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4200nemobackup · 2 years ago

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Juicy.

Pairing: Gang leader! Jungkook x Gang leader! Reader

Premise: Y/n jung , notoriously known as Lucki, is the leader of Blood money: a gang famous in the Bronx for stealing back what was taken from them. When her right hand and best friend, Jailbird is murdered in absolute cold blood, Lucki finds herself having to join forces with her arch-nemesis, Jungkook to get to the bottom of the crime. Jungkook is the leader of Blood Moneys main rival gang: Redrum. As the two of them are thrusted into a web of murder and motives together, their deep loathing of one another births a heated sexual tension and passionate love, among other things.

Warning⚠️ : this story contains mentions of Gang lifestyles and rivalries, murder, guns,childhood trauma, prostitution, mentions of sexual assault, blood, cursing, law enforcement and lawful processes.

This story also contains fluff, detailed smut, sub/dom dynamics,(sub!jungkook) (dom!y/n), praise, degradation, angry sex, cuddling, pegging, edging, gags, blindfolds, chastity, whips, leashes, multiple orgasms, handcuffs.

A/n: thank you to @bloodline1632 for helping me out greatly with the development of this story! It will be a series, and this will be the only thing I’m writing for a while, and I will make sure to update chapters regularly! I’m not sure how much chapters it will be but I truly hope you all enjoy it!

Taglist: @bloodline1632 @lchimmyl @zoroscrustyboogers0 @monochrome-707 @namjooncrabs

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When people die, their death always awakes a fire within the hearts of the people that loved them; the people they loved.

Despair and confusion gives birth to determination. Determination translates to motivation and action.

But not before grief. Never before grief.

Grief brings anger, frustration, lack of understanding. It brings denial, depression, fatigue.

Luckis tears were a product of grief.

Her huge tears couldn’t help but pour down her cheeks, as her eyes became lost in the photo of her best friend. The picture wasn’t even little over 2 years old. Yes, the picture was fairly new, and the person in it happened to be gone as quickly as the picture was taken. It was insane; how could someone be here on Earth one day, and truly gone the next.

Hoseok, Luckis older brother, stood firmly behind his sister, refusing to shed a tear. His choice was rooted in his deep love for his younger sister, who he wanted to keep face for. It was always like this. It had always been like that for Lucki and Hoseok, even since they were kids.

Even when their money-devouring parents left them alone, subject to the real and dangerous world, it was just Hoseok and Lucki bound together. It was even since then he realized at age twelve that if he cried, who would comfort them both? They had no one, and when he succumbed to the rippling waves, who could they both rely on to fish them out of the deep ocean?

No one. Nobody.

With this in mind, Hoseok tugged his small sister close and held onto her as if her life depended on it. He had to hold the fishing rod when he was twelve, and he would continue to hold it now, even twelve odd years later.

As the loud but solemn, funeral music choked on its depressing tune, the pastor strutted to the stage and cleared his elderly throat. The church was silent, save for a few sniffles that sounded in different corners of the pews. It was time to continue the ceremony, promptly.

“Next, we have the deceased’s best friend, Y/n Jung, presenting a speech in honor of Ms.Mendoza. Please do your best to welcome her to the stage properly. Thank you.”

The guests did everything but hold their applause as Lucki moped to the podium with a piece of white copy paper folded neatly in her hands. Hoseok remained steadily behind her, his presence acting as emotional support for his sister at the moment.

Lucki approached the stand, her fingers fooling around with the note trapped between them. She opens her mouth to speak, but her voice projected itself in the way that she internally felt; broken.

Her voice cracked, “Good afternoon, everyone.”

Good afternoon, she heard back from the crowd.

It was now her turn to clear her throat.

“Dear Carmen-Louisa Mendoza”, she began taking a deep breath. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m glad I get to be one of those people who talk about finding their soulmate now at least. You were like the light in every corner of my life. I remember how we could laugh at anything together. I don’t think you knew, but one time when we were falling asleep you said, that Hobi was the Earth, I was the sun, and you were the moon. I don’t think you know that I knew that but I knew.”

Hoseok, or Hobi, cracked an endearing grin. He imagined Carmens voice saying such a thing.

Hobi is the earth but, me and you are the sun and moon. We orbit around that big idiot and I’m glad that it’s like that you know?

Carmen barely said anything sentimental, but when she did, Hoseok liked to think it meant more to him when she said these things rather than when others did. It displayed how much Carmen actually cared, despite her often nonchalant front.

“And then when Hobi started dating Sunny, you said how she’s all the plants on Earth. It took me a little to figure out that you were saying that she was his heart, and when I did figure that out, I almost broke down in tears.”

Luckis fat waterworks returned to her face, and the congestion to her nose.

“I remember when we rode skateboards for the first time, and you tried doing a trick you saw on tv, and you fell. You had a concussion. Hoseok got super mad at us, telling us that he would starve us both if we ever did that again.”

Tiny chuckles bounced off of the church walls, bringing a lighter energy to the atmosphere.

“I remember the day I saw you sobbing for the first time, and you never told me what it was. You never said why you were crying, and then I found out it was because your favorite character in a tv show died. I couldn’t believe it. I never thought you, Carmen Louisa could cry so deeply about something like that. But that’s when I started learning that you were such a softie. Your heart was aching for love and comfort. You loved hard Carmen.”

“I remember how you held my hand when we got our first tattoos. I was actually crying from the pain, it felt so bad, it hurt like hell. And now all I can think is that you won’t be able to hold my hand and say something to cheer me up.”

Lucki stole a glance at her and Carmens matching tattoo. It was a graphic of a keychain holding a four leaf clover charm and caged bird on his clasps. Upon first glance, the tattoo was incredibly interesting to others, even considered ugly but, it held such a deep meaning.

As Lucki uttered the last few sentences of her speech, the delicate glass in her throat shattered into one million pieces. It cut up her precious vocal chords, and brought an everlasting rasp to her voice:

“Carmen-Louisa Mendoza was my best friend. Most of you may know her as Jailbird. You may know her as a friend. You may know her as something other than that. One thing we all know though, is how much of a uniting force she was. Carmen was like glue, keeping all of us together, even when times made it seem like we were gonna split.”

Hoseok rested his palms on his sisters shoulders, silently consoling her, coaxing her through the rest of her heartbreaking message to the stars.

Dear Carmen-Louisa Mendoza, please rest in beautiful peace. There’s so many things I want to tell you right now, like I love you, I miss you, I want you back. But I can’t……I can’t and it really hurts right now.

Violent sobs racked Lucki’s body. She shuffled off to the side and sniffled, her brief pause saddening the audience in front of her. Hoseok continued rubbing her shoulder, trying his best not to break down himself at the sight of his only sister heaving and struggling to make it through another sentence or two.

“Cmon Luck! You can do it!” Sunny shouted from her seat in the front. Lucki nodded and continued back to the podium, ready to finish her speech.

Always in our minds,

Always in our memories,

Always in our hearts, Carmen-Louisa Mendoza.

Lucki had decided to keep the letter professional at the end, with the guidance of Sunny. She desired to add more explicit words in it but, Sunny advised her that cursing at her best friends funeral wasn’t ideal, and that pouring the gold in her heart out was the best choice.

She retreated from the alter, Hoseok attached to her still. Lucki made her way back to her seat, slumping in her spot and letting out a heart wrenching wail. Hoseok and Sunny exchanged knowing glances, and Sunny pulled Lucki into her comfortable hold. Hoseok cuddled up into the other side of his sister. Lucki just unconsciously weeped, her social awareness no longer holding her back. Her need to look unbreakable in front of her members and underlings vanished instantly. She wanted to be comforted, she wanted to be seen. Her heart was hurting. A crack would be present in her heart forever, and always. Now she knew, how it felt to really lose your other half.

The funeral concluded, and all of the guests payed their final respects to the deceased.

Everyone poured into the middle of the building, exiting through the brown double doors at the end of the purple carpet.

Outside stood Lucki, sulking as she glared at the grey skies. Was Carmen up there, waiting for Lucki to come see her?

Sunny and Hoseok held hands, staring at the young girl in front of them. They were conjuring up ideas of how they could help Lucki cope with Carmens untimely death. Everyone knew it; they were like sisters, two peas packed tightly in one pod. Seeing one without the other would just be abnormal now.

Lucki glared at the grey skies above her.

The pain of losing felt so new to her every-time it happened. She was a gang-leader. She couldn’t even count the casualties on her ten fingers and toes. Surely the deaths had piled up since she founded her gang. Everyone died by the swords they lived by. It was a true fact of such a dangerous lifestyle.

Sometimes Lucki felt selfish. Carmen did as much crimes as the next person but, still Lucki felt deep in her soul that Carmen still had so much to do. Much more than the next person. She wasn’t like the next person, no. Lucki thought Carmen was way higher than average. She could do things that no one else could do.

It wasn’t fair. Lucki wanted Justice. Lucki wanted revenge. That was the part she left out in her letter. Her unspoken thoughts were vengeful. Dangerous, Damning.

She dried her tears, and started up a stride to the sidewalk like she knew how, retreating from the church’s sickening atmosphere that was tearing down the foundations of her soul.

Hoseok called out. “Lucki, where are you going?”

“The bar!” Lucki shouted back. The bar was the gangs hideout. It was another way for Lucki to secure funds but, passerby’s and simple customers never questioned the establishment. To them, it was a regular bar they could sit at and enjoy a drink in.

Hoseok nodded, leaving his sister off to walk alone. He wasn’t too worried about her, because he knew exactly where her mind was at. Hoseok knew his sisters heart like no one else; she didn’t want to be bothered for a good reason.

As Lucki strutted down the sidewalk, her eyes glimpsed a man dressed from head to toe in a black suit. Equipped with a cane, he calmly walked towards her. A tall woman, and person stood behind him, seemingly guarding him with their lives. The three of them approached from an expensive looking car, one Lucki only knew rich folks to drive.

“Excuse me. I want to start off by saying that I know you don’t know me well.”

Lucki placed her palm on the gun hidden gently in her trousers waistband.

“But I wanted to pay my respects to Ms.Mendoza. I understand that you two were closely affiliated, correct?”

Lucki narrowed her eyebrows at the pretty man, unclear of his motives for wanting confirmation of such information.

“What do you want?”

He sighed and reached in the pocket of his suit for a card; a small business card that was colored red.

“I can tell you who may have murdered Ms.Mendoza.”

Luckis palm dropped to her side, as well as the expression on her tear stained face. Desperate for answers, she gripped onto the platinum-blondes shoulders suddenly. This startled his guards but, he stopped them from taking action. He knew exactly how Lucki felt, so his judgements were nonexistent.

“Please,” she rasped. “Please. I need to know.”

Lucki dropped to her feet, her new tears staining the mans expensive, leather loafers. The man blinked back his own tears. Looking at Lucki act this way was like staring into his past; he was sure he looked exactly like her when grief fell upon him too.

“My name is Park Jimin, but I am known exclusively as J. Please, take my card, and call me when you are ready to discuss the details. I will have my driver pick you up. It’s your call, Ms.Jung.”

Jimin extended his soft hand to Luckis sunken form, waiting for her to take hold of it. She did, using it to bring herself up to her feet.

She wiped her tears and held onto the card for dear life, thanking Jimin for his kindness. He nodded and retreated into his expensive car, officially driving away from the scene.

The card found its way into the back pocket of Luckis trousers, secured. It was placed there until Lucki arrived at the bar, where it was then removed and placed directly in Luckis dirty hands.

Her entrance wasn’t expected, but even if it was, nobody was prepared for what appeared in front of them.

Nobody had ever seen their leader so broken before, so morose and fatigued. She looked as if she imploded onto herself, she was no longer standing tall instead…….slouching. Black lines outlined her under-lids, and her eyes were extremely puffy. Her scleras were bloodshot, a dead giveaway at what she had been up to for the past week or two that she was gone. Nobody was counting, but it’s not like they weren’t either. Who wouldn’t notice the absence of their commander and chief, the person who called every shot?

The room only silenced, all eyes watched their once abrasive leader struggle to put one foot in front of the other, on a course to her office. They continued to stare at her door too, after she weakly closed it behind her, sealing herself off from the outside world.

Noise slowly traveled through the bar once again but not without reluctance. Everyone needed a moment to process what they had just seen.

The processing everyone was in the middle of was briefly interrupted, as Hoseok and Sunny entered the bar, only a minute later. Sunny approached the bartender on shift, whispering in their ear. They took off their apron, and handed it to her. Sunny made her way to the back of the bar counter, resuming the old bartenders shift. She immediately put a warm smile on her face, genuinely tending to the newly-arrived customers.

Hoseok watched his fiancé tenderly. He loved the way she wore her big heart on her sleeve.

Her eyes met his, and sent him off to his sisters side.

Hobi knocked on the door and silently let himself into his sisters office.

It was almost like their story was a Bible verse. It was some kind of prophecy. Hoseok would be left to quietly be his sisters keeper whenever her wounds were too deep. When the time came that she couldn’t fend for herself any longer, he would turn into her hero figure for a while. It was a never ending cycle, one that Hoseok wished would end. He was tired of seeing his sister get in these situations, and now that Carmen wasn’t here, it was even worse for her.

He knew this, all of it. He had spent a myriad of time thinking of Carmens absence and it’s thousands of downsides. He knew that this would happen, and it would somehow only get worse from here.

Until then, he would continue to stick by his sister. Until he was proven wrong, he would be by her side like glue.

“Y/n, y/nnie…….wake up….”

Lucki was dead-slumbered against her hard wooden desk. Her snores seemed to tune Hoseok out each time he called for her, so he just tapped her instead.

She shot up, clearly startled. The cocked pistol in her hand proved the point that her delirious state was taking control of her slowly.

“Relax, y/n. It’s just me. There’s no need to be hostile after nap time.”

“Sure. You’re right, I just…..Hobi I’ve been on total edge lately. What the fuck am I gonna do without her? I’m fucked.”

“I understand but, you still need to take some kind of care for your mental. I only woke you up because I wanted to check on you.”

Lucki nodded and plopped down against her desk once more. She needed a drink. She needed pills, she needed.

She didn’t need any of that shit. She needed Carmen back. All the other stuff was the substitute. A remedy, or addiction for a broken heart. Her broken heart. What she really could use was time to think. Lucki realized she had a gang that still needed her supervision and guidance. If she was drunk all the time, how could she do her job?

A knock on the door interrupted her brief inner-monologue. Lucki and Hoseok looked to the door and waited for someone to enter.

At the door was Sunny, with two sultry men standing fairly tall behind her. They looked like the feds, which was a cause for concern. The feds never even weaved through that bar for a damn drink, what the fuck could they be doing there? Did someone get caught? Were they busted?

Shakily Sunny explained, “These men….erm….wanna talk to you Luck. I’ll be right out.”

Hoseok and Lucki exchanged curious glances once again. Lucki reached for her pistol again, her radar on red alert.

“We are the FBI. We know who you are, you’re Y/N Jung. We have some questions to ask you.”

Hoseok removed his gaze from his sister to the two chairs that waited on the other side of her desk. He pulled them out and motioned for the two men to take a seat in them.

“I am Detective Kim, and this is Detective Min. It’s nice to meet you, Ms.Jung,” Detective Kim greeted with his hand held out. Lucki just glared between his face and his hand, and awkward energy filled the room.

“Oh….ok. We are both from the FBI and-

“You’ve said that already”, interrupted Lucki.

“What do you want?”

Hobi tensed up and shot Lucki a scolding look.

“Y/n! I’m so sorry, she means, how can we help?”

“You can let go of your gun Ms.Jung. We aren’t here to arrest anyone, or hurt anyone. We’re just here to ask questions.”

The agents exchanged glances and pulled out a creme colored folder. They gently placed it on the table, agent min held a palm over it.

“We were at the funeral today. We understand that Ms.Mendoza was murdered from reports that we’ve accumulated. She’s not the only one who’s been murdered so gruesomely in the past month.”

Detective Min handed Hoseok the folder. “Be careful looking through it. There‘s photos of the deceased and their bodies at their respective crime scenes, including Ms.Mendoza.”

Carmen was found with a gunshot wound through her head, and another through her heart. The coroner had stated that she died instantly; Carmen couldn’t even be saved. Her heart stopped as soon as the bullet passed through her cranium. But now it was certain; she wasn’t the only one found like this. She wasn’t the only one who died like that.

Hoseok flipped through the photos, wincing at every single one of them. He prayed that he wouldn’t come across Carmens. He didn’t want to see her like that, which was the same reason why he agreed to her burial prior to her proper funeral date. He wanted to remember her alive, not left for dead.

A blonde woman with wavy hair and green eyes turned up in the deck of evidence. Hoseoks eyebrows furrowed deeply and caught the attention of the investigators present at the table.

“I know this girl. Veronica Lakes.”

Min and Kim exchanged glances, and then looked up at Hoseok.

“You know Ms.Lakes? How are you affiliated with her?”

“We used to work for the red witches gang together. We both worked for Redrum.”

The red witch made Detective Mins ears ring. A few years ago, he had been assigned to a case concerning Redrum. He was totally cocky, until the red witch proved a formidable opponent to even the FBI. She outsmarted them in every way. Whilst they had a line, she had a web of connections. In just a matter of weeks, she turned the world against the organization, and turned the bureau on their heads.

Everyone believed her come-up story was just a myth. A prostitute turned gang leader wasn’t your typical rags to riches story, but, the red witch wasn’t typical. Her opposition to the word blindsided those assigned to the case.

Detective Min hated the red witch then, and he hated the mention of her name now.

Finally, the mention led him to ask a question, for the first time in this whole interaction.

“What was your occupation under the red witch? Did Ms.lakes work with you under the same task?”

Hoseok sighed. Redrum didn’t exactly evoke pleasant emotions in him.

“Well, I babysat the red witches kids. The youngest two, the one who’s the leader now, and her youngest daughter. Veronica was a servant for the witch. We both worked in her house, and we became friends out of the need for company. She left before me though. I heard she wronged the gang, so she was dealt with, but I never knew how.”

Realization spread across Kim’s face. “Ms.Lakes was murdered a month ago. Everyone in this folder was murdered within a two month span. Do you recognize anyone else in the folder? The witch may have something to do with this.”

“She wouldn’t.” Hoseok objected. “The witch died about two years ago. If she wronged the witch she would’ve been dead as soon as word spread.”

Min shot up. “The witch is dead? How do you know?”

“One of my old buddies called me and told me. It was a murder. Nobody knows who did it. Even then, I don’t think anyone would wanna take revenge on anyone that wronged her. When I worked there, most people hated her and if you didn’t hate her, you didn’t love her either.”

Min and Kim defeatedly sighed simultaneously. Every time they felt they had a lead, the rug was pulled out from underneath them. Kim felt like punching his head repeatedly. This was his fucking big break. He couldn’t catch it, no matter what he did.

“Is there anyone to confirm your information?”

“Hmm. I’m still in some form of contact with the new leader. I haven’t seen him in person for a long time, but if I call him, you’ll be able to get in touch with him. He can confirm my information.”

“What’s your relationships with the son?”

Lucki piped up, the old memories of her seventeenth year on Earth floating up in her brain. “I used to be best friends with the son of a bitch. He was a pussy when I knew him but, now I hear he’s a big shot.”

Hoseok smacked his lips. “I’ve said several times I babysat the kid.”

The detectives nodded. Their work here was somewhat done. At least they had gotten a sliver more of information.

“What’s his name?”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

The evidence file was promptly closed and clasped. The men stood up and began towards the door, before turning around.

“We left our contacts on the table. Don’t hesitate to call us if you find out anything else about the case. We want to bring Justice for everyone in this folder, including Ms.Mendoza.”

Lucki pursed her lips. Those men knew what they were trying to do. Using her best-friend to push their needs to the top of her list was a shit move in her eyes.

“I’m sure you do. Now get out of my office.”

The men exited, leaving the looming frustration of Lucki behind them.

“Y/n,” Hoseok started. “These people wanna help us. You can’t just say fuck them! They want to help us out and you don’t even care.”

Lucki slammed her fist against her desk and faced her brother.

“I do care! I do! They just wanna use us to get their little paychecks. What do we get out of this? Of course I want justice for Carm but, what’re they gonna give us for exposing our lifestyles? They’re gonna give us jail Hobi. Jail.”

Hoseok paused, bitterly and utterly confused. He couldn’t understand where his sister was going with her accusation against the actual FBI. He understood that death was taking a heavy toll on his sisters mind but, this was just ridiculous.

He saw Lucki reaching for her phone, and speedily dialing an unknown number into her cellphone.

“Who is that?” He asked.

“You don’t know him.” Lucki simply answered.

“Cmon,” Hoseok said. “I know a lot of people. What’s his name?”

Lucki rolled her eyes. “His name is Park Jimin, but he said that people call him J.”

“It sounds familiar…….”

“You say that about everyone.”

Hoseok took a seat in front of his sister. He grabbed one of her hands and stared into her eyes, trying to appeal to her sea of irrational emotions.

“I just want to know who it is because I want you to be safe. I am worried about you, y/n. I already lost Carmen, and I don’t want to lose you either. You’re starting to scare me. Promise me you won’t get hurt,”

Y/n sighed deeply. She was nineteen now, almost twenty years old. She was sure she could fend for herself against this man. She figured if Jimin wanted to hurt her, he would’ve dazzled her with his demonic wealth instead of showing her the genuine kindness of his heart.

“I promise Hobi. I’ll be fine.”

Hoseok lovingly patted Luckis head.

“Ok. You promised.”

Luckis attention returned back to her answered phone. She put the phone up to her ear and was startled when she heard such a feminine voice speak.

Hello! Who is this calling?

Y/n cleared her throat. “It’s Ms.Jung. I’m calling for Park Jimin? He said we could meet when I was ready to speak.”

One second please!

Please send your address to this number promptly. A limousine should be able to pick you up in ten minutes. We have drivers everywhere.

The phone clicked, leaving y/n to her own devices. The FBIs little pop-in told her nothing about who killed Carmen. All it did was make her upset. Jimin was essentially her last resort: if his leads and evidence were faulty, there was no other hope.

#sub!idol #sub!bts #sub!jimin #sub!jungkook #sub!namjoon #sub!hoseok #sub!jin #sub!taehyung #sub!yoongi #gang leader!jungkook #gang leader!reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook #mafia!jungkook

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asweetprologue · 3 years ago

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Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again.

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings.

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily.

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates.

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic recs #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic recs #fic rec #I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways #if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333

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no-reply95 · 3 years ago

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Jealous Guys

Something I’ve been thinking about for a while now is the different ways jealousy manifested for John and Paul over the course of their friendship.

I’m going to look at John and Paul in turn and have a look at some of the key ways jealousy appeared, before, during and after the Beatles period. This will be a looooong post so if you want to go on deep dive keep reading below.

John

Jealousy was something that John acknowledged as a big part of his personality, as far as I’m aware, he only acknowledged his jealousy publicly in terms of his relationship with Yoko but I believe jealousy was a feature of all of John’s major relationships. John’s first real partnership was with Pete Shotton, his childhood best friend, and Pete has outlined how John’s jealousy and possessiveness was a feature in their friendship with them falling out when Pete first started showing interest in girls and with John acting out when Pete started to spend more time with other friends, instead of him, here Pete recounts John’s reflection on this period of their friendship:

“Years later John confessed to having felt acutely jealous throughout that interlude: “I was scared shitless I’d lost you after our fight in science class, when you starting playing with David Jones. I really thought I’d gone too far with you that time.“

Pete Shotton, John Lennon: In My Life , 1983

Pete’s recollections establish a pattern in John’s life of acting out due to a fear of abandonment and losing those who are closest to him so it’s not surprising that once John had formed a strong bond with Paul that would stir similar fears in him.

Below I’ve categorised the groups of people that were the focus of John’s jealousy and have picked one person from each group as an example:

Family - Jim McCartney

Paul’s family was and continues to be a big part of his life. From the outset of their friendship, John was made aware of how important Jim was to Paul and vice versa. John and Paul had to skip school to hang out together because Jim wouldn’t have John in their house initially and John confessed his resentment of Jim’s influence over Paul’s life. It appears that after some time John grew tired of having to contend with Jim for the position of the most important person in Paul’s life, and this culminated in John giving Paul a pseudo ultimatum as John discussed in 1971:

“But Paul would always give in to his dad. His dad told him to get a job, he fucking dropped the group and started working on the fucking lorries, saying, "I need a steady career." We couldn't believe it… “So I told him on the phone, "Either come or you're out." So he had to make a decision between me and his dad then, and in the end he chose me”

St. Regis Hotel interview, Sept. 5, 1971

Friends - Mal Evans

Throughout the active years of the band it was typical of them to refer to each other as their best friends and, given the lives they led, I think the simple fact that no one else could understand what it was like to be a Beatle would have meant they all shared a special bond. However, they all had friendships outside of the band and this was something that could cause issues for John when it came to Paul.

According to Tune In, Mal initially became friends with Paul during the band's initial shows at the Cavern Club then, after a suggestion from George, Mal became a part of the Beatles entourage thereafter. Mal had friendships with all the Beatles, as part of their inner circle, but from his comments it appears John took umbrage with the closeness of Mal’s friendship with Paul:

“Paul would suddenly come in with this circle saying, “This is Magical Mystery Tour, will you write that bit?” And I was choked that he’d arranged it all with Mal anyway, for a kickoff, and had all this idea going”

St. Regis Hotel interview, Sept. 5, 1971

Mal also comes up when John discusses his recollections of the writing of Eleanor Rigby:

“So rather than ask me, “John, do these lyrics—” Because by that period, he didn’t want to say that – to me. Okay? So what he would say was, “Hey, you guys, finish off the lyrics,”... “ Now, I sat there with Mal Evans, a road manager who was a telephone installer, and Neil Aspinall, who was a not-completed student accountant who became our road manager. And I was insulted and hurt that he’d thrown it out in the air”...” There might be a version that they contributed, but there isn’t a line in there that they put in.“

Playboy interview, David Sheff 1980

John’s discomfort with the closeness of Paul’s relationship with Mal was something that wasn’t lost on Mal’s wife Lil:

“He was always at their beck and call. He was a nice fella to have around, so much so that it could provoke little jealousies within the band. When I met Yoko years after Mal died, she said John had told her he’d been very jealous at one point of Mal’s relationship with Paul.”

Lil Evans interview with Ray Connolly, 2005

Love interests - Linda McCartney

Throughout their friendship both John and Paul had quite a few love interests, which (to varying degrees) prompted jealousy between them.

Although John displayed jealousy of a few of Paul’s love interests this was no more apparent than with Paul’s first wife Linda McCartney, which is confirmed by both John’s words and actions regarding Linda and her partnership with Paul:

“"Then Klein informed Lennon that McCartney had secretly been increasing his stake in Northern Songs. ‘John flew into a rage,’ recalled Apple executive Peter Brown. ‘At one point I thought he was really going to hit Paul, but he managed to calm himself down.’ One unconfirmed report of this meeting had Lennon leaping towards Linda McCartney, his fists raised in her face"

Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money

"Int: When did you first meet her [Linda]? John: The first time I saw her was after that press conference to announce Apple in America. We were just going back to the airport and she was in the car with us. I didn't think she was particularly attractive, I wondered what he was bothering having her in the car for. A bit too tweedy, you know. But she sat in the car and took photographs and that was it. And the next minute she's married him."

St. Regis Hotel interview, Sept. 5, 1971

“I was reading your letter and wondering what middle aged cranky Beatle fan wrote it... "What the hell—it’s Linda! . . . Linda— if you don’t care what I say—shut up!—let Paul write—or whatever.”

"Of course, the money angle is important—to all of us—especially after all the petty shit that came from your insane family/in laws—and GOD HELP YOU OUT, PAUL—see you in two years—I reckon you’ll be out then"

Draft letter from John Lennon to Linda McCartney, circa 1971

"The presumption is a) the Beatles would get together again or are even thinking about it and b) if they got together, John and Yoko split, Paul and Linda split"

John (with Yoko) talks to John Fielding on Weekend World, 1973

"John often speculated on why Paul and Linda remained married while, at the same time, resenting their evident happiness, to the extent that he had Green do a tarot reading to ensure him that Paul and Linda were really secretly miserable and were going to divorce within a year"

According to Fred Seaman and John Green, source

Paul

Of course jealousy wasn't a one-way street in the Lennon-McCartney relationship. Unlike with John, for Paul I'm focusing more on the key people I believe his jealousy, regarding John, was directed to:

Stuart Sutcliffe

John met Stu at Art College and struck up a really close friendship with him. At the point that John met Stu, John had already become friends with Paul so Paul felt threatened when Stu entered the picture:

"When he [Stu] came into the band, around Christmas of 1959, we were a little jealous of him; it was something I didn’t deal with very well. We were always slightly jealous of John’s other friendships.

When Stuart came in, it felt as if he was taking the position away from George and me. We had to take a bit of a back seat."

Paul McCartney, Anthology 2000

"Paul was saying something about Stu’s girl – he was jealous because she was a great girl, and Stu hit him, on stage. And Stu wasn’t a violent guy at all."

John Lennon, 1967 Anthology 2000

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I’d believe him. We were awful to him sometimes. Especially Paul, always picking on him. I used to explain afterwards that we didn’t dislike him, really."

John Lennon, The Beatles Hunter Davies 1968

Yoko Ono

Of all the relationships I've already discussed, the relationship and jealousy displayed from Paul towards Yoko is probably the most widely discussed in Beatles historiography and general discourse. From the official start of Yoko's relationship with John in 1968 it was clear that Paul resented her presence in John's life and her proximity to the band:

"He even sent them [John and Yoko] a hate letter once, unsigned, typed. I brought it in with the morning mail. Paul put most of his fan mail in a big basket and let it sit for weeks, but John and Yoko opened every piece. When they got to the anonymous note, they looked puzzled, looking at each other with genuine pain in their eyes. ‘You and your Jap tart think you’re hot shit’, it said."

Francie Schwartz, Body Count 1972

"Cause she’s [Yoko] very much to do with it from John’s angle, that’s the thing, you know. And I – the thing is that I – there’s— Again, like, there’s always only two answers. One is to fight it, and fight her, and try and get The Beatles back to four people without Yoko, and sort of ask her to sit down at the board meetings. Or else, the other thing is to just realize that she’s there, you know. And he’s not gonna sort of – split with her, just for our sakes."

Paul McCartney, Let It Be Sessions, 1969

"I told John on the phone the other day that at the beginning of last year I was annoyed with him. I was jealous because of Yoko, and afraid about the break-up of a great musical partnership. It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me."

Paul McCartney, interview with Ray Connolly, 1970

What are the similarities and differences in the way jealousy manifested for John and Paul?

I think it's obvious but bears repeating that both John and Paul displayed jealousy towards other people who they felt would threaten their relationship so that's central to all the instances I have flagged, Jim, Mal, Linda, Stu, Yoko all posed real or imagined threats to John and Paul's partnership.

However, you'll note that I included more sources to display John's jealousy regarding Paul and that I categorised John's jealousy targets whereas I only pulled out two key individuals for Paul, this isn't to say that John was more jealous than Paul was, as jealousy isn't something you can quantify, but to highlight my opinion that Paul's jealousy regarding John was more targeted than John's jealousy regarding Paul. I think what stands out to me is that, I think generally Stu and Yoko are held up as the prime examples of Paul's jealousy of other people getting close to John, as far as we know, Paul never had significant issues with other people who formed close relationships with John like Pete Shotton, Cynthia Lennon, Magic Alex etc., why was that? I think that Paul was more threatened when he felt that John was replacing him so by bringing Stu into the band (even though he wasn't a musician) and Yoko into the studio (one instance where Paul was especially hurt was when John gave Paul's line in The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill to Yoko to sing), Paul perhaps felt that his place as John's primary collaborator was in jeopardy and that he could lose a partnership that had become central to his self-worth as a person - that, I believe, was when his jealousy was most likely to rise to the fore. John, on the other hand, had a much wider range of targets when it came to jealousy regarding Paul, why was John jealous of Linda? Linda wasn't trying to replace John as Paul's collaborator, if anything she wanted the Lennon-McCartney partnership to be stronger. Why was John jealous of Mal? Mal wasn't a musician, Mal was a huge fan of the band and constantly worked to fulfil their requests, so why was John so threatened by his friendship with Paul? For me, John's jealousy regarding Paul was more than just a fear of directly being replaced, I believe John's jealousy was fundamentally triggered by a fear of abandonment. I think the childhood trauma John experienced, of being left by both his parents, meant that whenever any of his close friendships and relationships were threatened, or he felt that someone close to him may leave him, he would act out. John fell out with his childhood best friend Pete when he got a girlfriend, John hit Cynthia when he saw her dancing with Stu, John was rude to several of Paul's love interests and ultimately John never fully accepted Paul's relationship with Linda because, although he could see that she could offer Paul the family life he always wanted, John didn't want Linda to take Paul away and give him a family that meant that Paul would no longer be able to prioritise John in his life as he had in the past.

Ultimately, we'll never know all the ways that jealousy factored into John and Paul's relationship with each other and those around them, as I'm sure it impacted several relationships in more complex ways than I can articulate (i.e. I suspect jealousy played a part in Paul's initial resentment of Brian but they grew closer over time so maybe Paul's jealousy lessened over time or Brian became less of a threat?). I do think it's important to consider that jealousy was present on both sides and was likely a factor in the breakdown of John and Paul's relationship, the breakdown of the Beatles and was a continued factor in disrupting reconciliations between John and Paul into the 70s and 1980.

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #john and paul #paul and linda #john and yoko #jealous guy #linda mccartney #yoko ono #stuart sutcliffe #mal evans #jim mccartney #brian epstein #long post #thoughts

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allegrosims · 2 years ago

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When feelings are heavy they become all we are.

This will get really personal now and is absolutely non-sims-related! It’s just something I need to write down somewhere... maybe it’ll help me to let go.

A couple of weeks ago, I lost my baby in the tenth week of pregnancy. It was my second miscarriage. I’ve gone through multiple rounds of IUI/IVF/ICSI to get to that point because a mother is the only thing I really want to be in life, and honestly if I can’t achieve that, I don’t want this life.

It was a missed abortion. Maybe the cruelest way of pregnancy loss because you don’t know that the baby you’re carrying inside of you, the baby you want more than anything in the world and that you love and adore with all your heart, is actually dead already... until you go to an ultrasound appointment and have the doctor say the most dreaded words there are for someone pregnant: “I’m sorry. I can’t find a heartbeat anymore.”

The whole world stood still at that moment. What followed were some very ugly weeks. It wasn’t just the most horrible thing I’ve ever experienced mentally but also physically. I’ll spare you the details. But I really did not know how to move forward. My baby died inside of me (and I didn’t even notice), and I feel like a part of me died too.

There were too many what-ifs. There still are. What if I never get pregnant again? What if I do and lose the next baby too? Can I survive it another time? I wasn‘t even sure I’d survive it this time for a while.

I was signed off work for some weeks. I actually only went back yesterday for the first time. I tried to get my will to live back. I tried to find some hope again. It was hard. Very hard. So mostly, I just tried to escape reality and push the sadness and sorrow away. And hey, that’s why I’m back here and posting again! Sims is a very effective way to escape reality. So is reading... and music.

Music is my second favorite thing in the world (my dog comes first :D). I feel very strongly and passionately about anything music-related. My favorite artist is Aurora... by far! I can’t even put into words how I feel about her and her music. Her music helped me through a lot. I listen to her on my best days and my worst days and all the days in between. Not a day had passed since I discovered her a couple of years ago that I haven’t listened to at least one Aurora song. I watched all the Interviews you can find anywhere, know every song lyric by heart, saw every performance that’s documented online - but I’ve never managed to see her perform live and in person.

It’s the second biggest lifetime wish I have. The first one, obviously, is becoming a mother. It’s probably not normal how strongly I feel about Aurora, but it’s as if everything she says and every word she sings goes through my ear and straight into my soul.

Last year, Aurora finally announced another tour after the covid break. I managed to get tickets for her only show in Germany. You can probably imagine how much I’ve looked forward to this day. But then the miscarriage happened, and I felt so horrible that I didn’t want to go anymore.

Fortunately, in the end, I still decided to go, and I finally saw her last night. I saw Aurora live. She was only a couple of meters away from me. It was insane! I’m still so mind-blown and can’t believe it really happened! It was better than anything I could have imagined. When she entered the stage, I started to sob, and I couldn’t freaking stop! It should have been embarrassing in a crowd of thousands of strangers, but it wasn’t because I wasn’t the only one. She entered the stage, and before she even began to sing, she started to heal us with her sole presence. I might be biased, but I don’t think any other artist has that power!

Ninety minutes passed like seconds, and I forgot everything around me. I hadn’t felt anything even close to happiness for weeks, but right then and there, all I felt was pure bliss. The whole audience was in an ecstasy of love. We screamed. We sang. We danced. It’s indescribable.

I finally feel alive again! In not even two hours, Aurora managed something no doctor, no friend, no family member, not even my therapist and especially not I were able to achieve in weeks. She filled me with new energy, and I’m so, so grateful to be alive again! It’s such a blessing to be alive at the same time as Aurora!

I know that it was “just” a concert and that Aurora is “just” a human. But she’s so much more to me, and last night meant so much more to me. It was so cathartic just to cry, scream, dance, and laugh. I’m still so scared of the future, but I feel strong enough again to take on whatever life throws at me next. I feel reborn.

And that, my friends, is the power of music! You can say whatever you want; after that experience last night, nothing and no one can convince me that there’s anything more powerful than music. I hope that every one of you has an Aurora in their life too or that you will soon find someone who touches you the way Aurora touches me.

And now, let me end this with another beautiful Aurora song lyric:

Don't forget who you are even though you are hurt You are caught in a wire and soon it will burst

You can cry Drinking your eyes Do you miss the sadness when it's gone? And you let the river run wild [...]

Don't forget who you are even though you're in need Like a bird in the night, your emotions deserve to be freed [...]

You can cry Drinking your eyes I don't miss the sadness when it's gone And the feeling of it makes me smile As I let the river run wild

#personal #non sims #Aurora #Aurora Aksnes

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letterboxd · 4 years ago

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In Focus: The Truman Show.

Inspired by Letterboxd data that revealed it to be a lockdown favorite, editor-at-large Dominic Corry looks at the ever-evolving importance of contemporary masterpiece The Truman Show.

It has long been apparent that The Truman Show is an unnervingly prescient film. The story of a man who becomes aware that his superficially idyllic life is, in fact, a live-streamed television show has gone from being high-concept to every-day.

Thanks to the three Ps—the prevalence of mass urban surveillance, the proliferation of reality television and the pervasiveness of video in social media—the notion of cameras filming our every move is no longer a paranoid fantasy, but real life. The twist being that, for the most part, we all willingly signed up for it, and did all the filming ourselves. As Yi Jian saliently observes in his review: “Not to get all ‘we live in a society’ on Letterboxd but I know a person or two in real life that would actually give anything to trade lives with Truman, it do be like that sometimes”. It indeed do, Yi Jian.

So it’s something of a cliché at this stage to point out how we are all living in some version of the The Truman Show, and you don’t have to be a member of the royal family to feel that way. Yet, somehow, the film has become even more pertinent over the last eighteen months. And it’s a pertinence reflected in the massive uptick in viewership for the film as seen in Letterboxd activity.

During the month of February 2020, the last moment of the Before Times, The Truman Show had a modest 1,235 diary entries. That number tripled in April of that year, by which time the seriousness of the pandemic had become clear. And by July, deep in the worst of the pandemic, Truman fervor peaked, with a further 178 percent leap over April’s numbers, firmly placing it in the top 200 films watched by our members in a year of lockdown. (By the way, ‘diary entries’ mean activity where the member has added a watched date; many thousands more also marked Truman as ‘watched’ in those dark months, but didn’t specify a date.)

It’s not difficult to imagine why we might become more interested in revisiting this eminently re-visitable film. During lockdown, social media—including Letterboxd—took on a greater presence in terms of how we communicated with each other. We got used to seeing footage of faces more than actual faces. We were all the stars of our own ‘Truman Show’, and simultaneously the audience of everyone else’s ‘Truman Show’.

Christian Torres boiled it down effectively when he wrote: “Now every movie I see seems to be related to my life in quarantine. I am Truman and I want to escape.” And Sonya Sandra eloquently captured the film’s increased contemporary significance in her review: “This is a real-life daylight horror film. The best kind. Even more relevant in 2021 than ever. We are all Truman, we all want to find what is real in our fake lives filled with media, capitalism and ideology. And it’s our job to fight the storm and get to the truth of it all. Nothing is real, everything is for profit, and everyone is selfish. Go out and find what is real, because it’s definitely not here.”

With its deft, dazzling blending of the profound and the humorous, the optimistic and the cynical, it’s difficult to think of anything released since The Truman Show that comes as close as it does to being a modern-day Frank Capra movie. It’s hopeful, but has its eyes wide open. There’s a darkness in the themes of the film that is never replicated in the colors on display.

While everyone involved delivers career-best work, we must principally credit the triumvirate of talent at the center of the film: director Peter Weir, screenwriter Andrew Niccol and star Jim Carrey.

Star Jim Carrey and director Peter Weir on the set of ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).

Weir is a director who inspires much online love whenever his name is mentioned, but he isn’t really mentioned all that often. Or at least as often as he should be. The Australian filmmaker has delivered masterpieces across multiple genres, and it’s extremely sad that he hasn’t directed a movie since 2010’s not-quite-true World War II drama The Way Back, arguably one of his lesser works. That’s also, insanely, one of only two movies he’s made since Truman, the other being Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, the wide and rabid affection for which regularly kicks up on Twitter (not to mention demand for a sequel).

Weir doesn’t do many interviews, and while this 2018 Vanity Fair article marking Truman’s twentieth anniversary has many quotes about the film’s modern relevance, Weir doesn’t offer any commentary to that effect, presumably preferring to let the work speak for itself—though in this 1998 interview he did talk about the relationship between the media, the general public and the people we become fascinated with, as a “complex situation”.

The Vanity Fair article does, however, reveal a fascinating ‘what if’ scenario relating to Christof, the god-like director of the in-movie TV show played by Ed Harris, who offers up a pile of pretentious auteur clichés: mononymous, beret, etc. (beyond the whole god thing, that is). When Dennis Hopper, originally cast in the role, wasn’t working out, Weir considered playing the role himself, which would’ve added yet another meta layer. It brings to mind how George Miller styled Immortan Joe (played by Hugh Keays-Byrne) after himself in Mad Max: Fury Road, or how Christopher Nolan’s haircut shows up in most of his films.

Ed Harris as Christof in ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).

And, at one point, it could have gone mega-meta. Weir, in the 1998 interview, talked about a “crazy idea” he had, a technical impossibility back then but easily achievable with live-streaming now. “I would have loved to have had a video camera installed in every theater the film was to be seen [in]. At one point, the projectionist would … cut to the viewers in the cinema and then back to the movie. But I thought it was best to leave that idea untested.” Imagine.

Weir also played a role in helping to shape the originally much more overtly dark screenplay into the cheerier (on the surface at least) shooting script, which is solely credited to fellow antipodean, New Zealand-born Niccol, also a producer on the film. Both men have done the majority of their work in America, but it’s tempting to credit the film’s tone-perfect sense of heightened Americana to the degree of separation offered by their foreign provenance. In any case, it’s clear that open-air mall designers were paying attention.

Niccol’s original screenplay made his name in Hollywood, and revealed a storyteller excited by big ideas. He moved into directing with the smaller-scale Gattaca, released a year prior to Truman (itself delayed to meet Carrey’s availability). Niccol’s subsequent filmography includes several legit bangers (Lord of War hive step up!), and his endearing dedication to lofty allegories in a genre setting makes him an increasingly rare breed in Hollywood.

Like Weir, he is not the greatest fan of giving interviews, but the Vanity Fair piece quotes him making an interesting point: “When you know there is a camera, there is no reality,” thereby making Truman “the only genuine reality star.”

It’s a sentiment echoed by MusicMoviesMe, who writes that “‘Truman Show’ beats all other reality shows out there like Bachelors, Survivors and Kardashians. Come on, when you know there’s a camera at your tail, there’s no reality. So yes, Truman beats all reality shows out there bar none!”

The role was perfectly suited to Jim Carrey’s affected mannerisms, and his status as one of the world’s biggest stars meant he could relate to Truman more than most people. Then, at least. Nowadays, of course, we are all Truman.

“It is always incredible to see how far The Truman Show was ahead of [its] time,” observes The Closer79. “In a world where celebs are monitored 24/7 and we are showered with unnecessary private information on the web, where talent-free wannabes become famous and where you sometimes [wonder] what kind of surreal show society you are in—Truman and his fake show life cleverly have anticipated all of this. Only Truman knew nothing of his luck and he was granted an escape from his glass prison. We don’t really have this possibility… Aren’t we all Truman? Sometimes even voluntarily…”

Austin Burke concurs: “I have always known that I really enjoyed this film, but I had no clue that it would hold up so well years later… Could this be because the strange world that he finds himself in is far more similar to our world today? Possibly, but the idea and themes are so much more relevant now compared to when this originally released.” And while DallasFrance is conscious of piling on about the film’s prescience, his review highlights how there really is no limit to the film’s meta qualities:

“Instead of writing a review about how this film predicted social media, or how we’re all Truman, or yadda yadda yadda, I’ll instead fixate on the miraculous fact that two absolute legends were cast as primary viewers of the Truman Show:

1. The old lady from The Running Man who starts betting on Ben Richards (Arnold Schwarzenegger). ‘He’s one bad motherf*cker!’

2. The villain from The Karate Kid Part II:

‘Live or die, man?!’ ‘Die!’ ‘Wrong!’ *hooooonnnkkk*

I’ve never seen either of these actors in any other roles. With the second one, I felt like I was watching a character from my childhood watch a character from his childhood come to realizations about the characters in his childhood. So actually… the movie’s really about me.”

Never change, LB membership.

We are all generally pretty aware of how ahead of its time The Truman Show was, but that doesn’t lessen its impact. Maddie’s review shows that there’s always some new angle to consider: “Imagine being an extra in this movie… You would be an extra, playing an actor, playing an extra. Think about that long enough and tell me that doesn’t make you want to walk into the ocean.”

Kev goes even further: “Watching other people watch somebody else while also watching that person while also watching the person watching over that person is a great reminder that watching is weird, and to be watched is to not own yourself. Don’t watch, don’t try to be watched. Just live.”

Or perhaps Will encapsulates the film’s ability to present an ever-evolving message best, writing that, “clearly, this is video proof that we live in a simulation.” Beyond mere prescience, The Truman Show is a telling mirror to whatever era it is viewed in. Its message will continue to evolve.

Now that we’re finally (touch wood) emerging from the pandemic, it will be fascinating to see what The Truman Show has to say about its audience and the world they live in, in years to come. Rest assured, it will be well-documented by you, the Letterboxd audience.

Also: can Peter Weir please make another movie? Like, seriously.

Related content

A Meta-Reality: Robert’s list of layers of film in life and life in film

Follow Dom on Letterboxd

#the truman show #truman #peter weir #jim carrey #andrew niccol #letterboxd #lockdown #quarantine #coronavirus #pandemic #movies #comfort films #comedy #truman show

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years ago

Text

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Twenty-three

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival @cass-nes @ireallyshouldsleeprn)

oh my God. here we are. chapter twenty-three.

what is there to say but thank you all so much for reading?

beware, this chapter’s monster sized. around 10k. also...relatively graphic birth scene.

thank you all. so much.

---

August 23 - Year of

In the end, it was not Cassian's fault she made the decision to leave.

Later, much later, she would wonder if he blamed himself and she almost wished she could tell him otherwise. Because even in those last months they spent together, he was good to her. Better than anyone else had ever been. Sweet and teasing and kind. Such kindness. Who had ever treated her this way? Who smiled like this when she walked into a room? No one had ever been happy to see her. And from the way he looked at her and the things he said, she knew he felt the same way.

So he probably didn't realize anything was amiss.

For Nesta answered every kiss with one of her own, tugged his hair right back, pinched him affectionately when he interrupted her reading.

It ran deep. More real than blood, more concrete than any vow. Late at night, in the bed that had become theirs, she told him of her deepest wish as a child, how she had done everything her little mind could think of to win her mother's praise and love and how it had destroyed her when she had died without truly giving it to her. He had far less family history to share, but he told her in turn what he could: how Rhsyand's mother had been the first person to show him any kindness, how the hero of that children's story, about the thief who stole the night, was all he wanted to be when he grew up because of how he built for himself what he was not given, even how cheap the first female he'd ever been with made him feel when she revealed she never wanted to acknowledge him in public because of his status.

Bit by bit, nightly, Cassian would bare his soul to her a little more, and she'd feel guilt as she didn't share all of herself in return. There were things she could not say.

He knew, though. Of course he did. He knew her better than anyone, saw right through every layer she had wrapped around herself. That was why he'd ask her, from time to time. A sweet kiss, a cup of tea, and a simple question: What's wrong, Nesta?

Answers varied. Nothing or headache or you're irritating me, won't you let me read in peace? or a myriad of other things.

She could not tell him because she could not admit it to herself.

Here is what she could not say: I cannot love you because I will inevitably lose and you and you're the best thing I've ever had so that will destroy me even more than everything else already has, and I know that I will lose you because you can never put me first above your duties to the Night Court and your High Lord and I will not settle for second to him.

In the end, she didn't have to. And that was not Cassian's fault either.

It was her sister who spared her the act when she knocked on the front door.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

It wasn't the pain that woke her up. It was the wetness between her legs. An odd, gooey sort of substance. What was that, Nesta wondered. Was she bleeding? With that thought, she kicked off her blanket, but with her sudden movement came a definite tug from deep inside her-oh.

It was happening.

Nesta took a deep breath and raised her nightgown. No blood, she saw, and her shoulders relaxed. Just the mucus, tinted pink slightly.

Nesta had read enough on her own and asked Amorette enough to know: this was early labor. It had just started at...fifteen past four in the morning. It could be anywhere from an hour to a few days before active labor started. Logically, she knew she could take a bath, go back to sleep, and wait till a reasonable hour to call for Amorette, but logic wasn't what spurred her. The faelight was in her hand before she realized it.

As she loosened her fingers around it, her heart rate picked up. She would be doing this alone. Her mother would not be here. Her sisters would not be here. How had she not considered that before? Why had she gone through with this? Why hadn't she terminated the pregnancy when she'd had the chance?

She forced herself to practice her breathing. There was no use in panicking now. Far too late for that, anyway.

On her twentieth slow exhale, she heard the door downstairs open and shut, followed by quick footsteps up the stairs.

"Nesta?" Amorette said from the hall, voice clear and strong despite the ungodly hour.

"In here," she called, in more of a wheeze.

Amorette was at her side almost instantly. "Are you in pain?" Her blue eyes ran up and down Nesta's body, hands going to feel her cheeks.

Nesta flushed. "No," she said. It was stupid to call her, wasn't it? "Just...my water. But no pain...yet."

Amorette drew her hands back in surprise. Then her face broke out in a wide smile. "Congratulations," she said, cheery. She draws a chair close to the bed. "Let's have a look, shall we?" Amorette folded the blanket up from Nesta's toes to her knees, so Nesta couldn't see what she was doing, which she greatly appreciated.

"So," she said, folding the blanket back down. "You probably know this, but you're in one of the first stages of early labor. You're just barely dilated."

"Do you know how long until..."

"Well, there's no real way for me to know for sure," Amorette said. "But seeing as you haven't felt any real pain yet, and this is your first birth, we probably have at least a few hours to go. You can take a shower or a bath now, then maybe do some light exercise with me. We'll take it as you feel it." Her eyes crinkled, genuine warmth spreading across her face. "Let's just do what we can to help you relax, Nesta! You're having some babies today!"

All the forgotten gods. If there were any sentence that would not help her relax.

---

August 23 - Year of

Nesta hadn't been expecting Emerie, but sometimes people from the camp came by to tell Cassian something. Of course, he hadn't been home in three days, but perhaps they didn't know. Maybe they had to drop something off or leave him a message.

So Nesta wasn't too concerned when she opened the door.

Her lungs seized in her chest when she did.

"Hi," Feyre said softly, inclining her head forward. A lock of hair slipped out from behind her ear and swayed in front of her face, caressing the corner of her lips. She was the slightest bit darkened by the sun, contrasting prettily with the brightened gold of her hair. "Can I come in?" she asked. Her voice was sweet, calm, laced with something that wasn't there when they were growing up.

But Nesta could say nothing in reply. All she could do was stare at her sister. She wasn't even trying to say anything, or grasp at her thoughts, or make sense of this. She was...dumbstruck.

"Nesta," Feyre said, concern tightening her brow as she took a step closer and reached out a hand. "Are you all right?"

It was Feyre's touch that spurred her back into herself and let her jerk backwards and say, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she replied. "Can I come in?"

Nesta only stared in disbelief. "Can you come in?"

"All right," Feyre said, smoothing her hands over her legs. "Let's get you something to drink."

And with a measured, leisurely step, Feyre backed Nesta into the house.

How did that happen?

"Some water," Feyre said, making her way to the kitchen sink.

Had she been here before? Had she...had Cassian...told her to come?

Feyre turned, bringing the glass into the living room. "Sit with me," she said.

Nesta did not sit. "What are you doing here?"

Feyre set the glass down on the table, next to Nesta's face down book. "It's been nearly a year," she said.

Since they exiled her out of Velaris. Yes, she was aware.

"I know that you're...doing better," Feyre said, and Nesta's heart stuttered. What had Cassian told her? Had he-had he shared what was theirs? "And I thought, maybe now...we could talk."

Her sister gazed up at her, earnest and patient. How regal she looked, there on the couch. Ugly, she'd always thought, with its faded blue pattern. Nesta recalled leaving her tiny apartment in Velaris back in September and wishing she could pick out furniture of her own someday.

But there were no throw pillows or rosewood bookshelves or pianos dancing in Nesta's mind today. There was really only one thing she could think of.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Feyre raised an eyebrow-Nesta didn't think she had ever swore in either of her sisters' presences before. She didn't like to, as a rule, but, well. Desperate times. Insane, radical, maniacal times.

"I'm not," she said. "But I understand-"

"You clearly do not," Nesta cut in, "if you think that there's any chance that I want to talk to you."

"Please just listen, Nesta-"

"Or what? You'll kick me out of Illyria, too? Send me off to the Hewn City, perhaps? Do I only get to live my own life if it's out of your court, is that it?"

"No, Nesta, please," she said, standing up too. "Look, I think-you needed space, all right? You know you did, and now that you're-that you've got it, now-"

"Don't you dare," Nesta said, raising a finger and making Feyre flinch. "Don't you dare take credit for any good space has done me. It's only because anything would have been better than-" Nesta bit her tongue to stop herself from finishing the sentence, but it didn’t matter.

But Feyre clearly didn't plan on leaving until she'd said her part. She blinked the hurt out of her eyes and said, "I don't care about the reasons. I'm happy you're doing better, but it's not enough. I know you still haven't taken control of your magic. Amren can help-"

Nesta laughed, cold and mirthless. So different than how she'd laughed just a few days ago with Cassian. "You are out of your mind." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "If you think I'm ever going back there, you are completely out of your mind."

Feyre sighed. Folded her arms over her chest. "Well. We still have to do something. What do you propose we do?"

Nesta's eyes narrowed. She drew herself straighter. "There isn't a we," she said, voice like ice. "You made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me when you banished me from your city of love."

"Nesta, you know that isn't true-"

"I'm going to ask you again. Can I stay here in Illyria without being further accosted by you and yours, whenever you decide it appropriate to meddle?"

Feyre clenched her jaw. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Nesta."

She didn't hesitate. "Then leave."

Both sisters stared at each other. How odd was it, to look into her own eyes in Feyre's face. Nesta still remembered the night she was born, how she had marveled at them. Little Elain had had brown eyes like their father, and she had blue-grey like their mother, and she had wondered how the baby was going to look. She thought she might have one blue and one brown, but then she had come, and secretly, Nesta had been so pleased. Another pair of eyes just like hers.

How far they had both gone.

Feyre broke away first, as Nesta knew she would. "You don't have to worry about me coming here to accost you," she said as she turned to leave.

Nesta said nothing as she opened the door and closed it behind her.

But she didn't believe her. Not for a moment.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Amorette had arranged to stay with Nesta till noon if her state did not progress at all, and if it did to then make a decision on how they should proceed. Nesta told her she'd do whatever she thought was best, but she wanted to keep her visitors to a minimum. So of course, promptly at seven, the door downstairs swung open again.

"Breakfast, Nesta!" Zeyn announced. "Oh, hello Amorette-oh! Nesta!"

Zeyn's deerlike ears shivered in excitement as he took in the view before him. While Nesta had been in the bath, Amorette had transformed the room to a midwifery. Nesta's bed had been pushed closer to the wall to make room for a massive pool, with four steps up, filled with water slightly warmer than the air in the room. A table on the far side held a number of bowls, towels, and more scary-looking supplies like scalpels. Far more terrifying than that was the small pile of pale blue blankets, hats, and pacifiers, all dotted with tiny maroon sugarberries.

"You-you're in labor?" Zeyn grinned broadly at her.

"Not quite yet," she said.

"Early stages."

"But that's wonderful! Oh, Nesta, congratulations! I'll tell Miri and-"

"Be sure to have everyone send their well wishes and drop jam by the door," Amorette said, "but I insist that the only people who have entrance to this house as soon as active labor begins are myself and my staff."

Nesta shrugged at Zeyn and shot Amorette a grateful look when he turned.

"I'll make sure there's always someone here on standby," he said. "Just in case."

"It might be as long as a few days, Zeyn," Nesta reminded him.

"I don't mind," he said. "I can wait all night."

Nesta softened. He was sweet. She'd give him that much.

"I'm right in assuming you don't want anyone else here?" Amorette asked, checking with her after Zeyn left.

"Definitely." Sugar Valley was full of welcoming people, but...Nesta wasn't one of them.

Amorette nodded, keeping her mouth firmly shut.

"What is it?" Nesta asked, wary.

"I know you don't like to talk about it," Amorette said apologetically, "but are you sure there's no family you'd like me to contact now?"

Nesta locked her jaw. "Positive."

"All right," Amorette said, nodding. "Please don't hesitate to let me know if you change your mind."

Nesta didn't answer. She had nothing to say.

---

August 24 - year of

Nesta was seated on the couch waiting for Cassian when he arrived. The glass Feyre had poured was still on the table where she had left it, next to the book Nesta had not touched.

"Hi," he said, heavy. He sat down across from her.

Across from her. Not next to her. There would be no mindless touches, no distracted kisses for this conversation.

"Did you know?" she said eventually.

He swallowed. "I knew...that she wanted to. I knew she was going to eventually. I only knew specifically when I arrived in Velaris. And I didn't know what she wanted to say."

Nesta stared at a spot on her skirt, brushing away lint that wasn't there.

"What did she say?"

Nesta ignored him. "What did you tell her about me?"

"Nothing..."

"What did you tell her about us?"

"I didn't. Nesta. I didn't."

"But she knew."

"You shine off me," he said boldly. She looked at him. "Anyone who sees me knows."

That much was true. They had made their marks on each other. Permanent and stark as the battle tattoos he had up and down his arms all over his chest.

"So you never talked about me?" she pressed.

He hesitated. "I used to. In the beginning. When we...when we first came here together."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing real. Just that you got a job. I didn't even tell her you and Emerie were friends."

She fell silent again. How much of Cassian was really hers, she wondered. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to have him all the time-he'd always go back to Velaris for Solstice and Starfall and whenever their Circle willed it. But when he was there, was he hers? Or was he a version she wouldn't recognize?

She'd never know. And it wasn't fair because-look at her. Every part of Nesta was so clearly Cassian's now. Her heart beat after his. "There are things I have to do, Nesta, you know that," he said, begging still.

"You're nearly six hundred years old," she snapped, so different from the joking manner she normally said that in. "You make your own decisions."

He winced. Didn't argue. Because he agreed with her or because he didn't? "Nesta, we both know how we feel about each other. So if we just stay here...can't that be enough?"

She met his eyes, pleading and caring. She knew that even though his soul was tied to this land and this Court, tonight his body would be hers. And he would be receiving of all she agreed to give him, now and forever.

And no. It was not enough.

Because Feyre was right. She was better now. Time and space had a certain persistent kind of magic, reliable and true. She was not broken and scared.

So in the end, it was not even Feyre that made the decision for her.

It was her own choice.

"Yes," she lied, not even regretting it. She stood and crossed the room to sit by him.

He was gentle and anticipating when he brought her face close to his and kissed her, but she could no longer marvel at how someone could know her so well and stay with her. Instead she mourned what she could no longer hide from: she was not enough for him. He was never going to choose her over this Court.

And just like that, while she kissed him back, the choice was made.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

The morning's progression was slow and almost imperceptible until seven minutes past nine, when Nesta cried out in pain for the first time.

Worse than her cycle. Worse than the practice contractions. A sharp twist starting low and getting lower, matched with movement, with one the-babies-jerking downwards.

"Nesta," Amorette said, holding both of her hands. "Look at me. Match my breathing...there you go..."

Nesta gasped and tasted salt. Was she crying? This was pathetic. It had barely started and she was already crying! "I can't do this. Amorette, you have to-"

"Shh, just breathe with me. There you go."

Breathing was easier said than done. Her lungs were being held in chokehold. Surely this wasn't right-surely this wasn't supposed to happen-

And then it faded. Nesta exhaled.

"All right," Amorette said. "That was good. You did very well, Nesta."

With her head slack against her headboard, Nesta managed to focus her eyes on the clock.

Eight minute past nine.

Less than sixty seconds of a contraction, her first real one, and she was already sweating and crying.

"I can't do this," she said again, miserable.

"Yes, you can. You already did, see?"

"I can't. Is this-is this active labor? It wasn't supposed to happen yet. I was supposed to have at least another day."

Amorette smiled warmly at her. "No one promised you that. You're fine. You're well-prepared."

Nesta's pulse quickened. Amorette didn't understand. She was not. She had no one, nothing, and she couldn't do this. She knew her limits, and hers was a very short distance from where she was now.

"Nesta," Amoretta said kindly. "Remember everything you've read. You're smart and strong and capable. Remember I'm here with you, and my team will be here soon, too. People less-equipped than you have given birth before and survived. You're going to be more than fine. I promise."

Nesta's eyes welled up with tears again. Amorette didn't understand. She couldn't understand. Nesta would not survive this. There was too much wrong with her. She was going to die in labor or right afterwards or live to fail these children that she didn't ask for.

No one understood, no one would ever understand. Nesta wasn't herself. There was a part of her that wasn't her own. There was the Cauldron, and it was inside of her and it was going to kill her one way or another. Probably the babies, too.

And she would die alone and unloved.

Amorette squeezed her hands. "Close your eyes," she said, "and let it out."

"Let what out?" Certainly not-the babies?

"Whatever you're feeling."

Nesta let out a strangled laugh. "I doubt you want that."

"I assure you, Nesta, I am familiar with birthing rituals. Let it out."

"Let what out?"

"A scream. A sob. Sing, if that's what you want. So long as it comes from inside you."

Nesta opens her eyes. "It's not very motherly of me."

Amorette smiled. "Whatever you've got, I've seen worse."

Nesta pursed her lips. Gave a small shrug, almost subconsciously. And burst into hysterical tears.

She had made up her mind, on her birthday, to put her past behind her, but today she cried for all that she had been through. For her mother's cold distance and death and her father's failures and her own and the loss of the relationships with her sisters, again, and even for Cassian.

And for the three little creatures, struggling inside her, to make their way into the world.

And for herself.

And sometimes for the pain, too, as it grew worse and more frequent as the hours went on.

It was nearly ten before Nesta calmed down, and by then Amorette's team had arrived. Two young female healers, who, Nesta had to give them credit, did not so much as blink at Nesta's sobs.

"How-how far apart are the contractions?" Nesta managed when she had calmed down.

"A little over three minutes," one of Amorette's assistants answered smoothly. "Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you," she said, taking her proffered mug. The sweet strawberry taste did her good. "Are...am I still all right for a water birth?"

"You are," she answered. "Everything's going just fine."

Nesta looked to Amorette, who smiled at her.

"Really, Nesta," she said, nodding. "All is as it should be."

Nesta wiped at her eyes. The other assistant handed her a towel. "Should I...should I get in the pool now?"

"If you'd like," Amorette said encouragingly.

"Are you going to get in with me?"

"Not just yet. Only for the births."

Nesta shivered. Births. And they were soon.

The second assistant held Nesta's hand as she helped her up and walked her in. Amorette had told her, when she had first expressed interest in a water birth, that many females liked to experience it naked. She was, obviously, not going to do that, and wore a night dress that had a tie for the skirt at her waist.

"Water's warm, right, Nesta?"

"Yes."

"We're keeping it at this temperature so the babies have an easier transition."

Transition out of her body and into the world. "All right."

"Hungry? Want anything in particular?"

"No..."

"Jam?"

"No."

"All right."

They kept talking to her like that, calm and collected, asking her if she'd like food or music or to get out of the pool or if she wanted to go over the birth procedure again. For another two hours.

And then the minutes between her contractions disappeared, along with her life as she knew it.

---

October 16 - Year of

There was nothing particularly dramatic about it. Nesta spent the next few weeks with Cassian and Emerie as she normally would, if perhaps a little quieter.

Nearly a year ago, she had decided to work to book passage on a ship to Gilameyva. That dream had altered slightly: she would book passage away from Prythian the fourth day after Cassian left her. Three days without him, and she would be gone.

It was like a deal she made with him. Tell me you can't bear to be apart from me and I'll stay.

But of course, he didn't know.

Cassian left the morning of the twelfth. "I'll see you soon, Nesta," he whispered against her lips.

"I'll miss you," she said, heart breaking a little.

He didn't come home.

Again.

And again.

But she already knew that was what would happen.

So when she left Emerie's shop that night, it was just as she always did.

And in the morning when she awoke, and emptied her bank account and made her way to the docks, bag of meager belongings in hand, it wasn't hard. It was easy. It was right. It was finally someone putting herself first. Even if it was only her. Even if no one else had.

By noon Prythian slipped below the horizon. There was no trace of her left on that island, save for a note and a pair of grey-blue eyes in someone else's face.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Nesta was hyperventilating.

Somewhere, someone was holding her hand. "Breathe," she said. "Breathe."

It all came rushing back to her. The room stilled around her. That was Amorette there, in front of her, in the pool with her. And-all the forgotten gods-it was time. It was happening.

"I can't do this!"

"Follow Lyra's breathing," Amorette said, voice smooth and calm. "There you go...Nesta, don't you see? You're already doing this...and you're doing a wonderful job..."

"No," she said, sobbing, "no, no, no no no no no-oh!"

"That's it, Nesta, just like that...you're going to do this, right? For your babies?"

Nesta gasped. Nodded once.

"Excellent. Just follow Lyra's breathing...Ama, you have the towel ready...yes...all right. Just keep breathing Nesta. Just like that. Perfect."

Nesta most certainly did not feel perfect. Her breathing was more strangled gasps. And she was being split in two.

"Something's wrong," she said.

"I promise you, Nesta," Amorette answered, patient as all goodness. "Everything is fine. You're doing wonderfully. And in just a few moments...you're going to push."

"No-no-no-"

"Shh, Nesta," Amorette said, holding her head. She smiled warmly even as Nesta sobbed. "You're doing a fantastic job. And it's almost over. You're almost done. And you're going to have your children."

"No-"

"Keep breathing for me, Nesta. I promise. Do you trust me?"

"Amorette-I can't-"

"Listen to me, Nesta," her voice only getting quieter with every octave Nesta's rose. "You have been through worse. You're going to do this. It will hurt, but in just a few minutes, you'll understand. But you have to trust me. All right?"

Nesta's breathing quickened, but she forced herself to match the young healer-Lyra's-patterns. She had made this decision herself. She had to do this. In a few minutes, she could tell the females to take away the babies and give them to someone else, someone better-and then it would be over.

But she had to do this first.

"All right," Nesta said, in between breaths.

"Good," Amorette said. "Keep that breathing pattern...keep up with Lyra...all right. Perfect. Now...push."

How Nesta's body knew exactly what to do when Amorette gave her order, she would never understand. But it did, and she pushed, even though she wanted to stop every second she was doing it.

In all her life, Nesta had never felt something like this. It was like the worst of her cramps multiplied by a thousand plus being ripped in two.

She let out a strangled cry.

"Excellent. Excellent, Nesta. Now...push."

Nesta cried out, but again, even though it killed her, she pushed. And pushed. And one last time, one last horrible, miserable, blinding time, and it was the absolute worst pain there had ever been in all the world, and she was going to die, and there was a massive influx of blood in the pool from inside of her, and there was something small and black-a baby.

Amorette caught the thing as it came out of her. Why was it...she was bringing it up slowly...the cord still attached to it-what would happen? Would it tear?

And then Amorette brought the thing up out of the water, and it screamed, and she held it before Nesta-and the black--the wings-unfolded--and it was her daughter.

The pain disappeared out of Nesta's mind. Everything disappeared. Everything was gone, stripped, nothing had ever been there at all. There was only her. And then Nesta's arms stretching out to hold her.

Nesta let out a small noise as she brought her close to her chest.

"Archeron daughter, eldest of triplets, high noon," Amorette said, somewhere far, far away. Distantly, she was doing magic, cleaning the pool.

But all Nesta knew was the soft pink skin of her little girl. Tiny fingers...on both hands...and a small nose...and eyes she could barely open...and black wings...and a shock of dark hair...and just-the most-perfect-thing-

Nesta was not giving her to anyone else, ever. She would be-she would do everything, she would split the seas and take down the moon. She would do everything.

"I swear it, Avery," she whispered to her.

"Avery Archeron," Amorette said. "All right, Nesta, dear."

Nesta looked up at the hand on her shoulder.

"There, there...a handkerchief, Lyra...yes...didn't I tell you? You see? Now...we're going to give her to Lyra-she's going to be right over there, see? And you're going to deliver her placenta...and then we're going to do this again. All right?"

"Yes," Nesta said firmly, even as she shook. She could do this. And she would. For her...for her sons.

It was utter rubbish that she had to deliver a placenta in between babies, but no matter. She vowed to do everything and that vow would start now.

Later Nesta would not be able to recall if that part of labor had caused any pain. She assumed it had, but all she could remember was bliss and anxiety and love as she looked over at Avery-Avery! A real person with a nose and shoulders and eyelashes! To say nothing of everything inside of her body and mind!-and impatience as she waited for Amorette to finally let her push...for her son.

The pain was not nearly so bad the second time around. Nesta took care to clamp her mouth shut-she didn't want to scare Avery with any screams. And besides, what was pain to this? To the girl over there, wrapped up in a blanket, opening her eyes to her first day on the planet?

The sooner Nesta could finish this, the sooner she would enjoy it with her.

For the second time-finally-like someone pulled a plug out of Nesta and blood came pouring out into the pool...and then her son.

It took everything in her not to rip him right out of Amorette's arms, and it was only not to disturb the other boy still relying on her that she did not.

It was just like last time. Amorette raised him out of the water. Black wings cocooning him into the ball she pushed him out as unfolded to reveal...her son.

She was not prepared. It didn't even matter that it happened with Avery mere moments ago. It was happening again. It hit her, again. And she realized it would be that way when she saw the other boy, too, which only further spurred her tears.

And then she was holding him. He did a better job of opening his eyes than his older sister-Avery was an older sister! He was a younger brother! And soon he would be an older one, too!-and his eyes were hers. The same eyes...her own. Right there, in his perfect face.

Surely it couldn't be. Surely...but this must be it. She had been through hell and back, and for this. She had to pay to experience this, and she had, and now, he was hers. She had him. His little eyes...her eyes...but his. And the way his lashes flutter up at her as he cried-the same way Cassian's lashes did.

And she knew his name. The little boy who would want for nothing. Nicholas. Any night stealing for this one would be purely recreational.

"Hello, Nicholas," she whispered.

Was this her life now? This-this joy? Forever? Every single day of forever? It couldn't be. There had to be some sort of catch. Surely no one got a life like this.

"Nicholas Archeron, second of triplets, eight minutes after noon," Amorette said. "All right, Nesta. You see how wonderfully you're doing?"

Well, she must be. If she had gotten Avery first and now Nicholas.

"So you're going to give little Nicholas over to Lyra...and she's going to take good care of him right next to Avery...and we're going to do this, Nesta. Your third baby. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." She didn't know it, but she had been born ready for this.

"All right. Kiss goodbye to Nicholas...here we go, Nesta. Placenta and then your third baby."

Once again, Nesta was extremely irritated with the function of her body. Who the hell cared about this part? Her babies were over there on that table. And she wanted her third.

Finally, like an angel singing out from the heavens, Amorette said, "Now...push."

It was different this time. Sharper. But Nesta didn't care. All the pain in the world couldn't stop her from this. She was addicted to that feeling, and she was going to have it once more. She was going to see him, hold him, once more...now!

Even more blood this time, but she figured that was to be expected. Because everything would come out now, right? Perhaps the placenta had come out with him this time-and she wouldn't even have to wait, she could just get out of the tub and be with them.

Amorette caught him through all the gore...brought him up...broke him out from under the surface of the tub...and handed him to Ama.

And stepped out.

Nesta blinked.

"Scalpel, now. Lyra, stay with them, we're all right."

"Amorette?" she said, not understanding. What was...what was...why did she take him? "Amorette, you didn't let me hold him."

But Amorette didn't answer. No one spoke. Even her babies had stopped crying.

Then it hit her.

Her son had not cried.

"No," she said, desperate. "No--no--no--"

Had she really thought the pain of labor was worth crying about? Had that been her, mere minutes ago?

This couldn't be happening.

Couldn't.

A horrible thought occurred to her-was this the price she had to pay? To have two perfect babies, did she have to lose this one?

"No, no, no, no no no no please please--"

Who was she begging?

"Please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE--"

"Nesta--please--"

Avery and Nicholas cried as she shrieked. Could they feel it? Could they feel what was happening-to their brother?

She would do anything. She would--could she die instead? Surely, this Mother they all worshipped, surely She would let--was she not a mother? Did she not understand? She would do it, she would die a thousand deaths, a million, if someone would just let her--

And just as Nesta drew breath to scream-scream louder than she ever had before--there it was.

A third cry.

Tinny. Weak. Gasping.

But it was there.

"You see, it's all right," Lyra whispered in her ear.

"Here we go, here we go, here he is," Amorette said, bringing him to her. Too slow--far too slow--

But then he was there, small--so small, and weak, and a wing that did not look like the others', but alive, and right there in her arms--and--and--

"You're strong, Ollie," she said to him, as she met his eyes for the first time. "I promise. I promise you, you are. You're so strong."

"Ollie Archeron," Amorette said. "Third of triplets, thirteen after noon."

"Ollison," Nesta sobbed. "His name is Ollison Bailey."

For the strength her father had shown at the end of his life--for human strength. The most enduring kind.

And now it was her turn. She would do it. She would be strong, for all of them, forever.

"We had to cut the umbilical cord a little early with him," Amorette said gently, running a hand over Nesta's ducked head, "so Lyra has to take him now...you're just going to deliver the placenta-"

"Please, please, can't I-"

"It's a few minutes, Nesta, I swear to you, and then you have the rest of your lives together. All right? Can you give me these few minutes?"

Nesta took a deep breath. "Yes," she said. She squeezed Ollie close to her as she kissed his forehead and gave him to Lyra.

This one was the worst. They were all there, on the table, small and in need of their mother, and there wasn't even a good reason for her to still be in this pool.

"Oh, Nesta, cheer up!" Amorette laughed, right in the middle of the afterbirth. "You're almost done, just a minute longer...and then you'll be on the bed and holding the babies! And I promise you, Nesta, they're fine."

Finally, finally, finally, she could climb out.

Except she couldn't, because she could not bear her own weight out of water.

"Amorette-"

"Hush, dear, give your body a minute. Here...we'll bring them around..."

And they did. Each healer holding one, presenting them to her. Nesta couldn't decide what to look at, her eyes just darting wildly around. There were Avery's ears and Nicky's fingers-he closed them around hers!-and Ollie-Ollie-

"I promise you, Nesta, if I saw reason to take him to the hospital, I would have immediately," Amorette said gently. "He's fine. He's going to be fine."

Nesta nodded, but she said, "I don't believe you."

Amorette laughed. "Well. That's your job."

After a few more minutes, Nesta gained enough power in her legs to climb out of the pool and collapse on her bed.

The healers sat with her.

"Did you want to breastfeed?" Ama asked her.

Nesta looked at Amorette. She had initially told her to bring the stuff for the bottle. "Can I try?"

Amorette grinned. "Of course you can."

Hands shaking, Nesta brought little Avery closer to her. Ama and Lyra suddenly found the boys very fascinating as Amorette helped her take her top off.

The sensation was...not magical.

"All right," Amorette said. "You'll both get the hang of it eventually...or not. It's really all right, Nesta. You can try with the boys later or decide not to."

"I want to try."

"All right. We'll keep trying. But we can stop whenever you'd like."

Nesta nodded. Perhaps she would stop. Or...perhaps Avery would never like nursing this way. It didn't matter.

A laugh escaped Nesta as she realized it-it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing except for these three. Avery, Nicky, and Ollie. She would feed them one way or another. Whichever way they liked best.

And as the the beautiful sunshine of the year's longest and most perfect day faded out her window and moonlight spilled in...as neighbor after neighbor and new friend after new friend came to visit Sugar Valley's newest residents...Nesta knew what she had to do to protect them.

They had not answered her letters. They had rejected her.

That was fine.

But she would not let anyone--anyone--reject her children.

And the only way to ensure that was to ensure that they never knew them at all.

So Nesta did the only thing she knew was right: she reached to grasp onto her magic, deep inside of her...and after a day of pushing, pulled. Right over her head. To cover her like a shield.

There. No one would find her now.

And if no one could find her...no one could hurt them,

And that was all that would ever matter again.

---

October 18 - Year of

Once, Cassian had come home and Nesta had not been there and his heart had fallen right out of the sky. Now it was normal, even comforting. Nesta was not at home because she was at work where she was enjoying the day with her friend.

So he didn't think anything was amiss when he arrived and knew she wasn't there. Almost didn't notice that her scent was too faint to have marked her presence there that morning.

Almost.

But he was just a little too tuned to Nesta's being to miss something like that.

"Nesta," he called, even though he knew there was no point. No books in the living room, no dishes on the sink. No cardigan strewn around. And when he opened the door to their room, the bed was cold and untouched.

Save for the the letter on his side, with his name written on it in beautiful script.

His hands shook as he reached for it. Had anyone ever written his name with such care? He doubted it. But she had, he knew. He knew.

Cassian, she wrote,

I've gone. I won't come back. Leave me be.

I'm sorry.

Cassian flipped it over. Nothing.

She didn't even sign it.

That was all he could think as his soul folded in on itself.

She didn't even sign it.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Elain knew her disinterest in learning about her power irritated Amren, but she didn't mind. It didn't bother her that Feyre was disappointed in her, either, so why should this?

She knew they thought it was a waste of her potential. She just didn't care. Trying to See...it felt unnatural. Invasive. She didn't like it. It made her feel like some of the old women on the edge of human towns like the one she had lived in, practicing all manner of dark, forbidden things.

Azriel had cautiously tried to bring it up. He told her how his shadows had frightened him, at first, but with patience and time, he had learned to wield them however he wanted.

And that was lovely for Azriel. Really. She was happy for him, proud of what he had overcome. But this...didn't appeal to her in the least. It didn't even matter to her.

Until the Summer Solstice, when she awoke in a guest bed in the Summer Court, a scream in her mouth and cold sweat on her face.

Feyre and Rhys burst in her room--Az was there, Cassian, someone was running down the halls, but she couldn't see-she couldn't See.

"What is it?"

"She's crying. Feyre, is she--"

"Elain, dear, let me see. Are you bleeding?"

"What is it? Who screamed?"

"Did someone break in? Why is Lady Elain...I'll get some tea."

"Elain, look at me. What's wrong?"

"Which way did they go?"

"No one saw anything. There wasn't anyone here."

"Elain," Feyre whispered to her again, squeezing her tightly. "Elain, what is it?"

"Everyone out," Rhys ordered.

"It's-gone," she sobbed. For even though she had not used it, it had always been there. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Through her tears, she saw Feyre and Rhys exchange bewildered looks. Azriel sat down next to her, covering her shoulders with something soft and blue.

"What's gone, Elain?" Azriel asked her quietly. "Is it Lucien?"

"No," she sobbed, in between gasping breaths. "It's--it's--Feyre--she's--gone."

Across the room, she could feel Cassian tense. He understood, even if no one else did.

"What?" Rhys asked him.

Cassian's voice was low, blank. "It's Nesta. She can't See her anymore."

Feyre dropped in front of her, squeezing her knees. "Elain. Look at me. Please. What do you mean? What did you See?"

"Where was the last place you Saw her?"

"Was she-"

"Enough," Azriel said, calm and cold, as he always sounded when he talked to anyone but her. "Let her catch her breath."

He sat next to her, hand firmly on her back. Someone handed her a cup of tea. After a few minutes, she calmed down enough to drink it. Shortly after that, she managed to speak.

"I never...really Saw her. I wasn't looking--you all know I don't like to." Elain paused to take a shaky breath. Azriel's fingers moved up and down on her back. "But I always...felt her. And now. Just now. She's--gone."

This time, when Elain sobbed, there was no accompanying concerned chatter. It was her alone.

And that's how it always would be. Because her sister...

"Elain," someone said at her side. Not Feyre. Not Az. "Elain, look at me."

Elain picked her head up and looked into Cassian's eyes, reflecting the same pain she felt.

"We're going to find her," he said, voice low like it was before but decidedly un-blank. "I promise you."

She could only cry in response. Because how could they find her? Her sister's being cut off from her sight like this could only mean one thing.

But Nesta would do anything-had done everything for her. So this, surely, was the least she could do in return was...everything.

"All right," Elain said, swallowing her cries. "We'll find her." She clenched her fists tightly.

I swear to you, Nesta, she vowed silently. I will do everything I can.

---

4 years after - February 21

Not two hours after Zeyn brings the children back, they are in Velaris.

They're thrilled to be back. There's a celebratory meal at Feyre's riverfront mansion. Pictures of her children now decorate the walls more than anything. They are gazed at, passed around, adored. Nesta can hardly blame them. Still, she doesn't have to enjoy it.

Cassian is at her side through all of it. And he holds her hand on the way down to the carriage. Right there, in front of everyone. He had never done that before. She catches a look he exchanges with Rhys, but she can't tell what it means.

As usual, he offers to bathe the children while she unwinds, but she chooses to join him. Is this not the point of this...endeavor? Co-parenting together?

"I want the blue bubbles!"

"I want green!"

"It's my turn!"

"Then I want my own baths!"

Nesta blinks. Can it really be time for their own baths? Are they...going to be bathing themselves soon? That can't be. She remembers the day they were born still, like yesterday.

But...somehow, they are nearly four.

Four...children learn the alphabet at that age. Will they be...reading soon?

It's all she can think of while Cassian tells them the bedtime story they choose. When had he learned them all? Just by watching her?

"Goodnight, ladybug," she whispers to Avery.

Across the room, Cassian says to Ollie, "Good night, little lieutenant."

Her heart leaps as she kisses Nicky and Ollie both. He has nicknames for them. They have a relationship with him. Each of them individually. And from each sleepy Goodnight, Appa, she hears...it only confirms it: these children know they have a father and they know who he is and what he is to them.

He takes her hand again as they shut the door behind them. She wonders if he's going to lead her to the bedroom. It wouldn't be the first time Cassian has mistaken her intentions for the evening.

Not that she--well. She's tired. Tonight. But--she doesn't know.

He takes her downstairs, instead. To the living room.

Considerably more decorated than it had been when she had first arrived for Solstice three months ago, but not quite a home yet. Getting there, certainly.

"Let's talk, Nesta," he says, pulling her next to him.

Nesta takes a deep breath. "Let's," she agrees.

"Who first?"

"I'll go," she says, because she's still too scared to hear what he has to say. "What...you want to know why I kept them from you?"

"I want to know why you hid yourself from me."

Semantics, she thinks, but no matter. They're adults. They're capable of having this conversation.

She takes another deep breath. "You didn't write back. You rejected me." Her voice catches slightly, but she powers on. "I didn't know if you were going to do the same to them. And I couldn't let...couldn't let the happen to them. So I hid us. To keep us safe...from losing you." She had started off strong, but she ends in a whisper, eyes sinking down to her skirt. It is a while before she looks back up to see him staring at her.

They don't say anything, and she isn't sure how much time has passed before he breaks away, standing up and turning around.

He runs his fingers through his hair, but the gesture isn't slick or arrogant: he's frustrated. Angry. He fists his hands in front of him and kicks at the ground.

"Dammit," he says, the word half a growl under his breath. "Dammit, Nesta."

He turns around to face her again. Still, she does not change her cool expression. She doesn't care if he was worked up. She isn't. She has worked hard to move past her anger, her hurt. Built up her indifference like a carefully constructed barricade, after he had destroyed the first one she had spent her whole life crafting painstakingly, nearly five years ago. She cannot let herself feel that again...even though she knows she has to. Knows it's coming.

She doesn't know what she expects him to say. Probably something like I'm sorry or What will it take or It's just not fair, I didn't know, Why can't I, Why won't you, but he doesn't. He surprises her.

"If you honestly thought you could tell me to my face you were pregnant, and that I wouldn't immediately drop everything and take care of you, I failed...miserably in loving you. I did a horrible job."

She tries not to let anything through, on either side: she does not want to let herself feel what his words mean and she certainly does not want him to see the impact upon her. But she can feel her apathy slip from her face as her heart beats faster and blood rises to her cheeks.

He has never told her... he has never said...

"And you'll never know how much I hate myself for letting this happen, Nesta. I've become everything I hate and everything I worked against. I left you pregnant and alone." He is looking at her, but as his eyes narrow, Nesta knows he isn't seeing her. Like there's a screen separating them, like he is seeing someone else.

"I know I just..." he sighs, wringing his hands. "And you're just," he says, now waving them at her. His wings tighten and flare out.

She has never seen him so out of his element-she has never seen him out of his element, out of control, uncomfortable. Cassian acts like everywhere he stands is exactly where he's meant to be.

Except now, with her, apparently. She drops her gaze, staring at the floor. She's rarely comfortable, anywhere, but once she had been...so at peace, with him. That's gone.

"I know I keep fucking up with you," he says finally.

She looks at him. She feels the heat that had risen to her cheeks drain out and then come back in again. She still doesn't say anything. She doesn't trust herself to open her mouth.

"I let them send you to Illyria. But even before that... I promised you time. I told you we would have our time and I didn't keep that promise. I should have fought harder. And then I should have shot them down when they suggested Illyria. And then I should have stayed with you every day. I should have helped you wean yourself off drinking. And then I should I have followed you to Gilameyva. And then I should've rubbed your feet. Or your back. Or whatever it is you needed when you were pregnant. And then I should've held your hand for the births. And then woken up with you when Nicky had infections, or Ava had a fever, or Ollie with his coughing. And then I should've listened to you. And-and given you everything all the while. Everything you needed. Everything you wanted." He moves towards her, suddenly, faster than he did when he wasn't on the battlefield. He's a few feet away from her, and then he's clutching her shoulders, pulling her to her feet, closer to him.

"Nesta," he says desperately. "Say something."

She traces the lines of his face with her eyes. Her hands are clasped in front of her, so close to him now, but she does not touch him. She breaks them apart to hover her fingers over the siphon in the middle of his chest, just barely grazing the tip. He clenches his jaw and scrapes his nails against her arms.

"You..." she says, looking into his eyes. Her daughter's, her son's. The most beautiful eyes she has ever seen. The most beautiful eyes in the world, now with a glimmer of hope.

"You locked me up," she whispers. And there are tears on her face and in her voice.

His hope vanishes. "I know," he chokes out, tears in his voice, too. "I know, sweetheart."

"I didn't want to go."

"I know."

"You let them..."

"I know."

"I had nothing--I was scared--"

"I know. I know."

"And you left me."

"Yes."

And then she says it-what she's been waiting for. "Why didn't you ever write back?" She holds her breath tightly, half wishing she could take back the words, still too afraid to hear his answer.

He doesn't look away and he doesn't let her go. "Because you hurt me and I was angry and I wanted to hurt you back."

She sobs little, trying to keep it inside but failing.

She knows that. She's known all along. And it might not have mattered, might have been understandable, forgivable...were it not for the circumstances. Three tiny circumstances.

"Nesta. You'll never know. You cannot-you have been a perfect mother. The whole time. You'll never know how sorry I am."

Nesta coaches herself on her breathing. That's the best she can do right now.

"Listen," she says, after a few minutes of this. "I think we both know...we can't pretend to start over." She reaches up to touch his cheek and her angles his head closer to her hand, closing his eyes. "But we can...work with what we have."

His eyes fly open. "What do you..."

"I'm going to be splitting my time," she says, "between Sugar Valley and Velaris. We're opening a location for Sugar Books here...I'm going to be Head Archivist."

"Nesta, that's wonderful--congratulations-"

"And in the meantime...for now...I'm going to spend some time on myself...and I think you should too."

He blinks. Clenches his jaw.

He's a warrior, her Cassian. He never lets anyone see his pain.

But she can see it. She's always been able to see it.

"For now," she repeats. "I think...it would be...prudent."

"Prudent."

"It means sage."

"Yes, thank you," he says, making her laugh slightly. Even through it all, he's still making her laugh.

"I don't have a timeline," she says. There are things she wants to do. Work on her magic with Ameren--maybe repair what she had with her. Accept who she is as a female so she can help Avery do the same with herself, when that day comes. And the shop. She'll be Head Archivist. She can make it out to be whatever she wants. "I can't tell you when...but I want you in our lives. And they want you in their lives." Because the best thing for children is to have both of their parents. Not having their parents together...not if that takes away from one of them, makes them less in some way. Only if it makes them more.

He nods. "I know...this isn't your home. And I know that Sugar Valley gave you what I failed to. But...you know...you know I love you?" His voice cracks at the end.

She nods, holding back her own tears. It's not forever, she wants to say. It's just to start. And it's for them. It might change. We might change.

But she doesn't have to, because he knows. He always knows what she's thinking.

He sinks to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips: slowly, gently, trembling.

She swallows hard. "Come on," she says, tugging him up, voice firm. "Let's go to bed."

---

A few hours later

Cassian stands in the doorway of his bedroom-Nesta's bedroom? Their bedroom?

The bedroom where Nesta is sleeping, at any rate. Where he is invited to sleep, too.

He's not sure if he will yet. He knows she wants him there, but it might be too hard for him. To spend the whole night by her side, and yet...not be with her.

He'll take it day by day, he supposes. That's all he can do. That's what Nesta wants.

She's asleep. Everytime he sees her like this, he's struck by how truly young she is. He forgets, sometimes. He's nearly six hundred years old, as she always liked to say, and she's his better in every way that matters, so.

He walks down the hall to crack open the door to his children's room. Nesta caught their argument in the bathtub, too, he knows. Tonight they sleep peacefully together, but it won't be long before they want their own rooms, their own space.

He wanders back to the other room. Nesta stirs slightly as the floorboards creak under him, but she doesn't wake.

Reaching down into his pocket, he pulls out a small box and opens it.

It hadn't been a full hour, the Solstice years ago, that he dove down into the icy Sidra, cursing his own rashness. Stupid to throw it out like that. Obviously, she wasn't going to want anything to do with him then. And it was selfish of him, he knows. He knew that then, too. He didn't want her to have it, he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

And, he thinks with a rueful grin, that's still the case.

Nesta's mother's ring had not been easy to track down, but one look at an absentminded sketch of Feyre's had been all it took to keep it lodged in his mind until the day he finally held it.

He's not quite sure if it's Nesta's style or not. They've never browsed jewellery shops together. She has the necklace he gave her, sure, but she loves that because she loves anything to do with the children. Will she like this for the same reason? For her parents...and for him?

It's wrong to give it to her now. She's made herself clear and he'll listen this time. He'll give it to her...eventually. Later. When she's ready.

And maybe it won't be an engagement ring. Maybe it'll be a here's how much I love you, I'm willing to scour every human jeweler and pawnshop and the whole world until I find what you want ring. Either way, he can't give it to her now. She needs time. They both do.

No matter. After all, he's nearly six hundred years old. He knows how to wait.

And Nesta's worth waiting for.

#nessian #acotar #acotar au #nessian fic #AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#brain dead! can't tag anything!

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

Text

The first sign; Jack Kline x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well it’s been awhile since I updated my Rock angel series and for good reason too because here is where things get DARK!! As you’ll see in the taglist below I’ve started putting trigger warnings cause in this part it involves stalking, dog attacks (some people fear dogs so I wanted to be respectful). Now the next chapter after this will REALLY be insane so I hope you all buckle up cause you’re in for one hell of a ride.

Also face cast for Steve I put the gif for Joe Keery, and for the Rock Angel’s manager just look up actor James Woods (aka Hades from Hercules).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queendeakyy

@queen-paladin

@queensdivas

@wormzteef

@geek-and-proud

@starswin

@onebigfangirlworld

@dj-lowkey

@naturalswifty89

@isabella-bby

@bohemiansweede

@5sos-wdw

@labessieisallama

_______________________________________________________

Everyone thinks it won’t happen to me, that I’m immune to such evil. No one thinks they’ll ever experience such a thing but you’d sadly be lying, or in complete denial. At least everyone goes through this type of evil at one point in their lives. And for celebrities, it’s a living hell because the world will only watch with a bucket of popcorn and enjoy your pain and suffering.

The only ones you can depend on are your family. And don’t ever say they wouldn’t understand because they will. Had I not told my family about what was going on—you know what fuck it they were forced into this. But even so if they didn’t know what was going on, this part of my story would’ve ended very, very, very, very differently.

*2 months after the tribute concert*

I hadn’t slept in a week. I was exhausted with trying to put the final touches on my tribute album for Freddie. My manager James Woods was really putting the heat on me with trying to get this album up so that I could ring in the money for him. Wait first let me backup just a tick and explain some things first.

When I first transferred out of EMI and went to Hollywood Records, my manager at the time was a man known as Desmond Roberts. He was a generous, kind man who saw my potential as a female musician and like Miami, pushed me to do my best. He was a family man as well; at the time he had become a grandfather for the first time at the age of 52.

But earlier this year he had to retire because it was by law of the company that all representatives must retire by the age of 65. With that my new manager was his young and vibrant VP James Woods. James is—well let’s just say he’d make a better car salesman than a recording manager.

A man born and bred in the heart of Boston, he’s the kind of man who sees his own vision and wants other people to execute it for him. Hell he’s even been pressuring me to go more into Pop music as that is the rising fame of music now. Artists like Madonna, Gwen Stefani, rising star Christina Aguilera, and Mariah Carey. He wanted to push me to going in their direction.

But I reminded him of my original contract that I signed on between Miami and Desmond. That my image was to never, ever, ever under any circumstances be changed. Yes he even tried to make me change my stage name into the Spicy Angel (yeah that didn’t sit right with me).

To put it frank—my current manager is a stubborn, two-headed, forked-tongue, snake in the grass. Sleezy, and can make some vulgar comments either towards me or some of my roadies.

But the one step he took too far was when he hired his own nephew to be my PA (he claimed that he was trying to help out his sister). At first I was against it but with that pleading and begging persuasionistic tone of his, for some reason I ended up agreeing and his nephew Steve Harrison became my new PA.

Steve Harrison. He was the same age as Jack, had deep brown eyes, a fairly handsome face, but his crown jewel was his hair. He always bragged and fussed about his hair. Brown and fluffed up beyond anything, like cotton candy. Silky and moosed to no end. Wow and I thought I was bad when it came to doing my air before a show.

Now Steve definitely knew his way around the recording station. Made sure that every song I recorded sounded to perfection, always sought to my every need, ensured that for upcoming tours I was given updates on the schedule, and he even took my calls and wrote them down for me. He kept his work profession throughout all of 1991.

But when the summer of 92 came around, things began to change.

As I said before, I hadn’t slept a week. The Freddie Mercury tribute album was taking longer than the company expected. That’s because I wanted to make sure every song, especially the cover ones that Fred had given me legal rights to do, were perfect.

I was at the controls listening to my version of Somebody to love when the door opened behind me.

“I would’ve thought her royal highness would’ve gone home?”

“Perfectionists never stop. I learned that from the best group of men I know.” He took the empty seat next to me and presented me with a cup of coffee. I softly thanked him and went back to listening to my song.

When the last vibrato rang out on the word ‘love’, Steve sighed and said.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s shit!” I complained. “God why did he give me such responsibility to do these songs I-I-I—not I’m even worthy to do his songs. At least not without him.”

“This version is the best. Better than I’ve ever heard it been played. In fact……I think you’re better than Freddie Mercury.” I snapped my head towards him.

“Freddie Mercury was and will always be a genius. His voice is unlike any other performer’s and his style of writing will forever go down in music history as the best damn thing the world will ever know! So don’t you ever say that someone is better than him. Especially me!” I shot up from the chair, it rolled back and slammed against the wall and I turned towards the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, and breathed heavily trying to calm down.

“I—I’m sorry. I was just speaking my opinion. I—didn’t know how much you cared about him. He…..must’ve really meant something to you.” He spoke softly.

“More than you’ll ever know.” I muttered as I fingered the bracelet Fred gave me as a birthday gift. “And I’m sorry Steve I—I didn’t mean to shout. I’m……just exhausted and stressed. With your uncle—”

“Hey, I get it. Uncle James can be a real pain in the ass at times.” I turned towards him and saw him standing a few inches away from me. “Hell one time when I was 16, I had asked him if I could take his mustang for a test drive and he told me ‘kid you so much as even leave a fingerprint you’re as dead as a doornail and I don’t care if you’re my nephew’.” The two of us laughed at his uncle’s impersonation.

“And I thought I was the only one with a douche uncle.”

“Oh trust me, you think he’s demanding at work? You should see him round the holidays.” I softly laughed. That’s when I felt his finger slightly graze against the back of my palm.

My heart stopped and that’s when I noticed that he had gotten a little closer to me. Closer and closer his face came but I quickly got out of his way and said.

“Excuse me, I gotta sign off this track and ship it off by tomorrow morning.” I grabbed Steve’s chair and went straight back into my work. As I was fiddling around with the switches and buttons, I could feel that he was standing right there beside me. I tried to ignore him and focus on my work but his lingering presence grew too much.

Like a moth to the flame. Silent but fluttering around too close.

I turned to say something to him, that’s when his lips suddenly crashed with mine. My eyes widened and my body froze for a moment before my brain snapped back into reality.

I pushed him away and slapped him across the face. Standing up and my chest heaving in so many mixed emotions, but the one main emotion going out about me was anger.

“What the fuck Steve!? Why did you do that!? You know I’m happily married and have children!”

“I—I’m sorry I just…..I’ve always been a fan of yours and I just….I’m sorry. Please don’t tell my uncle. You know as well as I do what he’s like. He’ll beat me to a pulp if he finds out. Please Angel I beg of you, don’t tell him.” His eyes going fearful and tears shined at the corner of his eyes.

I wish I could say that I told him that I was going to rat him out, have him fired even but—I didn’t. He’s right I did know what it was like to have an abusive uncle. Now while my uncle never really touched my physical, he did have his temper and would throw things at me just barely missing me (that mostly happened when he was on the bottle).

“Only if you promise me you won’t do shit like that again. And never speak of this to anyone.”

“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He said as he crossed his heart with his finger. I narrowed my eyes at him and grabbed my purse.

“Take the day off tomorrow. Then come back on Monday to work. Professionally.” I emphasized the last word and he nodded and I walked out without another word.

I wish I could take it all back. That I had fired him right then and there, if I had then what would eventually come, wouldn’t have happened. Or at least not gotten to the scale that it did get to.

*3 weeks after the kiss*

I was on the Late Show with David Letterman doing a television interview about the upcoming album as well as my tour coming later in the year.

“So Rock Angel your upcoming album ‘Fly High Mercury’ is said to be unlike your previous albums is that right? It also was the one that also took you the longest to make correct?”

“Yes it is.”

“Care to explain?”

“Well as you can tell by the title this is a tribute album to Freddie Mercury.” The audience applauded. I nodded and swallowed a lump in my throat. “Some of the songs are what I’ve written but another half of them are Queen songs that Freddie himself gave me legal rights to make a cover to. In fact they were some of my favorites.”

“Now how long did it take you to make this album?” David asked me.

“Well the songs I did, took roughly a couple of months but when—Freddie passed away I took a few months off to grieve and then as you all may have seen I was a part of the tribute concert so in total almost ten months.”

“Wow ten months.” I nodded. “And you said Freddie gave you the rights to some of Queen’s songs to cover?”

“Yes.”

“How did it feel to have that kind of pressure on you?”

“I’ll be honest it was tough. How-how do you compete with someone like Freddie Mercury? His voice and musical talents were unlike anything anyone’s ever seen or will ever see most likely. And when he asked me to do some of Queen’s works, particularly the songs he himself had written, I felt like I was going up against goliath and I was David. But—Fred has his reasons for why he does what he does, and—he must’ve felt like I could help embrace his memory further by introducing a new audience to some of Queen’s work, especially their earliest songs.” The crowd applauded.

“Well said, well said. Freddie will truly be forever missed. When we come back we have Kurt Russel joining us and then after that the Rock Angel will perform one of her hit songs from her recent album Fly High Mercury which is now available in stores. The Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline everybody!” the crowd applauded and David and I shook hands with each other as his theme song played us out on the commercial break.

I went backstage to change out from my black sequin interview dress and into some regular but dressy performance clothes. A black leather jacket, a white blouse, tight jeans, and some high-heeled black boots.

“Oh angel.” I internally groaned. Speak of the devil. James Woods soon came into my dressing room without a single care in the world (he’s lucky I’ve learned to do quick changes otherwise we’d have a problem). “Now darling please remind me again why you’ve declined Donald Trump’s hotel gig? He’s offered plenty of money for your performance especially since it’s his son’s birthday that day.”

“When I went to talk to him he also made me an offer I simply had to refuse.” I shuddered. “He’s a pig and an upright asshole with no respect for anyone but himself and his precious hotel business. God help us if he ever becomes President.”

“Fine. Instead of adding to the profit we would’ve gotten from this, we’ll take it out of your next pay how bout that?” I glared at him.

“You really wanna go toe to toe with me regarding money? Go ahead. Just know I’ve got the best lawyers in all of London on my side and they’ve been good to me for 10 years. So you better pucker your lips and do some serious arse kissing to the judge because they’ve won every. Single. Case I’ve ever had to do. From false stories to paparazzi stalking.” I stared him down even though I only came up to his chest.

Even through those cold, greedy eyes of his, I saw that he was afraid.

“Ahh court cases are a waste of time and a waste of profit. Now go on out there and give them a show baby cakes.”

“Never call me baby cakes.” I trudged out of my dressing room with my red special in hand and headed back towards the stage to sing my song.

After the show ended, I was back in my hotel room in Manhattan. I had just gotten done with my shower and soon coming into the room was Jack with some late night takeout.

“Chinatown special for the Rock Angel.” I smiled and splayed myself across the bed as he came toward me with the food.

“Mmm room service and a cute delivery boy. I am one lucky girl.”

“Well then Mrs. Kline, do I get a special tip for my services?” Jack played along with a grin. I smirked and placed my hand on the back of his head and brought his lips towards mine. His hands soon came to my waist as we separated but I kissed him again. Jack hummed in surprise. “A double tip? Well then, guess I need to be the delivery boy more often.” I giggled and took my food out of the bag.

“But serious babe, thanks for getting the food.”

“Hey no problem, anything for my beautiful rock star. I know that with your schedule firing back up, you don’t have time for a normal meal like we did before.”

“Did you call your mom about the kids?”

“Yep. Kids are safe and healthy. Well Little Jack had a slight fever but he was better within a day thanks to mama’s secret chicken noodle soup. I know that thing saved my life as a kid.”

“Well then she better……” a knock was soon heard at the door. Jack and I looked at each other confused. He stood up from the bed and answered the door. I held my robe tighter around me and soon I heard the door slam shut and Jack soon came in with a bouquet of a dozen roses. “Did you order those?”

“Nope. But I’ve got a feeling who did.” He turned as he glared to the room opposite of our suite.

Well of course I told Jack about the kiss. I know what it’s like to have been cheated on so there was no way in fucking hell I was gonna keep this a secret from Jack. As you can see he has not taken it well, in fact he’s grown very angry and jealous when Steve gets mentioned.

“Let me see the card.” He tossed the bouquet down on the bed. I sent him a glare and went to pick the card out and I opened it up. And low and behold it was from Steve. Even though it didn’t have his name on it, I recognized his handwriting anywhere. He wrote.

Fabulous performance (as always). A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

Your secret admirer and #1 fan

“You should’ve fired him.”

“Oh so you’re saying this is my fault!?” I snapped.

“No that’s not what I’m saying!” Jack snapped back at me. “I just…..” he exhaled deeply trying to release his anger. “I don’t trust him anymore. Not after what he did. In fact ever since he’s kissed you he’s been sending you a lot of stuff. The flowers, your favorite German chocolates, he even gave a teddy bear to our daughter! I’m telling you something about him now is just……” I walked up to him and embraced him.

“I know love, I know. I don’t feel comfortable around him too. But—he is James’ nephew and unfortunately he wants his sister to get off his back with this favor.”

“That shouldn’t matter! If he makes you uncomfortable you should just fire him and not even worry about what that sales talker of a manager tells you.” He is right. It shouldn’t have to go on like this but unfortunately the business world isn’t on my side when it comes to choosing my PA’s, I was thankful enough to keep my touring roadies and not get some rookies or 40 year old perverts who get high or drunk.

“The likes of a woman in a men’s workforce. I wish I could Jack but I can’t. Legally anyways. Look I’m exhausted right now can we please just go to bed?”

“Alright. But we will come back to this. (Y/n) I’m only stressed about this because I don’t want to lose you. What if—”

“Hey!” I put my finger of his lips. “Don’t you dare think like that. I know celebrities are always the first to die when it comes to crazed fans. But I swear to you Jack Kline, I will not be one of those singers to die at the hands of a so called ‘fan’. I’m your lioness.”

“And no one can break you down.” We pressed our forehead together and just stayed like that for a good long moment. I then softly kissed him and went to change out of my robe into my nightdress. Jack stripped down to his boxers and we put our takeout in the mini-fridge by the bed and turned off the lights before cuddling close together.

*September 8th, 1992*

It was Kelly’s first day of 1st grade. Jack and I couldn’t believe that our little girl was on her way to 1st grade. Of course to me it was the first day of primary school but still it was a big day for her. So Jack and I were sure to be there to see her off but sadly both of us had a long day today so we couldn’t go pick her up.

I was busy prepping for my upcoming tour while Jack got backed up with the car dealership. But thankfully Jack’s cousin Jared (who was working a case at the time) volunteered to go pick Kelly up after school. Now this school was at the top with their security, only those who were approved by the Parent or Guardian could pick up the child (which was good with us).

So Jack and I made sure to list the family members down in order so we went from Kelly Kline, Misha Kline, Roger Taylor, Brian May, John Deacon, and Jared and Jensen Walker as the adults to pick Kelly Kline up from school should Jack and I not be available.

It was late in the afternoon, around 3:30ish and I was talking with my tour manager Phillipe about where each performance was gonna take place when the phone suddenly rang. One of the assistants answered it and she said.

“Hollywood Records how may I help you?” there was a pause and suddenly her voice went frantic. “Whoa, whoa, whoa wait a minute slow down. Slow down who are you wanting to talk to?” I turned to her confused. “Okay hold on I’ll get her,” she turned to me and said as she held the phone close to her breast, “Mrs. Kline someone wants to speak to you. Says his name is Jared Walker.” I immediately shot up and took the phone and said frantically.

“Jared what’s happened?”

‘I-I-I-I went to pick Kelly up like I said I would, but when I got there they had said you had already sent approval of someone else to come get her!’

My heart stopped. They say it’s every parent’s worse nightmare come true, but it’s never fully real until it happens to you.

I dropped the phone as Jared’s voice echoed through the speakers calling out my name.

“CALL THE POLICE! CALL JACK! CALL KELLY’S SCHOOL! CALL ANYONE!!” I screamed frantically.

The search for my daughter was—one of the worst things I ever had to go through. Just who in the hell would know where exactly her school was? Not only that but who got my approval to sign off for her release?

I was frantic to the bone. I kept pacing with anxiety as every fiber of my being was buzzing with all kinds of emotions. Jack and Jared tried their best to calm me down but I wasn’t going to be calm till I had my baby in my arms.

After an hour and a half grueling search, the home phone suddenly rang. I went up to the phone and answered it.

“Hello?!” there was silence at the end of it for awhile till finally his voice came up.

‘Lose your little cub?’ my eyes narrowed and now only rage filled my body.

“Where is she Steve?” I sneered.

‘Just meet me by the spot where the first action sequence of Terminator 2 was shot.’ Then the line went dead. I hung up the phone, grabbed my keys and dragged Jared by the arm towards my car and we raced down the highway.

When we arrived at Bull Creek, I told Jared to stay in the car while I handled Steve. I got out of the car and right there at the very track where the first action chase scene of the film took place at.

Just ahead of me was a blue Ferrari leaning against it was Steve Harrison. And through the windows I could see Kelly playing with her favorite doll that she took with her to school, without a care in the world.

“So glad you finally made it Angel. Didn’t think I’d expect to see you to take my advice so quick.”

“Open the door.” I sneered.

“Gee not even a thank you?” he joked.

“I don’t have time for bullocks right now Harrison! Now open your bloody car door and give me back my baby!” he went over and opened the door and once Kelly saw me, her smile on her face grew wider.

“Mummy!” she cheered as she got out and raced towards me. I immediately knelt down and picked her up in my arms.

“Oh my baby girl. Oh thank god you’re safe! Are you okay? Look at me. We were all so worried about you.” I said as I kept kissing all over her face. She groaned and tried to get me to stop.

“I’m fine mum! Mum stop it stop kissing me! Mr. Steve said you changed your mind about uncle Jared coming to pick me up.” I glared over to Steve and said.

“Honey go in mummy’s car and wait there with Uncle Jared.” I kissed her one last time and she did as I asked her to. I walked closer to Steve as he kept talking.

“Lovely reunion. See I knew you’d appreciate what I’d done. After all as your personal—” I sucker punched him hard across the face sending him down to the ground. Blood even dripped down his nose. “Wow. Wow!” he scoffed. “I-I-I-I know that girls could punch but that…..that was—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” I snapped at him.

“You should be grateful. I did you a favor. I picked up your daughter from her first day of school.” He tried to reason with me.

“You had no legal right too! You kidnapped her!”

“Kidnapped?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa wait time out!” he stood up and wiped his bloody nose. “Wow head rush. Okay hang on a minute. You were incredibly business with the tour manager so I knew you wouldn’t be able to pick her up. And of course Jack……” he sneered out Jack’s name with anger and jealousy. “He works now right? I mean about damn time too, can’t be the house husband forever right?” My glare deepened, “Anyways, so no one else was there to pick up sweet, little Kelly so I volunteered myself to pick her up. Didn’t want her staying at the school all by herself, now did we?”

“She wasn’t going to be alone we arranged for Jared to pick her up!” at that Steve’s face turned to shock as he said.

“Oh. Well—this is awkward.” Oh he was an incredible actor I’ll give him that.

“What is wrong with you Steve? What were you trying to accomplish here?” that’s when his eyes darkened and grew cold. His voice even changed to a possessive tone as he walked closer to me.

“Jack doesn’t deserve you. A farm boy like that? No you need a real man at your side. Someone who gets the business, someone who is always by your side. I know who you are (Y/n) Kline.”

He tried to grab my chin but I clenched his hand in mine and dug my nails into his skin. My hand shaking with rage as I stared him down.

“Is that what you think? You think by doing all this you actually believe I would leave Jack for you? You’re even more delusional than Jack painted you. Now I see it for myself.” I threw his hand down and backed away from him. “A wise man once said to another slime like yourself, ‘you just see what you want to see’. Next time you even touch or go near any of my kids, I swear to you there won’t be a courthouse that your uncle can bride with what I’ll charge you for.” I turned and walked back to the car and took Kelly home.

Of course I wish I could say that was the last time I ever saw Steve’s face again. But due to lack of evidence in the fact that Steve had given a false document allowing him to take Kelly, he wasn’t charged with kidnapping.

Plus his uncle got involved and swindled with his business talk saying that I was under a lot of pressure with the upcoming tour and that police action at the time of Kelly’s disappearance wasn’t necessary. He also emphasized that Kelly wasn’t harmed in anyway so it’s not like his nephew was an evil person. So the police believed James’ story and no charges were filed and Steve was a free man to do as he pleased.

Jack and I reinforced the school and even gave them Steve’s picture saying that if he ever came into the school again asking for Kelly again, they were to call the police because Steve Harrison does not have access to take Kelly out of school.

Little did I know that things were only going to get worse after that day.

*October 3rd, 1992. Jack’s POV*

It first began with the constant phone calls to the house. The phone was constantly ringing and everytime I picked it up, there was no one there. Just heavy breathing and then they’d hang up. It happened for hours on end, even at some odd hours in the night.

Soon enough I had had enough and decided to unplug all the house phones and I got me my first cellphone. If anyone in the family wanted to reach me, I told them to call by my new cellphone and that’s where I was talking to my Angel at.

‘Have the phone calls kept coming?’

“Unfortunately yes they did. But I unplugged the house phone so hopefully whoever it is gets the point and drops these crank calls and finds someone else to torment.”

‘I don’t know Jack. Maybe I should just come back and forget this tour.’

“No, no. Look, you nearly missed out the Angel-Queen tour back when we first met, I won’t let you cancel this tour either. Besides the world needs their Angel right now.” I assured her.

‘Yeah but—’

“What would he say right now?” I interrupted her. I heard her softly scoff and I knew she was smiling on the other end.

‘He’d tell me ‘Angel darling stop being so dramatic. There’s only room in this partnership for one hysterical Queen. Plus you’ll get early wrinkles’.’ We both laughed. ‘God I miss him so much. I can’t believe it’ll almost be a year come November.’

“I know. Have you talked to the guys at all since the concert?”

‘Not really. Figure I’d give them some space. They know my team’s number if they want to talk to me.’ I nodded and hummed in understandment so that she knew I was still listening.

“So you made it to Phoenix in one piece?”

‘Yeah thankfully. I’ll give you a call right after the show. Give the kids a kiss and cuddle for me.’

“Oh you know I will.” I said with a smile.

‘I love you Jack Kline; you know that right?’

“Of course I do. And I love you to the moon and back. Have a good show baby.”

‘I will. I love you.’

“I love you infinity times infinity there. Now you can’t say you love me more.” I heard her giggle. “Knock ‘em dead Angel.”

‘I will, bye.’

“Bye.” We both hung up and I deeply sighed.

“Daddy?” I looked up and there was Kelly in her nightdress holding her stuffed lion that her godfather gifted her.

“Hey baby girl, why are you awake?” I asked concerned. She walked up to me and sat down in my lap and said.

“I couldn’t sleep. Can you tell me a bedtime story? You know how like uncle Freddie used to tell me?” I stroked down her hair and said.

“Well, I’m not as extravagant or detailed as he used to make it but—I’ll do my best. C’mon I’ll make you some warm milk and tuck you back into bed, sound good?” she nodded. I picked her up, set her on the kitchen counter and prepared her some warm milk.

After that I carried her back to her bed and tucked her back under her covers and she took a sip of her milk.

“Okay so, what shall it be tonight? Do you want a story about—fairies?” she shook her head. “Unicorns?” again she shook her head. “Oh how about the story of a beautiful princess who gets saved by a knight in shining armor?”

“No daddy. Do you know the story of the lioness Queen?”

“The lioness Queen?”

“Uncle Freddie once told me a story about the lioness Queen who was raised by evil wolves but soon came on top as Queen of her own pride. He was gonna finish the story of how she would find herself a king but then—” she trailed off and I could see the tears prickling in her eyes. Oh that Freddie, of course he would tell our story like we were two lions.

“I think I know that story. Now again I may not be as good of a storyteller as Uncle Freddie was but I’ll do my best.” I sat down by her bedside and she cuddled up into her pillow, her stuffed lion in her arms. “Now let’s see……the Lioness Queen had reached the height of her reign. Everyone loved her because of her kindness and loyalty, but she was very much lonely. Sure she had the support of her new family but she still longed for someone she could love more than the family love she had from her new pride. So one day when she was out hunting, she was suddenly ambushed by the no good jackal. Now this jackal had particularly taken an interest in our brave Lioness Queen but she knew to not take any of his bullying. However he had brought his entire pack and they ganged up on the poor lioness.”

“Daddy don’t make it too scary.”

“Right, right, right I’m sorry angel. But the lioness Queen didn’t have to fear anymore. Because leaping from over the tall savannah grass was a dashing, handsome and powerful lion. He beat the jackals away and told the head jackal to leave and never bother the lioness again. Soon the jackal tucked his tail in like a frightened dog and fled the savannah and was never seen again. The lioness Queen was in debt to the young lion that saved her so she asked him if they could go to the watering hole together to talk and get to know each other more.”

I continued on to tell her mine and (Y/n)’s story of the day we met and fell in love with each other. Then about midway through the story I looked down and saw Kelly was finally back asleep. I smiled and kissed her forehead.

“Sleep tight my little lioness cub.” I walked out of her room and shut her door and walked back downstairs.

I walked towards the kitchen and I saw Sammy lying asleep on his doggie bed and Bucky asleep on his. But as soon as I came in, the two of them looked up at me.

“Hey Buck, Sammy.” Buck grunted as he sat up and came up towards me and sat down. I ruffled the top of his head. “Okay so what do you say last quick trip outside then time for you guys to get in your pin?” Sammy’s tail wagged as he immediately went towards the backdoor. I opened it up and he immediately went outside. “Alright Buck come on outside go out and go potty.”

But Bucky seemed tense. He lowly growled before racing towards the front door.

“Bucky? Buck!” Bucky went over to the front door and suddenly began barking aggressively and very loudly. “Buck! Buck shh! Quiet!” but he refused to listen to me. He kept barking and barking and barking. His fangs were out as he raced from the door to the windows. Growls came out of him and I noticed that his fur was on end.

Okay maybe it’s another dog or a raccoon or something, he tends to do that and we’re trying to break him of that habit. I grabbed his leash and when he was finally still I got it hooked to his collar and forced him towards his pin.

“Get in your pin now!” he snapped at him. I got him in his pin and as soon as I shut the door he started whimpering frantically, pacing around his pin letting out bark after bark. “Shhhh! You’re gonna wake the kids Buck now quiet!” I looked towards the front door and sighed heavily. Might as well just see just what’s out there.

I grabbed a flashlight and quickly stepped outside. I shined the light in every corner of darkness but I didn’t see a thing. No stray dog, nor a racoon, a cat not even a squirrel.

“That Buck is crazy sometimes.” It was then I noticed that our trashcan had somehow gone out to the side of the road. “I thought I brought that in when I came in this afternoon? Damn pranksters.” I left the front gate that surrounded our house and walked out to the curb to grab our trashcan and bring it back towards the side of the garage.

That’s when a loud purr of an engine roared through the quiet streets and bright headlights flashed right towards me. I heard the screeching of tires coming right towards me and without even thinking I ducked right up towards my driveway and I heard the sound of our garbage can being hit and tossed across the road.

The car’s lights soon turned off and sped off down the street. I panted heavily, my adrenaline now starting to collapse as I began to realize what could’ve happened just now.

Someone was trying to run me over and kill me. I knew that couldn’t be a mechanical problem cause why would the headlights suddenly come on and then accelerate straight towards me before driving normally down the road?

Only one person came across my mind as to who would go so far as to get rid of me. Steve.

I called up Jared and using his lawyer expertise he asked me various questions but unfortunately since I couldn’t identify the model of the car clear enough and couldn’t read the license plate in time there was no way for me to truly say it was him unless I could physically prove it.

But after that night I didn’t see Steve again, and I hoped that was the end of it. Until Halloween came around.

*Halloween night, 1992. 8:30pm*

I had just brought the kids in from our night of trick or treating. You know I’m glad we decided to allow the kids some time to know the American holidays cause I had to explain this to the guys as well as (Y/n) just what Halloween really was (since they don’t really celebrate it there in jolly old England).

I dressed the boys up as little lions while Kelly went as a witch this year. We all came in carrying our bags of candy.

“Candy!” Georgie exclaimed.

“That’s right buddy. We got candy, lots and lots of candy.” I told him as I got them out of their little red wagon.

“Daddy, daddy can we eat all the candy tonight please?” Kelly begged.

“You know your mother will kill me if she finds out I let you eat sweets before bedtime.” She whined before giving me her mother’s puppy dog face.

“Please daddy. Not even one itty bitty, teeny tiny bite?” I playfully placed my hands over her face which made her exclaim and shoo away my hand.

“You can have just one. Piece. But that’s it okay?” she cheered and quickly went through her bag and got out a blueberry flavored lollipop.

“Hey daddy? How come we can’t do trick or treating back where uncle Brian, uncle Deacy and papa Roger live?”

“Well sweetie, sometimes other countries don’t do the things we do. And sadly Halloween is just another day for them.”

“They should. Maybe next year papa Roger and I can be Star wars characters together.” I chuckled.

“I think your uncle Brian would enjoy that more than papa Roger.”

“But I wanted papa Roger and I to be Han and Princess Leia. Uncle Brian can be Chewie.”

“And uhh—who-who did you have in mind to be Luke?” I said brushing my fingers through my hair.

“Mommy! Cause she’s brave and strong just like Luke is! Georgie and Jackson can be R2.”

“And just who will uncle Deacy and I be?”

“Well uncle Deacy can be Obi-Wan and you’re C3-PO.” Wow she gives me the nagging droid.

“Oh so you think I’m a mindless philosopher ehh!? Come here you!” I quickly grabbed her and began tickling her which made her shriek and squirm. “Have me be Luke Skywalker or the tickling continues your highness!” I mimicked Darth Vader’s voice.

“Ne-nevheherererer!” she said through her laughter. I proceeded with the tickling till I heard the sound of a car engine coming down the street.

My mind suddenly went back to that night when I nearly got ran over. I set Kelly down on the floor and peeked through the curtains and could see someone standing right beside a familiar shape of a car that I knew well.

“Daddy? Is……everything okay?” I looked down at Kelly before quickly looking back towards the window.

“Kelly I need you to listen to me very carefully sweetheart. I want you to take your brothers and go to mommy and daddy’s room and hide in the closet. And no matter what happens do not come out till I come and get you, okay?”

“But why daddy? What’s going on?”

“Just!” I snapped but clenched my hand tightly and said as I knelt down to her height. “Please Kelly, do as your father tells you. Remember not a word or even let me see you till I tell you it’s safe, promise?”

“I promise.” I hugged her tightly and gave her a kiss and told her to go get her brothers and get upstairs. I glared at the door and opened it up before closing it. I walked towards the front gate and that’s when I heard his voice say.

“Well, well, well, Jack Kline I’ll be damned. Still around eh?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s me don’t cream your pants.” I sassed bluntly at him.

“Saw that you and the kiddies were doing a little trick or treating. That’s nice of you but umm…..what are you supposed to be? A new kid on the block?” I scoffed.

“What do you want Harrison?”

“What can’t a PA come up to check on his superstar?”

“I don’t know what world you live in but (Y/n) fired you last week.”

“Yeah, you see that-that-that’s…..that’s another reason why I came here. See, I personally am the best and most qualified PA that the Rock Angel could ever have. But while we were in Pittsburg, I get a notice saying that I’ve been fired. Now she never told me why so I thought who is more jealous of me and brainwashing the Rock Angel, than her own husband? So—care to explain?”

“Guess you were dropped as a child one too many times.” I walked closer to the front gate and said in Steve’s face. “She got tired of your advancements towards her. My wife isn’t like all other rock stars cause she’s been on the end of the cheating stick. And she knows to not put me or our kids through something like that.”

“Really lives up to her angel name huh?” he smart mouthed me. “Let me tell you though buddy boy. We have fucked with each other, and boy is she a freak in the sheets.” Bullshit I know he’s lying. “We’ve even fucked with each other here at your own house when you were away on business. I mean—who can say no to this?” he gestured to himself.

“You are even worse than we thought. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off Steve before I call the cops.”

“One problem with that amigo.”

“And what’s that? Amigo.” Suddenly I was grabbed by my shirt and a punch went straight through my stomach. I collapsed to the ground and the gate opened up. Steve stood over me and he sneered down.

“The cops are working for me.” I was then kicked in the ribs and I watched in horror as Steve kicked the door in and walked right on in the house.

*3rd Person POV*

As Steve entered the Kline residence, a place he had actually been inside a lot with his uncle on the meetings with (Y/n) to discuss further progress with her albums, brandings, etc. He walked up the stairs and went straight for the master bedroom where Jack and (Y/n) slept.

He looked around as he slowly walked around the bedroom before seeing the closet at the corner of his eyes. He turned towards it and walked right up to it before slowly reaching for the door. With a quick flick, the door was opened but no one was there. He then saw some of (Y/n)’s stuff like her hats and scarves.

He took a red scarf and inhaled it before pocketing it into his back pocket. That’s when he suddenly heard a thump from the corner of the room. That’s when his attention went to the wardrobe. A smirk spread across his face and as he opened it there he saw Kelly, Georgie and Jackson all huddled together.

“Hey kids, whatcha doin in here?”

“Go away! Mommy and daddy don’t like you anymore and neither do we!” Steve laughed at Kelly’s empty demand.

“Kids today. Guess I’m gonna have to teach you some manners little missy.” Suddenly he was turned around and a hard punch sent him down to the ground.

“Daddy!” Kelly cheered.

“Daddy! Daddy!” the boys repeated.

*Jack’s POV*

Like hell I was gonna just sit there and allow Steve to take whatever the hell he wants or worse find the kids. Spitting out some blood I staggered towards the house and walked up the stairs. That’s when I heard Kelly’s voice cry out.

“Mommy and daddy don’t like you anymore and neither do we!”

“Kids today. Guess I’m gonna have to teach you some manners little missy.” Like hell you will! I raced as Steve was talking and immediately grabbed him by the shoulder of his jacket, turned him around and sucker punched him across the face. My kids cried out for me while Steve staggered to stand up.

He soon began laughing before letting out a hoot. His nose bleeding from the punch I just gave him as well as his mouth.

“Looks like I underestimated you farm boy! I took you for a pushover but now I see just what that bitch sees in you! Lion King Jack she likes to call you!”

“Get. Out.” I demanded. Steve chuckled icily and said.

“And what if I don’t?” he spat blood in my face. I then let out a whistle and said two commands.

“Sick. Em.” Soon running past my right leg Sammy attacked Steve at his ankles tripping him over. Sammy maybe all sweet and innocent but when he needs to be (especially since Steve’s been around) he knows when someone needs to get bit.

Steve fell right onto his back as Sammy continued to bite and tear at his pants.

“YOU DAMN DOG!! LET GO!”

“You gonna surrender now?”

“FUCK. YOU!” I let out another whistle and soon barking in aggressively was Bucky. And being a German shepherd he was not holding back. Sammy released Steve’s leg for a moment and allowed his brother to take over.

Bucky bit Steve’s shoulder and tackled him to the ground and I knew he was biting down harder cause Steve’s screams got louder and more painful.

“Boys come!” the boys came back and stood guard of the wardrobe growling and protectively standing guard over my kids. “You wanna test me again or shall I give them a second chance at a new chew toy?”

Even with multiple dog bites, Steve managed to somehow stand up and he glared with pure hatred at me.

“I’ll—I’ll see to it……that those mutts are put down for attacking me. My uncle will hear about this! And I’ll be sure that you’re put away for a long, long time. I know you guys have no cameras in or outside of this house, so no cameras, no proof.” His sick twisting smirk widened across his face.

He staggered out of the bedroom but I heard the sound of him collapsing down to the ground. The dogs immediately went towards him but I didn’t hear any snarling or growling, instead I heard happy whimpering.

“Stay here kids.” I told them as I quickly I came out and I was shocked to see standing before Steve with a baseball bat in her hand was my wife, (Y/n). She panted softly as she dropped the bat and then took out one of our large kitchen knives.

Bucky and Sammy stood guard of the stairs to ensure that Steve didn’t even try to escape and that’s when (Y/n) sneered down at Steve.

“From now on you are no never come near me or my family again. I don’t care what kind of connections you have; we’ve got enough evidence with you in this house without consent and a struggle going on in my very bedroom.”

“Screw you…….bitch.” Steve murmured. Then I witnessed with my own eyes as my wife took that large 7in knife and slam it right down to the floor, very close to Steve’s dick. Any further up and she would’ve removed his very identity as a man.

“SAY YOU UNDERSTAND! Say it. SAY IT!!!” She roared down at him.

“I understand.” He muttered quietly.

“You what?!”

“I understand.” He said a bit louder. Her eyes steaming with hatred and fierce mother instincts stared Steve down as she removed the knife and she looked up to me and simply told me. “Call the police.”

Within minutes the police arrived and Steve was finally arrested. The police took our testimonies and a trial date was set for the 1st of December.

Now as I’m sure my wife as explained I wish we could say that was the last time we’d ever see Steve Harrison in our lives but we underestimated just how fucked up the legal system was here in California.

Thanks to his smooth, fast talking Uncle in trying to bride the judges and the jury, Steve didn’t serve any jail time. Only that he would have a restraining order set against him. By law he wasn’t to get anywhere within 50ft of (Y/n) or our family.

Steve Harrison was once again a free man.

By the start of 1993, my wife was once again trying to contact the judge, police, and any other law enforcement about taking Steve’s advances seriously. But all the same they kept turning her down saying there’s nothing else they can do.

That the restraining order will protect her, and if Steve does violate that then and only then could they talk serious jail time for him.

“Well then I want you guys to do one thing for me, the next time you bastards come to this house will be when my body is dead on the ground with a message in blood saying I told you so!” she hung up the phone and sobbed into her hands.

I slowly walked towards her and hesitantly sat down beside her. God I hate seeing her like this, she’s been worrying herself sick over this while still going on with the tour which will resume after this week.

“I—I don’t know what else to do Jack. I……” I refused to allow her to speak again. I embraced her as tightly as I could and she wept hysterically into my arms. Bucky and Sammy whimpering at our feet with Sammy licking her feet and Bucky nuzzling his head into her lap.

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onlytaylor · 4 years ago

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Drarry + Facing Demons and Finding Family

Tw: mentions of symptoms of depression, anxiety, ptsd, and child abuse. All are resolved with a happy ending.

Draco Malfoy walks the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, and it’s different now. The way it had bustled with a vibrant vivacity in his younger years is long gone now, replaced by the mediocrities that come with running errands and making stops for work. It had been repaired, for the most part, after the war, but something about the shadows of buildings that used to be constructed just a little bit different haunts Malfoy in his steps.

He turns to glance over his shoulder when the sound of a child laughing fills the spaces between bustling bodies and adult feet. A familiar tuft of blue hair comes dashing forward, and Draco feels a momentary reprieve from his own hollow dissonance. His face lights up as the boy throws his arms around his neck, crying “Cousin Draco! What are you doing here?”

And behind the vivacious grin is the humble one of Harry Potter, the boy who really did end up saving the world. Draco doesn’t hate him; how could he? If it weren’t for the testimony of the man standing there now casually in his Muggle plaid shirt and ripped-up jeans, Draco wouldn’t be walking these streets.

“Malfoy,” he puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth a bit on his feet. “What sort of business are you up to these days?”

“Oh, just... dropping off a package for the boss. You know.” He shrugs, suddenly vacant. His momentary reprieve shrinks into a daunting reality.

“Wanna come get ice cream with us?” Teddy’s toothy grin eats at the edges of his impending monotony.

“Oh, well, I wasn’t-“ he starts, but Harry Potter has stepped his foot forward.

“No, please. If you’re not too busy, we’d love to catch up. Teddy misses you.” And, allowing the package to feel a bit lighter in his coat pocket, Draco turns on one heel and heads to the parlor with them both.

***

Having Teddy Lupin run through his life is like chasing a tiny piece of dynamite. You never know just when it will explode, and when you’ve got it in your fingers it seems to roll invariably to the floor. Draco’s been waiting now for quite some time for his own destruction, but his regularly timed meetings with Harry (wow- really on a first name basis now) and his cousin had brightened his steps countably.

It seemed that the sparking fire may just never come.

***

Draco Malfoy doesn’t visit Malfoy manor, and its empty rooms are surely hung with cob webs and dust mites and other small creatures that have made it home. The stone exterior is beginning to succumb to a green vine that twists its way up the foundation, and apparently small children dare each other to knock on the door of the “Death Eater House.”

Draco doesn’t have to visit Malfoy Manor to know which ghosts roam its halls, apparitions of tortured souls and the results of his own mistakes. If only he’d stood up to his father. If only he’d run. If only...

Draco swallows, once, then twice, before straightening his stare ahead. Harry’s coming over soon, and this time Teddy is at the Burrow. They’ve never hung out like this, quite alone and unsupervised by Teddy’s string of home-made knock knock jokes. He’s not sure why, but he’s nervous.

***

After the war, Draco had considered himself a work-in-progress. He’d ventured through the stages of grief, mourning his losses and wishing he could change the past. He’d also picked himself up off of the floor, vowing to start new. None of this was easy. Panic followed him around every corner, but around every corner was the reassuring laugh of Teddy; smile of Harry. If he’s honest with himself, he’ll admit their great assistance in his own healing.

But that doesn’t stop the nightmares. Or the constant feeling of dread. And when Draco Malfoy is alone, his guilt consumes him. Why hadn’t he done the right thing? Why hadn’t he stood up to his father?

***

When Draco was eight, he’d drawn a portrait of his family. It was an assignment by his private tutor, a sort of busy-work while she prepared more practice for magical theory. He’d drawn them, stoic and cold, using shades of gray and black to fill in the spaces between them. They didn’t touch, didn’t love. Lucius told him that artists didn’t make any money in the Wizarding World. Draco ripped up the drawing and threw it in the rubbish bin.

***

When Draco’s lease on his London apartment is near its end, Harry finds him with a nervous twitch of his lips.

“You know, Draco, you don’t have to move into another building. I know you hate your neighbors because they remind you of your family. Our flat is large enough for a third member.”

Draco had almost immediately rejected- his first instinct was to scoff at any such attempts at pity. But Teddy’s eyes had met his, bright and foretelling- and his pleas almost melted Draco’s shoes to the asphalt.

“If you really want me to,” Draco smiles, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

***

Draco hadn’t realized that his ghosts would follow him here. But as he watches the shadows dance upon the walls of his very own room, he knows he’s not dreaming. It’s his father, reminding him that he will never be good enough.

It’s his mother, watching with irrefutable silence.

It’s himself, pointing a wand at Dumbledore. Leaving with Snape. And abandoning his dreams to follow in his father’s foot steps.

It’s a portrait of Draco’s family, stone cold and frozen against the frosted window pane.

He doesn’t realize he’s screaming.

Not until the door is thrown open, and Harry’s there, sporting nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a concerned purse of his lips.

He’s on the bed, and now Draco is crying. Yelling. Laughing hysterically. Because he’s fucking insane, sitting in a bed half-naked with Harry Potter and telling himself to shut his fucking mouth before Teddy wakes up.

But Harry is gentle. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and whispers “I know. But it’s not true. None of it is real.”

And Draco sobs, without really knowing how to stop, and Harry’s skin is warm against his own. It’s the first time he’s ever really felt whole.

Hours pass, though the clock reads otherwise. And Draco tells him that he needs to go back to bed. That they’ve both got work in the morning, and Teddy is visiting Andromeda...

But, no, Harry whispers, this is more important. You are more important. When had their relationship morphed into this... whatever this is?

Draco Malfoy allows himself to be held, and it is surprisingly wonderful.

***

Working for the ministry is like working in one of those Muggle cubicles. He should be grateful for the opportunity, but Draco hates his job. His boss is monstrous, a poised figure that reminds him far too much of his father.

He gets a bit panicky when requests are made, unable to say no. Draco Malfoy never thought he’d become a push over, but his inherent desire to please, to win, to have a second chance is tumultuous.

He doesn’t know how to live without it.

***

Teddy is spending the night at the Burrow, and Draco and Harry are doing their usual dance of washing and putting away the dishes.

“Fancy a movie?” Harry asks, and something soft flutters in Draco’s chest.

“Sure.”

***

It’s midnight when Draco feels the gentle presence of Harry slumped against his shoulder, his quiet snores a rhythm that he begins to memorize.

He doesn’t move, and the stillness is what allows him to feel the sporadic twitches that begin to ripple through Harry’s body.

“No, no,” he murmurs, “Please, no. Hermione... Cruciatus...”

Draco freezes, and he immediately understands the inner workings of Harry’s psyche.

He was there when his aunt Bella inflicted near irreparable damage to Hermione Granger. He didn’t stand up. He didn’t stop her.

There’s a tightness in his chest, and it fluctuates with his heart rate. Harry is having a nightmare, and it’s all his fault.

“You’ll never make up for what you’ve done,” he hears his father say, and the words are a gun to his head.

“Harry,” he whispers, desperately running his fingers along the side of his arm to calm him. If he couldn’t go back, the least he could do is aid his sleep.

Harry settles, and Draco breathes a sigh of relief. His father is laughing at him.

Ghostly shadows dance along the walls, flickering in the dim light of the TV. The world seems to grow around him, and he is infintismal.

His palms are sweaty as the guilt settles, rotting a hole in his stomach. And then there’s a whisper, a subtle word that shifts everything: “Draco.”

He glances at Harry’s face twice to make sure he’s not imagining the slight tug at the corner of his mouth. He said Draco’s name. And, from the depths of his slumber, he’s smiling.

Draco’s eyes are prickly, and he’s not sure why there are tears surfacing at such an inopportune moment. Perhaps he’s gone completely insane... or maybe...

“Not your father, Draco... amazing... need you... love you...”

A light seems to dissipate the shadows, which morph and expand into unidentifiable shapes before they slowly vanish. Draco’s hands are still clammy, but his mind is on overdrive.

The Savior of the Wizarding World is dreaming about him. Believes in him. Maybe, even...loves him?

And the remaining shadows come crashing down, spirits that find rest in redemption. If Harry Potter, with his stupid scar, and his stupid broomstick, could think highly of Draco Malfoy, the ex-death eater... maybe he could forgive himself.

Maybe... and then there are images flashing through his mind. Of stone family drawings and cruel and unjust punishment.

Of the desire to please, so much, that if his father pointed a wand at his throat he’d beg for forgiveness. Of pretending to have dignity for so long that he’d lost his own along the way.

And then, another sleepy rasp from Potter: “not your fault...”

And something snaps inside him.

“Not my fault,” he repeats, barely audible, yet it rattles an earthquake that cracks the floor. The ground faults, and everything he’s ever know crumbles before him.

“You are pathetic.” The voice of his father shakes the walls, breaks the foundation. Rips open the fortress of his solitude, jagged lines coursing through his very being and down to his core.

There’s a wand at his throat.

Harry isn’t here. Here, it’s a Malfoy’s paradise, and Draco’s skin crawls at the realistic image of his father before him. He’s so fucking life-like, the drawl of his criticism dripping with the poison of a basilisk. He’s smiling, and that hurts. It’s malicious.

But then, another whisper. A distant proclamation that rings through the periphery of his hearing. “Draco... always... good enough...”

Fuck. Harry?

“Good enough,” he repeats, the syllables a solid reality, just like the man before him. And, in a sudden fit of realization, Draco realizes the epitome of his salvation.

“You’re not real,” he says, and the words are a bit shaky as they permeate the air. His father’s face twists into something unreadable, a cross between a scowl and utter shock.

“You’re not real.” The wand lowers. His brow narrows.

“You were never real. My father is in Azkaban. You are just the ghost of what he did to me.”

His hands are drifting into the atmosphere, like grains of sand dissipating toward the floor. His expression morphs into utter fear, and, for once, Draco feels powerful.

It was never about defeating him. He could have dualed his fractured subconscious for years, constantly bettering himself, only to fall again. And the wand would always be pointed at his throat

But Harry, Harry said he was good enough. And he can hear the distant titter of Teddy’s amusement, the padding of his socks as they bounce along the hardwood floor of their flat. Of their home.

Harry cares. Loves. And so Draco must love himself.

“You could never kill me,” he says to the air, as the whisp of Lucius Malfoy’s presence fades into nothing. “It was just me, all along. Hurting myself because you trained me to. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fucking fault.”

There’s a sudden whoosh, and the room is spinning. And then it’s not. And Draco Malfoy is sitting next to a blissfully sleeping Harry Potter in a London flat.

The movie is over, and all that remains of the last few minutes is a line of scrolling credits.

The shadows, they’re gone. And somehow, Draco is no longer haunted. The house is peaceful, and a serenity seems to fill it’s every crevice, binding the cracks that once cleaved the walls. He pulls Harry closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Taking a risk he’d never had the confidence to execute.

Harry smiles, stirring a bit before turning his green gaze upward. “That’s nice,” he says, and Draco chuckles.

“Yeah, it is, hm?”

“Hey Draco?”

He doesn’t reply, but meets that vibrant stare of his with irrefutable honesty.

“Thanks for being a part of our family.”

“Family?” The word nervously slips his lips. He’s never done this before.

Harry nods. “You, me, and Teddy.”

His eyes are prickly again, and he swallows a hard lump in the back of his throat. “I love the sound of that. Of family.”

“Good. Because I’ll hex you if you go anywhere. Old habits do die hard, you know.”

Draco laughs, hearty. Whole. Harry snuggles into his shoulder, falling asleep lightly as he thoughtfully plans his next project.

***

The next day, Teddy enters to find Draco drawing a picture of his family at the kitchen table.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks curiously, hopping onto Draco’s lap as he sketches.

The picture before them is a family, a blonde, a brunette, and a tuft or blue hair between them. There are no spaces, no empty holes between their bodies, and the sky is a vibrant array of purples and oranges.

“Let’s hang it on the fridge!” Teddy exclaims, grasping it and running to attach it to the front of the surface.

Draco eyes the picture smiling, and it is the best he’s ever felt.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #teddy lupin #lucius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #draco x harry #drarry squad #draco malfoy x harry potter #dad! draco and harry #facing your inner demons #post war #draco malfoy will forever be my muse for kicking daddy issues to the curb #this was therapy for me

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oh-theatre · 5 years ago

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Objection!: Chapter 26

Chapter title: When Youre Home

A/n: Sorry it took awhile and im sorry its shorter!! Ive been really busy but I still wanted to get a chapter out! And ofc cant tell you what happens just yet also gotta let ya suffer. Sorry its bad but enjoy!! PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS YALL! PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS AND IF ITS CONFUSING OR YOU HAVE QUESTIONS IM HERE TO ANSWER THEM OK?

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words: 2356

summary: The world freezes as the gang follows the events of the previous night

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene, murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, shooting, crying

Ao3 Link

“Dada!” No, Logan couldn't. His throat closes tightly hearing the sound of frantic children racing toward him. Wiping away his nervous tears he stands, the twins waste no time as Logan kneels to nuzzle themselves into him. Emile and Remy, somber faces, approach from behind. “Where's Papa?” Valerie shakes, her fears from the night only arising.

“Um...Patton is…” Logan cant speak, the words catch in his throat, stuck at some border keeping them down. “He’s…” He doesn't wish to beg for assistance, but his eyes beg to anyone. Everyone avoids him, except…

“Why don't we go get some food?” Emile offers, the twins attention, tired and worn out, and focuses on the doctor. “We can get something for your dad” Emile and Remy work in sync, taking the pair from Logan. Nothing changes but the smallest glint shows his thankfulness. They set off and just as soon as they appeared, they fade into the rush of the midnight hour at the hospital. Cold and dark, Logan wants them back, the aching his body feels as he no longer can feel their presence.

He could see the crowd move, he could hear their mumblings and the world continue on. But he felt numb, like static surrounding him, nothing was there. Silence in this noisy void. Even when Virgil places his hand on the lawyers shoulder it takes a moment to register, then his face only sends him back.

“Hey we he- Patton” It takes almost no time to identify the ooze of blood and the frozen terror in the center of the courtroom. Virgil steps back, a moment of hesitation, Roman rushing by him sparks him back alive. He had never seen a puzzle so broken, so many pieces lost. Logan couldn't speak, but he held so tightly. But to what? Virgil hated it but it didnt look like Patton.

“Hel..help” Logan manages, something in him however was gone. Virgil couldn't look anymore, the pale face, he longed to see the bright smile, promising love as it flashed to all it passed. The sparkle of his eyes, a smart shine closed as they looked empty. Nothing was there, no one was there….

“Uhm Roman Reial, I need an ambulance… the courthouse on Preise Boulevard” He rushes, his breaths short and scared. “A-a gunshot wound...please just hurry” He pleads, Logan continues staring towards the door. The icy blue that sparked with wisdom and his unsuspected and treasured love had melted. They were empty, devoid of purpose to shine.

“We...we’re engaged” He mumbles, Virgil looks to Pattons hands instantly. The scuffed skin didn't distract from the stunning glimmer of the ring around his finger.

“C-come on” Virgil tries “We have to get him out of here...or apply pressure...or stop the bleeding or-”

“Virge breathe” Roman takes his hand, squeezing it gently. Their eyes meet and the dangerous storm dies down in Virgil, finding a light rain should suffice. “He’ll be ok”

“Don't make promises you can't keep” Virgil whispers, listening to a silent Logan crying ever so gently over a fallen love. Roman cups his cheek, the movement feeling natural.

“I'm not” He takes Virgil to the side, calming him as medics and cops file in. The pair are guilty as they ignore Logan's desperate cries, shunning away while Patton, if you can call his lifeless body that was hauled away. Logan sinks again, unable to move, no one makes a sound, the room falls quiet once more. “Logan…” Roman begins, his caution at a high point. The lawyer shakes his head, searching for the words, any words. A simple croak.

“Hes-”

“Dead” Logan mutters “He's dead” He slumps into his chair, Roman and Virgil share uneasy glances.

“What happened?!” The three look up, their eyes landing in unison. A fiery path alight as Barbara marched towards them, Marcy following her footsteps trying to put out the dark. Logan stands, not expecting the rough descent to the physical world. “What did you do?” She spits, desperate as everything falls apart.

“Barb!” Marcy calls, gently removing her from a distant Logan. “Bubbles take a breath, it's not Logan's fault” Marcy assures, stroking ever so delicately to her wife. Barbara tries to conjure an argument but shatters, falling into Marcys arms as she cries.

Shouldn't Logan be doing the same?

Why couldn't he feel the pain?

Had he succumbed...to the dark?

Not too long ago his confusion was riddled with unbearable pain, the sadness too much to feel as it coursed through his veins, practically pumping his breath. He needed Patton, that took something out of him. The name, even the mere thought was too much, a break in his step. Turning rapidly away from this scene, too much of a mirror of his inner turmoil, he walks to the door, and kept going. Ignore, he told himself, ignore the shouts and the concern.

“Patton Hart” He demands, the woman perks up, a note of sympathy accompanies her sweet smile. She dials the phone, hushed whispers before she returns to Logan, the man no doubt seemed insane.

“I'm sorry sir, mister Hart is still in surgery” She informs. “We will send someone out with updates, but please return to the waiting room” She requests, her politeness and formality wasn't something Logan could argue. And it made sense, what was he thinking. Resigned with shame he returns to the group, the moment his sweaty back hits the chair he gives in. The tears just come, you'd think dehydration might be a risk as he sobs with no filter. No one dared move, not even a breath escaped but Barbara's face morphs, she takes his side, clutching hard. If he needed pressure, he was getting it.

Everyone loved him, but these two...it was different. The pain, the absolute grief they felt, couldn't be matched, only sprouted from their passionate love. Even if there's differences between each other, it was intense...and it hurt. And they shared that, how awful…

~~~

“I hear kids” Patton chuckles into the pillow, Logans arms remain around the smaller of the pair. It was true, the feet moved rapidly through the house, the wooden floors revealing their location with coy creaks. Logan groans, nuzzling into Patton not wishing to lose this warmth. “C’mon” Patton giggles, a gentle kiss on Logan's cheek before he sits up. His hair falling perfectly into a fluffed cloud. The pair reach for their glasses, preparing for the wave that approaches them.

“Papa! Dada!” The door bursts and the twins spare no one, jumping into the bed as they pounce on the fathers. Both lawyers fall back, laughing through muffled embraces. The twins had grown immensely, and yet they insisted on Sunday morning hugs.

“Where do you attain all this energy?” Logan wonders, adjusting Remus in front of him, the boy bounces excited. “It's eight in the morning” Logan yawns, Valerie follows suit sitting next to her brother.

“Lo they've only been alive for ten years, they have all the energy in the world” Patton teases, resting his head on Logan's accepting shoulder. “Why don't we give your father some space, come on Ill make you breakfast” Patton takes his time, slipping on his slippers as he leads the eager twins to the kitchen. The skip behind him, humming sweetly as they clutch to his hands.

“Cartoons?” Remus proposes, Patton nods and allows them to set up in front of the couch. The shows blare loud but nothing Patton didn't enjoy or was used to, he begins his work diligently in the kitchen. Never could he gain tired of the sweet bouts of laughter from the children.

“Good morning pop!” Patton turns, a giant grin spreads. Terrence stands idle, his cup tight in his small hands, his smile reflects brightly.

“Well good morning sweetness” Patton greets, kneeling slightly to face the young boy. “What can I do for you?” He offers, Terrence holds out his cup, shaking it gladly. “Juice or water?”

“Juice please! Jamahl sleeping still” He replies, Patton obliges, securing the drink into his hands once more. “Thank you kindly!” He beams, Patton hides a sweet chuckle, his vocabulary increasing everyday. “Hello papa” He waves to a slumbering Logan, hugging his legs before racing off to join his siblings, Logan ruffles his hair watching him go. Patton giggles turning back to his work, the stove ready for the delectable delight.

“Mmm” Logan hums, his arms wrapping gently around Patton's waist. His head falls perfectly on the mans shoulder, burrowing with ease. Patton giggles, the tickles certainly help to awake the man. Logan grows impatient spinning Patton towards him, leaning into a gentle kiss, a nice satisfaction as he pulls away.

“What was that for?” Patton laughs, Logan shrugs returning to his position. He enjoys watching his husband work, the careful manner as he prepares food, the unconscious humming that carries a tune. He places yet another kiss on Patton's cheek, wanting to remain as such forever. They both take a moment to turn to the children, each excited as the animation dances across the stage. Patton takes Logans hands in his own, interlacing their fingers as they watch.

“I want another” Logan yawns, Patton continues his cooking. He shakes his head stirring the coffee pouring two even cups.

“Another kiss?” He jokes, obliging by his own manner. Logan pouts and pulls Patton back to him. “Yes dearest?” He wonders

“Another kid” Logan presses, Pattons amused smile remains but falters a tad. “I mean look at them, they're perfect” Logan smiles, his glasses drooping. Patton adjusts them for him but bites his tongue. “Come on...I was looking and talking to Lia and-” Patton interjects quickly

“Lo I don't want another kid” He admits, his brows furrowed with concern. Logan takes a step back, their hands remain connected.

“I….what?” Logan mutters “I mean...you love kids. And you're wonderful with them. I don't understand…” Patton strokes his cheek, calming the anxiety he can see forming.

“I do love kids. I love Virgils son, I adore Thomas and the twins and Terrence are my life” Patton promises, yet something is off. “I just...I don't want another kid” He restates. “Divine, we are both full time lawyers and I'm on the city counsel. We already have trouble balancing our schedules with them. Adopting a child, no matter the age would be difficult. And it wouldn't be fair on them” Patton explains.

“What about Terrence? And Jamahl?” Logan marvels, scouring his brain. “That was even more dire, you were just out of the hospital a-and you were just starting. I was just beginning to learn what it meant to be a father-”

“And you are amazing at it” Patton smiles, Logan can't find the same urge.

“Terrence was a baby, I mean we could take in a grown child...like Jamahl. Statistics show that they are less likely to be taken in and it would save us the trouble of a newborn and it would be easier to help them adjust and understand” Logan rushes, desperate. “We can do it” He assures, Pattons usual determination, his need to please Logan just couldn't conjure itself.

“I-im sorry Lo, I don't want another kid” Patton laments, finally it seems their hands find their way apart.

“Ok maybe not now, I mean maybe in the future we could-” Logan tries. Pattons hands clutch to the table, the spatula could sink into the counter.

“No Logan you're not hearing me” He whispers, wishing to keep this to themselves. “I don't want another kid, We’ve got two ten year olds. Both who have been through more than any ten year old should. Both also very familiar to a broken home, and wishing for nothing more than to keep what stability they have. We've got a little five year old who despite being just a baby was thrown through system and system and didn't know a stable and safe home until he took his first steps on that carpet over there and his over-protective brother finally trusted us” Patton takes a frustrated breath “We have full careers and If I know you, which I pride myself on, you want it go further and advance” He watches the once expression he hated so much, Logans eyes fall hopeless. He takes his cheeks, aweing so gently. “Logan, my starlight, I love you so much. I love you, and the kids and my job and my friends. I like our life. But I don't want another kid, Jamahls about to go off to college, the twins are going to be in highschool in no time and Terrence is beginning school” Patton serves the now saddened breakfast, moving to the table as he sets it. Molly whines at his feet for food, he wishes to coo but his heart feels heavy.

“Patton I-” Logan begins

“I have to go wake up Jamahl, he has SAT prep and Thomas is coming over soon to play with Terrence” Patton gives another look before disappearing behind the wall. Both take shuddered breaths fearing their own ability to stop tears. The house felt tense, hard to move through, hard to breath. Hard to stay still, why was it shaking?

“Logan” The softest voice cuts through, the lawyer sputters awake, his eyes flutter open. Virgil kneels in front of him, his hands gentle as he places a hold on the man. “He's out of surgery” Virgil informs, Logan nods before fully comprehending Virgil's words. He jumps up, rushing to the doctor who was seemingly reporting to Barbara.

“...he hasn't awoken yet but his vitals are stable for now” The man finishes, thats all Logan needed. “As you are immediate family you can see him, the rest of you will have to wait” Logans heart drops, falling below his knees. Barbara rings her hands but takes Logan.

“This is his husband” The doctor checks his chart, skeptical as to who is listed. “Its recent so he hasn't had time to update it” Barbara adds, Logan would be eternally grateful to her later. Especially as they walk through the forbidden doors and straight down to the room…

His room.

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ranger-report · 4 years ago

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Review: SPELUNKY 2 (2020)

Few things in the Year of the Apocalypse have brought us joy; once upon a time back in February, there was something about a Sonic the Hedgehog movie that people actually liked, and then we went full-on deep into madness. From there it was disappointment after disappointment; even an unstoppable giant with hype, The Last of Us: Part II fell apart under fan scrutiny despite huge critical success.

But then, there was light: Fall Guys, a true underdog of a game, released and swept the internet and gaming as a whole with excitement. Joyous, colorful, wild, aggravating, Fall Guys single-handed brought catharsis to a series of unfortunate events, followed by a masterpiece of deception, Among Us. Also capturing colorful characters in the most unlikely of situations, Among Us is the game of Secret Hitler that nobody knew they wanted, ruining friendships along the way -- a game I plan to do a write-up on soon. And yet, we still have another gem to consider now, one which is seven years in the making, and against all odds is just as good -- if not better -- than it’s predecessor: Spelunky 2.

Once upon a time, a developer named Derek Yu released a pixellated exploration game that was a love letter to Pitfall and Indiana Jones. Dubbed Spelunky, it followed the trials and tribulations of the Spelunky Guy as he dove headfirst into a series of ever-changing caverns as he explored mines, jungles, icy caves, and Egyptian ruins to discover the City of Gold. It was released free online, and was well-received enough for Yu to work on an upgraded version, Spelunky HD. Gone were the retro pixels, replaced with detailed cartoon art and vibrant atmosphere. Telling the same story with the same levels, only now realized in higher quality and deeper secrets, Spelunky HD helped create the roguelike genre, in which players start at the beginning of a game with nothing, slowly make their way through the game amassing items and weapons to assist them, but death takes them all the way back to the beginning pockets empty. Then, the game randomly generates a new series of levels for the player to try again, ensuring no two runs are ever the same. For some this is frustrating, for others an endearing challenge. Many have spent hours diving deep into the game, searching over and over for its most hidden secrets, discovering hidden paths and endings only achieved through insanely difficult methods. With that game cemented as a bona fide masterpiece, it seemed daunting to even consider a follow up, but Yu and development team Mossmouth have done it once more with Spelunky 2, a game that feels tighter, plays looser, and somehow holds even more secrets than the first game, partially due in part to the sequel having actual lore to follow and a story that literally is out of this world. Here the protagonist is Ana Spelunky, daughter of Guy Spelunky (the titular Spelunky Guy....the game is full of dad jokes like these), as she followers her adventurous father and mother to the moon as they have disappeared there. Turns out the Olmec guardian defeated in the first game also has a presence on Earth’s satellite, and the Spelunkys have vanished in their quest to research this. So Ana, full of spunk and vigor and dog Monty in tow, steps into the spotlight on a completely new adventure, along with completely new friends.

Where the first game gave players options to discover and unlock new characters during the course of the game, Spelunky 2 treats these side characters as actual companions. A base camp at the start shows life and livelihood where everyone beds down and preps for the next expedition, where shortcuts to different stages can be traversed (once properly unlocked) and dialogue can be had. There’s a simple joy just to stand around and see everyone you’ve unlocked hanging out, walking around, as more and more beds occupy the camp. It’s a very subtle way of showing player progress that is both incredibly rewarding and relieving. And for the most part, it’s the same essence of gameplay. Explore levels filled with creatures out to kill you, while collecting gold and rescuing animals. Gold can buy resources from the shops located in the levels, animals give you a kiss for extra health, but only if they make it to the end alive. Meanwhile, the areas are loaded with traps, bombs, hidden monsters, jars filled with any number of surprises, and bonus areas that can be unlocked with the proper use of a rope or a bomb. But tarry too long and the ghost that haunts this world will reveal itself, slowly stalking you until either you reach the end of the level or there’s nowhere else to run.

Differences with the new game come in gentle shocks: for starters, where the first game had a linear progression this one has multiple pathways that can be taken to get to the end. And minibosses! Journeying through the opening caves, divided into four sections, leads to a confrontation against a giant caveman named Quillback in World 1-4, which leads to a pair of doors, one on either side of the level. First time playing through might lead to discovering one of the doors due to the way they’re split apart, but casual exploration to the opposite side reveals the truth: a whole new world. One door leads to Volcana, the underground mining operation in a volcano, the other leads to the Jungle, which has received deadly upgrades from it’s previous life. Spelunky 2 is littered with these gentle shocks as I mentioned above: golden idols still set off traps when picked up, but the traps now vary from falling pillars to explosive lava to spiked walls. Beyond the Jungle and Volcana lies a boss fight with Olmec, making a surprise appearance early in the game. And from here the game moves ever onward, revealing new areas, new characters to unlock, new surprises. And the surprises are telegraphed even better than they were in the first game. For example: unlock a special box with a golden key in the Caves to gather the Eye of Udjat, which lets you see through the floor. But the Eye can also be used to start up the Drill in Volcana, the only way to power it. What happens when you use the drill? Gentle shocks, indeed. New ideas also include mounts to ride (once tamed, which can leave you vulnerable for a moment while you wait for the ride to settle), each one having a different attack or special ability, and brand new shops which can let you into their back rooms to loot...unless you have a skeleton key and you want to risk pissing them off by breaking and entering. But pissing off a shopkeeper usually results in guns blazing your direction, and the imminent threat of death.

Death is in abundance. The game knows it, you know it, the characters know it. With a premise around the idea that death is impermanent while inside the tunnels of the moon, it becomes eventual that the characters get in on the act. Turning the page in Ana’s journal on the game over screen reveals little thoughts of hers on this leg of the journey: from base facts such as when she first took damage, to giggly details like “I was vegan” (referring to the fact that she didn’t eat any turkeys or -- god help us -- cavemen for extra health), the game brims over with character aplenty. Even certain guardians refer to Ana as “Reborn” nodding to the endless cycle. And, in fact, it is endless: it keeps going and going and going until eventually there is the final level and the escape from the moon. But how long will it take to get there? What sacrifices must be made to make it that far? How many loops, deaths, rebirths? As always with Spelunky, there is gold both figurative and literal to be mined from the ruthless exploration. Secrets are deep and wide, surprises await around every corner (was that a LEPRECHAUN and did it drop a FOUR LEAF CLOVER??? And did that ghost just sPLIT into FOUr???), and all of it is rewarding.

It can be difficult to review a game that I haven’t finished. A lot of Spelunky players have never finished the game. There’s a certain finesse to it, watching speedrunners bounce through levels undaunted, gathering miracle items to assist them. Then there’s players like me, that bumble and stumble their way into lucky runs and slowly earn shortcuts to different worlds. It’s a gamble every single time, and sometimes I wonder why I do it, but the charm and the fun and the fist-pumping feeling of success against all odds is what makes this game so much fun. And to think that Mossmouth not only captured the feeling of the first game, the majesty of it, and renewed all of that magic with the second. Someone made a blood sacrifice to craft this game, that much is for sure. As of this writing, the Playstation 4 version has been out for a few weeks, and the PC version for only a few days. After playing both I can confirm that they are precise, concise, and play exactly the same, although I do feel I had slightly better control response times on the PC. That said, online co-op is not yet available for PC, as Mossmouth is going over that aspect with a fine toothed comb. Having playing online day one for the PS4, I can say that the hiccups experienced then will be best served through Mossmouth’s attention first. Online play has become much smoother since, but players deserve the best experience off the jump.

Spelunky 2 is mana from heaven in these trying times, and I’m gobbling as much of it as I can. And when a game like this is is this deep and wide, there’s a lot to gobble...and all of it is tasty.

Final Score: 9/10

#spelunky #spelunky 2 #pc #ps4 #mossmouth #derek yu #pc gaming #console gaming #review #ruby ranger #ranger report #ck burch

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mxrcayong · 5 years ago

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the avatar series: 01.01

masterlist.

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The whole city was bustling with excitement. Vibrant colors streamed the streets as everyone prepared for the celebration that is Avatar Day. It’s funny, the old holiday used to defame the Avatar is now used to celebrate the end of the 100-year war. Every city celebrates differently, although most include a dance performance utilizing all four elements and parades. Sooman City is known for having the most eccentric festival of them all. SM city has the biggest parade that runs from 1 to 4 in the afternoon and dance performances with talent shows everywhere possible. There are dramatic retellings of the story of the Avatar, a special feast, a carnival, and occasionally the descendents of the previous Team Avatar come to speak at the main stage. Additionally, there’s a huge fair in the central park and numerous street bazaars selling Team Avatar themed foods and souvenirs. Children and adults alike run amuck, enjoying their day off from work and celebrating the anniversary of the day the world was saved from eternal darkness.

Tari always had work on the day of the festival. It usually consisted of spending her shift drawing the faces of the previous Team Avatar with foam on the coffee of the customers. The most difficult face? Funnily enough, was Momo. It’s hard to capture the colors of his face in a distinguished manner. Tari is just glad that ‘Iroh and Me’ café is most known for their tea, cause all they have to do for tea orders is add a cookie with the special Avatar Day design of their choice. Most businesses are closed today, from the gyms to the schools, however customer service never stops for anybody – even the Avatar. People would come in, dressed up in traditional garbs compared to their usual outfits, laughing and feeling grateful for the existence of the Avatar. However, this year, the boss of ‘Iroh and Me’ designated Hendery to be the one in charge of the shop for the majority of today (much to his dismay). So, today was the first day in a while Tari was able to sleep in and will be the first Avatar Day she’ll be able to experience. However, her priority is a good twelve hours of sleep. Working in a café usually means being awake at unholy times - normally five in the morning so she could get to work by six and open up by seven.

Stretching in bed, Tari was awakened with the sight of the bright sun shining into her bedroom, alarming her of the time. It felt unusual - she’s always so used to seeing the sun rise on the coast first thing in the morning when she walks towards the closest tram station. Consequently, she was momentarily panicked - fuck, I’m late to work - she thought to herself. A wave of relief hit her as soon as she remembered her plan for today: stay inside and relax. With a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, she fell back onto her pillows and nuzzled into the comfort.

On any other work-free day, she’d be out with friends - usually annoying Johnny in his studio, following Doyoung to the gym, checking out local shops with Kilara, helping Roddie study, or assisting in Sonan’s store. But all those workplaces are closed – except for Johnny’s, but he loves the festival; always trying to get Tari to get an ‘off day’ on work to participate in the festival with Doyoung and him, and any of the friends he invites or bumps into later. Not only has she been avoiding this day since she’s heard of it, but she just hates the fact that the streets will be absolutely flooded with people. Walking today will be like swimming in the ocean when the tide brings you the other way; difficult.

Climbing out of bed, she quickly threw on a pair of sweatpants and brushed her teeth in her bathroom. She wanted to get ready to spend the day at home, planning to cook her favorite comfort food of seaweed noodles with traditional water tribe soup. It’s her favorite go-to meal, reminding her of the home she doesn’t have vivid memories of. She may potentially also put on a movie or read a book. She’s been meaning to read “To Rock and Flow With It”, a love story between an earthbender and a waterbender.

Through her bedroom door, she could hear soft mumbles of a conversation from the living room. Hoping Doyoung hasn’t gone insane, Tari stood up to figure out where the other half of the conversation is coming from. As she opened the door, the brightness from the whole wall of windows blinded her temporarily. “So you don’t have work today.” A voice that certainly wasn’t Doyoung’s commented. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw Doyoung behind the kitchen counter, whisking a bowl and Johnny sitting across the counter on a stool. He looked mischievous, as if he was up to something. Both of them were dressed. The two of them always spends the holiday exploring the city and the different fair activities. Johnny was in a cream sweater and black jeans, a gray shirt poking out from the neckline while Doyoung wore a black hoodie and dark blue jeans.

“Nope,” Tari popped the ‘p’, walking towards Doyoung to see what he was cooking. “Eggs?” Doyoung nodded, “Can I steal some?” She pleaded, widening her eyes and pouting to convince him – despite knowing he wouldn’t need that look to comply to her request. She quickly turned to face Johnny, now sliding towards the fridge. “Johnny, I swear, your home is on the other side of town but you’re always here.” She’s not complaining - she loves his presence, but they just tease each other. It’s the nature of their relationship.

“Yes, but, this place will be so lonely without me.” He fake cried, motioning to the small apartment. “Who else will sleep on your couch every once in a while?” Tari chuckled, before rolling her eyes.

Doyoung smiled, staring at the eggs he was now pouring into the frying pan. “I mean, at this rate, you should just move in rather than pay for rent at a place you don’t even stay in.”

“I’ll hold you to that offer,” Johnny winked, “But for now!” Johnny clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “You know what Tari’s freedom means, Do!” Tari looked at him questionably as she opened up the fridge, grabbing the ingredients for seawood noodles.

Ignoring her confusion momentarily, she turned to look up at Doyoung. She already knew if Johnny was here, he’d want to eat anything that he could. “Seaweed noodles?”

“Yes please.” Doyoung grinned, before Johnny took over the conversation once more.

He put his hands on the top of his head, “I’m just saying this will be your first time in two years to experience the novelty of a Sooman City Avatar Day. C’mon, where did you live before right? You said they hardly celebrated.”

The water bender shrugged, using her powers to speed up her cooking time by gently steaming up the water in the pot with the seaweed noodles and other ingredients in. “I hardly celebrated, I always had to work.”

“So, this will be your first time!” Johnny further contested, making Tari roll her eyes as Johnny now came up towards her, standing beside her in an attempt to convince her more. “I mean come on! Out of your 20 years of life, you’ve yet to experience a culturally important, iconic” He exaggerated his pronunciation of the long list of adjectives that he probably have used in his most recent articles, “... event.” Usually, he was more relaxed and open about her not being able to go - although usually, she also has a solid excuse. She looked to Doyoung. One thing they developed quite well over the last almost-two years of living together was a silent language, purely using their eyes and facial expressions.

Doyoung chuckled at her flustered face just begging him to answer why Johnny is so desperate for her presence, “He has to report on the festival this year.”

She chortled. “Ooh, that’s fun!” Tari teased, “Mixing work with pleasure. What angle are you taking? ‘Why the carousel should be your must-go activity’?”

The journalist leaned against the fridge as his two friends cooked for the three of them. “No, it’s actually about how this day is used to celebrate the previous Avatars and consequently, also bending and thus,” He grabbed a piece of the pile of dry seaweed Tari would sprinkle on the top of the soup and took a bite of it, “shows support against the anti-bending regime.” He obviously rehearsed that, and Tari can only assume that he signed up to report on the event. Surprising, she thought to herself, Johnny usually wants this day to relax.

The air bender nodded, liking the idea. “You could get some really cool perspectives on that. From both like the police officers patrolling, influencers, stall owners, families, so on.” Doyoung imagined the article’s success already. Johnny was one of the best reporters in the local newspaper and it’s easy for him to gain a lot of attention on his articles. Him writing this article - as a non-bender - may bring awareness to the issues benders currently face, “I’m getting kind of sick of people pointing at the bending gyms and yelling that it’s ‘anti-equality” He sighed.

“Okay first, Doyoung that sucks and you need to report to the police for harassment.” Tari started.

The airbending instructor was quick to interject, “It’s not to the air gyms, at least – not a majority of time. It’s usually at night and to the fire bending gym. I don’t have any place to report on behalf of anyone else”

“But that’s still society, so this anti-bending regime is just anti-pro bending.” Tari commented, furrowing her eyebrows. She hasn’t noticed any particular hatred for bending other than the pro-bending, which was why it was banned around 20 years ago – just before she was born. Yeah, as a result of this ban – there has been discrimination against benders, often seeing them as violent or leading them to be ostracised – but it’s been improving over the last few years due to the amount of protests and parades hosted to support benders. “Maybe just focus on the societal perspectives?”

Johnny tsked, “I heard from an inside source that there are rumors of something escalating.” He sighed.

“You must be glad you’re not a bender then.” Doyoung chuckled, trying to lighten the conversation from the news regarding perception of benders and trying to hint at Johnny to change the topic. He always notices that Tari gets quite awkward when talking about bending. She’s comfortable doing it – not much actually talking about it.

Johnny winked, “Always.” He turned back to Tari, following Doyoung’s lead and changing the topic, “can you please come? You can help interview people rather than do things.” That didn’t elicit a response, Tari just shrugging - not in the mood to be doing work she normally does when she has a day off anyway. “Okaaaaaayyyyy, how about while Doyoung and I check out the actual festivities and do interviews, you can look at the bazaar stalls?” Tari pouted her bottom lip, getting slightly intrigued. “I heard Sunmi will have a special stall full of exclusive stuff!” He practically sang.

“Hey, wait, when did I sign up to help?” Doyoung lifted his hands defensively as if he was caught in a crime. He’d help regardless, but it’s always nice to be asked.

Johnny cheekily smiled, “You signed up when you became my friend.” Doyoung stared at the ceiling, laughing, before putting his hand back on the spatula to scramble the eggs.

“Tempting.” Tari bit her lip. Out of all the local stores in Sooman City, Sunmi owned a shop called ‘wonder girls’ which sells some of the most beautiful re-worked thrifted items. It’s where Tari actually bought her favorite carpet reminiscent of air nation patterns that now adorns the living room and the tapestry in her bedroom which is reminiscent of the patterns reported to be in the Northern Water Tribe spirit oasis.

“Fine.” She growled out reluctantly. “Let’s go, but after we eat. And we have to stop by Sonan’s shop.”

She wasn’t sure if Sunmi’s stall was worth it. Most of the things she sold were old items reminiscent of the different past Avatars. Yeah - they all fit Tari’s aesthetic and likes, but they just weren’t what she wanted hanging in her room everyday because of the specific designs. The only thing that caught her eye was an old-looking book on “the lessons we could learn from the previous Avatars”. The cover was decorated with minimalist sketches with a traditional edge to them. It called out to her because of the fact that on the front cover, they promoted the fact that the self-help book was apparently approved by Tenzin and Pema. So, she looked through it - and while her fingers flipped through the crisp pages, particular phrases in bold seemed to shout out to her: “No matter how strong you are, individuals cannot maintain harmony alone” and “do not doubt your greatness and do not run from your truths.” At the same time, the last phrase made her scoff and put the book down. Thanking Sunmi and wishing her goodbye, she slowly left the white tent - letting her eyes linger on a necklace similar to Katara’s (but bronze rather than blue), a boomerang with air nation carvings and Aang’s tattoo on it, a headband reminiscent on Toph’s but in different colors, and a silk robe which took inspiration from Zuko’s vest.

Leaving the white tent, she looked around the city that’s already vibrant on it’s own - nevertheless with the purposeful use of colors to heighten the celebrations on the street. She looked at all the children who were carrying around prop-gliders, grinning and smiling. All the booths and stalls sold cookies in the shapes of the Avatars and their teams or of the symbols of each element. Balloons in the shape of Momo and Appa marked the sky while Flying Bisons were used as an attraction, people paying a number of yuan to be able to board and ride the Flying Bison over the city for just thirty minutes.

While walking down the bazaar, she saw Johnny and Doyoung interview people attending the festival and hosting the stalls. Johnny was equipped with his camera around his neck like a necklace and a notepad which he was intently scrawling notes from the interview. She chuckled at Doyoung’s bored expression; looking around the festival as he held Johnny’s microphone so that he could replay and get exact quotes later. Doyoung caught her eyes across the crowd and lifted one arm up as a wave, so Tari responded similarly - before chuckling at Johnny slapping Doyoung to pay attention. He immediately had to rrub the spot he was hit on and turned back to the interview. If there was one thing Tari learnt while joining Johnny for multiple interviews, it’s that Johnny hates it when there’s anything that can negatively affect his rapport with an interviewee. This means whoever he’s with has to look equally engrossed in the conversation.

Despite how much she has been avoiding these celebrations, the bustling crowd didn’t prevent her from seeing the beauty she saw from the street’s vibrant colors and festivities. Everyone looked so happy and in bliss. This is what peace and harmony should look like; happiness. I’m not needed, she’d tell herself. She stood blankly in the middle of the street, ignoring the very minimal and light pushes from other people as she observed the world around her - mentally slowing down everything thats happening. Mental note, she told herself, ask Johnny to send me some photographs from today.

Walking down the streets, everything was so lively. Animated story tellers, grinning parents, young adults exploring, children learning history - this felt amazing. Why do I avoid these? She questions herself, before her eyes caught sight of the reason she does.

Her eyes fell upon the statues of the previous Avatars standing in order, taller than most buildings on the street but only half the size of the Aang statue that guards the coast. Some people were bowing down in front of the statues, some were just observing it. Most people stared at up in awe - afterall, these are the people who save the world and whose purpose is to protect mankind. These are the people who will forever live on through a different reincarnation, a different life. They are the people with immense and extraordinary power. Despite her trembling steps, she decided to approach it, allowing the large and otherworldly statues to stare down at her - eyeing her up and down, reminding her she’s not of similar status.

She felt her breath get trapped in her throat as her memories flash back to the last time she lived with her parents.

“We don’t normally tell them when they’re this young,” She overheard someone telling her parents; a voice she’d grow familiar with as she grew up, “But your daughter is showing incredible skill and we want to train her early.” The same voice’s smile was evident in their voice as they continued to speak in conviction, “If we do it right, she can be considered the greatest of them all.”

She was only four years old when the person who raised her took her away from her family who resided in a traditional water nation village. Ever since then, despite being put into circumstances where it may seem impossible, she kept trying to run away. Not just physically, but mentally. Trying to leave everything behind. All she wanted was a new beginning, a new identity, a new face. She knew if she had the opportunity, she may ask the Mother of Faces to change her face - but at the same time, that doesn’t stop the fact that she’s Tari. That she was born like this.

Trying to catch her breath, she looked around and saw a stage with a list of performances next to the entrance to the audience area. This should be calming, she falsely presumed. She approached; noticing how some of the famous local dancers like Jungwoo and Winwin are at the front of the audience, probably preparing for their act. She always loved seeing them dance - they were always enchanting. Whenever she hears they will be performing, she always drags someone - usually Sonan or Doyoung - to watch. Although intrigued due to her interest in watching the dancers, as she got closer she noticed that the current show was a play and the actors were standing in line as if they were about to bow. All of them dressed like the statues from earlier, except theres an addition. At the end, right next to Aang, there was two waterbenders holding a newborn child. She tried to focus on what’s being said by the narrator.

“All we know now is that there is an Avatar in this world and they are from the water nation.” The narrator’s voice boomed, mumbled by the distance. He grinned as if reminiscing about the time he heard the news of the birth of the Avatar, “There’s no other information about him or her, but we know that whoever they are; the spirit of Aang, of Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk, Yangchen, Bayu, Salai, and Wan lives on through them.”

It started to become overwhelming. She quickly turned back and started heading anywhere she can catch a breath - but that means she has to get away from the bustling crowd. Okay, time to go. Her thoughts were running a mile every minute, nothing focusing - everything in a fast-paced motion. She was planning on going to Sonan’s booth once Johnny and Doyoung started heading in the same direction, as it was set up on the opposite end of the street and she was not going to brace this festival alone. But, she just can’t be here anymore. She quickly texted Hendery telling him she’s on her way and she’ll take over his shift, no problem. His response? A series of celebratory gifs and a promise to a future favor.

Quickly texting her, Johnny, and Doyoung’s group chat – she informed them of ‘an emergency at work’ where ‘Hendery got burnt’ and she has to step in It’s better to text them rather than approaching them because all they’ll do is convince her to stay. That, and Johnny may actually hold her to him throughout the event. She then texted Sonan she’ll see her later tonight for dinner, which Tari now promised she’ll be providing. She quickly sprinted to the closest tram station, but even there – despite how it’s not as crowded as usual due to people exploring the festivities, everyone who got off the train were in traditional garbs. Especially the orange outfit and red cape Aang was famous for. I just can’t escape, can I? Staring at her quickly shuffling feet as much as she can, she made her way to the cafe within thirty minutes.

“You’re a savior.” Hendery praised, hugging his friend and passing over his apron. She chuckled.

“Go have fun, donkey.” She lovingly called him his nickname, making him chuckle. As soon as the door chimed, signalling that he has left - she watched him waddle towards the same direction she just came from. “Because I know I won’t.” She mumbled under her breath as she tied her apron behind her back and prepared herself to serve numerous patrons dressed like the very same statues who stared down at her like gods half an hour earlier.

request anything for future parts / penny for your thoughts here

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