows me the very same treatment can happen to me or my family as well and that scares me, especially since some people turn particularly violent towards people of color.

Have you ever played the Tomb Raider games? No.

Do you like it or hate it when your partner is clingy? I imagine I wouldn’t enjoy it if I’m not as into whoever my next partner would be.

Beatles or Rolling Stones? I don’t listen to either.

When was the last time you changed your opinion on somebody? Not so sure about a whole change in opinion because that hasn’t happened in a while, but I grew more grateful for my manager today because I finally mustered the strength to tell her that I’m begin to struggle mentally with work and she not only encouraged (read: begged) me to file a damn leave for once, but she also got sushi delivered to my place.

What was the last thing that made you feel proud and why? Andi was telling me about their day today and how they handled being misgendered by a prof, who then proceeded to throw a fit when he got corrected, and how they, again, maturely handled said fit. I was proud of them because there are a million ways that incident could’ve turned out, but they dealt with it in an extremely mature and calm manner considering they were the one who was wronged.

Do you feel uncomfortable when people you hardly know confide in you? If it was about an extremely personal problem I would probably be taken aback at first, but I still would definitely make some time for them and help in however way I can, since they apparently trust me enough to confide.

What was the last thing to fascinate you? The music video for My Universe! Super cool to watch and I love that they made a short film out of it too.

Is there a certain noise/sound which scares you? Doors being slammed shut, because that’s what my mom does when she’s furious. She did that when I was a kid and she does it to this day, so I get extremely nervous when I hear the sound, even if it happens by accident.

Do you have a favourite microorganism? Nope.

Out of the people you know, whose birthday is next? My cousin Bree.

If you have pet fish do you bother to name them? I did when I had them as a kid.

Do you keep your eggs in the fridge? Yes?

Have you ever owned chickens? Nope.

When did you last listen to music? Like five minutes ago. I tried to have a jazz playlist on but I realized I wasn’t in the mood for music so I changed my background noise to have a random VLive on instead.

#surveys #survey

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hearts-hunger · 4 years ago

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Absolutely Divine || Lucy Boynton x Reader

Read on AO3 here ♡

Summary: Unbeknownst to either of you, you and Lucy have both been thinking of each other long before this party you find yourselves stuck at. Finding a good place to hide away proves helpful in getting both of you to admit your feelings, as well as letting you act on them for the first time.

Pairings: Lucy Boynton x Reader

Genre: Smut! Porn without plot! Lots of wlw tenderness!!!!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: f/f smut, oral, fingering (18+ only please!) also, no beta, we die like men

A/N: I haven’t written anything in literally months but uh Miss Lucy Boynton owns my ass and thinking about her got me so hot and bothered I wrote a whole fic about it. Her power.......... anyways, enjoy! It’s kind of sweet and tender as well as being 90% sex, so I hope it’s a good read :) Shoutout also to Brent Faiyaz, whose music makes a great smut-writing soundtrack.

“Well, this party is an absolute bore.”

You made room on the loveseat as Lucy sat down next to you, the blush-colored tulle of her dress flouncing out in front of her. She took a sip from her glass of champagne, leaving a kiss mark on the rim that held your attention for longer than it should have.

“Nobody catch your eye?” you asked, studying her profile in the dim golden light. You’d found a cosy study in the house the huge, glamorous party was hosted in, and the full decanters of whiskey and the fire in the grate made it the perfect spot to hide out for the night.

She laughed. “No, not quite. Rami and the boys are all drunk and dancing, you know, tearing up the dance floor, and I would have joined them for a little bit of entertainment if these shoes weren’t so damn painful.”

She lifted the hem of her dress to reveal her sparkly high-heels. “And then I couldn’t find you anywhere, darling,” she said, moving her hand to clasp yours. She gave you a sweet smile. “I missed you. So I thought I’d try and find you and see what you were up to.”

You smiled back. “Just taking a breather,” you said. “My shoes are killing me too.”

“God, but they’re adorable,” she said, glancing down at your stilettos with ribbon crossing around your ankles. They suited your dress, a strapless red number, but they were a nightmare to wear for very long.

“They must be awful to wear, though,” she said. She tilted her head back to get the dregs of the drink, her gorgeous neck just begging to be kissed; you blushed and shook your head to clear it. She set the glass down on the floor and got off the couch; you felt a fleeting sense of disappointment until you realized she was getting to her knees in front of you instead of leaving, like you’d thought.

You bit your lip; just the sight of her in front of you, being able to move so easily between your legs, made you bite back a moan.

“Come on, then,” she said. “Let me take them off for you.”

You hesitated, a dreadful part of you wishing she meant something other than your shoes. When she gave you a stern look that quickly changed into a smile, you blushed and did as she said.

“There’s nobody to catch my eye anyway,” she said, continuing the conversation you’d left off earlier as she reached under the hem of your dress and started to untie the ribbon. Her fingers glanced over your skin and you had the foolish thought that maybe this is what Victorian maidens felt like, scandalously showing their ankles. “My attention is fully accounted for, thank you very much.”

You felt a spark of jealousy and instantly chided yourself. “Oh yeah?” you ventured. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

She met your eyes and gave you a mischievous grin. “Who said it was a guy?”

Oh. Well, you’d always wondered; you tried to tamp down the flutter of excitement in your chest.

She finished with the first shoe, gently slipping it off and setting it aside. She started on the second one and had to bend closer to see the knot in the bow, giving you a lovely view of her decolletage; you blushed furiously and tried to look anywhere else.

“There we go,” she said, straightening as she finished untying the ribbon and took your other shoe off to join the other one on the floor. You chanced looking back at her, having been studying the ceiling and trying not to think of how much you’d like to take her dress off of her, and found her giving you a cheeky smile.

“You’re a little flushed, lovely,” she said. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Um, it’s - I’m just a little warm.”

To your surprise she started to trail her fingers further up under the hem of your dress, slowly, giving you time to move away. You couldn’t do anything but draw in a strained breath, feeling her touch like fire against your skin.

“You certainly are,” she said smoothly, her nails scratching lightly at your inner thigh. “Any particular reason?”

You genuinely couldn’t think of anything to say; you felt like your brain was short-circuiting as her touch sent sparks of pleasure through you.

“Oh, I meant to tell you,” she said easily, still tracing her fingers up and down your legs. “You’re the girl who’s got my attention.”

You felt heat rush everywhere at that, reddening your face and making you squeeze your legs together a little before you remembered her hands were between them. Fuck.

“And I’d like to show you just what I’ve been thinking about you, if you like,” she said smoothly. She looked up at you from beneath her long lashes, giving you a teasing smile. “What do you think?”

You nodded, unsure if this was real or just a very, very nice dream.

She gave a soft laugh. “Need to hear it, lovey.”

You drew in a sharp breath. “Yes,” you said eagerly. “God, if you want to, yeah. Of course.”

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice sweet and genuine but laced with something deeper, more possessive. “What do you want, lovely? You want me to make you all hot and bothered as quick as I can, before somebody comes in and finds us?”

She eased your dress up, pressing kisses to your thighs, leaving marks of her plum-colored lipstick on your skin.

“You worried someone will see?” she purred. “Or maybe you’d like it if I took it slow, and someone walked in just in time to see you cum?”

“Oh, god,” you breathed, both the thought of someone being witness to Lucy fucking you and the feel of her pulling your panties off enough to make your head spin. She gave a soft laugh and tossed the little bit of black fabric by your stilettos.

“I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” she said. “Does that mean you want it quick?”

“Um, I…”

You honestly couldn’t decide. She was right; she hadn’t even really touched you, and you felt arousal pool between your legs at the thought of her doing anything more. Whether she took it fast or slow, you were sure you wouldn’t last very long.

She nipped at your inner thigh. “That’s ok, lovey,” she said. “We’ll just see how it goes, how about that?”

“Okay,” you agreed.

She smiled. “Good girl,” she praised in a soft voice. “You’re being so patient with me, sweetheart. Such a good girl. You want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you managed. “Please.”

She eased you closer to the edge of the loveseat, settling herself between your legs with a satisfied smirk.

“You can pull my hair a bit, if you like,” she said. “Up to you.”

That was all the warning she gave before pressed her mouth between your legs, spreading you, her tongue slowly tasting every inch of you. You threw back your head against the back of the couch as an almost overwhelming pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck,” you managed, twisting the fabric of your dress as you searched for something to ground you. You could have sworn you felt her smile as she finally turned her attention to your clit, her tongue circling slowly, torturously. You whined and carded your fingers through her hair with shaking hands, wanted her closer, deeper, fuck -

“God, you taste so good,” she said, the slightest edge of desperation to her voice. Your hips jerked as she started to suck on your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you, and she put a hand on your thigh to steady you.

“Lucy,” you whined.

She pulled back just enough to look up at you from under her lashes, licking her lips with a pleased smile. You couldn’t focus, really, head still swimming as she rubbed slow circles against your clit, not enough to get you off but just enough to tease.

“Love to hear you beg, sweetheart,” she said. “Beg for me, baby.”

You gasped as she pressed deeper. “Please, Lucy,” you said, your voice high and needy.

“Please what?”

“God - make me cum, please.”

You were surprised to see how that affected her, a breathy moan escaping her as she bit her lip. “Well, now. How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

She replaced her fingers with her tongue, wasting no time in bringing you to the edge. You tugged on her hair, making her moan against you, feeling your orgasm build like a cresting wave.

“Yes, yes, oh, fuck, Lucy,” you babbled. “Gonna cum, please, oh god - ”

You came with a keening groan, legs shaking as she continued to eat you out until you were completely spent. She gave your thigh one last kiss before she pushed herself off her heels and kissed you deeply, hands on either side of you, her mouth tasting sweet and salty, like champagne and your own taste.

“Thank you,” you said between kisses, breath catching in your chest as she sucked love marks under your jaw. Your hands went to her sides, drawing her closer, skating over the soft fabric until you reached her breasts. The tulle of your dresses rustled together as she dipped her head to kiss your chest, her tongue ghosting between the deep v of your neckline.

“I’m not finished with you yet, lover,” she said gently, though the glint in her eyes was unmistakable. She put her mouth to yours again, kissing you slowly, as her hand snaked up under your skirt between you.

“But, Lucy, you - ” you started to protest.

“Hush, darling,” she said, nipping at your bottom lip. “Let me make you cum again, please.”

You sucked in a breath as she slowly eased two fingers into you, taking her time. Your hips rocked closer to her as she started a steady rhythm, her thumb circling your sensitive clit.

“Is this ok?” she asked. “Not too much?”

“No,” you breathed, running your hands over her, tangling your fingers in her hair. “It might - fuck - might take a second for me to - ”

“Don’t worry,” she said, easing your slight embarrassment. A second orgasm right after your first always took you longer as the oversensitivity wore off, but the feel of her fingers in you was agonizingly wonderful.

“Take your time,” she said. “I’ll go easy.”

True to her word, she worked you slowly as your body warmed to your arousal again, and sooner than you would have been able to manage on your own, you were rocking against her hand as she pushed into you and deepened her touch.

“That’s it,” she said, feeling you respond to her touch. “Good girl.”

You gave a breathy moan as you lifted your hips to take her fingers deeper. “‘M close,” you whined. “Lucy, gonna cum, gonna - oh, Christ - ”

She kissed you as you came and you moaned against her mouth, riding her fingers through your orgasm. She pulled her hand from between your legs when you were spent and popped them in her mouth.

“Absolutely divine,” she said with a sigh. “God, you’re so good. You’re perfect. Can’t believe I’ve made it this long without getting to taste you.”

You felt yourself blush with more than warmth and arousal. “Lucy,” you said bashfully.

She gave you a sweet smile and kissed you gently, differently than before. “Oh, you’re so beautiful,” she cooed. She kissed all over your face, making you giggle. “Such a darling little thing, aren’t you?”

You put your hand to her face and drew her to kiss your mouth again, carding your other hand through her hair. “Can I do you, now?”

She laughed. “If you want, lovely.” She guided your hand from her face down to her waist, gathering up her dress and letting you slip your hand under.

You raised a brow, hesitating before touching her like you so desperately wanted to. “Are you sure? You don’t want to switch places?”

She grinned. “I like it standing up very much, but I’m afraid I don’t quite trust my legs. If that’s alright with you.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you said, giving her a deep, long kiss before putting your hand between her legs.

You swore breathlessly at the same time she bit her lip and moaned; you traced your fingers over her panties and felt how wet she was through the fabric. She started to rock against your fingers almost involuntarily, seeking friction; you gave her what she wanted rubbed her clit through her panties.

“Shit, Jesus, fuck,” she bit out, both of her hands on your shoulders to steady herself, her fingers gripping tight enough to leave bruises.

You couldn’t help a soft laugh. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No,” she gasped, “but I’ll kiss you with it if you keep that up, please.”

You obliged her and pushed her panties aside, rubbing deep circles over her clit, kissing her shoulder as she whined with your every movement.

“You sound so pretty,” you said, kissing her neck. “Gorgeous thing.”

She muffled her moan against you. “Want your fingers,” she said, panting. “Please, baby, need them in me.”

You could tell she didn’t want to be teased, and you pushed two fingers into her and set to a quick pace. She whined as she threw her head back, practically bouncing on your fingers, chasing her high.

“Jesus,” you breathed, feeling yourself get wet again just looking at her. Her expression was beautifully desperate, moans tumbling from between her kiss-swollen lips.

“Gonna come, baby,” she gasped. “Oh, please, yes, yes - oh, fuck.”

You saw her expression change to complete blissed-out pleasure the same time you felt her tighten around your fingers, and you couldn’t help a moan of your own as she rode out her orgasm.

“God damn,” she breathed when she was spent, releasing her punishing grip on your shoulders. Like she had before, you put your fingers in your mouth and tasted her. She thanked you with deep, feverish kisses, both of you steadying your breathing and leaning on each other.

“Thank you,” she said. “You were perfect.”

“Couldn’t have been better than you were,” you said. You helped her up to sit next to you on the couch, and she moved until she was practically on your lap, wanting to be close to you as you kept kissing her.

“Maybe we should make this a more regular thing,” she said with a soft laugh.

You brushed her hair back from her face, gazing up at her blissed-out expression, drinking in how beautiful she was in the firelight.

“I’d love that,” you said gently.

She smiled. “I’d love that too,” she said. She twined her fingers with yours and kissed you in a way that told you she was happy to sit here all night and keep kissing you, and you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather do more.

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl @hazah @dashlilymark @punkgeekchic @cultofbeatle @stephydearestxo @luckytrashgooprebel @someone-get-a-medic @chlobo6 @devin-marie

forgive me if i’ve left anybody out, it’s been a hot minute since i wrote anything and i don’t remember which taglist is the most up-to-date ♡ also, feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added!

#let me know what you think!!#i'm actually so excited to have written a whole fic #♡#lucy boynton x reader #lucy boynton fanfiction #lucy boynton x reader smut #lucy boynton smut #borhap cast fanfiction #wlw smut #maddie writes stuff!

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thdorkmagnet · 4 years ago

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How Far Would You Go For Love? Part 1

Hey everyone!! Today I got something different for you all. Not Star vs for once. That’s write, I branched out a little and wrote for another series I’m really into. My Hero Academia. I’ve been in love with this show for years and decided it would be fun to actually make something for this fun and entertaining show. So here I am! This story is gonna be for my fav ship in the show: Uraraka x Deku (I don’t know what the ship name is oops ^^;). I love these two dorks and their chemistry and I had to try my hand at writing them! This story is also in first person so I really am stepping out of my comfort zone for this one haha XD I really hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun with it and I’m pretty proud of the results!!

I shivered violently as the crisp, cold air sting my face and hands, any semblance of bare skin felt like it was being jabbed with a thousand sharp needles. I scooted closer into the warm body beside me, ignoring any feelings I had in favor of staying warm. I tried to ignore the way the form shifted awkwardly towards me, possibly trying to provide some sense of comfort, either for me or him or both. Thanks to the harsh wind in my ears and loud-pulsing heartbeat I barely heard Deku whisper to me, “It’ll be okay, Uraraka. We’ll find a way out of this.” I knew he was trying to make me feel better, to comfort me in my moment of terror but... well...

Comfort was hard to find when you were a hostage.

At the mental reminder of my situation I licked my lips and shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the coarse ropes rubbing up against my wrists or the sharp pain from the movement. My wrists had already been rubbed raw from my pointless struggling, my determination to escape stronger than the pain.

Of course with every moment I became less and less sure escape was an option.

I'm sure Deku didn't feel that way but as always I was well aware just how big a gap there was between us. Deku was a born hero, he saved people without hesitation, and when I was with him I always felt like I could do anything. It’s why I looked up to him and wanted to be by his side. It’s why I strived to be as good a hero as he was someday.

... And it’s the reason I had fallen in love with him.

For a long time I had denied my true feelings for him, justifying them in my own mind to avoid having to face reality, telling myself I just thought he was cool and someone I admired and wanted to be like. But now, faced with the possibility of death or worse, helpless and alone in the hands of a psychotic villain, I no longer had the strength to fight it. If I denied my feelings for him anymore then I might die never coming to terms with them, to let that empty, gaping hole in my heart remain until the end. Because the truth was I had no idea how this all would end. Sure, I knew UA and the other heroes would do everything in their power to save us but-

No, no I can't think like that!I shook my head back and forth to try and rid it of the nasty, taunting thoughts. This isn't the end, it can't be. If I give up then this villain wins. I forced my brain to think straight, to be like Deku, and I took a moment to examine the situation at hand like he would. We were on the roof of some large building, probably abandoned, and although I hadn't gotten a good look over the side, judging by the amount of wind I was being constantly assaulted by we had to be at least 20 stories high. I shivered involuntarily again but forced my brain not to panic.

Instead I tried to remember how we had ended up in this mess, hoping it would offer me a clue out of it.

When Deku had first come to me with two special tickets to the grand opening of the All Might museum he had been beyond excited. I had seen him turn into the fanboy I knew and loved before but this was on a whole different level! He seemed almost over the moon at this. He was practically squealing when he told me in his typical Deku ramble how he had spent the previous night sending in what must have been hundreds of contest entries asking basic questions about All Might’s career and judging by the bags under his eyes he most likely hadn’t slept all night because of it. But all that work must have played off cause he was declared the winner.

And then he offered me the second ticket and I thought I might die right there on the spot. While the museum itself sounded cool and everything, it almost felt like Deku was asking me out on a date! Something I had dreamed would happen for months now. It took every ounce of strength I had not to turn into a blushing, flustered mess at the very idea of such a thing. I tried not to get my hopes too high and overthink it, but I couldn't help but ask why he picked me out of our whole class, considering anyone would be thrilled to go to a place dedicated to our awesome teacher.

He had grown slightly embarrassed by my question and I could still remember the adorable shade of pink on his cheeks as he explained that I was one of the only people who didn't judge him for his fanboy love of heroes. I tried to tell him nobody cared except maybe Bakugo but before I got the chance Deku had nervously muttered something along the lines of “It’s different with you. I can be myself around you.” And if my heart was any fuller in that moment it probably would have exploded.

We both decided to keep our 'date' a secret, Deku worried about upsetting the others for not inviting them, while I was more concerned about the girls finding out. I loved them but they were born gossipers, especially Ashido. The last thing I wanted was the whole school finding out that me and Deku were going on a date. Especially since I don't think Deku meant it to be one.

That still didn't stop me from spending a good two hours picking out the perfect outfit though, while trying to ignore my jittery nerves. I kept telling myself that this wasn't a date. That this was just a get together between two friends, nothing more. But convincing my racing heart of this seemed to be an impossible task. All my hard work paid off in the end when Deku spotted me, blushing and muttering under his breath something about ‘me looking really nice’ and how ‘he wished he had changed out of his All Might t-shirt' but I quickly assured him he looked fine and considering where we were headed, would fit right in.

What happened next I remembered all too well. As if I was reliving the same horrible events all over again.

I can’t believe how lucky I am! Here I am, next to my favorite person in the world, walking side by side with him on a date! Well not technically a date but still it was close enough for me. I can’t stop smiling I’m so happy! Or wait, am I smiling too much? Is Deku gonna think I’m weird cause of how much I’m smiling? I glanced over at my friend, only to find he was too distracted to notice my weird smiling. He was talking to himself or maybe to me, it was hard to tell sometimes, going on and on about something. Probably All Might related if I had to guess. His eyes usually only gleamed like that when talking about his hero. Even if I couldn’t always follow along, I loved listening to how passionate he was about stuff like this and it was hard not to get excited with him, his enthusiasm was contagious.

As I listened to Deku’s adorable rambles, I gave a quick glace up at the towering building coated in All Might’s signature colors of red, white, and blue, his name displayed above the front entrance in bright, flashy letters.

“Hey look, Deku,” I said excitedly to him. “I think that’s the place up ahead.” I pointed it out to him and his green eyes seemed to be filled with starlight. His whole face was practically glowing, he looked like a kid at Christmas, then again for him this probably was like a second Christmas for him. Before I knew it I was smiling like an idiot right alongside him. Date or not, I was just so happy to be here with him. Today was gonna be great because I was gonna get to hang out with the coolest guy I knew. Without realizing it, my hand reached out for his and to my even greater shock and surprise he actually held it back! I felt my cheeks heating up in a blush while my heart was busy pounding away a mile a minute. I was floating on cloud nine! Nothing my quirk could do could possibly make me feel more like this, like I was walking on air, only Deku had that power over me and I loved it.

Just before the two of us could enter into the museum, however, a sudden scream reached our ears. The voice was muted and distorted from distance but there was no denying the call for help, nor the fear in the man’s voice. One quick glance at Deku and I knew we were both on the same wavelength, our thoughts for a moment one. Of course, Deku being Deku, he ran into the alley without a second thought, but I was proud to be right on his heels, ready to prove myself as worthy heroes in training and maybe even Deku’s equal.

We immediately came across the victim, a man crouched on the ground, clutching his chest as if he was in some kind of pain. My lessons kicked in as I did my best to survey the situation: the man was alone so it didn’t seem to be a villain attack, from what I could see he wasn’t bleeding out or in any critical state, although that could be shielded by his arm. I watched as Deku knelt next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, asking the standard questions: ‘If he was alright?’, ‘What we could do to help?’, that kind of thing. But for some reason I felt an uneasy twist in my gut. Something wasn’t quite… right.

Instead of answering his concerned questions, the man simply asked Deku if we were heroes. Something about the tone of his voice set me off, there was no sincerity there, only an underlying malice. But before I could voice these concerns, though, Deku had already replied with a cheerful smile. "Actually we're UA students."

The man smiled and I heard him whisper something dark under his breath, before his hands lashed out and grabbed onto Deku’s arm.

I saw the look of confusion on Deku’s face before he realized the danger and started to pull away, lifting his leg to kick. The man, however, simply twisted Deku’s body around, holding his arm tightly against his back, the awkward angle looking incredibly painful. I watched as my friend squirmed and screamed in pain, demanding the villain release him. But the look in his eyes was what caught me off guard the most, they looked distinct and half-lidded as if he was struggling to stay conscious.

“Let him go!” Wasting no more time, I threw myself into the battle, too, determined to free my friend from this villain’s wrath. Whatever he was doing to Deku, I needed to stop it now! I tried to touch him with my fingers, hoping to make him float so taking him out would be easier but he moved out of the way much quicker than I was expecting. He threw poor Deku to the side like he was a worthless ragdoll and for whatever reason, my crush was unable to catch himself as he landed hard on the paved ground, his head no doubt taking quite a bit of the fall, the impact making me cringe. I couldn’t help myself, my concern for my complain greater than my hero training as I turned and shouted, “Deku!”

And that was the only opening the villain needed as he latched on strongly to my arm.

The instant he did I felt my head grow fuzzy and everything began spinning in a nauseating circle. I was used to this feeling, thanks to my quirk, and did my best to try and pull away, but his grip was like a vice. Everything started to blur in a flash of colors and noises. I heard Deku scream my name, followed by a grunt, though I couldn’t tell if it was from him or the villain.

I knew we were running out of time to act, so I forced my brain to remember my training as I attempted a move to dislodge his hand from my arm, but thanks to my functionless mind, my movements were too sluggish and slow. I didn’t even have time to react as the man grabbed me by the hair and slammed me hard into the cement ground. My vision began to go black but just before the world faded away, I could hear Deku’s panic-filled scream call out to me, his voice slurred as he began to lose consciousness just like me.

And then there was nothing.

When I finally came to, I had a massive headache unlike anything I had ever felt before. My brain felt like it was on fire and I groaned in agony. I risked opening my eyes only to discover my uncomfortable position as this villain's hostage. I had lost track of how much time had passed since then but my guess was that it had been close to an hour or two.

I let out a slow breath to calm my racing heartbeat. I had to find a way to escape. I just had to! Before- before... well I didn't want to think about that. I had to focus on getting away at any cost. But I was unsure what to even do,I had already exhausted all the other escape attempts I could think of, the few that came to mind. Maybe Deku had an idea?

He probably did but it wasn't safe to ask him, not with the villain pacing back and forth in front of us. I looked over to said villain and noticed he wasn't paying either of us any mind. Which was nothing new, ever since we got here, this unknown villain hadn't shut up about his plans. He had rambled on and on about his goals, about how he would make the heroes pay, how it was thanks to heroes his life was ruined. I had nearly let out a sigh of annoyance the moment he started up his cliche monologue but caught myself at the last second. It felt like every villain I encountered had the same flawed view of hero society. They all wanted to see it destroyed and replaced with their own messed up world. Didn't these guys have anything better to do?

Now though, he just looked agitated, wringing his hands together nervously as he continued his incessant pacing. I could hear him mumbling something under his breath. It was clear he was becoming unstable. And that boded poorly for me and Deku. I had suspected this person was suffering from some sort of mental illness (after all what sane person would kidnap two high schoolers) and it seemed my suspicions were confirmed.

What terrified me is what he would do when the little sanity he had left snapped? What would become of me and Deku when he got bored of us?

The thought turned my blood to ice and I fought back the growing tears of defeat. If this was the end for me and Deku then...

I cast a longing look at my crush, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a flat line. There were a few new bruises on his body and I guessed he hadn’t be taken so easily like I had. He looked so unlike the Deku I knew, the one who I had seen not a few hours ago, giddy and full-of-life, and I could feel the tears nearly spilling over just looking at him. This whole ordeal must be affecting him terribly, too. I didn’t want to do this, not here and certainly not now, but I doubted I'd have another chance, so I drew in a shaky breath to try and steady my frayed nerves, gathering what little strength I had left to muster.

"Deku," I squeaked and instantly regretted that decision. Gosh my voice sounded awful, like I had been gargling nails and hadn't spoken in a year. Not to mention the noticeable shake in my tone even though I had tried so hard to fight it.

It was no surprise then that Deku whipped his head around to face me, his eyes wide and full of concern (most likely for me). When our eyes met though, I felt a small bit of warmth settle inside my cold, tired body. It wasn't enough to completely halt the despair I felt creeping into my mind but it helped to give me a little strength and hope to fight that overwhelming feeling back.

I tried to summon the courage to tell my crush my true feelings, to ignore the darkness and terror we were trapped in and create a small moment of light and love to cling to. But what I wasn't expecting was for Deku to smile at me.

He actually smiled! And I knew that smile better than anyone, I had seen it enough times to know what it meant. He was trying to provide me comfort. In this dark, hopeless situation, Deku still had the courage to smile. It was forced and shaky, his eyes full of fear and the corners of his mouth quivered with the effort of holding it together but it was there! And I was once again reminded of the true strength my friend had and by proxy how little I had in comparison. Before I had a chance to speak he whispered in a shaky but determined tone, "Don't worry, Uraraka. I promise we'll get out of here. I won't let this be the end. I swear."

I had no words with which to reply with but I could feel the tears threatening to spill over. Without thinking I buried my head in the front of his jacket and sobbed. I knew how weak it made me look, that a hero shouldn't behave this way but I couldn't help it. Deku didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve me. Even though he was scared and worried, he still had the strength to try and help me. He was a true hero and it scared me to think that he might not live to prove that to everyone.

Deku didn't say anything to me while I sobbed brokenly. He just let me work it all out of my system. He didn't even fuss over the fact I was completely drenching his limited edition All might hoodie. Instead he just leaned his head on top of my own, the only comfort he could offer with his hands tied uselessly behind him. The gesture only made me sob harder. Because gosh he was too good for me!

I probably could have stayed like that forever curled up on Deku’s chest, if my loud bawling hadn't unfortunately attracted the attention of our unnamed captor. "Hey shut up you damn brat, before I make you!" He hissed at me, the venom in his tone enough to make me choke on my tears, trying feebly to stop their flow.

While I was busy with that, Deku shot the man a glare and I felt him curl around me even more in a protective manner. He looked like he wanted to say something but he held his tongue, his attention shifting back to me as he began muttering meaningless phrases in an attempt to comfort me. It took a bit of effort but I finally managed to quiet my sobbing till it was nothing more than small whimpers.

This seemed to quell the villain (for now) as he went back to muttering to himself and I tried to take this as a small relief. I blinked a few times to clear them of tears and felt shame at the sight of my friends tear-stained hoodie, the whole front of which was soaked in my tears. Deku’s stare was burning into my skin but I kept my head lowered. I couldn't face him after my breakdown. What would he think of me? Here he was being brave and heroic while I broke down over the littlest of things.

Before the tears could start up again I forced myself to meet Deku’s eye, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. As expected, his look was one of pained sympathy and my cheeks felt like fire from the blush that spread over my face in an instant. I was the first to break eye contact, staring sheepishly at the floor. "Sorry," I whispered, trying to resist the temptation to hide in Deku’s hoodie again.

"Don't be," he replied with a small shake of his head. "I know this a lot to deal with. I don't blame you for crying." He tried to crack a smile, joking awkwardly, "Beside you've seen me cry plenty of times before."

It was true. I had seen Deku cry more times than I could count but I never saw that as a weakness. When he cried I knew he was just overcome with emotion and was expressing it freely. I respected that. That he wasn't afraid to express himself. So why was it, I felt so ashamed of doing it myself? It just made me feel weak. Like the barrier between him and me had become even wider. I didn't want him to comfort me, I wanted to be strong enough to protect him.

"How are you so calm right now?" I wondered aloud.

Deku shrugged. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm scared. Really scared," he admitted honestly. A shaky breath before he continued. "But... I have to keep smiling. I have to believe we’ll be okay. That the other heroes will save us. Cause that's what All Might would do. He'd stay strong no matter how bad the odds are."

I couldn't help but admire Deku for a moment. He really was amazing. And if he could keep believing, then I had to do the same. No matter how bad things got.

Both me and Deku jumped when our captor let out a loud, guttural howl. It sounded inhuman, filled with malice and insane energy. The sound alone was startling enough but the fact that it had happened seemingly at random put me on edge. Whatever sanity the villain had seemed to have finally shattered as he began loudly talking to himself, getting more and more agitated by the second. "They aren't coming. Why aren’t the heroes coming? They should be here. Maybe they forgot. No, no they couldn't have. They must not think I'm a threat. But I am! I need to show them, I-I need to... give them a reason to come. Yes that's it."

With that the man slowly turned towards us with a long, creepy expression stretched across his face. The little comfort me and Deku’s conversation had brought me was shattered in an instant when I saw the look in the villain’s eyes. Those were the eyes of a corned animal. The eyes of a beast pushed to its breaking point. There was danger in them and I knew at once things were about to take a very, very bad turn.

For a few tense seconds we just stared each other down, captor and captives waging a mental battle and I had no clue who was winning or losing. The air was so thick with dread I could almost feel it with each breath I took. There was no sound, only silence, but that seemed to have mesmerized the villain, like he was waiting for it to break. And I feared what would happen when that pin dropped and that silence was shattered.

Then, with no warning, the moment was broken, the villain moving towards us in a flash, a crazed look still in his eye. I flinched instinctively, closing my eyes and waiting for the pain to start. There was no doubt in my mind I would be the target of his rage since I had been the biggest nuisance to him. He would be quick to dispose of me.

But to my surprise it was Deku who cried out and my eyes snapped open in shock. The villain had a tight grip on Deku’s hair, his fingers laced painfully in his green curls, while the other hand fumbled to undo the knots around Deku’s wrists. But being Deku, he put up a resistance, squirming and making the job difficult for our unknown assailant. Meanwhile, I was forced to watch powerlessly with my own arms bonded uselessly behind my back. I shouted to the villain and kicked my feet but it did nothing to deter him.

The villain growled in frustration, giving Deku a wild shake that made my stomach twist into knots. He leaned down to hiss in his ear, but I was able to make out the chilling words, "Stop fighting or the girl takes your place instead."

I watched with horror as Deku calmed his resistance, allowing the man to finish his work still glaring daggers the whole time. No, no this was all my fault. I was being used against him! Deku, the one I loved was about to die to save me. This horrible villain had just twisted my sweet Deku’s heroic nature into something wrong and despicable.

The villain eventually loosened the ropes enough that Deku was no longer pinned in place, but his hands were still tied tightly behind him, keeping him weak and helpless. I thought I might puke as I watched the man drag my friend away by his hair. By his freaking hair! I could hear the roots tearing but Deku, to his credit, suppressed any screams through gritted teeth.

I continued to scream and thrash in my bounds, desperate to help my friend, to save the boy I loved from this nightmare. I could feel hot, sticky blood dripping from my wrists, every movement painful from where I had rubbed the skin raw struggling but still I fought. I refused to give up. Not until Deku was safe. "Let him go! Leave him alone!"

Deku didn't give up either, determination hidden behind the fog in his eyes as his body glowed green. I recognized the power of his quirk immediately, the air itself filled with electricity as he swung a leg towards the villain in his signature shoot style and I sucked in a breath, daring to hope this terror might finally end.

But Deku’s reflexes had been dulled thanks to whatever this villain's quirk was and his movement’s sloppy and formless, at least compared to the lightning fast attacks I was used to seeing from him. Our capture was able to easily snatch Deku’s leg before it made contact with his face, a new look of dark fury flashing in the man's crazed eyes.

And then he began to twist Dekus ankle, my crush struggling to hold back his pained whimpers. He moved slowly, so slowly, and oh gosh I don’t think legs can bend that way! I was gonna be sick, I wanted to look away but it was as if I was under a spell, mesmerized by the horrible display, while my brain and mouth begged and screaming for it to end. But he just kept twisting,

...and twisting,

......and twisting,

Until...

Snap!

Deku’s blood curdling scream burned itself into my subconscious and I watched with teary eyed vision as my friend writhed on the ground, his foot twisted at an awkward angle, already red and swelling. My heart ached inside my chest. It hurt so damn much to see my crush and best friend hurting so much, while I was powerless to help him. I felt sick, my stomach in knots and my blood cold. Without realizing, I had stopped struggling, I lacked the strength to even raise my arms. It felt like my heart had just shattered along with the bones in Deku’s leg.

And then, while the two of us writhed in our own agony, the villain started to laugh. Actually laughed!

And I saw red.

I was not an angry person, far from it, but that laugh, that sinisterly gleeful chuckle, made me feel for the first time ever true unyielding rage. And it scared me.

My struggles renewed stronger than ever, I didn't care if I ripped my arms off! I was stopping this! For a second I had a flicker of a thought, wondering if this was how Bakugo felt all the time.

As I fought valiantly against my bonds I watched as the villain slowly pulled open his coat and a glint of silver metal caught my eye.

My heart froze and I could see from the corner of my eye the fear in Deku’s eyes as the gun was pulled free from its holster. The man seemed amused by our fear, a cruel, wicked smile splitting open his lips revealing a layer of crooked teeth. The villain soaked in the power he held, taking his dear sweet time as he cocked the deadly weapon.

The click caused tremors through my body, the realization that all of this was actually happening hit me hard. There was a real weapon before me and right now it was loaded and ready to kill.

The barrel was soon aimed and level with Deku’s head and despite how brave and strong he was I heard a tiny whimper escape his throat.

And I lost all sense of self control.

I pulled violently against the thick ropes, blocking out the pain completely as I twisted my arms as much as I could in any attempt to get free. I didn't have time to waste, in a matter of seconds Deku would be dead. Finally I heard a loud snap behind me and I had no idea if that was the ropes or my wrists themselves, all I knew was that I was free.

I scrambled to my feet, running at the villain as fast as my sore legs could carry me. I didn't hesitate, I didn't think, I was reacting on protective instincts right now, my only goal to keep Deku alive. I slammed hard into the man's back, jabbing my elbow into the center of his spine, just like I had been taught. I knew this wouldn't be enough to knock him down, his stature was much greater than mine, so I reached out for the gun hand, my fingers just barely managing to brush skin, but that was enough for my quirk to do the job.

The shift in weight was enough to knock us both off our feet. On the way down I heard a loud bang next to my ear, causing it to ring loudly. The ground was much harder than I expected, my body skidding painfully across the rough terrain. I could feel skin being scraped off, the pain sending jolts to my stunned brain. When I came to a stop my whole body was radiating pain, I could feel every gash and bleeding cut as they throbbed in agony.

But I quickly shoved all of this to the side, focusing my attention back on my hurt friend. Deku looked shaken up, his leg still twisted at an unnatural angle but other than that was no worse for wear. I could see a tiny indention in the ground next to his head and realized the bullet must have missed him by mere inches.

But at least it did miss.

Deku’s eyes were wide in what I could only assume was shock and fear, his gaze locked on me and me alone. I had never been happier to see those green irises in my life, the relief that he was still alive and breathing far greater than anything my battered body could complain about. Deku was still alive, that was all that mattered.

He was safe and I could rest.

But just before I could collapse and sleep for a hundred years, I heard a familiar voice yell to me, the tone dark, twisted, and most of all angry. "You bitch!"

I glanced up to see a new terrible sight. The villain was still alive and he had his gun. Thanks to my quirk he was currently suspended in the air, his body doing slow turns. I must have hit him harder than I thought because he was dangling over the side of the building, a long, deadly drop waiting just below his feet.

The look in his eyes... that was the look of a killer and I knew at once I had made a terrible mistake.

"You're gonna regret that," he hissed at me, venom dripping from every syllable. He once more raised the gun and I flinched, expecting to be staring down the loaded barrel. But instead, he pointed the gun at Deku and fear clenched my chest.

"I'm gonna make you hurt," the monster said, grinning at my pain. He knew where I was vulnerable, we both could see it and one of us was too late.

I tried to stand, maybe I could shield Deku or push him out of the way somehow but my body refused. It was failing me at the worst possible second.

I saw the terror in Deku’s eyes as they jumped from the gun to me and then back to the gun.

"Your boyfriend is dead, ya hear me!"

My brain scrambled for an idea, searching tirelessly through my limited options for some way out of this mess.

But I didn't have one.

Nothing would work.

It was over.

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest as Deku tried to reason with the villain, trying to delay his death. "Please, you don't wanna do this."

I saw the man's finger slowly pressing against the trigger and I knew I was out of time.

Out of options.

Only one thing would save Deku now.

My hands moved on their own, my fingers pressing together as a strangled cry escaped my throat. "Release!"

And then the villain vanished.

Disappearing over the side of the building.

His echoed screams reached my ears, every second growing softer.

Softer.

Softer...

And then they just stopped.

The abrupt silence caught me off guard. After the rush of terror and adrenaline that had been so present a moment ago, the peaceful atmosphere that remained felt strangely out of place. A cool breeze tickled my sweaty face, blowing my hair and ripped clothes all over the place.

Was it really over?

It had all happened so fast that my brain took a moment to process it all. All I could do was stare at the spot the villain had just been, before he -before I-

My hands flew to my mouth as I choked back a sob.

No.

No I didn't.

I-I couldn't have.

That was impossible.

But I had.

I had just killed someone.

A feeling of guilt unlike anything I ever felt before hit me at once as the reality of my situation sunk in. I had just broken one of the only rules a hero had to follow. I was a murderer. My breaths had become shuddery and shaky as I fought back the tears that threatened to spill.

In a desperate attempt for comfort I looked to Deku, hoping he could somehow make this whole, nightmarish situation better. But the face I was greeted with was anything but soothing. Deku was staring at me with wide, pained eyes, his body tense as he regarded me and he flinched when I turned his way. Almost like he was afraid of me. The normally bright green of his eyes that I loved to look into had darkened greatly. I could see the judgement in his eyes, I could feel the disappointment from where I was. Deku saw me for what I had become, a killer, someone unworthy of being a hero. Someone unworthy of Deku.

I felt sick, bile rising at the back of my throat and I whimpered struggling to hold it back. But I could no longer fight off the tears, Deku's dark expression had been my breaking point. The tears flowed freely down my cheeks, burning my skin.

I sobbed pitifully, burying my face in my hands as pain and guilt racked my body. How could I do that? How would I ever be able to face my classmates again after what I had done? How could I call myself a hero?

Warm arms wrapped around my torso and I tensed in surprise, looking over with tear-stained vision to see Deku. Deku was hugging me. I had wanted that for so, so long and now I couldn't even enjoy it. I didn't deserve to enjoy it. His eyes were full of sympathy and I could see tears forming in his own vision, but that just made the pain worse.

I didn't deserve to be forgiven. Not by him, someone who was already a greater hero than I could ever hope to be.

"Its okay, Uraraka," he whispered, tightening his hold as my sobs only grew. "It's not your fault, it'll be alright."

Not my fault? Was he blind? No. Leave it to Deku to sugar coat reality, to see the light in the endless darkness. He somehow didn't believe it was my fault when it so clearly was.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered and I felt something wet drip on my shoulder.

He was apologizing. Why? I was the one who killed that guy. This was my fault, not his.

I couldn't stop crying, no matter how much I tried to silence my pitiful sobbing, I couldn't. My body and mind had taken all it could handle and it needed to feel no matter how much I wanted to suppress this.

I couldn't escape this. This feeling was my burden to bear now.

The cold wind swept over my body, chilling me to the bone. For a long time, I just sat there, weeping in Deku’s arms as he spoke soft words of comfort to me, holding me as if I might break. As if I deserved forgiveness. But I didn't. I had saved Deku from death but at the cost of my own morals.

And the part that scared me the most was that I didn't regret it.

Despite the heaviness on my heart and soul, the guilt that was seeking to crush me and pull me under, at the end of the day it didn't matter. Deku was alive. He was safe.

And nothing else mattered but that.

Part 2 coming... whenever I can finish it ^^;

#my hero academia #My writing #Uraraka X Deku #How Far Would You Go For Love #angst warning

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mocacheezy · 4 years ago

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(forgot to actualy post this when I first wrote it, anyways, rechecked the info with the help of wiki, so have my thoughts on TFA Megatron (S1))

So I finished the first season of Transformers Animated, and let me just… Let me just EXPRESS my feelings for TFA S1 Megatron and the shit that happens to him:

So Megatron has the Allspark in his sight after so many many years of searching. It’s on a tiny Autobot repair ship, shouldn’t be a problem to get it right? Except while fighting the Autobots a bomb planted on him (by Starscream, he should see this coming) detonates. He survives that with damage to his right arm, gets inside the ship and is facing off against 5 autobots (clearly repair crew, and not in sync) in no gravity. One of them manages to cut his arm off, he is down by an arm, big deal, ‘tis but a scratch, he’s fine.

… No like seriously, this doesn’t stop him. He ALMOST GETS THE ALLSPARK!

Except that the leader of this troublesome repair crew kicks him off ship, causing him to crash on Earth. The only thing intact is his head (that Sumdac finds). Is he dead? Is he in a coma? Whatever it is, Sumdac tinkers with what he found.

50 years later, Megatron wakes up, can’t move, can’t do anything really because he is literaly a HEAD (ᵃˡˢᵒ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ,ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱˢᵒᵈᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵘˡᵏʰᵉᵃᵈ “ˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ” ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ…ᵖᵘᵗˢ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳˢᵖᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ), sees that Starscream was the one who tried to kill him and almost suceeded (or did he suceed? Again, not 100% clear on the function of that Key… It heals, it upgrades, it gives life and sentience… Did it REVIVE Megatron or did it just wake him up?)

And what does he do?

I MEAN LOOK AT THIS?!

He is LITERALY ONLY A HEAD, WITH SO MANY OF PARTS EXPOSED OR WIRES HOOKED UP TO SUMDACS MACHINES.

MACHINES THAT HE CAN’T USE, BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO PRIMITIVE.

AND DESPITE ALL THAT!

THIS GLORIOUS FUCKER!

STARTS PLANNING RIGHT AWAY! HE KNOWS THE SITUATION IS BAD AND HE BIDES HIS TIME!

He eventualy risks what little… Advantage? Is being locked away in the dark an advantage? When there’s autobots around being hailed as heroes, yea I think it might be though Megatron wouldn’t admit it… I think? Not outloud that’s for sure

Anyways, he risks it with exposing himself to Sumdac.

And then proceeds to deceive Sumdac! Like, Sumdac is smart. I actualy did need to take a step back and go “damn this poor man really is way over his head”, because on the first glance it seems really dumb to fall for a lie like that.

(I actualy would love to talk about the Professor in the future, especialy by just looking at him as a character on his own… BUT THIS IS MEGS SPOTLIGHT SO *yeets away for another time*)

AND MEGATRON IS NOT 100% GOOD AT THIS “I am an Autobot” THING. He lashes out! He is impatient, he is angry to the point of wrecking the lab with the energy surges and there are moments when Sumdac doubts that he himself can fix this mess he made, especialy with how angry this “Autobot” is.

But SOMEHOW, this glorious FUCK manages to turn most of the damage those outbursts cause into very convincing explanations for his reactions, WHILE also pretending to be useful and “helping”.

He can see almost everything from where he is, once he masters the connections with the cameras and etc. in the tower and things across the city. He deflects or “explains” why his plans included flamethrowers for amusement bots, and, let me say this again!

HE IS ONLY A HEAD AT THIS POINT IN THE SERIES!

A HEAD!

He is pretty limited with what he can do HIMSELF! Sumdac is not an ally, he is more of an enemy that isn’t aware of the power he holds over Megatron.

And he is doing everything FAR too slow.

That everything being mainly, getting Megs a body.

AND WHAT’S EVEN BETTER?!

There are so many robots around, all of them reverse enginered from Megatron himself, and none of them are of use to him. And when he DOES manage to get them to listen, something always interferes (Dinobots were a semi sucess, Soundwave rebelled, but did end up wearing a con badge (and boy was it eerie to hear Soundwave say ‘machines supperior to humans’ and how they will be all destroyed… Great episode that one) ).

So the robots of this planet are useless to him. He has to try and find a way to manipulate human criminals to do his bidding, getting him the materials Sumdac apparently can’t get without raising suspicion. Not that it’s hard, but they are useless as well, especialy with the Autobots meddling, so that also fails.

And there is always that Key. That he can’t just ask for, but can’t get no matter how he tries. And by god, does he try.

His only real, longe term-ish line of self defense at the moment is Sumdac and his guilt over using a friend of the Heroic Autobots…

AND THEN!

HIS DECEPTICONS ARRIVE!

And he isn’t even sure if he can trust them, given that his Second In Command blew him to pieces. So he has to gamble and hope for the best with Lugnut.

Which is clearly tiring because, as much of devout follower as Lugnut is (the fanfics are all spot on, writers of TFA Fandom amazing job portraying this mass of devotion), it gets annoying real fast when you are trying to get things done and really need to get a body asap, and the only one you can count on is determined to sing praises to you everytime you give an order.

Not even THAT seems to bring him any closer to his goal. And then Sumdac finds what remained of his body.

Pretty good for 50 years of weather exposure, eh?

BUT it seems he will have to keep waiting, because the blizzard that is raging outside causes a blackout, so the Tower is using the backup generator, so Sumdac declairs a delay in repairs.

Megatron alternates between bluster and sweet-talk to try to get his way, but it’s no use. Megatron attempts to call Lugnut again for assistance.

(Source: tfwiki)

From the looks of it, he came back online at the begining/end of fall, so he’s been,

pretending to be an Autobot (one who is a friend of bots he knows very little about, the ones who caused him to become like this in the first place)

pretending to be useful and helpful to Sumdac in exchange for attempted repairs (all of which have failed)

keeping his temper in check (good thing he can save the slip ups with quick thinking…)

for about… 3 or 4 months?

And no way to leave the lab?

With Sumdac as his only company?

Probably also in discomfort given THAT HE IS HOOKED UP LIKE THAT?!

With his ghoulish hand in sight that was/is CLEARLY being used as a chair for an organic?

… Yea. Imagine doing all that, being this close to finaly making progress, and instead being told “Weather bad, no can’t do, wait a while longer”.

So if Sumdac fears enough for the safety of his planet, he’ll surely work faster right? That seems to work somewhat…

Then comes Starscream.

The absolutely last Decepticon Megatron needs right now. So Megatron has to pretend he doesn’t know Starscream tried to kill him. With Starscream CLEARLY planning to kill him for good this time.

He is a head, what can he do?

We can soon see Megatron can take great joy in punishing that fragger, with limited resources he has, while Sumdac finaly works on his body.

The only fun perk of being a “friend of the Autobots” so far.

And then Blitzwing and Lugnut arrive. I swear, I was sure with all the talk Lugnut was doing, there was no way Megatron will actualy get that body.

Good thing they got the Key and that Sumdac didn’t think/wasn’t able to put in any override codes or sound the alarms.

What followed was a gorgeous villain reanimation/reconstruction scene and I loved every second of it. I mean, just look at this.

So, Megatron finaly has a fresh new body.

(gorgeous fucker)

He fights the Autobots, (if I start talking about the details, this post will never end), defeats them and does a magnificent job of offlining his SIC.

(Like, I love TFA Starscream. I really do. This purple bastard is a joy to watch, but given what he did, seeing him get offlined in such a dramatic, yet quick and efficient way(and knowing he comes back anyway)… Let’s just say, I was very pleased.)

The “Fuck you Starscream, Die 1.0” however, lets the Autobots escape and the chase begins.

Here I would like to thank the animators for giving both Bots and Cons gorgeous Magical girl-esque transformation scenes, because they are all beautiful BUT MEGATRON, HOLY HELL, I AM LOVING THAT HELICOPTER!

And they are back on the Ark, fighting in much the same way they were the first time,

But Megatron has no apparent weaknesses, except perhaps being cluttered with little shards of Optimus Prime after he finishes beating on the Autobot. Their one-sided fight carries them into the hold of the ship, where Megatron succeeds in acquiring the AllSpark…

Megatron manages to GET THE ALLSPARK!

SO MANY YEARS OF FIGHTING AND SEARCHING, AND HE HAS IT!

And he puts it in his spark chamber. Or in front of it.

…

Megatron. You just put an anchient artifact in your chest.

I… Listen, this is a step above Megan and his SpaceCocaineStraightToSpark Nonesense, BUT ALRIGHT!

I GUESS IT IS “SAFER” THAN HOLDING IT IN YOUR HANDS WHILE FIGHTING AND GLOATING.

Before he can celebrate, he is temporarily downed by Isaac, who knows enough about Megatron’s circuitry to disable his equilibrium sensors—

(”well fuck you too Sumdac”, I mutter to myself)

but although he drops the AllSpark Key in his stumble, the tyrant isn’t down for long. Megatron is about to finish Prime, when Sari hurls Prime the Key…

the kid Megatron could easily crush when she was standing infront of the Allspark (BUT HE DIDN’T!) throws the key to Optimus.

…

Who proceeds to jam it into the Allspark.

…

In your chest Megatron.

…

Where your own spark is, Megatron.

For the Lord of Decepticons and quite an old fellow, who I’ve just sung praise to, that was so dumb…

A destabilized Megatron flees the ship before the AllSpark explodes inside his chest, dispersing its energy throughout the atmosphere.

HE BLOWS UP! AGAIN!

This time his body is mostly in one piece, and he has Sumdac as a hostage but…

This Megatron does not have luck on his side.

He really does not.

The only reason he is still functioning is, that he is too stubborn to give up and die.

The whole “TooStubbornToDie” does seem to be a Megatron trademark, and makes me love his character even more.

TFA Megs. S1 and I already love him so much.

To finish up this rant of mine…

Someone get him a damn blanket and force him TO TAKE A DAMN BREAK! REST YOU STUBBORN FOOL!

#Moca screeches #Moca watches #transformers animated #tfa megatron #seriously dude please take 5 minutes off #Long post #For some reason the read more is not cooperating

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ruensroad · 5 years ago

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and then inspiration walked in

For @this-solaris-life as encouragement for her upcoming works! She asked for art model Jiang Cheng becoming the muse to artist Lan Xichen. Hope this inspires you to keep on working hard! :D ---

He’d taken the class on a whim, given he was a landscape artist and learning figure drawing was very much not landscaping. But it was something new, something to experience, and Lan Huan had found himself greatly enjoying it.

They drew from life, for one, which he could appreciate. He was often drawing and painting in his gardens, so being able to reference a physical object made learning his new skill a little more easier, given it was rooted in a familiar foundation.

What he hadn’t quite expected, though he should have been, was when they finally got into the actual people drawing. Drawing bowls of fruit the first month was only to practice techniques and gain some confidence, after all, but this was, in the end, a figure drawing class, and that meant models.

Usually nude, very interesting to look at models.

Lan Huan wasn’t such a prude that he couldn’t handle the nudity portion. All parts were important to the whole and that too was a good lesson to have. He never spent a good amount of time in those areas, to be fair, but he wasn’t so shy he couldn’t do what he was asked. He was here to draw, so he drew what he had to, and very much enjoyed the entire experience.

That was, at least, until model number three.

They’d drawn a plump woman just before and one of the student athletes the time before that, also a woman. Because of this, Lan Huan was wholly caught off guard when what had to be the most beautiful man he’d ever seen walk into the room with a bored frown on his face and in a purple pea-coat. The only consolation to all his drooling as the man walked to the professor to talk in a low voice was that he was not the only one staring at him so shamelessly.

And Lan Huan knew he shouldn’t stare as the man undressed, knew it was a job and he’d only make the man uncomfortable with his open leering, but something in him could not look away, was utterly caught in those dark eyes, the sharp jaw and cheekbones, the way his long lashes fluttered. When he sat on the modeling stool, he sat straight and proper, but still relaxed, and his gaze focused on a point on the floor, heavy lidded and inky black.

When the professor clapped her hands, nearly all of them jolted back to reality. “Everyone, places. Jiang Cheng, you just let me know when you need a break.”

“Of course, Professor Luo,” the angel - Jiang Cheng, clear river, how poetic! - told her, and shifted just a little on the seat. Then he was a perfect statue, warm and marble and dotted with surprising moles across his chest and shoulders.

Lan Huan picked up his pencil, drinking in every detail, and began. He’d never drawn so quickly before, gesturing in the pose, before going back to fix in the details. Over the hour long session, he managed a decent sketch, but the most detailed portion was Jiang Cheng’s face, which Lan Huan carefully rendered.

He wasn’t meant to be so detailed, but he couldn’t help it. Like someone possessed, he dotted in the moles, the sharp lines of Jiang Cheng’ body. He was lean and toned, like an athlete, but sat still like a lawyer. Lan Huan’s mind buzzed with questions, and wants, and for the first time he stuttered when his pencil moved down.

Thankfully, Professor Luo called an end to the session and Jiang Cheng’s statue moved back into life, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck as he slid off the stool and grabbed his clothes.

Logically, Lan Huan knew this wasn’t the last time Jiang Cheng would be in. The models were hired for at least a full week’s worth of classes, which meant he’d see Jiang Cheng in two days.

But his heart said something else, and in a daze of fear and something he had no name for, he approached Jiang Cheng once the man had wrestled his pants back on. He was still shirtless, which was distracting to the extreme, and his eyes were even more dangerously deep up close. Lan Huan felt his words die the moment a perfectly arched brow cocked up at him in question.

“Yes?” Jiang Cheng asked, frowning in a way that should not work on his beautiful face, but only made him more lovely. “Can I help you?”

“Do you do private modeling?” Lan Huan remembered how to use words and they all fell out in a rush before he could forget how to speak again.

“I…” Jiang Cheng looked startled by his question, which was all shades of wrong. How could no one have asked for a private moment of his time before? “I don’t, but I mean… sure?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking confused and hesitant, but thinking Lan Huan’s offer through. “Why?”

“Mid term project,” Lan Huan said, wanting to cry that he actually had that excuse, though it’d only come to him now. Goodness, but when had he gotten so reckless? “We have to draw a scene that shows what we’ve learned so far and I need more practice with drawing people.”

At a very adorably furrowed brow, he elaborated with a soft laugh, “I’m actually a background illustrator. This is the most I’ve drawn people in my whole life.”

Amazingly, Jiang Cheng huffed a laugh too, and if he was beautiful with a frown, he was devastating with a smile. He gave a shrug that made those moles he had dance. “Alright, sure. Why the hell not?”

He dug into his jacket, still draped over a chair, and fished out a marker. He gestured for Lan Huan’s hand and wrote his number on his wrist, smirking a little all the while.

“Text me the details and I’ll see what i can do,” was his promise. Lan Huan barely remembered to breathe as he nodded.

“Of course, thank you.”

His hand again, this time for a shake. “Jiang Cheng.”

“Lan Huan.” He found a smile as he introduced himself, a bit too happy and wide, and shook the model’s hand. Oh, but he was in so much trouble. “And I very much look forward to working with you.”

#ruenwrites #art model au #xicheng #jiang cheng #lan xichen #the untamed

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quickspinner · 5 years ago

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Second Chance - Ch 2 Second Chance at a First Date

“Luka, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” Marinette pouted when the chauffeur helped her into the car next to him. “I asked you out, I should have planned the date.”

“I know,” he grinned. “But this way we have a chance of keeping at least this one date out of the tabloids.”

“I hardly ever see you in the tabloids,” Marinette remarked. “Why is that?”

Luka chuckled. “One of my friends from lycée works for a legitimate entertainment magazine, so I make sure all the news goes to him first and that heads off some of it, but honestly, for a rock star, I’m boring. Juleka and I wanted to retain as much control as possible over our brand, so I work a lot. I don’t drink or party, I don’t date all that much. I’m not really hard to find because I eat at the same places and work out at the same gym every day, so mostly they show up and take a few invasive pictures and then get bored and leave. I don’t get mobbed at the door everywhere I go unless there’s an album release or something big like that. The last time the tabloids really cared about me was when I was dating Clara.”

Marinette gasped. “That’s right, I forgot you dated Clara Nightingale!”

Luka ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. “Yeah, I can’t actually believe I had to guts to hit on her in the first place, but we were on the same tour and she’s so sweet, I’d developed this massive crush on her, and when you’ve been up for thirty-seven hours straight a lot of stupid things get said.” He blushed a bit at the memory, putting a hand to his forehead. “Man, I was so awkward, but she was really nice about it. She was even sweet when she dumped me, although I think we had both realized by then that neither of us were invested enough in the relationship to overcome the challenges once the tour was over. It’s bad enough trying to date with my schedule but you add hers into the mix and it was—” He shook his head. “We parted on good terms and we still keep in touch when we’re both in town, despite what the gossip rags tried to make it. When I didn’t spiral into drunken despair, they moved on pretty quick. Way more profitable to follow someone like Jagged who makes a scene everywhere he goes, or someone like XY that people love to hate.”

“How inconsiderate of you not to go on a bender and be found in a ditch on the side of the road,” Marinette giggled.

“Very. I’m terrible for magazine sales.” Luka took her hand. “Anyway, I figured if we used the car service and went to a restaurant with a covered entrance we’d squeak by without ending up in the papers. I can’t guarantee that, though.”

“I figured,” Marinette shrugged. “I kinda got used to it while I was with Adrien. I’ll get used to it again if I have to.”

There were thrilling implications there he didn’t want to think about too hard just yet. “You look beautiful. Is that one of yours?”

“Thank you. It’s actually not,” Marinette admitted, looking down at her dress. “One of my friends made it for me a few months ago as part of a trade. It’s lovely, though, isn’t it? He did a great job. He’s going to be huge once his line debuts next summer, I’m sure of it.”

Luka smiled. “And when does your line debut?”

“Oh,” Marinette sighed, and made a face. “That’s kind of the hard thing about coming off of this internship. I’ve had two years where everything was sort of laid out and planned for me, and now I have to figure out what the next step is on my own. Although before even that, I have to put together a mini show and presentation for the awards committee to demonstrate what I’ve taken away from the experience. There will be a lot of really important people in the industry, I’m hoping to make an impression and see what opportunities develop from there.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is,” Marinette shrugged, “But it’s worth it, and I’m certainly not lacking for inspiration material. I’ll get it done.”

“And you still made time to go out with me.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “I’m flattered.”

Marinette smiled at him. “Prioritizing is definitely something I’ve gotten better at while I was away.” She laced her fingers through his and darted a glance up through her lashes that hit him like a punch to the gut. “I missed you a lot while I was gone, Luka. I’m not about to miss you while we’re both right here.”

“Well,” he said, hoping his sudden inability to breathe wasn’t too obvious, “We’re in total agreement on that one.”

Luka was relieved that he managed to make it to their table without tripping over himself (Marinette wasn’t so lucky, but that was normal for her, and he was there to catch her). He rubbed his hand on his knee as he sat down, reassuring himself that he was in fact wearing pants, since he was getting increasingly worried he might be dreaming.

Except if he were, wouldn’t he be dreaming about the sweet, stuttering, blushing, beautiful mess he remembered? Not this confident, flirty, undeniably hot woman.

He was in so much trouble.

“Thanks for taking me out, Luka,” Marinette said once they were settled. “Honestly I didn’t even know if you would want to see me after all this time, and...everything.” Marinette’s cheeks reddened, and Luka found himself relaxing at the familiar flush. “I probably owe you an apology for everything that happened back then.”

Luka shook his head. “You didn’t hurt me on purpose. We were all young, you were in love. I knew it; I think everyone did but Adrien.”

Marinette groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I’m still sorry. I could have handled it better. I could have handled you better. Sometimes I want to die when I think about how I was back then.”

“Well, we all have some memories like that,” Luka chuckled. “I don’t hold any of it against you. How is Adrien?”

“He’s doing well. Things were hard for him for a while, especially right after we broke up, but he’s in a better place now. He...I don’t want to say too much or speak out of turn, but he’s had some long-standing issues and he’s finally seeing someone about them, and he’s made a lot of progress.”

“That’s good to hear, I’m glad he’s getting some help.” Luka glanced away. “The way he grew up would have messed up anybody. But I’m sorry it took losing you to make him realize he needed it.”

Marinette shrugged, and her smile was crooked. “I’d really rather not get into it.”

Luka winced. “Of course, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

Marinette shook her head. “It was messy for a while, but we’re both in good places now, both individually and in our friendship, so let’s just leave it at that.”

“Right,” Luka agreed. “So tell me more about this presentation you have to do, it sounds interesting.”

“In a little bit,” Marinette smiled, leaning on the table towards him. “We talked so much about me last time, I want to hear more about you. Is being a rock star everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Yes and no,” Luka admitted. “It’s awesome, don’t get me wrong, and it blows me away how many people want to hear my music, but—hang on, let me think about how to say this right.” He frowned as he considered his words. “It’s great bringing my music to more people,” he said slowly. “I don’t regret anything and I’m so grateful. But…”

“Take your time,” Marinette encouraged, putting her hand over his on the table, and he flashed her a grateful smile.

“I miss the deeper connections, I guess. I miss looking in someone’s eyes and playing something that’s meaningful for just that person, or for just the two of us.”

“Like the day we met,” Marinette agreed softly, and he nodded, smiling fondly at her.

“I don’t get to do that often any more, and I miss that.”

“Can I ask you something?” Marinette said, cheeks tinting pink again. “That song you wrote the first year you hit it big…”

Luka didn’t even need her to finish. The whole album had been about moving on, letting go, and several of the singles had hit big, but he knew exactly which song she meant. “It was about you, yeah. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“I cried when I heard it,” she admitted. “To this day, it’s the only one of your songs I can’t listen to.”

“I’m sorry. I kind of hoped you wouldn’t figure it out, but I should have known you would.”

Marinette shook her head. “Don’t be. Clearly it was something you needed to write, and I think it was something I needed to hear.”

Luka smiled. “So you listen to my music, huh?”

“Of course I do,” she exclaimed. “I have every album you’ve released, physical and digital copies.”

“You’d do that even if you didn’t like it,” he teased, though he was touched.

“That’s true. But I do like it,” she leaned in, and the fingers covering his hand brushed over his knuckles in slow strokes. “I like the music, and I like the man who makes it.”

“Careful, angel,” he told her, voice deepening slightly as thrills danced through him from her touch. “You’ll make me blush.”

“Luka, that voice is dangerous,” she laughed breathlessly, cheeks a bright pink.

“Mmm, so I’ve been told,” he grinned slyly, pleased to find he affected her. She’d had him off balance since he’d laid eyes on her at the concert. “I think there was even a magazine vote about it once. But I think your eyes are what’s dangerous. I could get lost in them forever.”

Once upon a time Marinette would have combusted on the spot, sputtering and stammering until she literally fell over. Tonight Marinette just blinked those beautiful eyes and asked softly, “Would that be so bad?”

Luka moved his hand to thread his fingers through hers. She remained solid in his grip. Still not a dream. “It sounds like heaven to me.”

***

Luka was feeling a little thunderstruck as he walked Marinette back up to Alya’s apartment, where she was staying for the time being. On the one hand, he’d been burned badly by Marinette once before, whether she’d intended to or not, and if she’d been fire then, she was something infinitely more dangerous now. On the other hand, she’d made her interest in him clear, and he wanted very much to explore what they could be together. The chemistry between them was as strong as it had always been, and just the way she’d been looking at him tonight was enough to make him feel weak. Add in the flirty banter and soft touches and he was perilously close to melting at her feet.

The old saying about things that seem too good to be true was in his mind as she turned to face him outside the apartment door. Luka flattened one hand against the door and leaned in, keeping his hand in his coat pocket. Marinette raised her face to meet him and he pressed his mouth to hers softly. He felt her fingers tangle in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. He took her hands and detached them gently.

“Next time,” he said softly into the space between them, and then he had to clear his throat. “Can there be a next time, Marinette?”

“I’d like that,” she said, and then, more hesitantly, “You don’t have to hold back so much, you know. I’m not delicate.”

He took her hand in his and flattened her palm over his heart so she could feel how it pounded in his chest. “I know that, but right now, I am. My life already goes so fast I feel like I can hardly keep up. I’d really like to take things slow between us, if that’s okay.”

The smile she gave him was slow and soft. “Definitely.”

“And part of it is that…” he paused, thinking over his words. “Sorry, it’s just I don’t want to say this wrong.”

“Take your time.”

“I still have a lot of past Marinette in my head,” he said, running his thumb along her cheekbone. “The girl I was in love with all through lycée.” Her breath caught and he gave her a moment to absorb that as he considered his next words. “I want us to get to know each other again, if that makes sense. I don’t want to be blinded to who you are now by a bunch of memories and unresolved feelings. I want be sure I’m really seeing you, and I want to make sure you’re really seeing me too. So...can we start like strangers?” He huffed in frustration. “No, that’s not what I mean, exactly…”

“It’s okay, I think I understand, and you’re right.” Marinette curled her hand lightly around his wrist. “I know I probably put you through a lot back then and I’m not trying to rush you into anything.”

“Marinette,” Luka said gently, “If we’re going to have anything in the here and now, you need to let that go.” He smiled. “I was never angry with you, and you don’t owe me anything. Clean slate, okay?” He bit his lip and looked away. “I’m not asking you for anything, but for my own peace of mind, I want you to know that I won’t be seeing anyone else, casually or otherwise, until we figure out what we want us to be.” He gave a lopsided grin. “I know that there are all these preconceptions that people have about rock stars, but I have to be honest, I’m not very good at casual anyway. Just not my thing, you know?”

“I wondered,” Marinette admitted. “It didn’t seem like you, but it’s like you said, about rock stars and you always look really hot on stage and—“ she buried her face in her hands. “And why haven’t you stopped me yet, oh my God…”

Luka lost his battle against laughter and he pulled her to him, hugging her even as she punched his arm. “Ow, you’re strong,” he laughed, squeezing her tight.

“So are you, that was like punching a wall,” she said, her tone grumpy, but she slid her fingers down his arm with appreciation, leaving goosebumps in her wake even through his dress shirt.

“My personal trainer thanks you for the compliment,” Luka grinned, and then he sighed, loosening his arms and taking half a step back. “I’m supposed to be saying good night here before I get carried away.”

Marinette slid her arms up around his neck, and the smirk she gave him nearly killed him on the spot. “It wouldn’t hurt to get a little carried away, would it?”

Resistance crumbling, Luka let her pull him down into another kiss, fuller and deeper than before, taking a moment to really savor the feel and the taste of her and the way she moved against him, and then he pulled back and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Marinette. I can’t wait to see you again. I’ll call?”

“You better.”

***

Juleka was sitting on his couch when he got home with his guitar in her lap, playing Seven Year Ache at half tempo with a morose expression. Subtle as a funeral dirge, he thought, rolling his eyes as he hung his keys on the rack by the door and took off his suit coat. “I’m gonna take my key back if you start waiting up for me every time I’m on a date,” he called.

Juleka took one look at his face when he walked into the living room and groaned, letting her head fall back. “I thought you were over this, you absolute idiot.”

“It was a lie,” he sighed, flopping on his back on the loveseat and propping his long legs on the arm. “I was never over it.”

“Luka, she wrecked you for years.”

“No, she didn’t,” he protested. “One, it wasn’t her fault, and two, I was fine.”

“You were heartbroken.”

“Heartbroken and fine, Juleka.”

“Fine is not the same thing as happy,” Juleka snorted, folding her arms.

“I’m happy now,” he replied, grinning at the ceiling like a loon.

“You could at least string her along for a bit,” Juleka grumbled. “Make her suffer just a little.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong, Jule, cut her some slack.”

“I don’t need to, you give her plenty for both of us.” Juleka pursed her lips. “She picked someone else over you.”

“That was her right. I don’t hold it against her, why do you?”

“She hurt you.”

“Yeah, well that hurt went platinum, so I think you can forgive her now.” Luka scowled and tossed a throw pillow at her. “Considering we paid for these apartments with the money from that album.”

“There’s no amount of money that can make up for what she put you through,” Juleka groused.

“Come on Jule, she was your friend.”

“She was, until you went and fell in love with her like an idiot and she broke your heart.” Juleka looked at him and rolled her eyes with a sigh that meant she was giving up. “But you’re obviously going to date her whether I think it’s a good idea or not, so I’ll save my breath.” She pushed off the couch and dumped his guitar on his stomach.

“I sure as hell am,” Luka agreed happily, and Juleka groaned as she opened the door to go back across the hall to her own apartment.

“You’re disgusting, you know that right?” she called, and the door slammed before he could answer her.

Luka rolled his eyes and pulled the guitar into place, strumming lightly as he grinned at the ceiling.

#quickspins #backlog #second chance #lukanette #luka couffaine #i am lukanette trash i admit it #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #mlfics

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whumpywhumper · 5 years ago

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Markus & Clint

So @0idril0 wanted to see how Markus and Clint met, so I wrote this up. It’s pure, cheesy fluff which has been much needed for myself.

Tagging Markus & Clint’s usual fanbase: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @imagination1reality0 @insanitywishes @walkingchemicalfire @comfy-whumpee @vickytokio @whumpitywhumpwhump @genesissane @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @voidwhump @captivity-whump @kungpao-giffy @comfortforthepain

Edit for Masterpost

V***V

Markus threw his head back and laughed at Evan’s description of the pug he’d treated earlier that day. Apparently, “little old man” and “farts like a skunk” were nothing compared to it’s personality.

“I swear to god, Markus,” Evan laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, “I could barely keep a straight fucking face with this little pug bitching it’s owner out as I examined him. I had to pretend to fucking stick myself with a damn needle when he told her that if she let me stick my finger in his bum one more time that he was going to shit in her mouth while she slept.” He raised his beer bottle to his lips, the glass slick with condensation between his fingers, chortling when he continued. “She called the damn codger a ‘smoopsykins.’ ”

“Oh my god, oh my god, Evan stop!” He held his stomach as he continued to laugh, “You’re going to fucking kill me.”

Evan thumped him on the back when he tried to take a drink of his own rum and coke, a huge smile on his face as Markus started hacking to keep the burning liquid from pouring out of his nose. “Don’t die on me, bud! Who would I have to keep Brian from braining himself when he goes after some of your sisters?”

Chuckling, Markus rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. “He needs to stick with pining after Kristy, cause Deanna and Keihl are gonna eat him alive.”

They looked over the bar where Brian was trying to charm one of Markus’s coven sisters, the dark skinned woman concealing a twinkling smirk at the younger man’s antics. Her partner was practically licking her lips, her black nails tracing them while the siren was completely oblivious to the danger he was in.

Evan snorted, getting to his feet and shaking his head. “I better go save him.”

Markus smiled as he watched his friend go and clap Brian on the shoulder, feeling the warmth of several drinks and the company of friends curling in his belly. He’s pretty sure that the only person who actually knew why he’d pulled all of his friends, and their friends, together was Theo, and he’d sworn her to secrecy.

A heavy thump in Evan’s vacated seat made Markus turn back, eyebrow raised as a large man in a leather jacket made himself comfortable. Green eyes, reddish blond hair, and a white, rakish smile had Markus rolling his eyes and smirking internally before he’d even opened his mouth. “Is this seat taken, Hun?”

The witch could feel the good natured charm rolling off of the stranger in and waves, and he couldn’t help his own smile as he answered. “It is now.”

His smile grew slightly larger at Markus’s lack of rebuff, shouldering off his jacket as he motioned their bartender for a Guinness. His eyes caught on the play of muscle below the other’s sweater, the warmth of liquor in his system making him less than subtle.

Chuckling, his visitor put his elbow on the bar and leaned into Markus’s space, like he was trying to make himself heard over the crowd. Even though it really wasn’t that loud. “Come here often?”

Markus’s snort at the cheesy pick up line gave way to real laughter when the other’s smile only widened at his reaction, genuine warmth residing in the creases next to the other man’s eyes. Indulging him, he turned completely, letting his feet swing off of the bar stool and one of his long legs stretch in-between the other’s. “Not often enough for my liking, you?”

He took a long drink of his rum and coke, looking underneath his lashes at tall, bright, and charming, feeling a flicker of satisfaction when he followed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “First time actually, was ordered to bring a cake for a surprise party by my friend Theo, but I can’t resist getting to know a pretty thing like you, Sugar.”

At the mention of Theo, cake, and a surprise party Markus’s expression dropped from flirtatious to horrified. Eyes widening, he rocked back in his seat and his head whipped around in search of that dark haired traitor. “Theo!” he screeched, trying to jump to his feet and nearly toppling himself and the barstool over in his tipsy haste.

“Woah, Darlin’!” Two hands caught him across the shoulders as he nose dived toward the floor, righting him and the stool with an impressive lack of effort. “I didn’t think you were trying for a date with the floor!”

“I’m going to strangle that witch with the grahm I made for her!” Markus groaned, thumping his head against the bar and pulling his hair. “I told her! She swore! Fuck!”

Hissing through his teeth, the other man clapped him on the shoulder, “I think I just fucked up. Please tell me you’re not Markus?”

Scowling, Markus turned to hold out his hand, head still on the bar, “Nice to meet you.”

“Aw, damnit,” sighing, a calloused hand took his own, “Clint.”

Markus noticed the warmth coming from Clint, not just his hand but his extra senses as well, taking in his innate goodness and instantly trusting him. It felt like coming home to a good dog, your entire heart opening up and your worries rolling away. But under that, was the distinct predatory undertone, a snarling magic that was simmering under the surface. Definitely a supernatural, probably were, but what kind?

Other than a base curiosity, it really didn’t matter in the long run. Raising his head, he motioned to the bar tender, “Tequila, please, Jeremiah.”

“Make that two, on me,” Clint added.

They clinked glasses before shooting the alcohol, each throwing their head back at the same time. The alcohol burned on the way down, and Markus grimaced, clacking the glass back to the bar and biting into the accompanying lime.

“What the fuck happened while I was gone to make you shoot tequila?” Evan’s voice made him turn, just as recognition dawned on the beast master’s face. “Well no wonder if this motherfucker’s involved-” a huge smile broke across his face, “-Clint!”

“Evan!” Laughing, Clint jumped up and grabbed Evan around the waist, spinning him around in a circle. Evan’s feet swung next to someone’s head, and Markus winced. But no harm, no foul.

“I take it you two know each other?”

Evan grinned as Clint set him back on his feet, clapping the other man on the arms. “Yeah! Clint’s the one that brought in those [cryptid] a few months ago. I commissioned that salve from you, remember?”

Markus sat up straighter, very clearly remembering the ordeal. “Yeah, you said he got them from some poachers, right?”

Nodding, Clint answered, “yeah, motherfuckers had trapped ‘em.” He grins, and suddenly Markus can very clearly see the wolf just under the surface as his eyes flash yellow. “They learned there mistake rather quickly.”

They lost some tome talking shop, until Markus looked over and saw Brian, and his eyes widened. Deanna was sitting in Brian’s lap, playing with the stick from her martini and sucking on the olive at the end. Keihl was leaning over Brian’s shoulder, showing him something on her phone. He turned to Evan, hissing, “I thought you saved Brian earlier?!”

Shrugging, Evan sighed, ”Man, I tried, but it’s like a dog with a bone. He knows he’d rather go and talk to Kristy, but his damn young brain can’t pull himself away.” He chuckled, lips quirking in an amused smile, “Plus, Deanna and Keihl are having too much fun to just let him go.”

Clint motioned for another shot and grinned at them. “Let a predator play with the other predators.” Knocking the tequila back, he headed over, a sauntering roll to his hips that had more than one set of eyes following him.

Deanna and Keihl didn’t stand a chance. Clint plucked Brian out of the two women’s clutches and sent him off smiling, looking happy for walking away toward Markus and Evan.

“He does know that now he’s the one that’s trapped right?” Evan murmured to him, motioning to Jeremiah for another beer.

Markus grinned, watching how Deanna’s eyes had finally lit up and she was actually smiling, how Keihl’s eyes softened and she was looking at Deanna like she was the moon. “I think they’re trapped with him, actually.”

His grin slid off his face when he saw Theo, and he immediately tried to slide off of the bar stool and to the floor. So he could crawl out the door without anyone seeing him.

But it was too late.

Evan caught him by the shoulders as everyone turned to him and started to sing.

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Markus,

Happy birthday to youuuu!!!!

Theo grinned at him as she set the cake on the bar in front of him, everyone crowding in behind her as she said, “Make a wish, birthday boy!”

The cake said “Happy (Secret) 26th Birthday!” In neon green letters over the black frosted cake. Scowling and pointing a playfully threatening finger at Theo, he turned to the cake and took a deep breath. Blowing out all of the candles at once.

He started cackling, throwing his head back in a full body laugh, when they flickered back to life. Even a real witch loved trick candles.

#fluff #Markus #Clint #Markus/Lucien Series #Nico Series #my writing #surprise party #several years before each series

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nicolewrites · 4 years ago

Text

coming home - i

It's Sylvain's birthday and I probably should have been nice to him, but instead, I wrote this.

This started as a one-shot, but when I hit 4 000 words, I reconsidered. The first part is long and covers the Academy Phase, the second part is much shorter and covers the 5-years of war, and the last part is long and covers the War Phase.

Rating: T+ Genre: Angst, Friendship Characters: [Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea], Glenn Fraldarius Words: 6,230

“I am alone in a house of ghosts and monsters, he had written.” / a character study in three parts

AO3

one - ruin and bone

As a child, Sylvain had always considered Fhirdiad his home. He had spent much of his youth there, running about with Felix and Dimitri and Ingrid and Glenn. Fhirdiad had been a place of warmth and happy memories. His mother would smile there, when in the company of the queen or the king or the Duke and Duchess Fraldarius.

Margravate Gautier never quite felt like home. The house was large and dark and it was always frigid cold. There was always grim news coming from the northern border with Sreng and his father would disappear into his study for days on end if an issue came up. Castle Gautier meant tutors and tiptoeing and etiquette lessons.

It also meant Miklan.

It meant stealing his mother’s make-up to hide bruises and hoping that the servants would know well enough to keep their mouths shut, lest the Margrave or Margravine find out the truth. It meant locking himself in his room or learning the quickest ways to run from one room to another if Miklan was angry and looking for a fight.

It meant almost freezing to death in the bottom of a well, only to be saved by a horrified Glenn Fraldarius and a traumatized young Felix. Ingrid and her youngest older brother had been searching for him too, but Glenn just put an arm around Sylvain and kept him away from all the questions.

Sylvain loved Glenn. He never asked questions and he knew just enough white magic to make the aches go away. That day, he had shoved a bowl of steaming soup, cooked by Ingrid’s brother, into his hands and had stubbornly sat with him until Sylvain had eaten the whole bowl and half of a second one. Glenn made Ingrid and Felix stop staring and sent Ingrid’s brother to retrieve the Margrave and Duke Fraldarius.

“I’ll kill him,” Glenn had promised in the same cool, steely tone that Felix would adopt years later.

Glenn had only been two years older than Sylvain, but that made him only just over a year younger than Miklan. But, Sylvain loved Glenn. He had no love for Miklan and he certainly didn’t want to send Felix’s older brother in to deal with his messes.

“No, you can’t,” he had argued.

Glenn had stared him down. “Then tell me what he does to you so I can teach you to really fight and to deal with him on your own.”

So Glenn taught Sylvain to use an axe because Miklan used a lance. Margrave Gautier had been training both of his sons to wield lances because it was the weapon of a cavalier and a soldier. Glenn used swords mostly, but he pressed an axe into Sylvain’s hands and taught him to use the brute strength of an axe to overwhelm the reach and precision of a lance. He would be in trouble against a sword, but he could break a lance with a cleverly placed blow from an axe.

Miklan beat the shit out of him the moment that the Fraldarius and Galatea families had left the Margravate. He had broken a training lance over Sylvain’s back and left him curled uselessly on the floor of the Gautier training grounds. Sylvain had contemplated waiting to die there, but his father had stumbled upon him shortly after.

He expected pity or anger towards his brother. He had not expected the cool gaze of a detached nobleman assessing him.

“You are the heir of House Gautier. Do not wallow and do not falter. I will not tolerate your failure again.”

Six months later, Sylvain had been out with a young woman in town and had returned late at night. He had walked past his father’s study and caught the sound of a brutal beating. He hadn’t had to look through the cracked door to know that his father was doling out discipline upon Miklan.

Dinner the next day had been unbearable where his father had eaten calmly at the table while his mother tried to keep a fluttering conversation up with the Margrave and with Sylvain since Miklan had been confined to his room by healers until he was better rested.

There was a book on Crests and a treaty of government on Sylvain’s desk that night. He burned the book on Crests in his fireplace and wrote to Glenn that night.

I am alone in a house of ghosts and monsters, he had written. He expected no reply from Glenn. The Fraldarius heir wasn’t one for sentimental feelings and connections.

Duke Fraldarius invited Sylvain and the Margravine to Duchy Fraldarius the next week and Sylvain got to leave Margravate Gautier. Duchy Fraldarius was further south than Gautier, so it was warmer, and the company was pleasant. After a week of sparring with Felix and Glenn, Sylvain began to feel a little better.

Then he had learned of Glenn’s engagement. He supposed it wasn’t entirely impractical. Ingrid was a young, Crest-bearing woman and Glenn was the heir to a rich noble house. When Ingrid had come to visit with her two oldest brothers the next day, she had worn a dress for the first time in a long time and she had blushed when Glenn had taken her hand. Sylvain suddenly didn’t feel welcome at Duchy Fraldarius as the Duke and Count Galatea negotiated. Duchess Fraldarius and his mother tried to keep the children busy, but there had been an air of somberness over the house for a few days.

He wrote to Dimitri and the prince gave him an out, welcoming him and all of the others to come to Fhirdiad. On the ride there, Ingrid had chattered on about Pegasus Knights and how much she adored the flying steeds and Sylvain had found himself with a startling amount of patience to discuss the topic, even once Glenn and Felix had long exhausted the subject of conversation.

Sylvain liked to watch Ingrid wave her hands and point as she told him stories and her hopes about one day becoming a knight herself. Count Galatea’s expression had grown firm, but Sylvain had ignored Ingrid’s father and had asked her about other flying creatures, besides the pegasus, who would make good steeds.

Glenn had grabbed him by his collar when they made camp for the night on the way to Fhirdiad. “Don’t forget who’s marrying her, Gautier.” The Fraldarius heir’s voice had been flat and more reminiscent of the way that he spoke to Miklan.

Curiosity had sparked in Sylvain’s stomach at the idea that Glenn, who was the ideal, prominent knight, was jealous of Sylvain’s easy conversations with Ingrid. Ingrid who obviously preferred Glenn and tolerated Sylvain. It made the bitter knot in his own stomach lessen. He loved Glenn, but he never denied the fact that he was jealous of Glenn for many things.

He rode with Felix the next day, talking about Dimitri and the new sword Felix had gotten for his birthday. Glenn had ridden back with Ingrid, but Sylvain never found himself able to escape the scrutiny of Ingrid’s gaze for the rest of the trip.

Fhirdiad was nice. It was a breath of fresh air to spar with Dimitri, even if the prince’s strikes carried twice as much strength as Glenn’s because at least Dimitri used a lance and Sylvain was able to pick up an axe to notch a single hit before he was soundly defeated. It had grown tiresome getting beaten by both sword-wielding Fraldarius brothers and it wasn’t particularly pleasant to attempt to fight Ingrid. She was quicker than him anyway, so he mostly just continued to lose. But, at least he got a hit in on Dimitri who was brute strength and efficiency, much like someone else Sylvain knew.

A year later, Glenn was inducted into the royal order of knights and accompanied the Royal Family to Duscur. Dimitri came back alone save for Dedue, a Duscur boy who was loyal to the death. Felix lashed out and Ingrid withdrew and Sylvain used the opportunity to leave Margravate Gautier. He couldn’t say anything useful to Felix, so he just let the young Fraldarius heir beat his anger out against Sylvain’s poorly constructed axe and lance posture.

He visited Galatea and did something that neither the Count or any of Ingrid’s four brothers had succeeded in. He got Ingrid to open her door even if it was just so that she could punch him in the shoulder and then rest her head against his chest while she cried and cried and cried.

The Margrave–Sylvain had long since tired of calling him Father–summoned him home and not even Ingrid’s need for comfort could have the Count convinced to defy his father’s wishes.

Sylvain withstood three more of his brother’s attempts on his life before his father finally stepped in. Sylvain was sent out with the Margravine for a day trip into town. He went, happily, engaging his mother in pleasant conversation and showing off his silver tongue by charming four young women for the sheer purpose of drawing a smile out of the woman who had grown tired and more reserved as time went on. She had scolded him endlessly for his flirting, but at least she had smiled.

By the time they returned to Castle Gautier, Miklan was gone, disowned and removed. His things were gone by three days later, as was the portrait of him that hung in the eastern wing, and Sylvain didn’t see his parents interact for a week after that. His mother wouldn’t even speak to him.

He took a different girl to bed every night for three weeks until his father called him to his study and backhanded him across the face. The Gautier ring cut his lip and Sylvain tasted blood. He wondered how many times the ring had struck Miklan and he voiced the question stupidly. The Margrave had sent him away, insisting cruelly that he was to clean up his act and spend the next week at a fort near the Sreng border.

Margravine Gautier died six weeks after Miklan was disowned. She died of stress-induced illness, his father told the people. Her grief over the betrayal of her eldest son had been her undoing. Sylvain had seen the blood in his mother’s private quarters. Illness didn’t lead to bloodstains in a bathing chamber that would never truly go away.

Sylvain’s friends gathered in Margravate Gautier a week later for the funeral. Dimitri did not attend. Rufus was loathe to let the young prince leave Fhirdiad, so his regards came via a letter handed to him by Rodrigue Fraldarius.

Felix had hugged him once for a very brief amount of time and had told Sylvain that he was never allowed to speak of it again. The lump in his throat would ensure that. Ingrid, on the other hand, had taken his hand the day she arrived and had held it almost the entire time she was visiting. Felix and Ingrid and he sat in his chambers and Sylvain cried and Felix listened and Ingrid held both of their hands. Ingrid had lost her mother when she was small and she had lost a fiancé in Glenn. Felix had lost his brother and his closest companion when Glenn died. Sylvain had lost a friend in Glenn and his mother.

He didn’t want to think what Miklan was to him.

Two weeks later, Margrave Gautier tried to enroll Sylvain at the Officer’s Academy, but Sylvain managed to deflect his father for another two years so that he could attend with his friends. He put the diplomacy skills he had been amassing to work and was pleasantly surprised when his father agreed.

The rooms in the dorms of the Officer’s Academy were small and simple and very different from the arched ceilings of the palace in Fhirdiad, or the large windows of the Fraldarius Estate, or the grand presentation of Castle Gautier.

Sylvain’s room was at the end of the hallway and his neighbour was Dimitri. Felix was on Dimitri’s other side, but Ingrid was at the far end of the hallway, as far away from him as she could be.

Sylvain was still unpacking on the first night when Ingrid showed up in his room. Apparently Felix was at the training grounds and Dimitri was off with Claude, heir to House Riegan, and Edelgard, the Imperial Princess. Sylvain had broken out a strategy game that he had brought to keep them occupied and it seemed to do the trick.

Ingrid played with the end of her braid when she had a particularly tough move ahead of her, so Sylvain would move his pieces so that hers were more pressured until she had to make a mistake. Ingrid was smart, but Sylvain had a distinct advantage in years of practice in reading body language. She was annoyed when she lost, but she had thanked him for the distraction anyways.

Mercedes was tricky. She was elegant and calm and stunningly beautiful, but she seemed just clueless enough to brush off his every attempt at flattery. Sylvain could have sworn that he was in love with her from the moment he met her, but Mercedes was sharper and more insightful than he had bargained for.

They took tea together in the garden one day and she had called out his wandering eye to where a group of female Golden Deer students were sitting and stealing glances at him with less than coy smiles.

“You haven’t got the slightest idea what sincerity is, do you?” Mercedes asked calmly, as easily as if she had just asked his favourite colour.

Sylvain stared at her.

“All these girls who follow you around, parading your adoration, and yet you throw them away like they don’t even have feelings.”

Mercedes was right. She knew it, he knew it, and he had no room to argue. Sylvain sipped his tea and flashed her a winning smile.

“I don’t know,” he tried anyways, “I like to think that they’ve worn themselves out from the pleasantness of my company. Wouldn’t want anyone to get bored, would I?”

Mercedes nibbled on a cookie and studied him. She looked into his soul in a way no one ever had before. Maybe it was because she had a few years on him and had grown up in a church, but there was something so deceptively assuring and non-threatening about her. Sylvain had seen her magic in action and he knew she had studied at the School of Sorcery with Annette.

“One day you’ll run out of stories to spin and places to run away to,” she said calmly and Sylvain wondered if she knew he had hidden in both Ashe and Dimitri’s rooms at separate times that week.

Felix locked himself in his room when his father arrived at Garreg Mach. When Sylvain heard the news, he had wanted to do the same. Instead, he had tilted his chin, flattened his frown into a neutral expression, and looked to the Professor for orders.

Ashe and Annette and Mercedes were all watching him curiously. Even Dedue and Dimitri seemed intrigued to observe Sylvain’s reaction to the news that Duke Fraldarius had brought south the monastery from Margravate Gautier. Only Felix and Ingrid understood the true gravity of the situation and Felix was hidden away, so it was only Ingrid.

Ingrid, who twisted her fingers through his under the table in the classroom as the Professor instructed and created a plan of action. Ingrid, who refused to relent her grip on his hand the more and more uncomfortable Sylvain got through the planning process. Ingrid, who, despite his protests, brought two trays of food to his room that night and ate with him in private.

Ingrid quizzed him for his Cavalier certification exam and made him challenge her for her Pegasus Knight certification exam. Sylvain was pretty sure he would have failed the exam, but when he walked into it, Ingrid’s voice echoed through his head and guided him through each of the questions.

Ferdinand passed the exam at the same time as Sylvain and had gone on a long-winded tangent to express his delight at being certified in a “truly noble” class. Sylvain had looked at the mare that he’d ridden to pass the test and the training lance in his hand and had felt distinctly sick to his stomach.

He would have been perfectly content sitting alone in his room once they returned to the monastery, but that’s where people would be looking for him, so he avoided the dorms and instead sequestered himself in the Knight’s Hall.

So far, Dedue was the only one who had found him and hadn’t bothered to try and make Sylvain talk. He had simply recommended that he clean the blood from his face and hands and stop clutching the shaft of the Lance of Ruin hard enough to break. Sylvain had replied that he didn’t have Dimitri’s penchant for breaking weapons, but he had followed the rest of Dedue’s advice.

He poked the fire poker into the dying embers of the fire and inhaled a breath of hot air as the log turned over. For a minute, the poker felt like a weapon in his hand and he vividly recalled the way his lance had cut through his brother’s flesh.

Miklan’s dying snarl echoed in his brain almost loud enough to drown out the person calling his name, but Sylvain looked back and saw Hilda Valentine Goneril standing at the edge of the training pit in the hall. She had a hand on her hip and her head was cocked to the side.

“Hello Hilda,” he greeted, trying to keep his tone pleasant.

“You don’t have to be nice, Sylvain,” she pointed out flatly, striding towards him.

He slid over on the couch to make room for her, but Hilda leaned in, sitting on the arm of the couch and draping her legs over his lap. Sylvain placed a hand on her calf and massaged it gently. The horrible, self-destructive part of his brain wanted him to pull her in and ruin their friendship, but he managed to keep just enough hold on himself to refrain from doing so.

“What are you doing here?”

“Claude said you’d be here,” she answered, avoiding the question.

“Why would he care?”

“He doesn’t really,” she agreed. “But, apparently Dimitri cares and Claude thought sending me here might be a better idea than throwing you to the Lions.”

“Mmm,” Sylvain conceded. “Are you here to comfort me?”

Hilda shifted, leaning forward so that she fell into his lap. She pressed his shoulders back against the back of the couch and straddled him. Her breath was warm on his face and she smelled pleasant. She traced a finger down his throat and Sylvain’s heart thudded in his chest.

“I was thinking more of a distraction. You and I are both good at this part, aren’t we?”

He kissed her. She kissed him back, practically buzzing against him, but then she pulled back, something unreadable glimmering in her bright pink eyes.

“What now?” she asked him breathily.

Sylvain thought about kissing her and carrying her back to his room, but he liked Hilda. He didn’t really want to run her off because she was being playful and distracting him from bad things going on.

He kept one hand on her back, keeping her balance, but he dropped his other hand to his side. “Not that I don’t love a good distraction,” he began.

Hilda laughed and kissed him again, sliding his hand to her waist with one of her own hands. “You and me both.”

He leaned back and grinned at her. “I rather think you could destroy me right now, Miss Goneril,” Sylvain said, changing tactics.

Hilda removed his hands from her waist and climbed off his lap, her mood shifting. “I like you, Sylvain. Definitely not like this, but it’s no good to see you spiralling.” She straightened her hair and her blouse and skirt before giving him a last, somewhat shrewd look. “It wouldn’t do for anyone to be destroyed right now. Ingrid and Felix are looking for you.”

Hilda left then, leaving Sylvain to stare at smouldering embers and feel guilty about not talking to his childhood friends.

Dorothea sat down next to him at the feast and plucked the goblet from his hand, taking a drink. She wrinkled her nose at the taste of the wine and handed it back to him. Sylvain sipped from it and waited for her to say something.

“If Claude is going to smuggle wine in, he should have at least made it good wine,” Dorothea said dryly.

Sylvain swirled the wine in the goblet. “It’s a Derdriu wine. I think he’s obligated to only drink this wine, if anything.

“I suppose you don’t grow enough grapes to make wine way up north, do you?”

Sylvain thought about the heavy blankets of snow that had a tendency of cutting harvest season short back at the Margravate. “No,” he agreed. “We’re much more of a hard liquor type of place.”

Dorothea swiped his cup again and drank. He wasn’t going to tell her off for doing it, so she knew she could get away with it. Dorothea was good enough company. She wasn’t a member of his own house, celebrating their victory at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and she was awfully pretty.

“Any interest in sticking around longer?” he asked.

Dorothea raised an eyebrow. “Are you propositioning me?”

He laughed. “From one like-minded individual to another, we should get out of here before Ferdinand has the gall to try and approach you again.”

She leaned in close enough that he could smell her perfume. It was something floral and oddly familiar. She pressed her lips practically against his ear when she spoke.

“Oh Sylvain, you know me so well.” She leaned back, smirking at him, and Sylvain caught the briefest moment where her eyes strayed to something over his shoulder.

He glanced back and saw Ingrid watching the two of them with an unreadable expression on her face. He made eye contact with her and raised an eyebrow. Ingrid looked down and guilt prickled suddenly in his stomach.

“Shall we?” Dorothea asked, standing up from the table.

He followed her out of the dining hall towards the fishing pond. Dorothea headed out onto the pier and adjusted her skirt before sitting down on the end, dangling her feet above the water. Sylvain sat next to her. His heels were only about an inch above the water, so he was careful not to dunk his feet.

“Sometimes I don’t know how you nobles do it,” Dorothea said. “You deal with all the pomp and circumstance with a stupid, vapid smile on your face even if you actively hate each other.”

Sylvain was a bit surprised at her sudden bitterness, but he knew well enough that Dorothea didn’t have an excellent opinion on the nobility, especially those from the Empire. “It takes practice,” he replied calmly.

She snorted a laugh. “Right. It’s still strange to see the House Leaders getting along. One petty disagreement and we could be launched right into a war.”

Sylvain thought about Dimitri. His friend was undeniably different from how he had been before the Tragedy of Duscur, but he had seemed much more put together and composed in the time they had been at the Officer’s Academy.

“I don’t know,” he said, “it feels like we’re all some big, mostly messed up family here.”

Dorothea tilted her head towards him. “Got a lot of experience with messed up families?”

He paused, feeling uncomfortable and she dropped her gaze away, biting her lip.

“Sorry, that’s probably not a good subject.”

He shrugged. “My brother is dead.”

“I meant your mother,” she mumbled. Sylvain tensed and Dorothea touched his knee gently. “Ingrid told me.”

“Oh,” he mumbled blankly.

Dorothea looked guilty. “I just wanted to know about Glenn and somehow we talked about a lot more than that. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sylvain said quickly. “It’s not exactly a well-kept secret, after all. Besides, it’s nice to know that Ingrid has some friends who are both female and not Felix, Dimitri, or myself.” He thought about what she had said. “So how much do you know about Glenn?”

“He was Felix’s brother, Ingrid’s fiancé, and yours and Dimitri’s friend. And he died in Duscur.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain agreed. “He taught me to wield an axe and he was a hell of a brother.” He smiled faintly. “Only time I really felt like I was at home was when all of us and our crazinesses were in Fhirdiad.”

“What about here? You’re all, mostly, here now,” Dorothea pointed out.

Sylvain slid his hand into hers and squeezed it. “Yeah,” he agreed. “This is pretty close.”

Remire Village burned around him. There was blood on his lance and he couldn’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears. A terrified villager sprinted past him and Sylvain stared at the burning home.

A woman sat on the floor, rocking back and forth while holding the body of the young man that Sylvain had cut down. He had been sick, with whatever Remire illness had taken much of the village, but the way the woman held him was the way a mother held her son.

Sylvain felt sick.

Someone grabbed his elbow and pulled him away from the house. He blinked and found himself staring into Felix’s face. His friend’s expression was set grimly as he started hauling Sylvain away from the house. Annette slipped past them and moved into the house to try and draw the mother away from the flames.

Sylvain let Felix guide him away from the burning homes without resistance. They stopped when the reached the outskirts of the village where refugees were gathering with the Church forces that had accompanied the Blue Lions on their mission.

Sylvain glanced back at the burning village. “I killed her son,” he said slowly. His knuckles clenched around the Lance of Ruin and he could practically feel the Crest of Gautier burning in his blood.

“If not you, someone else would have. She would have been dead by then anyway. You saved her life,” Felix replied pointedly.

Sylvain dimly thought about his mother and her reaction to Miklan’s banishment. His stomach turned and he lunged for the nearest bushes. He emptied his lunch into the bushes and his body kept heaving until there was nothing to come up.

A warm hand brushed the back of his neck, pushing his hair out of his face and Sylvain closed his eyes. He shuddered faintly and felt slim fingers run through his hair over his scalp, trying to reassure him. When his body finally finished convulsing, he cracked open his eyes to see Ingrid kneeling beside him.

Her green eyes were wide with worry and Sylvain felt a dull ache in his stomach. He wiped at his mouth and accepted the water she offered him.

“You okay?” she whispered gently.

They were crouched in the bushes where no one would see them and the selfish, vain part of Sylvain appreciated Ingrid’s attempts to remain incognito.

“Is there a word for a parent who outlives their child?” he asked suddenly.

Ingrid blinked and her hand stilled where it was still combing through his hair. “Sylvain,” she murmured, sounding sad.

He pulled away and stood up. There were calls from the centre of the formation for people to regroup and begin heading out. He strode out of the bushes and walked away from the burned-out homes that the refugees of Remire village could no longer call home.

For all his posturing and flirting and wooing, Sylvain hated Ethereal Moon. The White Heron Cup had had Flayn barely beat out Dorothea to win certification in the Dancer Class for the Blue Lions and it meant that all the Blue Lions were dancing on their toes around each other as hidden affections bubbled.

Sylvain didn’t invite anyone to the ball. He was invited by seven different girls and he turned them all down with a cruel smile and a playful wink for good measure. One took it well and rebounded to ask after Ferdinand, but the other six didn’t. Apparently two of them went straight to Ingrid, complaining about him so then Sylvain had dealt with a very angry Ingrid for an entire week.

At the ball, he danced with Mercedes and Dorothea and even stole a dance with Hilda, though she made it a point to step on his toes as often as possible, just to spite him. Lysithea gave him one dance and Annette gave him two. Flayn turned him down, wary of Seteth, and Marianne looked at him like he was crazy when he asked.

When he finally escaped the dance floor, he looked around for Felix, only to see that Annette had somehow managed to wrangle the grumpy Fraldarius heir onto the dancefloor. Dimitri was dancing with Mercedes and Ingrid was nowhere to be seen.

Sylvain grabbed a goblet of wine from the teacher’s table and slipped out of the hall, heading in the direction of the Cathedral. He walked partway on to the bridge and leaned against the railing, looking up and admiring the night sky above him.

He wasn’t alone for long as he soon heard the click of a woman’s heels against the stone. He turned his head and saw Ingrid wobbling towards him on her shoes. She had wobbled all night, but Dorothea had been firm in insisting that she wear the heels because they apparently matched her dress uniform.

“Hey Ing,” he greeted.

She walked up next to him and leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply. “It’s stuffy in there,” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” Sylvain agreed and sipped from his stolen goblet.

He tipped it towards Ingrid and she raised an eyebrow at him, but she took it and sipped from it anyways.

They stood in silence for a minute, just staring out over the bridge at the sky and the land that stretched beneath it.

“Shouldn’t you be in there dancing with every girl you lay your eyes on?” Ingrid asked quietly after a pause.

Sylvain chuckled. “Funnily enough, I’m not sure there are many more girls who would want to dance with me. I may be running out of hearts to steal.”

“Good!” Ingrid exclaimed. ‘Maybe that means I can stop cleaning up after you.”

He leaned away from her, pressing a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt, Ing, you don’t like dealing with all of my problems?”

His response came out more jaded than he had intended for it to and Ingrid turned her curious green eyes on him. Whatever makeup Annette and Mercedes had forced her into had accentuated her natural cheekbones and outlined her vivid eyes. Sylvain couldn’t look away from them, even if he desperately wanted to curl up and hide all of his vulnerabilities from her.

“Sylvain,” she began gently.

He finally broke eye contact and looked up at the twinkling stars. “Never thought I’d be the guy without a girl to meet at the Goddess Tower tonight,” he joked, trying to deflect.

Ingrid’s hand curled on his forearm and he knew he wasn’t getting out of this conversation so easily. “Sylvain,” she repeated, stern this time.

He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t reply. He glanced at her again which was almost a mistake. She was closer now and he could see the sparkle of eye makeup on her eyelids and a pale pink lipstick on her lips that gave her just the tiniest bit of complimentary colour and easily drew his gaze.

When he didn’t say anything, she seemed to finally get the hint, dropping his arm and leaning back a tiny bit. Sylvain’s heart thudded as she moved away and he told himself it was a good thing.

Ingrid was Ingrid. The horrible, self-deprecating part of him wanted to ruin her and ruin everything they had as friends for the sake of one kiss, but the fifteen-year-old boy who had listened to her talk about Pegasus Knights for hours clung stubbornly to the way things were and he let her move away.

He was already ruined. There was no need to destroy her too.

It was almost three in the morning when Sylvain entered the dining hall. To his surprise, something smelled burnt. He followed the scent, curiously, to the kitchen. A tray of blackened blobs that were probably supposed to be cookies sat on one of the counters and Sylvain heard a faint sniff.

He followed the noise and saw Annette sitting on the kitchen floor with her arms around her knees, looking absolutely miserable.

“Annette?” he questioned.

She jolted at the sound of his voice and her head snapped up towards him. “Oh! Uh, hi, Sylvain.”

He glanced at the burnt cookies. “Were you trying to bake?”

Annette shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m nowhere near as good as Mercedes or Ashe, but I wanted to do something for the Professor.” She tucked her chin against her chest and sighed. “My father has been gone for most of my life, but I have my mom, so I don’t really know what it’s like to really lose a parent, but I figured that cookies would never hurt anyone, would they?”

Sylvain fell silent. He remembered the cooks at Castle Gautier trying to tempt him out of his room with treats after his mother died. He remembered bribing Ingrid to open her door with food after Glenn had died.

Annette’s head snapped up. “Oh! No, Sylvain, I’m so sorry!” she gushed suddenly.

He faked a smile, shaking her head. “Nah, it’s alright Annette. My mom died years ago. It’s not fresh.”

She bit her lip, but she didn’t look like she was about to burst into tears again. Sylvain tapped a knuckle on the counter that held Annette’s very burnt cookies.

“We should get rid of these and get to bed,” he suggested.

Annette shifted on the floor. “I can do it. I made the mess.”

Sylvain picked up the tray of blackened cookies and headed for the bin where the kitchen staff discarded leftover food and scraps. “We’ll go faster if we do it together,” he pointed out. “That way we’ll both get back to bed faster and we’ll be sharper for our axe training tomorrow.”

Annette laughed faintly and stood up, brushing off her skirt. “Okay,” she relented.

They worked quietly for a few minutes, cleaning up the mess Annette had made in the kitchen. Finally, once the last bowl was washed, dried, and put away, she turned to him.

“You didn’t have to do that, Sylvain.”

“I was here,” he said casually. “Besides, maybe I can use this as leverage to get you to come to tea with me tomorrow,” he added, his tone almost straying to his falsified flirtatious one.

Annette shook her head. “I’m studying with Lysithea tomorrow after we have the axe seminar.”

Sylvain flashed her a grin. “What a coincidence, I’ve got to brush up on my Reason. I’ll bring the treats if you bring the tea.”

The Professor’s hair turned green. Dimitri broke. Edelgard marched on Garreg Mach. The Professor and Archbishop disappeared. The war began.

Sylvain sat on his bed in his dorm room and stared at the half-packed room around him. The monastery was being evacuated and most of the Kingdom natives were leaving the next day. He and Felix would be travelling north together towards their homes.

Sylvain didn’t want to leave the monastery. For the first time in a long time, this was a place that felt like home. He didn’t want to go back to Gautier and it’s cold walls and empty house and what would inevitably be discussions of war and slaughter and more violence.

Someone knocked on the doorframe and he looked up. Ingrid was standing there, still wearing bits of her Pegasus Knight armour and looking as exhausted as he felt. Sylvain didn’t say anything, but he slid over on his bed so that she could sit next to him. She walked over and practically collapsed next to him.

“I don’t want to go,” he said quietly.

Ingrid took his hand, twining their fingers together. Neither of them wanted to talk about the way that Felix and Dimitri had blown up at each other after the battle. Something in Dimitri was very broken and losing the Professor seemed only to have aggravated that part and Felix never knew when to let sleeping beasts slumber.

“We’ll be okay,” she said firmly.

Sylvain tipped his head so it rested against hers. “There’s nothing in that house for me, Ingrid.”

“You’ll be okay,” she corrected herself, but her voice cracked.

Sylvain’s eyes burned with tears and he shut his eyes, focusing on Ingrid’s hand in his. “How do we keep going from here?”

“With our heads up and blades sharp,” she said quietly, quoting something Glenn had said to them a long time ago.

“Right,” he agreed weakly. “Keep fighting until they’re nothing but ruin and bone.”

Ruin and bone, he thought to himself. I’ve been nothing but since the day I was born.

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dokidoki-tae · 5 years ago

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Surviving

So I wrote some HCs about La Squadra surviving their injuries. I apologize for any inaccuracies. I did my best in looking into some medical stuff for them especially Melone ugh But I didn’t dive deep into it. So here you go. Ya BOYS surviving their fights.

Risotto:

What the fuck was he doing in Sardinia AND he was in the hospital? How serious was this? He never went to the hospital no matter the injury. This was serious and he wanted you to stay home? Was he insane? You wanted to fly over there, but Risotto himself had spoken to you after being MIA for THREE MONTHS and told you to stay put. You were used to his long missions, having waited a similar period of time. You had argued with him, insisting you go to him. If he was contacting you, that means he wasn’t on the mission anymore. “I’ll be let go soon and back to you. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You felt like he just squeezed your heart. Risotto, as long as you’ve known him, as never apologized for worrying you, only for keeping you waiting. Your voice cracked when you told him to hurry back.

When he walked through your door, he looked normal, you wondered if he was really hospitalized. Then you got a closer look and saw the scars on his face and looked down at the rest of his body. Those look like bullet holes. As if he read your mind, he explained what happened though omitting some information. You couldn’t keep yourself from looking especially after he removed his cap and saw that his head had been shaved as they performed surgery there. He should still be in the hospital, you thought. “You don’t have to worry. I can take care of myself from here.” He read your mind again.

You were scared to sleep, afraid something would happen to him during the night. What if he went into shock or something? You also were afraid to sleep next to him in case you pressed on one of his wounds. He was still sensitive in those places.

It wasn’t until the next day you noticed that something happened to his foot, and at closer inspection, you realized it had been sliced clean off and reattached from the looks of it. Before you could ask him, he told you it was fine, and he still had feeling in it and it was not infected. You were exasperated and emotionally exhausted because you still didn’t know in full detail on what happened, and he wouldn’t tell you. You learned to accept it.

Every night you made love, you kissed all the bullet scars on his body, making him shiver. If anything “good” came to this, it was the fact that getting Risotto to shiver and tremble was easier now than ever before. Giving extra attention - kissing, sucking, licking- to his scars got him coming faster than you did when clenching around him.

Risotto still liked to show off his strength by carrying you and fucking you standing, showing that his injuries will never prevent him from holding back on making sure you feel good.

Prosciutto:

When you enter his hospital room and see him in his battered state, you throw yourself at his side, wailing and calling his name between your sobs. He had been there for several weeks, taking so long to contact you because Prosciutto was unwilling to reveal formation about himself. He relented and revealed you as his emergency contact.

You stayed by his side, encouraging him to talk, but he only stared blankly at the ceiling and refusing to look at you. You’d think he was in a vegetative state, but he would paw at his now amputated legs. He had lost both his legs and one of his arms. You nearly fainted when you were told the state he was found. It’s a miracle he survived.

He rarely spoke a word to you while in the hospital. The only times he spoke to you was when he asked you to leave when the nurses were going to bathe him. When you offered your help, he barked at you, calling you names and to leave him alone. It broke your heart, but you tried not to let it get to you.

When he was ready to go home, you made sure your house was equipped for him now, scheduling for things to be changed and renovated for him his disability. He was pissed when you told him, but he held his tongue. He knew you had his best interest at heart

He was scheduled to get physical therapy and prosthetics, and he didn’t want you there either. It had come to light, he was embarrassed for you to see him in such a pathetic state as he struggled to get used to his new limbs.

It took him a while to get back into sex. He couldn’t get hard; he couldn’t stand you looking at his body, but patience and open communication are key here. For a while, Prosciutto had to have the lights off, liners on, and sometimes a blindfold. After some time, he began to be confident again by the way he ordered you to touch yourself with a growl. You happily and enthusiastically did as you were told.

He eventually learned to rely on you and not be so reluctant to ask for help. He asks you to come to his physical therapy, to bathe with him, to help him with putting on his prosthetics. At some point, you take massage therapy classes to properly massage his stumps.

Pesci:

You were scared and angry after being notified of his hospitalization. Prosciutto had promised you that he’d look after him and make sure nothing happened, and now he was in the hospital. You wanted to yell at Prosciutto, but considering he didn’t inform you and was with Pesci at the time, you concluded something serious happened to Prosciutto as well.

Both men were hospitalized in the same place, running into Prosciutto’s significant other in the same place, looking disheveled and tired. They told you that Pesci was alright. “Both are alive.” And that’s what mattered. You were shown his room and gasped when you saw his entire body covered. His face had stitches all across it; you could tell the cuts were deep. You wouldn’t be surprised if it reached his skull. He also had a brace around his neck, knowing it was because it was broken when they found him. Your stomach was uneasy but that didn’t stop you from kissing his uninjured cheek.

You noticed the change in his demeanor when he woke up; his eyes looked a lot colder and meaner than the man you first knew. His eyes softened when he saw you there by his side until he finally broke down into tears himself, repeatedly telling you he was sorry.

His body was slowly healing, but they had not been able to save all of his limps, replantation had not been successful in all areas. Pesci looked dejected but your support was enough to get him to be a little more positive. The ones that did take, it would be a while before Pesci would have full control over them again and was given information about a therapist.

While he was in the hospital and in your company, he was more animated than when he was finally released. You had distracted him from his failure on the mission and his failure to Prosciutto. You couldn’t always be there for him, so he was often left with his own thoughts.

You encourage his hobbies again and make sure they keep him mobile because you don’t want his replanted limbs to go stiff.

Having sex again isn’t difficult, Pesci feels a bit insecure but when you tell him his scars are sexy. He feels confident. Even with his stump, he doesn’t feel any uglier especially when you give it special attention.

Formaggio:

When you entered and saw him unconscious on that hospital bed, you passed out immediately. Your heart couldn’t take seeing him like that. His injuries only happened recently, and you were told he might be in this state for a while. When he finally woke up and saw you, he gave you a weak smile. Even now, he was still trying to be suave. But the pain was too much to handle, and he passed out again when the nurses rushed to his room.

After some time, he would remain awake and hold a conversation. He didn’t tell you what happened and would change the subject.

You watched the way the nurses looked after his injuries. You felt like throwing up whenever you saw them remove his bandages and see his burnt flesh. They were bad. Your stomach was most uneasy because of the thought of some maniac did this to your beloved and was running around free in Italy. He did like to make jokes, “you did say you found scars sexy.” But you can see in his eyes that he was worried you’d find him grotesque. “You’ll always be handsome and sexy to me, Formaggio,” you’d tell him sincerely. He’d look away, trying to hide the tears threatening to escape.

Formaggio had many treatments for his burn injuries because they varied throughout his body. From skin grafts to antibiotics ointments, moisturizers. The first couple of months were painful, and Formaggio was short-tempered and hostile mostly from the pain and frustration. He calms down when you dress his wounds and put ointments on him after the skin grafts. It’s his favorite time to flirt.

Once his wounds are closed and he’s out of the hospital, you’ll have to help him take care of himself or else he’s going to get frustrated, leave them alone and die of a serious infection. Moisturizing can be very intimate; he’s usually watching you intently when you rub it on him.

Despite his injuries healing, he feels insecure when you look at him. He acts like he isn’t bothered when he feels people looking at him since his injuries still left scars, but he’s paranoid and once lashed out and yelled for people to stop looking at him in a public space.

Body worship is important before having sex. Just like Prosciutto, he had a hard time staying erected and beat himself up for it, so you have to take control and give attention to his body, reminding him that he’s still sexy as ever. Usually, he’s more turned on when you’re putting moisturizer on him. He’s developed a kind of pavlovian response when you bring out the moisturizer, he gets an erection.

Illuso:

You nearly drove yourself insane trying to find this man. He went on a mission and disappeared for months. You thought he had died until you got a random text message from him telling you he was alive. You wept the whole day, thanking whatever almighty being was listening.

For a while, you only communicated through texting, often asking him when he was coming home which he always ignored. He did nothing but add to your anxiety. Why wasn’t he answering your question? The one question you wanted to know? He responded too quickly for any thoughts of cheating to cross your mind. When you opened up about your worry, Illuso revealed he was gravely injured and didn’t know if going back was a good idea. He managed to get medical attention as quickly as possible but the damage had been done.

You didn’t care about that, and you did what you could to reassure him. Ultimately, it was his decision and you’d wait for him as long as it took him. Giving him space allowed him to feel more comfortable and be closer to you. You found this out when you found notes and gifts from him throughout your home. He was in the mirrors, but you weren’t going to push and force him out. Every morning, you’d go around your home and place a kiss on your mirrors in case he was watching.

Coming home at the end of the day, you’d find he was in your home, and the thought eased your heart, knowing he was taking care of himself by eating.

You left notes for him in the mirror and at times, you sat in front of your mirror in your bedroom and masturbated, hoping he was doing the same on the other end (he was). You couldn’t be physically intimate, but you wanted for both of you to have fun. Eventually, it did take a toll on you because he was reluctant to show himself despite knowing he was there. He was so close yet so far. After crying one night in front of the mirror, asking him to hold you, you went to bed and felt him crawl in with you.

He asked you not to look at him, so you were content to have his arms around your midsection. You reached for his hands and felt your heart jump when you looked and saw one hand covered in blisters, the skin gummy, and he was missing the other ones. He felt you tremble as you cried, attempting to pull him closer. You pulled him to have him wrap his arms tighter around you, refusing to let him go.

He didn’t leave you the next morning, but he hid his face from you, asking if you could buy some medical face mask for him. You obliged him and went to the store and quickly came back. He locked himself in the bathroom and asked you to step away. You waited in the living room when he came to join you on the couch.

The face mask didn’t hide the severity of his injury. You couldn't tell what he was hiding, but you knew it was bad. You wanted to take him in your arms and hold him. “Lulu...” You moved closer and lay your head on his chest, and he held you tight. He apologized for worrying you but he thought it was best considering his state.

It took a very long time before he showed you what was under his mask. It took all your strength not to look away. It looked like his entire face had melted off and pasted back on. His lips sagged and you could see the side of his teeth. You went from feeling sick to furious. What disgusting fucker did this to the love of your life? You took his face into your hands and kissed him, reassuring him that he was still the one you loved.

His entire body was similar to his face, it was covered in blisters and swollen and felt gummy. He said during his time away, he was in the hospital and very little could be done due to lack of information on what caused it. That didn’t stop you from taking him to bed. He wondered if you found him disgusting, but you didn’t hesitate to take him as he was.

You were going to look into plastic surgery and look into it for him, to see if that’s what he wanted to be confident again.

Melone:

You stood and listened to the list of long-term effects Melone will have to deal with due to the snake venom. You felt cold when they told you that he would be dealing with a lot of health issues. Your first thought was, “why was there a venomous snake in Rome?” You broke down, nurses doing their best to comfort you.

You go back to his hospital room and gently caressed his face in his sleeping state. You thanked God that he wasn’t comatose too. You don’t know what would happen to your mental state if he was.

Melone did his best to act per usual, but he slowly deflated as the day progressed. He wanted to see you and speak to you, but the venom left him completely blind in one eye and partial in the other. His tongue suffered from necrosis, so speaking to you was near impossible for now. He tried to speak but after not understanding him for the 5th time, he gave up. He could tell you were blaming yourself for not being to comprehend what he was trying to say.

Melone also suffered from paralysis on the left side of his face, though you were told it wouldn’t always be like that.

Before he was released, they warned that Melone had a high chance of chronic kidney disease and to make sure to check in with your local hospital in Naples, so he gets the proper treatment if symptoms appear in the next couple of months.

Melone’s envenoming also manifested through flaccid paralysis (loose or floppy limbs) that initially involves extraocular (muscles that control eye movement) and facial muscles, gradually descending to bulbar, neck, respiratory and limb muscles. He risked going into cardiac arrest as well. Knowing all this gave you an anxiety attack when you got home and Melone was finally asleep. You couldn't sleep, knowing everything he was going through. What if you lost him?

He had to go to monthly hospital visits to make sure he didn’t die due to these effects. You couldn’t always accompany him due to work. You also attended therapy together to get through this time. Melone didn’t like that the therapist tried to talk to him about his childhood trauma from being sexually abused though.

Talking with him wasn’t as difficult, as he had a speech therapist, and it was easier to understand even though he couldn't pronounce or enunciate some words. It was enough to be with him and hold his hand. He did open up about hating not being able to see you like he used to.

You were hesitant to have sex, having to get confirmation that it was alright as long as it wasn’t too strenuous or rough on him. Melone wasn’t able to see you, but at least he could feel you. Your moans were still music to his ears and his moans and gasps were music to yours.

Ghiaccio:

You flew to Venezia after getting a call from a hospital there, telling you that you were the emergency contact for the man currently admitted. You immediately bought tickets from Naples You couldn’t keep yourself from breaking down as you whenever your mind began to wander. As long as you’ve known him, he was never hospitalized before. You tried to think good thoughts, sometimes laughing when you thought of Ghiaccio reacting to saying “Venice” instead of “Venezia” like he would rant about at times. But you only broke down harder.

At the hospital, you were prepared to expect the worst and the staff informed you of his injury and to be prepared.

You felt your world shattered when you saw him so vulnerable and small in his hospital bed. His face was swollen and he had bandages and had tubes in his neck to help support him and his breathing. Taking deep breaths, you kept yourself from sobbing when you took a seat next to him. When he woke up sometime later, he couldn’t speak, having had a surgical tracheotomy and speaking was near impossible. You teared up as you were hoping to hear his yells.

Ghiaccio looked dejected when he was told he would have the tracheal stoma permanently due to the severe damage around the larynx, and he needed to use it for breathing at night. He is given a speech therapist to help him learn how to talk with the new device. The air in the room drops a couple of degrees but your support is enough to calm him down.

It’s difficult seeing Ghiaccio so dejected as you’re both told of the ways to look after his device such as cleaning and how to reduce chances of infections. You can tell he wants to let loose and scream something, but his injury prevents him from doing so. He felt so helpless for the first time of his life. It was as if he was being further humiliated for surviving and now has to live like this.

Finally home, he doesn’t fight you when you looked after him, though he does push you away at times. He’s reluctant to go to speech therapy, but you convince him after several weeks go by when he didn’t get to talk to you.

Sex can be difficult for him because he feels embarrassed when you give his neck attention because at times he ends up coughing or breathing on your face while you kiss his neck. Over time, he gets over it the more you give him a positive reaction. He doesn’t yell like he used to but he flips the bird more time than you care to count. Despite taking speech therapy, and being able to talk, he learns sign language since he can communicate faster and tell you how he feels with passion.

#jojo hcs #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #my writing #jjba #la squadra

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ikonicsvtgeneration · 6 years ago

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♡ what svt would love for you to get them as a gift ♡

author’s note; They would all want lingerie for you, as their b-day gift. lmao i’ve been gone for a like 2 months I’m sorry :( hope you guys like this! Also let me know if I should start writing smuttier pieces!

Seungcheol; His heart would MELT if you got him something you two could do together, like tickets to a concert or to an amusement park. do it Also would die if on top of something like tickets or a couples massage, you got him something that would be a gift for both of you, like lingerie. He would absolutely devour you later, so loving but still rough. He would be so gratefull you got him anything. my fucking baby

Jeonghan; He would be kind of cold when he opened your gift, which would leave you confused and a little hurt, but that’s just him, he would be embarrassed that you got him anything at all. And you would probably be having his birthday party at home with the boys and lots of take away food, so you couldn’t ask him if he didn’t like it or what was up. He would probably react like “wah cool thank you baby” and you were like... bruh I spent forever picking that out? Later when he climbed into bed next to you, you asked him if he didn’t like his gift. His smile would fall and he would explain quickly that he loved it, but was distracted with all the boys and gifts. He would make it up to you the next day, using the item as soon as he could. He would feel horrible you felt that way, and decided to use the item every day.

Joshua; imma cry. Sweetie Josh would literally love anything you got him. Now get him something adorable like matching couples hoodies or necklaces and he would cry, he was so so happy. Josh would insist you both wore them immediately, no buts. He would wear the hoodie at home every night, and would pout when you didn’t wear it. When he was away he’d send you snaps of him wearing it and saying that it smells like you. If you got him the necklace he would literally never ever ever take it off, even if his stylists wanted him to wear something else. It was a constant reminder of you, which he loved.

Jun; Get him something fun, like bungee jumping or paragliding tickets. He would want to do something fun together, not just staying at home with you, or something materialistic, although if you got him something like that, he’d like it too. It’s just that the look on your face when you both jumped, was indescribable. He would laugh so much, not only from the adrenaline, but also you. You were absolutely scared shitless and your lovely boyfriend found that hilarious. After laughing with tears in his eyes though, he would come and comfort you. Even though it kind of sucks for you, it was worth it just to see him smile and laugh, all relaxed after so many stressfull weeks of promotions.

Soonyoung; Hamster smile on. Get him one of those virtual world head sets. Both him and boys would start shouting as he opened the package. You couldn’t tear them from it for hours. You give up at some point and go clean up the kitchen. He would notice you were gone and come find you. As he saw you, alone, cleaning up after the boys, his heart would get heavy with guilt. He would nuzzle his nose into your neck and hold you sweetly. “I’m sorry I got carried away love”. He would say quietly. You could still hear the other boys shouting in the living room over the game. You turned around, and snuggled closer into his chest. “It’s okay, I’m glad you liked it baby”. At that moment you could hear Seungkwan shouting something that sounded like you’re shit at it chan, give it to me. Both of you burst out laughing and Soonyoung kissed your cheek sweetly. “I think it’s obvious we all like it.”

Wonwoo; Would be so freaking proud if you got him a giftcard for the cat cafe he likes the best, and a donation to a cat shelter in your names. He would go showing them off to the boys, before coming back to you and planting a sweet peck on your lips. “You’ll come with me to the cafe right jagi?” He’d ask. You’d giggle. “If you want me to” You would tease with a glint in your eyes. “Wouldn’t want anyone else.” He would answer and scoop you up in his arms spinning you around, and you would scream and laugh.

Jihoon; He would like a Moleskin notebook to scribble song lyrics and ideas in, plus a pair of good headphones for his studio. You would slip a card into the bag you put the gifts in, and wrote to my genius producer (and perfect boyfriend) in it. He would be over the moon. He would climb on top of you (if you were alone), and kiss your face all over. “Thank you thank you thank you” He would repeat in a cute voice, knowing you loved it. Whoever said this boy didn’t have aegyo... or maybe he did, but only for you.

Dokyeom; Would cry. No doubt. There’s nothing you could do, he would 100% cry. It barely mattered what you got him, because his baby got him something and you make him so happy you didn’t have to get him anything. The boys would laugh their asses off, and shout at him for being a baby, just thank her and that’s it. He would laugh and let you dry his cheeks, then bury his head into your shoulder, not even caring if the boys saw. Pet his hair and he’d feel comforted. “I told you not to get me anything pabo-ya” He would wobble out. “And I told you I would anyway. It’s not even a big deal, it’s just a watch.”

Mingyu; He would undoubtably already smell fantastic, but get him a Sandalwood cologne anyway. It’s secretly a gift for both you and him. Bonus points if it smells so good you can’t keep your hands off him and climb on him as soon as you get home. This would be his favourite gift, because it would get you to cuddle (and other stuff) him more, without him having to ask. He would melt when you got up on your tippiest toes to bury your nose under his ear, just to smell him. “If I knew that all it took for you to be glued to be, was a good cologne, I would have bought it myself sooner.”

Minghao; Buy him a vintage camera. He would be so freaking happy, it would be stupid. He loves his cameras and photography, so when you got him a really cool leather camera, he would take pictures of everything, including you, doing anything from mundane everyday tasks, to you in the shower, insisting that you just look so beautiful. He would ask for one of the boys to take a picture of you two as soon as he opened the package. Planting a big kiss right on your cheek, the photo would capture you laughing and Hao pulling you onto his lap, lips still on your cheek. The photo would find it’s way onto either your nightstand or fridge. It would make both of you smile every time you saw it. Also when you were under him, trying to recover from the mind blowing birthday sex you just had, he would get his brand new camera and take a few pictures of you. “Stop looking so sexy, you’re gonna break both the camera and me.”

Seungkwan; Boy’s been whining about wanting a nice belt, since all the nice belts and bags he gets to wear, are actually the stylists, and the other boys also wear them. So get him a nice Louis Vuitton belt, versatile for both suits and casual wear, and he would pretty much wear it to bed too. You know that suit pyjama that Barney from How I Met Your Mother has? Yeah that’s Seungkwan with his new belt, that his girlfriend got him. Had you heard yet? Seungkwan’s girlfriend got him this super cool belt. The guys and staff would get pretty annoyed pretty fast.

Vernon; He’s more of a subtle guy with showing off your relationship, so if you got him matching couple rings, a really simple design, he’d be more than happy. He would send you a heart with the hand the ring was on, from every landmark on their travels. Would also kind of find it hot to finger you with the finger the ring was on. You could also get him an Adidas tracksuit (special points if it’s a cool print of limited edition) and he would probably marry you straight away.

Chan; You’re both still kids at heart, so get him something like a giftcard for snowboarding somewhere in the north of Korea and a nice winter jacket and goggles. You could take a trip up north together, either a day trip or a long weekend, and he would fall even more in love with you, as you were playing together in the snow. He would look at you with absolute heart eyes, as you had snowflakes stuck to your lashes, lips tinted pink from the cold. He would appreciate the mini holiday so much, often taking stress from work back home. This way he could truly relax and have fun with you.

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