#also to anyone who read that document and is still giving him grief i wish u a very kys please n thank u
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unanimoustwins · 10 months ago
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theres nothing to really comment about the whole situation other than every other fuckin qsmp community are fuckin delusional if they think brs (ccs and community) arent carrying this fandom. i mean shit you can just look at stream numbers, any cc/stream that the brazilians like never falls under 5k. not to mention the community engagement, amazing fanworks and awesome lore from the ccs. eng and esp viewers are gonna have to start asking for forgiveness on hands n knees for their nasty ass behavior if they want this server to thrive the way it has been
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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years ago
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Dream SMP Recap (June 9/2021) -        New Citizens
Ponk has a chat with Sam, Fundy and Purpled officially join Las Nevadas, and Ranboo receives an update message from the Council.
---
VOD LINKS:
Ponk
Fundy
Purpled
Ranboo
---
- Ponk continues building the bridge in his new valley
- He returns to Foolish’s summer home and finds the countersuit Puffy left. He reads it. Many of the claims he doesn’t think are actually against the law of the land. He insists he wasn’t quoting Roadtrip during his Banquet speech, but rather an old man
- Ponk will have the best lawyers (he also may pay the jury off but don’t tell anyone). He’s amused that Puffy would work with BadBoyHalo and call Ponk the ‘dirty Eggpire supporter’
- He finishes reading the lore suit and greets Purpled in chat, telling him that he’s getting sued by Puffy
- Sam logs on and Ponk takes him over to the valley. They’ve had their differences, but Ponk is in need of a good lawyer. Sam suggests Tubbo, but Tubbo is expensive and intimidating
- Ponk points out that Sam will be the only one in the jury with an elevated IQ like his own. Sam hasn’t been officially selected for the jury yet, and they might think he’s biased, having cut off Ponk’s arm (Sam says he did it for good reason)
- They reach the valley and Sam approves of Ponk’s bridge
Sam: “You can see Kinoko Kingdom from here.”
Ponk: “(gagging sound) No, you can see Niki’s place! Niki’s communist cult! It’s great! We’re gonna set up a nice trade agreement, and (mumbling) then we’ll burn Kinoko Kingdom down to the groun-- I mean, then we’ll have nice trade deals with everyone, you know?”
- Ponk is bitter about losing his arm and Sam blames it on him for stealing the keycards
Ponk: “Sam...just so you know, just so you know...You can come to me after...after everything. I will still support you, Sam, okay? You’ll have a place to stay, because, all the wrong you’ve done is gonna catch up behind you, you know? All the wrong that you’ve done--”
Sam: “I haven’t really done anything wrong.”
Ponk: “Haven’t you? Haven’t you?!”
Sam: “No, I think I’m a good guy.”
Ponk: “You think you’re a good person?”
Sam: “I don’t know, you don’t think I’m a good person?”
Ponk: “I mean -- my opinions are biased.”
- Ponk asks Sam to walk and talk with him on the way back to Spawn. Sam’s spoken with Purpled recently
- They visit the animal sanctuary and Sam suggests they steal the strider. Ponk tells him stealing is bad. Sam wants to let it out. They play with the strider a bit
- Ponk explains his conflict with Puffy in general terms
Sam: “Look, I have a random crossbow from one of those guys that we killed.”
Ponk: “You said that so casually...life is precious, you know.”
- Ponk asks about the bank. He’s free to work. Sam says it’s up to Hannah. The two discuss the bank system
- Ponk hasn’t seen Technoblade in a while. Sam thinks he must be overthrowing governments in a far off land or something
- Ponk offers to trade with Sam for two stacks of redstone blocks. He asks how much for his arm back. Sam says he destroyed it. Ponk is upset that Sam didn’t keep it, but Sam says it was too mangled
- Sam trades some gold for the redstone
- They fight a raid together and capture a Ravager
- The two continue to chat for a while
- Fundy stands by his bed. He had a great sleep! He dreamt about a Windows update and he’s looking...a little sleepy?
- He checks the to-do list. Today’s the day. He grabs some things for the road. Fundy decides he’ll go alone. He doesn’t want to risk losing his snow fox friend
- He says hi to his Aunt Panisha (a salmon in the river) as he sets off, asking her to wish him luck
- Fundy reaches Las Nevadas wonders where Quackity’s office is. After some deduction, he heads to the Needle and spots Quackity going up the elevator
- After some hesitation, Fundy goes up the elevator too and comes face-to-face with Quackity, who sees him and asks if he’s okay. Fundy says he’s doing fine, he had a weird sleep and may have woke up outside the window
- Fundy tells him that he took his advice and bettered himself. They sit at the table and Fundy shows him his new diet. Quackity says he’s proud of him
- Fundy mentions that last time they spoke, he suggested they play cards and back at home, he didn’t sleep because he was waiting for Quackity to come over...and then he didn’t
- Quackity explains he just had a bunch of paperwork to do
- Fundy spots some slime blocks bunched at the side of the room and asks what that’s about. Quackity says it’s “a friend” of his, that he’s probably asleep
- Quackity gets Charlie to emerge from the slime
Charlie: “Hey, Fundy from L’manburg!”
- He was in the middle of his gloop-morphosis. Fundy is confused at how he knows who he is. Charlie digs into the floor and gets Fundy to greet him, slurping up some slime
- Quackity tells Charlie he needs to speak with Fundy. Charlie says he can “sell it” and starts telling Fundy he looks like he wants to gamble. Fundy asks Quackity why he’s talking like this, and Quackity says he must have learned it from TV
- Fundy finds out that Charlie is incredibly old and asks Charlie about how he knew he was from L’manburg. Charlie declares them best friends
- Fundy tells Quackity that he’s changed, that he’s a better man. Quackity thinks it’s great, but he doesn’t want Fundy to portray a false version of himself
- Charlie looks at Fundy close-up and says he hasn’t changed
- Quackity doesn’t want Fundy to join under these conditions. Fundy insists he’s fine, he isn’t portraying a false version of himself
- Fundy’s lived in that cottage for way too long. All these nightmares are because of him interacting with people and he’s ruining it for them -- but ever since he’s improved himself and become more healthy, he hasn’t had those nightmares
- Quackity has thought about it a lot, and Fundy’s work in L’manburg was exceptional. He thinks Las Nevadas will be a stepping stone to Fundy’s success
- Charlie gets Fundy to smell him and asks him what it’s like to dream. Fundy sniffs and maybe swallows a piece of Charlie. Charlie tells him one day he’ll be whole again
- Quackity passes Charlie a bone of one of their “mutual friends” in L’manburg and asks Charlie to analyze it
- Quackity and Fundy leave Charlie in the Needle and go back down. Quackity brings him downstairs, where he tells Fundy there’s no going back. He wants to make sure Fundy can trust him and hands Fundy a book to sign:
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All persons naturalized in Las Nevadas, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of Las Nevadas and the land wherein they reside.
The signing of this document subjects you to the rights and duties of the nation:
TAXES. Residents are required to pay a jurisdictional and financial charge to the nation to fund future projects and development of the nation. Failure to pay could result in the extinction of your permanent residence and possibly death.
MILITARY PARTICIPATION.  One of your duties as a resident of Las Nevadas is the complete protection of the nation. You’re required to participate in any wars, conflicts, or disputes of the nation, in favor of Las Nevadas.
LAND. One of your rights as a resident of Las Nevadas is a self assigned plot of land, approved by the proper authorities, to develop productive businesses, homes, entertainment centers, etc.
GAMBLING. Gambling is defined as staking of something of value, with consciousness of risk and hope of gain, on the outcome of a game. Gambling is completely legal in Las Nevadas, but subject to constantly changing regulations.
THE LV LEGAL SYSTEM ---------------------------- Las Nevadas and any disputes within the nation will be settled in the Las Nevadas court (TBA), with the presence of the conflicted parties, and the proper authorities.
FALURE TO RESPECT THE CONSTITUTION AND THE DUTIES WHICH ARE ASSIGNED TO THIS RESIDENCE WILL RESULT IN THE IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF CITIZENSHIP,  AND, IF GUILTY OF A CRIME AGAINST THE NATION, YOU ARE SUBJECT TO
DEATH.
SIGNED .  .  .
QUACKITY
FOUNDER AND PRESIDENT OF LAS NEVADAS
---
- Fundy is nervous and hesitates
Quackity: “Fundy, I -- You’re like a brother to me. We’ve gone through so much. But I still have to protect my nation...surely you can understand that.”
Fundy: “No, I -- I can. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, um...it’s strong...You really believe in this nation, right? It’s like your child--”
Quackity: “Fundy...this is all I have left...if this nation dies, I die along with it.”
- Fundy signs the document with his full legal name:
Fun Jonatahan Micahel Vincent Georgina James Sus Dy
- He signs the book, gives it to Quackity and asks that if he ever reads it, to not call Fundy by his legal name
- Quackity welcomes Fundy to Las Nevadas as an official citizen!
- Charlie has control over the piece of slime inside Fundy. He tells Charlie not to do that
- Quackity asks Charlie if he has a name. They decide to call him “Meat” for now, but Charlie tells Quackity in “secret” (very loudly) that he isn’t actually meat...he is slime from the ground
- Quackity suggests they call him Slime From the Ground. He then says he is bones
- He leads the other two to the edge of Las Nevadas’ road and points out that they have a big issue: Tubbo’s outpost nearby. Quackity suspects that Tubbo may be planning some dangerous strategy against the country
- Quackity gives Slime some armor to put on
Slime: “Ready for war...don’t take my music discs!”
Fundy and Quackity: “Wh -- what did you just say?”
- Quackity has an informational video he can show Fundy later. They investigate the outpost. He reminds Fundy about the military protection portion of the document
- Quackity remembers the Butcher Army and asks how much experience Fundy has with the military. Fundy was part of every single one that’s existed
- Quackity suggests they build their own version of the outpost
- Slime starts breaking Tubbo’s windows. Quackity encourages it and tells Slime it’s called “griefing,” handing him dirt to spread around the place
- Quackity finds the two Totems of Undying they have at the outpost and asks if they should take them. He then says they should test them. He doesn’t know what they do
- Fundy isn’t sure they should, or what Tubbo’s intentions are. Quackity decides to leave them unless Tubbo retaliates for the griefing
- They notice the bridge and Quackity suggests a tollbooth
- Quackity explains the concept of taxes to Slime, who’s been watching Purpled recently. Purpled hasn’t done much, just farmed 
- They start building the tollbooth and Fundy brings up how medieval castles used to have boiling oil above the gates that they could use if there were people they didn’t like, and they could do something similar
- Slime starts throwing slime and Fundy can feel it (and it doesn’t feel good)
- Quackity asks for the bone he gave back, but Slime can’t tell the difference between all the bones
- Quackity remembers how when L’manburg exploded, Fundy and Niki came up to him and said it was a good day...what was that about?
Fundy: “The way I saw it was, during that time, everyone was trying to divide each other, right. Everyone was trying to divide each other...every one was either left or right and there was no in between. There was no...People always wanted to separate themselves and make war and destroy everything that was loved. When L’manburg was a thing, I cared about L’manburg, and then it got destroyed, right, and eventually, my hope at that moment was...that people just like, accepted that they shouldn’t--”
Quackity: “But you betrayed the nation...Fundy, the thing I’m getting at is, I don’t know your excuse or your thinking behind that...that will not happen again at this nation. No betrayals, no backstabbing. Not here. Understand?”
Slime: “What’s backstabbing?”
- Quackity and Fundy try to teach Slime how to backstab, then how to work the tollbooth against Tubbo
- Slime starts putting buttons on the walls. Quackity tells him not to, as it gives him bad memories
- Slime asks Fundy again what it’s like to dream. Fundy doesn’t want to talk about it, but Quackity notes that he’s been vague about it
- Fundy explains that every time something big happens in this place, he has dreams where he can sort of see what happens before it does. It’s like gazing into the future, except he loses details before it happens
- Quackity presses him on it. Let’s say they have a big war coming up, he takes Tubbo’s totems and Fundy sleeps and tells him what happens next so that they can prepare?
- Fundy doesn’t think that’s a good idea. Quackity doesn’t understand how real these things are
- What if they build an entire building for Fundy so that he can have these dreams comfortably? It’s just a possibility...
- Slime’s gloop-morphosis isn’t “complete” yet
- Quackity asks if Fundy knows Foolish. Fundy remembers one time he blew up a little bit of Foolish’s house and he finds out Foolish lives in Las Nevadas
- Quackity asks how long ago this was. Fundy says it happened a long time ago, but Slime corrects him
Quackity: “Just know, Fundy...he doesn’t know how to lie.”
- Quackity leaves to get diamonds and Fundy confronts Slime alone, asking him how he knows things. He tells Slime that in certain situations, it’s helpful to keep quiet on certain things for the benefit of other people
- They move on and Fundy teaches Slime a bit about fun and hobbies
- Quackity returns and they notice many squid in the nearby river. Quackity goes down and starts killing “cod” (salmon). Fundy corrects him that they aren’t cod, but to Quackity fish is fish. Fundy looks away while Quackity kills them
- They suggest Fundy be the food-gatherer. Fundy suggests a diet of fruit and plants
Slime: “What’s wrong with salmon? Your father loved them!”
- Quackity asks Fundy to elaborate on his father, if he came from a fishing family. Fundy asks Slime again about how he knows. Slime continually refers back to people “turning to dust.” 
- They ask about what Slime knows about them, then about Slime’s favorite memory. He digs a whole in the ground and waits for a bit
- They teach Slime about humor
Slime: “Two people walk into a bar. One is green, one is red. The green one is shaped -- is a bigger guy, and the red one is a smaller guy. To get to the bar, both got off a train. The train the red guy was on was going west at 40 miles an hour for 60 miles. The train the other guy was on did not serve lunch. They both walked into a bar, and 500 years later they were still just dust in the ground. At the end of it all, they were just still dust, and none of it mattered.”
- Slime tells another joke about a chicken turning into dust.
Quackity: “How long do you think it’ll take for me to turn to dust?
Slime: “I...I’ll make sure you never turn to dust, Quackity from Las Nevadas!”
- Quackity asks about Fundy’s father
Slime: “The sooty guy?”
- Quackity and Slime ask Fundy -- shouldn’t he know? Slime says Fundy can ask Wilbur about his history himself
Quackity: “Your dad’s alive, Fundy?”
- Fundy tells Quackity about how Phil came to him with some interesting news, that Wilbur is actually alive. Quackity ask when was the last time Fundy’s seen Wilbur. Fundy hasn’t seen him alive again yet
Quackity: “What’s your relationship with Wilbur?”
Fundy: “It’s...it’s complicated, man. It’s very complicated.”
Quackity: “Because...there’s an issue.”
- Fundy wants to talk to Wilbur about a lot of things. Quackity brings Fundy over to the headquarters and breaks the news that Wilbur came to see Quackity
Fundy: “...He saw you? He went on his way to see you, and -- and he’s not shown up to me to, you know -- why, why?”
- Quackity shows Fundy the “mark” Wilbur made. Wilbur asked to join Las Nevadas, and Quackity said no. He shows Fundy the name: Fort Big. Tommy and Wilbur are working together
- Quackity is just warning Fundy. He hopes this won’t get in the way of Fundy supporting the nation. Fundy just doesn’t know why Wilbur didn’t come to him, but he went to Quackity. 
Fundy: “Did he talk about me?”
- Quackity thinks he did, but he doesn’t remember what
- Fundy says goodbye to Slime and Quackity, heading off to settle down on his own. He stands at his plot of land, wondering if he’ll have to fight Wilbur
- Purpled is at his old base by the ruins of L’manburg. Life is good. He has DogChamp, he’s been fishing, no human contact
- He has something to attend to and goes to the cliffside nearby, finding Slime. He asks why Slime’s been watching him, who told Slime to spy. Slime avoids answering
- Purpled figures it’s Quackity and asks Slime more about how long he’s been above the ground, what he knows. Slime refers to him as “Purpled From a UFO” and Purpled shows Slime that his UFO has been destroyed by Quackity
- Purpled leaves Slime and visits the ruins. He notices Slime following him and tells him to leave again
- Slime traps himself in Dream’s honeymoon suite and Purpled continues down the path, looking at all the builds. He visits the Socializing Club and checks beneath the floor -- the trap he made all those months ago is still there. He wonders if anyone remembers these things
- Slime slimes his way out of the trap and Purpled visits L’manburg. He was just a pawn, there was no “Purpled in L’manburg” or “Purpled in Pogtopia” or “Purpled on Dream SMP’s side.” There was just no Purpled
- He returns to his house, gets DogChamp, puts him into a hidden chamber elsewhere. He stores his valuables...and rigs the entire place with TNT
He sets it off and it goes
- Slime talks to Purpled again. Purpled asks if Quackity is still interested in a new resident
- Purpled asks Slime to trust him as he retrieves DogChamp, and he gets Slime to lead him to Las Nevadas
- He makes it there and goes into the casino. Quackity doesn’t know what he has planned. He comes out to find Quackity there. Quackity takes him up to the top of the Needle
- Purpled makes it clear he only cares about the opportunity for himself, not for Quackity. He doesn’t stand for what Quackity does, doesn’t think there will ever be a time that he’ll respect Quackity as a person
- Quackity tells him they all change in some way or another. When he first became Vice President, he saw the best in everyone
Quackity: “I don’t really see the good in people anymore...but I do see opportunity.”
- Quackity tells Purpled that if they succeed with the nation, the two of them will be going down in history. Purpled starts to come around to thinking that maybe they are on the same page 
- Quackity had a citizenship document he meant for Purpled to sign, but he’s willing to gamble on it without
Quackity: “Welcome to Las Nevadas, Purpled.”
- He gives Purpled the document either way and tells him he has a right to a plot of land. Quackity will have a business meeting with all the residents soon
- Purpled asks for land behind the casino. He has an idea for something. Quackity agrees to give it to him
- Purpled leaves and speaks to himself with DogChamp at the stage. Things will be looking different around here real soon
- Ranboo goes to the mailbox he set up with the Council and checks it, finding a new update in the book along with a Netherite Axe labelled “axe of the end” in Enderman.
The update reads:
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Hello. We have been observing the happenings around the server and we come bearing not news but rather a warning for you. We know that you like to stand idle and not engage in any kind of acts of violence and we respect you for that.
However, we also know that there are people that you care about and you need to understand that in order to take care of those people you are no longer able to just stand idle. You need to take a more active role again. We have given you something that can help with that. Use it carefully.
We respect your wishes. - The Council
---
- Ranboo takes the axe. He planned to work on Tubbo’s outpost, make it seem like more of a shop than an outpost
- He goes to the outpost and finds the griefing, cleaning it up
- As some protective measures, he leaves signs:
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Hello! Whoever put a bunch of dirt everywhere, Dont!
This is going to be a new cookie shop! We dont have cookies yet
Please leave it alone! Or violence will be used.
---
- He continues working on the outpost and Techno logs on. Ranboo goes over to the new tollbooth and pays the toll of one bone
Techno: ranboo have you unlocked teleportation yet
Ranboo: not yet i dont think
Ranboo: let me try
Ranboo: yeah no
Techno: can you hurry up
Techno: asking for a friend
- Ranboo explores around Las Nevadas and makes a to-do list
- He makes a hidey hole in the strip club and strips some logs. He gets tempted to steal a Netherite block
His to-do list reads:
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TO DO LIST FOR LAS NEVADAS: 1. Figure out what to get inside of. 2. Figure out what the hollow buildings are 3. Figure out why there are so many horses 4. Figure out who runs this place 5. Figure out what the black pillars are for
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- He returns home and speaks with Tubbo in VC
---
Upcoming events remain the same.
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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years ago
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Never felt the rain
Summary:  Could you write something with Bill having a young daughter and when she asks him to go playing outside in the rain while he was working, he brushed her off, so she went out on own her own and got lost, so Bill thinks she went missing like Georgie?
A/N: here you go anon, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think, it would mean a lot! Also, thank you for requesting this, it had me writing again after a long time and I really missed it, so thank you
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Bill has a habit of writing as soon as rain starts drizzling from the sky. He doesn’t usually maintain a schedule, especially not after going back to Derry for a second time an gaining six friends who flitted straight back into his life and who each deserved as much of his time as the others, but when it rains, he forces himself behind the computer.
He draws the curtains shut, puts on a pair of noise cancelling headphones, and hopes that the downpour stops soon. According to his therapist, it’s because the weather reminds him of the day Georgie died and he turns to writing as a distraction, and while she might not be wrong, Bill prefers not to think about the specifics. All he knows is that as soon as dark clouds gather, he retreats to his study.
Audra knows this, and has, to Bills great shame, been a victim to his snappish behavior when he gets disturbed, so she leaves him be, and takes their daughter, Lily, on a mother daughter retreat. It’s their own routine that work well for the both of them, and so far, there haven’t been any problems with it.
Today, the bad weather struck out of nowhere, the rain spatters drumming their own beat on the windows and the foundation of the house, and Bill and remembers how bleak Georgie’s last day on earth had been. He retreats to his study in quiet without informing his daughter or wife about his plans, and slips into an imaginary world, where there’s no rain or bad memories.
He gets lost in it, thankfully. The rhythmic tapping of his keyboard and his own hushed voice lull him into a state so fully focused it allows him to forgo his environment. That includes ignoring the rain, but also the wooden door opening behind him as a small child sneaks in, big blue eyes full of a playful innocence.
He doesn’t hear Lily calling out to him, and is only notified of her arrival when her hand tugs on the sleeve of his shirt. It startles him, a cursed ‘Jesus’, slipping from his mouth before he clamps his teeth over his lips to stop more from tumbling out.
‘Daddy’, Bill reads of his daughters face, before he finally clads off the headset and hears her voice filter through.
She’s Georgie’s age now, and she resembles him a lot. For one, she looks up to her dad with as much wonder as her uncle did, a daddy’s girl through and through. She has the Knick for adventure too, though Bill is not sure that’s always a good thing.
‘What is it honey?’ He asks her with a soft voice. He suppresses the twinge of annoyance, now he’s broken out of his concentration, it’s hard not to notice the outside, and it’ll be difficult to reenter his writing groove.  
‘Can we play outside?’ She suggest, lips contorted in a devious little smile that proves that Audra must have said no to her question, and she’s now trying her hand at the person she has wrapped around her finger.
Bill’s gut reaction is to agree. How could he not, when he made the promise to himself to always be the best dad he could be, ever since finding out Audra was pregnant. He swore to himself that he’d never neglect his child, never put her on the backburner for anyone or anything, and that he’d enjoy, relish in every memory he’d be allowed to make with her.
But, he can’t. Not in this situation. Not when Pennywise only came back a mere four months ago, and he was forced into painful memories and past mistakes. Not when he’s relatively convinced that IT’s gone for real, but not 100% assured.
He smiles painfully, and gently pulls his daughter in his lap. It’s not so much that he’s trying to spoil his daughter, it’s just that he loves spending time with her as much as she adores spending time with him. His heart twinges painfully at the notion of disappointing her.
‘Not right now Lil, Daddy’s working.’ He presses a kiss on the top of her head, and squeezes her a bit tighter when a particularly hard downpour causes his heart to clench painfully. If only he had given Georgie a hug like this before letting him out that day.
It’s far too late for that regret now, but he won’t allow the same fate to be bestowed upon his daughter.
‘Please?’ Lily pouts, blinking her eyes in a way that is entirely disarming. She’s so good at convincing, she would make an excellent actress one day. ‘It’ll be so much fun.’ She leans in closer on Bill’s lap, bumping her forehead against Bill’s chest. ‘I promise I won’t step in any puddles.’
It’s a complete lie of course, and Bill can’t help but grin at the idea of Lilly thinking she’s being sneaky about the whole thing, but still, he can’t concur.
‘Later, alright buttercup? And I promise that I’ll spend an entire day with you tomorrow?’
Lily doesn’t smile, so Bill does the one thing he’s become a pro at since becoming a dad; ticking her until she can’t help but laugh.
She shrieks instantly, squirming away from Bill’s fingers as the dance over her sides until she’s nearly toppled of his lip in her haste to escape him, and then giggles long after Bill’s stopped.
Once that too dies out, she bites her lip, seemingly scanning her chances of getting him to agree on going out anyway, but then she concedes.
‘Alright then’, she says a little bit disheartened, but agreeing none the less. She slitters back out as quiet as she came in, but not before a kiss over her shoulder and waving at Bill.
‘See you later dad.’
Bill smiles and waves back, crushed by love and grief battling in his heart for the upper hand, then he puts on his headphone, covers his ears, and he neglects to hear the front door open and lock with a deafening pull.  
----
In the end, it’s the guilt that makes him give up only a half hour after Lilly came in to ask for his time. He peruse the last line he’d written, he hadn’t managed to find his flow after the interruption anyway, and closes the document of his new book for the day.
He still can’t find the strength to go outside in this weather but perhaps he can convince Lily that watching a movie and snacking on popcorn is a much better activity then getting wet and cold.
He shuffles into the kitchen, where Audra’s is already at, and wonders if they have enough corn to put together homemade popcorn.
‘Do you think Lily will want to watch a movie? I’m thinking Disney might be the way to go?’ He inquires Audra absentmindedly while scouring the pantries for the ingredients he needs. He knows, just from the sounds of Audra’s voice that something’s the matter.
‘She’s not with you?’ Audra chokes out, voice pinched in panic.
Bill’s heart stops for a full second, before rabbiting so hard his chest feels like exploding.
‘What?’ He asks, but the words feel foreign, like he’s not the one saying it.  Audra’s responding look is enough to give him all the answers he needs.
----
The rain remains unforgiven towards Bill, the background of the yet another great tragedy in his life. Cliché as it is, it does help cover up his tears, about the only positive thing in his situation right now. Audra is next to him, on the same level of utter panic as Bill’s, but he hopes for her sake that he appears more composed then he actually is.
He viciously wishes for the losers to be with him now, but calling them would take up to much time and they live too far away to be of any aid anyway.  
His neighbors are aiding in the search, but they’re not enough. He doesn’t trust them like he trust his friends, he doesn’t want the life of his daughter depending on strangers.
They keep telling him that she’s fine, that she’s most likely having the time of her life without realizing how her parents are in shambles, but Bill can’t believe that. Lily’s been out for at least thirty minutes, that’s the time they noticed she had disappeared, and even Bill is shivering his socks off. He can’t afford to think about how cold Lily must be.
He separates from the group of searches after the weird glances he receives unsettled peeks when he ducks on his knees and calls out for his daughter in a sewer. Audra, who knows in part what happened to Georgie, lets out a sob.
Bill feels bad for leaving his wife all by herself, but he wants to cover as much ground as possible. He can’t wait at their front porch praying for Lily’s safe return, he knows from experience how feeble that is.
The options of where Lily could be are limited. Her friends live too far away for her to have walked to them, and there was only one place kids of her age liked to hang out. Still, when the park turns up nothing, he scours the area surrounding it, yelling out Lily’s name until his voice skips and a hoarse tone underline his words.
‘P-p-please.’ He screams with his head thrown back towards the sky, his stutter going unnoticed. ‘H-haven’t you t-t-taken enough from m-m-me?’ He’s unsure who he’s calling out too.
Bill’s attention is pulled towards a curtain that wobbles open, and old lady peeking from behind it, judging him with curious eyes. The first one to gossip apparently, but the last to help. Just as with Georgie. Bile threatened to spill as Bill walks on.
With his energy running low, as does his hope, Bill concedes to try and walk in the other direction of his home, to see if anyone else has had more luck than him. Then, seemingly using up all of Bill’s luck for the rest of his life, a wobbled; ‘Daddy’, cries out.
He’s never backed up so quick, and when he lays eyes on Lily, he’s never run that fast towards her either. It’s the pure and utter fear you experience as a kid, when you get lost in a comic in the store and you swivel back around to your mom, but she’s gone somewhere and you can’t find her.
That’s the feeling that linger when you lose someone close to you. And when she pops back up, that’s the utter relief Bill gets to taste now.
He’s back on his knees before he can comprehend it, and his hand curls around Lily’s back and head, cradling her so close this chest it’s nearly suffocating. Bill weeps, caressing his daughters hair as he checks her over.
‘Oh honey’, he chokes, swelling multiple times to force back the lump of tears.
Lily’s crying too, though it seems more out of reluctant than anything else.
‘I’m sorry dad. I just wanted to go out and play. But I fell and I think my bike is broken. I’m really sorry.’
Bill sorrow laughs. He can’t stop the ridiculous laughter that’s so absurd.
‘Lily, I couldn’t care less about a bike’, Bill explains, and he means it every bit. He pulls her back in a tight hug, allowing himself ten more seconds before he has to let go of her.
‘Please don’t ever do that again,’ he whispers, leaving a quick kiss on her head. He holds her as close as he wish he could have done to Georgie, if he had been found alive too. Maybe later, tomorrow or the day after, he’d have a more firm conversation about how sneaking out is not okay, but today, the relief wins over every other emotion or lecture.
‘Is mom mad?’ Lily asks, her own arms clenched around Bill’s shirt so tight it’s clear that she also had a large fright.
Shit, Audra. In an instant, Bill picks up his daughter, arm holding her up by the knees. She’s old enough to walk, but Bill has longer legs and walks faster.
‘No’, he assures her, despite a conformation of Audra. He’s sure his feeling are rekindled in his wife too. ‘But we have to let her know you’re okay. She’s worried too.’
‘Okay’, Lily agrees easy, her head resting on Bill’s shoulders. The rain isn’t that cold anymore, now that he has his child back in the safety of his arms.
----
That evening, Bill, Audra and Lily are cuddles together on their couch, watching Aladdin. Lily has long slipped to the land of dreams, but Bill and Audra want to keep her close for a little while longer. Maybe they’ll all spend the night here anyway, regardless of future back pains, but that’s a discussion for later.
Bill swipes one of Lily’s curls from her forehead gently, smiling when she snores deeper, then settles again.
‘Love you buttercup.’ Bill says, in his mind, he thinks, ‘I’ll never let anything happen to you.’
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vidavalor · 4 years ago
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Can we talk about how Sam is as useless at this as Bucky is, really, and it’s massively sweet?
Yeah, I’m writing about Sam because we all love us some brainwashed, century-old assassin endless array of hurt/comfort here but this idea that Sam, because he’s a therapist and not always a crying, nightmare-sweat-drenched mess, is Captain Got It All Together is not truth... because this poor broken-hearted kitten absolutely does not and it makes him so much more of a better-realized, fuller character... 
I’m not trying to wade any ship wars here or any fandom strife over the Bucky slant to fic/sometimes erasure of Sam here... I love both of these characters equally and ship them but my point here is that I think that because Bucky’s trauma is more well-documented and, for lack of a better word, “flashier”, that some people might think Sam looks perfectly well-adjusted. By comparison, he probably is but this other, quieter story happening with Sam is necessary reading here if you’ve been sleeping on the complexities of one Sam Wilson that aren’t the ones the show is focusing on more explicitly relating to his lived experience as a Black man in America. (They’re not completely separate either but not only this part of his life.) What do I mean, exactly? 
Been wondering how these two are falling in love but can mainly just get it from Bucky’s POV because Sam is awesome and Bucky is sad and need love? Not sure what Sam is getting out of his relationship with Bucky? Not totally sure you ship it but leaning that way? Yeah, pull up a seat because this thing I wrote after Ep 5 here (so spoilers through that) is basically an old-school ship manifesto at this point but comes at SamBucky/WinterFalcon from Sam’s side, rather than Bucky’s. (I have nothing *against* Bucky. I just think you’re missing half the goodness of this show and half the surprisingly tender romance of all of this if you are not focusing on Sam as much as Bucky.) If this interests you, then read on, being forewarned that it’s a little long...
So... Sam Wilson is a sweet, kind, warm-hearted, empathetic, drop-dead gorgeous superhero soldier flying military veteran therapist... whom the canon suggests is Bucky Barnes-level obsessed with his dead former partner (in some sense of the word), Riley. You thought it was just Bucky with the angsty past love? Oh no... oh, no no no....
Consider that Sam’s been back in Delacroix twice now in TFATWS and not once has his sister-- who adores him and who knows everyone in town-- suggested that she call up any one of the at least ten decent single people she has to know who live in the area to take her f*cking *dreamboat* of a brother out. Forget the show putting Sam in like twelve pieces of canon and not throwing a single human (not named Bucky) at him and what that implies-- we all know that Sarah wouldn’t care what kind of human her brother was attracted to and yet she and the entire community of Delacroix can’t seem to find this guy a date. He’s sweet and hot and an Avenger but our Sam’s a monk, you guys... More to the point... they don’t even try. They know better than to try anymore... which says a lot.
Going back awhile now, when Sam met Steve, he was still this equally dreamy and he didn’t even have any Avengers-related problems getting in the way of his potential dating life. He had a normal job working for the VA in DC. Yet, he clearly was seeing exactly no one and while I am willing to admit that pretty much any human would drop everything and follow Steve Rogers around the world, it’s clear that Sam wasn’t seeing anyone at the time because his life was able to be dropped in a second and he also had that file with Riley’s photo at the ready, man. At. the. ready... 
He responded to the opportunity to follow Steve with no less need when it came to his own post-trauma-of-war identity as Bucky does. This isn’t to say that Sam is *as* lost as Bucky because it would be hard to out-do the once-brainwashed assassin who has been alive for a hundred years but Sam saw all sorts of hell. He’s a therapist for veterans because he’s had to get beyond *his own* PTSD and he’s really aware of how that is a journey that doesn’t exactly ever end. It gets significantly better and he knows how well it can-- that’s why he can tell Bucky that there is hope of that-- but it is very clear that Sam Wilson is still suffering his own kind of PTSD and his own grief for the death of a guy who likely couldn’t love him the way he needed him to. 
I know we don’t know a ton about exactly what Sam and Riley were but I think there is enough to infer that they probably actually weren’t a couple. For one thing, Sarah never mentions him and even if the show wanted to be vague about things, they could phrase it like “it’s been forever since you brought back someone to the house, haven’t met any of them since Riley” or something. There are ways to infer that they were a thing and the nature of it, if the show wanted to do that but all they have suggested so far is that Sam was in love with Riley. We know he and Riley were friends and worked on the Falcon suit project together but what we are getting out of what they are giving to us is that Sam loved him but it’s not clear that they were even a couple. I’d even say the picture of them that he shows Steve and Natasha is supposed to evoke that they weren’t a couple-- it’s of Sam looking at Riley, smiling like he’s the moon and the stars, while Riley is smiling but just a bit and he’s looking at the camera, not at Sam. 
In other words, remember Miller’s analogies from school? Sam is to Riley as Bucky is to Steve. I just offended every person reading this who thinks that Steve and Bucky weren’t an unrequited thing *ducks* but I feel like we’re supposed to take from what they give us that Sam knows a little something about being mad for a guy who thinks you are his best buddy but doesn’t look at you in a romantic or sexual way and you feel like you’re dying over it. Sam gets Bucky because Sam *is* Bucky when it comes to this. 
If Sam and Riley were just the best of friends, Sam still would have mourned him greatly but it would not necessarily have impacted his love life the way it seems like it might have. I’m not necessarily saying there was no one but this is a man who even when it felt like Steve Rogers-- whom Sam obviously found attractive-- seemed like he was making Sam question whether or not he was coming onto him or just super-nice and making a new fellow veteran friend... even when that was happening, Sam’s response was that he didn’t hate it or anything and he was willing to help Steve with what he needed in this friendly, advice-giving sort of way and maybe they had a thing, who knows, but it was clear that Sam-- a guy who has to be hit on *all the time*-- wasn’t really used to the idea of there being someone in his life. So, he wasn’t letting anyone into his life. He would have had the chance, no doubt. He was choosing not to. Why would you choose not to? If you were grieving the loss of a man you couldn’t get over and you thought that you weren’t ever going to love anyone like that and maybe having someone wasn’t going to happen for you.
Like, imagine Sam’s surprise when The Winter Soldier turns up, nearly kills them all, disappears and they go on the run and he starts hearing Steve’s confessional stories about the guy who was his best friend and in love with him and Steve has literally never said those words aloud because they’re from the *1940s* and he’s felt guilty all this time for hurting him. Steve’s the kind of guy who would feel guilty for not being in love with someone who was in love with him. That’s when Sam, who thought he had more in common with Steve, realizes he’s actually *Bucky Barnes* in this story. He’s the damn Winter Soldier in the Steve-and-Bucky version of him and Riley. 
That is how Bucky evolves from “the kind of guy you have to stop” in Sam’s mind to the guy he’s hanging out with in every fight and snarking over the car seats with. He’s like yeesh, I thought I had a few years of this ungodly pain and that was bad... this poor bastard’s been in love with a Riley who could and probably will live until he’s a hundred and thirty. Sam starts getting into this whole antagonist origin story of The Winter Soldier here because he realizes that one wrong move-- one case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time-- and he could have been captured during the war he was in. He could have been tortured like that, so easily, and he knows what it’s like to be tortured by love in that way. 
Bucky, for his part, when he begins to get his mind back and more fully remember Steve and his past, takes one look at Sam and is thinking like... that poor SOB... oh, look, it’s 21st Century Me. So, you fell for Steve Rogers, huh? Welcome to the club. We meet every Tuesday at two to discuss being the pining best friend in love with a guy who, in all likelihood, is attracted to both of us but unless Tony Stark can shake loose a bit of the freak in The Star-Spangled Man With a Plan, we’re not getting anything but a most earnest and sincere friendship out of this (and if Stark can’t, no one can....)
Like, Bucky’s Steve love is pretty pure. He wants him to be happy. He’s hurt that Steve doesn’t love him the way he loves Steve but he does love him as his best friend as well and wants him to have what he wants out of life. If that’s going back in time to Peggy Carter (who wouldn’t, really?) and leaving him behind then, fine. He wishes he were still here but he’ll deal but he’s going to be keeping an eye out for the other guy left behind-- Steve’s new modern era best friend person. Bucky’s so gone over keeping Steve safe that he can’t even resent Sam’s presence-- he’s thrilled he exists. Someone good to look after Steve when Bucky couldn’t! Sam Wilson is heaven sent and must be protected at all costs! So frequently from some kid with webbed fingers, apparently! 
Sam, meanwhile, is challenged by the dilemma that Bucky appears to think that they’re in the same boat while Sam, who for sure had a little crush on Steve as who doesn’t, has really come to realize that he is far, far more into the tragic one here. He’s so irritated about it. It would be simpler if he just fell for another blond soldier with red, white and blue blood who couldn’t love him. At least he’d just be completely hopeless then but the brainwashed one? The one that thinks he’s horrid but is so good that he can’t even bring himself to be that jealous of Sam when he clearly thinks Sam is sleeping with the guy he’s loved for years? 
Oh, Sam’s gone on that one... 
Bucky’s still a mess then so it’s harmless enough to just pretend he’s not writing himself into touch-starved Bucky fanfic in his own mind here but when Bucky keeps saving him in different fights? When he catches him looking once or twice. When the bickering is really flirting and Sam knows he means it that way, too? When the poor guy just gets his mind back, they all reunite and go to one battle and then the two of them disappear and miss *five years* of their lives? When then, soon after, Steve is gone, too? 
When it begins to feel like *they* are now the story and meant to go through the rest of these things together? I mean, when everyone else is all on about the fate and destiny of it all-- Stark’s big sacrifice being the one way to save everyone, Doctor Strange going on about all the possibilities of the universe on a saving the world level but it so personal to the people Sam and Bucky know, Steve choosing to go back in time because he can and be with the woman he loved and never got to have... 
...standing there in the funerals and aftermaths of all of this together, by virtue of being Steve’s Friends Who Aren’t Really Part of This Gang Exactly... are Sam and Bucky. What are the odds that they are supposed to be the rest of one another’s story? Sam was wondering it. He for sure hadn’t felt like this since Riley... he might not have really ever felt it at all before. 
Can we just admit that while there’s been some guys in the past-- and it could be rephrased as ‘some people’, as while Sam is written to suggest he’s at least into men, he could be into people who don’t identify as men as well-- but there’s not been someone who has been able to love him the way he’s loved them. 
He’s from the South and Black and the show taps into the racism he’s been through as a result. Not obviously in Delacroix, where he feels safe and seen, where people care about him and don’t care that he is not straight, but in other parts. He’s been in the military, where homophobia is still pretty rampant and it’s a culture of a lot of heterosexual machismo. (Hell, the show even has a kind of walking, talking example of a guy everyone knows was the epitome of that kind of culture, even if he’s been broken by that world, too-- John Walker.) It’s not even really clear if Sam is out and, if he is, to whom. He seems to be the kind of person to want to be himself as much as possible and Sarah likely knows because they are close but I’m not so sure that a lot of Sam’s military buddies actually did. He really strikes me as the guy who gets along with everybody and whom everybody loves-- but whom few people actually *know* because he keeps himself (all of himself, not just his sexuality) private from others...
...which is also a hell of a lot like one Bucky Barnes. 
Guaranteed they became such fast friends not just from being sort of left with one another in the aftermath of Steve and their attraction but because Sam was amazed to find that Bucky was actually pretty funny and Sam just kept talking to him because while he has-- or had, anyways, before he ran off with Steve-- a ton of people he’d consider friends, he doesn’t really have anyone he’d consider to be a close friend and hasn’t since Riley. Bucky, just still stunned to be free of mind control and that there was another human being talking to him instead of looking at him as a weapon to program to kill, was eager to listen to and absolutely thrilled when he could find something sarcastic to say to make Sam laugh that surprised laugh and light up. 
These two damaged couple of guys spent most of this show and the months before it just terrified by how much love they were feeling for one another and were very happy to let any conflict they could get in the way of it-- any excuse to claim they weren’t feeling totally seen and run for the hills back into their own trauma.
It’s not just Bucky doing this. He might have been the one not returning the texts at the start, the one who seemed to be withdrawing more, while Sam was texting him still to check in on him but how quickly that began to flip around by Episode 5. 
Suddenly, the brave one is Bucky. It was Sam for the first few episodes-- he was stil trying and so hard, despite not getting what he needed in return and Bucky still sending signals that he wanted him but was happy to still revel in being too damaged and scared to try harder. By Episode 5, though? Bucky’s not only learned to trust himself again, it is proven to be what he was afraid of: not being able to protect and love Sam the way he wanted to and that Sam would leave him. Triggered by the shield as a metaphor for not caring about Bucky, not having a reason to still pursue him, Bucky thought he had successfully pushed Sam away and that Sam would really stop texting because to not do so would be to admit to one another that they wanted to be around one another and this wasn’t just about Steve/Captain America. By Episode 5, Bucky shows up in Delacroix not perfect by any stretch of the imagination but with eyes only for Sam and is every one of Sam’s favorite Bucky Barnes fantasies come to life. 
It’s now Sam flipping out. Would you have expected the Sam of the first two episodes to be a babbling mess in the face of a flirty Bucky stretching and claiming it’s time for him to go get a hotel room? To try to be playing it cool but winding up asking him to stay forever and telling him he likes his tight t-shirts in the middle there? To get so nervous that he suddenly is babbling about six toes and flirting with Sarah, showing how jealous he was of Bucky just... smiling and being this guy Steve had said was under there but that Sam had only had small glimpses of so far? If he was gone for the broken Winter Soldier... he’s wrecked by a single smile from this Bucky. 
This is the same guy who spent the first few episodes confident to a point of near-cockiness, loving flirting with and teasing Bucky, the one that seemed more well-adjusted and in control of himself. Overall, he is but there’s something there when Bucky shows up and White Wolfs Sam into a sputtering mess who is sending him little glances, as if they’ve switched bodies from the first few episodes. It shows *just how much* Sam is comfortable with Bucky and how rare it is for him because he would react differently to Bucky’s more overt flirting of Episode 5 if how he is with Bucky was his default in life. Instead, we see that some of it is posturing-- it’s the Sam equivalent of lifting heavy things and using power tools. His is the humor (what’s a better aphrodisiac than making the Winter Soldier laugh or flirt back or blush?) and the bicker-caring. We even see where it comes from, in a way. Sam is a soldier-- he knows how to help other traumatized soldiers and when we saw him in his VA group session when we met him, we saw him using that kind of machismo world and its language to communicate with the soldiers in the group. The difference for him with them versus him with Bucky is that he’s also flirting with Bucky. The buddy cop thing is intentional-- it’s Sam’s strategy, it’s been Bucky’s choice to respond to it and they’re playacting it as how they talk because it’s been easier than admitting that they are completely gone on another and just want all the soft things. 
Up until recently anyway and now Sam’s reeling from a man he’s fallen in love with showing up and loving him back. Don’t think for a second that Bucky doesn’t know enough by now to know that it’d totally undo Sam but the surprise of it to the audience only really exists if you don’t think Sam and Bucky have anything in common besides their now-gone mutual friend. In reality, they’re endgame. 
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avversiera-writes · 4 years ago
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you never said goodbye (2/2) // tobirama senju x reader
Summary: in which Tobirama never makes it from his last mission.
Part One 
///
You wake up at dawn, and find Tobirama’s eyes on you again, vigilant. 
This time, you don’t even question him. You press your body against him and you lean forward to kiss him on the lips. He does not stiffen this time, and instead, he pushes against you until you are lying flat on your back. You meet his intense red eyes, and you feel yourself shiver from anticipation. 
He places himself in between your legs, and he leans forward, catching your lips passionately. 
This is your favorite Tobirama. 
You take his hands and place them over your breasts, and he gives them a firm squeeze. 
You are desperate to feel him, to have him before he gives it his all to his village, before he goes on this mission. You two are never keen on goodbyes, having the faith that you will make it back home. This is how you tell him goodbye, because you hated the finality of that word. If it was up to him, he would have said goodbye firmly, and that was that. You told him before that you never want to hear it.
He slides in and out of you, making sure to grind against your walls slowly. Your whimpers become moans, and you hear his quiet grunts–he was always so silent when making love. You glimpse his face, and you find him pleased as you moan in pleasure, driving into you relentlessly until you are writhing beneath him and you let go of everything. 
You pant as you come down from your high, then Tobirama throws his sleeping clothes at you. 
“Let’s eat,” he orders, as if he is already on the field. 
You throw him a smile as you quickly get dressed, and then follow him out of your shared bedroom. 
You finish early to prepare him his food rations and a light lunch, then you head to the bathroom to prepare his bath. Usually, the servants in the house would help out, but Tobirama is picky and loves his privacy. He does not want anyone wandering into your spaces. 
You wait for him to freshen up by lying on the bed and reading a book. A few moments later, he pads into the bedroom to dress. 
You set down your book to watch him dress. “I polished your armor and repaired the kinks that were bothering you.”
Tobirama pauses, his hands stopping to reach for the armor in midair. “Thank you,” he utters gravely. 
He places his hand on the surface of his armor. 
Back then, he wouldn’t have let you touch a thing of his. Now, it’s become a routine of yours whenever he is about to go on a mission. You reckon it’s probably because he feels bad that he had inevitably forced you out of service.
“I’ll help you put it on,” you say, getting out of your bed, still in his clothes. 
He watches you, and then averts his eyes when you get closer. “Alright,” he quietly says.
After getting him all geared up, the two of you walk the streets of the village, heading to the gates where he and his team planned to rendezvous. You grab his hand, but he flinches and pulls away. 
You scoff. “Tobi, it’s early as hell. No one’s going to see you get mushy with your wife.”
Tobirama sighs and he takes your hand, but he presses closer to you so that it is hidden from view. You roll your eyes, but instead of saying anything else, you decide to bask in the proximity. 
His team arrives right on time, and Tobirama has put a chaste distance between you. You chat with his team for a bit, asking Uchiha Kagami about his new wife, teasing Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo, trading gossip with Koharu. Then, when it is time to say goodbye, you watch them walk away. 
You and Tobirama did not need to trade words. His eyes linger on your face, then he nods his goodbye. You watch him go with pride swelling in your chest. You understand him and his stoic ways, but that is who he is. 
///
As the Nidaime Hokage’s wife, you try your best to help out your husband. In his absences due to long missions, you are the one who facilitates meetings, organizes what needs to get approval, write notes and dates on what Tobirama needs to attend to when he returns, and even arrange piles of contracts and drafts of treaties. You would do it in a way he would do it himself, because you knew that he would be on your case if it isn’t to his liking. 
He usually prefers doing everything on his own, but you had vowed to make him a great Hokage, and with every great Hokage there is a wife who is like their backbone in the job. He grudgingly lets you do so, since there is nothing else you can busy yourself with, and although he would not admit it, your support has made a difference and he is coming home earlier and short of total exhaustion.
You meet with the clan heads’ wives, either in your own home or in their households. This is how you siphon information from each clan to get to your husband without prying. You learn of who is born and who is about to get married, who is about to have a new child, or who is about to go into the Academy. You make mental notes about their slips about their husbands, and lend your advice should they ask it of you. 
You also attend a few events where you are invited. Normally, you and Tobirama should be the ones attending, but he is never one to go to a social event unless it is directly connected to his work, so you’re the one who handles this part of his job. 
You visit a few establishments that are being built, and you meet with the workers and the shinobis. They make a few requests that you will run through with Tobirama later, and wish them luck on their work. 
In the evenings, you go to Hashirama and Mito’s household, either to eat dinner or to gossip with Mito. You meet with Tobirama’s toddler grand-niece, Tsunade, who runs around the compound like she rules the world. 
You and Mito drink tea and eat the prepared snacks, exchanging quips about your husbands. 
“He told me not to mourn him,” you relay what Tobirama said a few nights ago. “He’s so silly sometimes.”
“He just doesn’t want you to be sad,” Mito chuckles. 
“I know,” you say. “But like, can’t he say it in another way? It’s like he’s commanding his troops or something. I’m his wife–not a subordinate. That’s why I stopped running missions.”
Mito laughs and she tells you about Hashirama’s gambling and how Tsunade is picking up on his bad habits. You look at her untouched snack and you realize how hungry you are. You ask for her food, even though you normally would not eat other people’s plates. You have been hungry a lot for the past several weeks. 
The next day, you are in his office and you stare at the empty desk where the Hokage should be the one occupying. Tobirama’s desk is quickly piling up with documents, and some of it is delegated to the floor. 
When you come home, the smell of cooking meat in the streets makes you nauseous, and when you pause to stare longingly at Tobirama’s face on the mountain, you throw up in the nearest trash can, much to your chagrin. You are exhausted like you have been running for miles, but you push through it. You couldn’t keep anything down and whatever food comes your way makes you want to throw up, so you opt for a bland porridge. 
///
You snap awake from your sleep, feeling something in your own body break in half. You are not sure what it is, but it does not let you go back to sleep. You end up pacing around in the house like a ghost, and you had started shaking from the feeling. 
Something is wrong. You are absolutely sure and the feeling frightens you. 
You did not want to wake up a servant so you make yourself tea to calm yourself down, but you give up as you almost scalded yourself from inattentiveness. 
You hate being like this. 
The nervous energy in your body makes you throw up, and when dawn arrives, you are wary. You try to keep down the food that the servants had given you to munch on, but there is only so much you can tolerate. 
A few hours later, Sarutobi Hiruzen arrives, alone and rugged, like he hasn’t slept for days and has just come home. 
One look on his face, and you knew what he would say before he even gave voice to it. 
You fall to your knees, and Hiruzen comes forward to catch you. 
“Where is his body?” You whisper hoarsely. 
Hiruzen presses his lips together, his eyes dark. “My lady, I don’t think you should see his body at the moment.”
“Please. He’s my husband,” you croak out. Tears prickle your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. 
You try not to break down crying
“H-how did he die?”
Hiruzen looks stricken. “He…sacrificed himself, made himself a decoy. He fought well.”
“That…self-sacrificing bastard,” you murmur. You knew something like this would happen, that he will put his life on the line for the village and its people, and it is something you love him for, but it still hurts. 
“I am sorry, my lady.”
“You’re his successor, yes?” You’ve had these talks for a while, that should this even happen, he is planning to make Hiruzen the Sandaime.
Hiruzen clears his throat, not expecting this question. “Yes.”
Do not mourn me. 
“What of the rest of his team?”
“We are alive, thanks to him. We were surrounded by enemy shinobi from Kumo.”
You try to smile but it comes out as a grimace. Such is a life for a shinobi. To die in the battlefield is an honor. 
“My lady,” Hiruzen starts, hesitantly. 
“Yes?”
“He told me to tell you that he is both thankful and sorry.” 
You smile ruefully, despite the grief overtaking your heart. 
Do not mourn me, Tobirama had said, but when you were flitting between consciousness and the land of your dreams, he had whispered the most important words that he couldn’t say to you. 
You had already known.
END.
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wizardofozymandias · 4 years ago
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Inquisitor as a Companion: Nessa Lavellan
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Thanks to @little-lightning-lavellan​ for coming up with this template idea! This was a great writing exercise. Putting most of this under a cut because it’s really long. (Portrait of Nessa by @m-m-m-myysurana​) 
You have selected Nessa Lavellan to join your party!
Race: Dalish elf
Gender: Female
Class: Mage (pyromancer)
Specialization: Rift Mage
Background
Nessara “Nessa” Enasalas Haranal Lavellan  (born 9:02 Dragon) is a Dalish mage, scholar, and diplomat from the Free Marches. Prior to adventuring, she trained as First to the Keeper of Clan Lavellan. She is a companion and a potential romance option for a male Inquisitor of any race. 
The daughter of Clan Lavellan’s Hahren and a Rivaini Dalish merchantwoman, Nessa was raised with a love for stories. As soon as she could read, she devoured her clan’s small library and begged for more. Her father indulged her as much as he could, purchasing any promising tomes from travelers who were willing to trade with the Dalish. Nessa’s mother taught her all the languages she had learned in her travels across Thedas. Growing up, Nessa became close friends with Maelin, the First to Clan Lavellan’s Keeper. She was fascinated by his magic, but showed no talent of her own. 
When she was old enough to be apprenticed, Nessa was assigned to the Clan’s Craftsmaster, who taught her to incorporate the stories she loved into her work. Nessa learned a number of handcrafts, such as woodcarving and leatherworking, as well as how to create arms and armor. She would often emboss images from Dalish legends onto the leather armor of the Clan’s warriors. 
One of the traditions of Clan Lavellan was to send the young clan members who were almost ready to receive their vallaslin to visit one of the human settlements in the Free Marches for two weeks. The tradition helped uphold relations between the Dalish and the city elves and allowed the young adults to experience city life. In 9:19 Dragon, just shy of their eighteenth birthdays, Nessa and Maelin were sent to Tantervale.
On their last day in Tantervale, Nessa and Maelin were approached by a family who begged them to take their eight-year-old son out of the city. He had recently come into his magic and his parents feared he would be taken to the Circle. Nessa and Maelin attempted to escape with the child, but the templars ambushed them outside the city. In the violence, Maelin and the child were killed. Upon witnessing their deaths, Nessa released a blast of fire magic that immolated the remaining templars. She was found by her clan a week later, wandering dazed in the woods. Once her grief had passed, Nessa devoted herself to studying magic and eventually was appointed First to her Clan’s Keeper. 
Before leaving her Clan, Nessa used her place as First to further diplomatic relations between the Dalish, humans, and city elves. She also established a respectable traveling library of Dalish lore and history that welcomes anyone who wishes to study. Care of the library was passed on to the Clan’s Hahren before Nessa left to further her study on elvhen history and legends. 
Involvement
Dragon Age II
If imported from a World State where the Hero of Ferelden is a Dalish elf:
Nessa learns that the former First of Mahariel’s Clan is in the Free Marches. Hoping to create an account of the Hero’s life, Nessa travels to Sundermount to speak with Merrill. Hawke encounters Nessa in Act 1 during Merrill’s recruitment quest Long Way Home. 
Upon entering the Dalish camp, Hawke will find Nessa arguing with Keeper Marethari about Merrill. When approached, Keeper Marethari will wave Nessa aside in order to speak to Hawke. Speaking with Nessa afterward will begin the side quest The Hero’s Legacy. Nessa will explain her intent to write about Mahariel. This opens dialogue options about Dalish history and the Hero of Ferelden. 
Nessa will attempt to accompany Hawke to meet Merrill, but Marethari will intervene. Upon returning to the Dalish camp, Nessa will introduce herself to Merrill and invite Merrill to return with her to Clan Lavellan. Merrill will refuse, saying she no longer has a place among the Dalish. 
In Act 2, once Merrill’s companion quest Mirror Image has been completed, the sidequest Reconnection will become available. Merrill mentions that Nessa has written to her. Hawke can encourage Merrill to write to Nessa or tell her to give up on the Dalish. 
If Merrill receives Hawke’s encouragement:
Merrill will later mention corresponding with Nessa. 
If Merrill is romanced: 
One of Nessa’s letters to Merrill will appear on Hawke’s table. It thanks Merrill for her help in documenting Warden Mahariel’s life and indicates that Nessa is seeking the account’s publication. 
Dragon Age: Inquisition 
If the Default World State is used or imported from a World State where the Hero is a Dalish elf:
Nessa Lavellan can be recruited during the quest Address the Chantry in Val Royeaux. She appears in the crowd near the podium. When approached, she will admit her surprise at learning the Inquisition has risen again. Nessa will also mention that she is visiting the University of Orlais, seeking a publisher for her book on Warden Mahariel. 
If the Hero is not a Dalish elf: 
Nessa will introduce herself as a scholar seeking admission to the University of Orlais. 
If the Inquisitor is a Dalish elf:
Nessa will be pleased to see another of her people in Val Royeaux. This opens an elf-specific dialogue tree in which the Inquisitor can ask Nessa about their Clan. To a non-mage Lavellan, Nessa explains that she gave up her place as First of her Clan in order to further her research into elvhen history. 
Regardless of the World State, the Inquisitor can recruit Nessa or have Solas ask her to join the Inquisition. If Nessa is not recruited at Val Royeaux, she will appear again in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC, working alongside Colette as an assistant to Bram Kenric. She can still be persuaded to join the Inquisition with a special dialogue option (either as an elven Inquisitor or with the History Knowledge perk). 
Trespasser
If the Inquisitor is in a relationship with Nessa:
In the two years since Corypheus was defeated, Nessa has remained at Skyhold to finish cataloguing the library and working on the research that she and Solas were assigned. An optional wedding cutscene is available at the Winter Palace. 
If the Inquisitor is friends with Nessa: 
She has spent the past two years in Orlais collaborating with Collette on a book about Lindiranae, the last of the Emerald Knights. She encourages the Inquisitor to visit her at the University of Orlais. 
If Nessa is in a relationship with Solas:
She will mention her fruitless attempts to find him. After the Inquisitor’s encounter with Solas, Nessa will rejoin the Inquisition as an Agent. 
Quests
Dragon Age II
The Hero’s Legacy (conditional)
Dragon Age: Inquisition
Acquire Research Materials (war table)
We Are the Last Elvhen - companion quest
A Well-Stocked Library (war table)
Emma Ir Abelas [“Now I am filled with sorrow”] (conditional, Save Clan Lavellan failed) 
Vir Lath Sa’vunin [“We love one more day”] - romance quest 
Approval
As a Dalish mage, Nessa is most inclined to approve of Inquisitors who support mages and elves. She supports free thinking and exploration, rather than restrictive institutions. She generally approves of Inquisitors who are willing to explore new magic, accept apostates, and speak with spirits. Because of her past traumatic encounter with the Templars, Nessa strongly distrusts the Chantry and believes their hold over mages should be broken. She supports any decisions that weaken the Chantry. Pious Andrastian Inquisitors may earn some disapproval from her until they’ve gained her trust. 
Nessa is diplomatic, philosophical, and compassionate. She approves of decisions that offer mercy to those who are hurting, as well as those that seek the best compromise in difficult situations. Inquisitors who are open-minded and empathetic will find it easy to earn Nessa’s respect.  
Approval Gained: 
Complete In Hushed Whispers and recruit the rebel mages.
Recruit the Grey Wardens during Here Lies the Abyss.
Gain enough court approval (85 or more) to have Florianne de Chalons arrested during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.
Choose the Public Truce or appoint Gaspard and Briala to rule together during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.
Allow Celene to be killed at the Winter Palace.
Spare Abelas and the Sentinels during What Pride Had Wrought.
(Elven Inquisitor Only) Drink from the Well of Sorrows
Approval Lost:
Conscript the rebel mages.
Side with the templars by completing Champions of the Just.
Make Alexius tranquil during his judgement.
Exile the Grey Wardens during Here Lies the Abyss.
Reconcile Celene and Briala during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.
Complete The Spoils of Desecration in the Exalted Plains. 
Kill the pride demon during All New, Faded for Her.
Kill the Sentinels during What Pride Had Wrought. 
Romance
Nessa may be romanced by a male Inquisitor of any race or class. Nessa is cautious about relationships and it takes several attempts to begin a romance with her. Her romance is unlocked after gaining friendly approval with her, flirting with her consistently, and completing her personal quest, We Are the Last Elvhen. 
If neither Nessa nor Solas is in a relationship with the Inquisitor: 
Nessa may enter a relationship with Solas. 
Combat Comments
Low Health
“Mythal enaste!”
“Someone help!”
“Not today!”
Companion falls
(Inquisitor): You’re not allowed to die here!
(Inquisitor, if romanced): Don’t you dare die on me, vhenan!
(Cassandra): Hang in there, Cass!
(Dorian): Don’t leave me, Dorian!
(Solas): Hold on, Solas! 
(Solas, if romanced): Stay with me, vhenan!
Enemy killed
“May the Dread Wolf take you!”
“Ma halam!”
“To the Void with you!”
Location Comments
Arbor Wilds
(Seeing the Temple of Mythal) “I had no idea there were places like this left in the world. I’m so lucky I get to see it.”
(While Solas and Morrigan are arguing over the Fen’Harel statue) “If anyone would like a Dalish scholar’s perspective on this, feel free to ask. No? Keep arguing then.” 
(Examining the murals in the Temple) “Mosaics. They look like glass. I’ve never seen art like this done by my people. How old must this temple be?”
Emerald Graves
“So beautiful and so sad. All the places my people lived are haunted now.”
“The Emerald Knights rode here once. I wonder what they saw then.”
(Encountering the elven murals) “Looks like the Emerald Knights had some interesting ideas about proper armor.” 
Emprise du Lion
“Whose idea was it to drag me to this gods-forsaken snowdrift?”
“My frostbite is getting frostbitten!”
Exalted Plains
“This is where Lindiranae fell. The air feels full of ghosts.” 
“So many wolves. Fen’Harel certainly keeps close watch on this place.”
Hinterlands
“If I see one more gods-damned bear, I’m going home!”
(Seeing the dragon near Dusklight Camp) “That’s a lot of fire. I wonder if this is how the templars feel when they see me coming.”
Lost Temple of Dirthamen 
“What a shame it’s too dark and damp to take notes in here. I hope I don’t forget anything!”
(Looking at one of the altars) “Are those. . .body parts? This can’t be right. This is no ritual of Dirthamen.”
(Upon completing the ritual) “And. . .it’s a demon. Guess I should’ve expected that.” 
Companion/Advisor Comments about Nessa
Iron Bull: Did you know she used to be a blacksmith? Still hits like it, too. I asked her to spar with me once. Knocked me flat on my ass!
Sera: She seems like she’s all elven glory and shite at first. Y’know, “my people’ve suffered forever and I won’t shut up about it,” but really she’s a lot of fun. 
Cassandra: Nessara is a very headstrong woman. I cannot say I will ever agree with her views on the Chantry. But she has proven to be a loyal companion and a good friend. 
Cole: Hungry, like a fire. She seeks wisdom to heal wounds older than her. Their deaths weigh on her still. 
Varric: Buckets? Don’t let that pretty face fool you, she’s got a tongue that’ll scorch you worse than those flames of hers ever could. Good thing it takes a lot to get her mad. 
Josephine: Mistress Lavellan is an amazing woman. It is a shame the University of Orlais has not admitted her yet. She will make a fine scholar. But for now, I am thankful to have her here at Skyhold. Her knowledge of the Dalish will be a great asset, I believe. 
Vivienne: It is a shame her studies could not have been furthered in a Circle, where she might have had access to more materials and better teaching. But she has a good chance to achieve her ambitions now, and seems ready to take that advantage. 
Solas: Lavellan has a keen intellect and a surprising talent for magic. I fear she may pride herself too much on those things. 
Solas (if romanced): She possesses a rare strength of spirit, valuing wisdom and kindness over wealth or power. This world would be a far better place if more followed her example. 
Dorian: Nessa? An absolutely brilliant woman. If good sense prevails at the University of Orlais, I suspect she’ll be running the place in a few years. Although “good sense” and “Orlais” hardly belong in the same sentence. 
Cullen: If you ever play chess with her, take my advice: treat her like any other opponent. I tried to be a gentleman and let her win once. She caught on and gave me the soundest tongue-lashing of my life. 
Trivia
Nessa’s greatest fear is failing her people.
Varric nicknamed Nessa “Buckets” after watching Sera douse her with water while Nessa demonstrated a fire spell. 
Having trained with her Clan’s Craftsmaster, Nessa is a talented woodcarver and blacksmith. She likes discussing carving with Blackwall and smithing with Dagna.
Party banter suggests that Nessa is more comfortable around spirits than most Dalish elves, having grown up with her mother’s stories about Rivain.
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docholligay · 4 years ago
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Doc Loves A Series of Unfortunate Events
You should read this book series to your children. Or your nieces and nephews. Neighbor children. 
Do NOT watch the Netflix Series, which I tried VERY hard to like. 
This is one of the few series I know that isn’t even really YA, it’s truly a children’s series, written with very simply prose, and is incredible. 
The prose is simple, as I said, but that does not mean it is in any way boring, or lacking in its own flavor of poetry. The narrator, Lemony Snicket, has an incredible way of telling stories, that is immediately recognizable as its own patter, in the same way that Rod Serling or Stephen King have an easily recognizable style, not something I generally find in children’s stories. 
If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say in a pleasant and hopeful voice, "Well this isn't too bad, I don't have a left arm anymore but at least nobody will ever ask me if I'm left-handed or right-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of, "Aaaaaa! My arm! My arm!
It’s the sort of thing that presents ideas, and themes, and really, very difficult things, to children in a way that is understandable to them without talking down to them. It’s what I think all children’s literature should aspire to be. The narration is funny, but often poignant, and it manages to define terms for children in a way that perfectly falls into the story, without seeming a moment’s out of step:
A passport, as I'm sure you know, is a document that one shows to government officials whenever one reaches a border between two countries, so that the official can learn who you are, where you were born, and how you look when photographed unflatteringly.
A child not knowing what a passport was would then immediately know, without having to stop and ask, without any sort of pause or confusion. It’s done so artfully, so many times within the series, that it becomes almost a joke or a style within itself. 
One of the reasons I love the story is that bad things continually happen to the children in it. It is not a story of being loved, and having triumph. It is a story of never giving up, against impossible odds, when all the world is against you. How great resourcefulness will carry you to the next tragedy, which is also something you can handle. I so rarely see things like this, that truly teach children that life is meant to be fought on, and no matter how young you are, you are completely capable of doing so. It never feels like the children will win, but it never feel like things are hopeless, either. It’s a strangely realistic children’s series, in this way, and I think presenting that level of resilience to children is important, and incredible. 
And it never shys away from using that simple yet elegant prose to highlight difficult things as well, things that I don’t know most children’s books go into. Not only the bad happenings themselves, but the feelings behind it. Death and moral complexity and saving face. The way tragedy has a tendency to worm its way into your heart, and lie there. I always think of this quote: 
It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
And this one: 
People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict.
And this one okay I am done now: 
When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.
This is all I can say in the way of convincing you to read the books without spoiling anything for you
Spoilery below the cut:
You know what I never saw coming, as a full grown adult reading these books? Lemony Snicket being a character and not simply the author. I don’t know that I know many adult novels that are the particularly clever. And this is part of what I love so well about ASOUE, is that it is uniquely clever among children’s books, while still managing to remain within a child’s wheelhouse, and making good use of a formulaic book style, that allows children to experience the pleasure of getting “the same thing, but different’ which we all look for as adults, really. 
The way it handles grief and misery as given parts of the human experience absolutely floors me. It’s not a blink and you’ll miss it sort of thing, it’s woven through the fabric of the whole series, that the children lose over and over again, and that it absolutely affects them. But losing their parents from the outset doesn’t ruin them, and they don’t need to be rescued (Which is good, because they never are) they are their OWN rescuers. This isn’t a Cinderella story where some wish fulfilment comes out of the gloom. This is about the three of them having to band together, and save themselves. 
I love how the mystery gets deeper and more complicated as you go on, while still having to deal with the threat of Olaf. I love that a great deal of the mysteries are left unsolved, I love that we have no idea what happens to the Baudelaires. I love the sense of uncertainty that weaves itself throughout the piece, the way that it, like life, leaves us to tie up the loose ends. I think it’s such a valuable lesson as well as just a damn good series. 
I’ve talked, from time to time, about how I think this book, written by a Jewish man and stated to be about Jewish children, uses Count Olaf as a stand in for anti-Semitism. It strikes me so powerfully, how they can always recognize him, and how it should be obvious to anyone, but the adults REFUSE to see what it is until he tries to kill them again, ad then of course the adults promise that they will protect the children, again. And that, my friends, is a fucking Jewish-ass mood. Only they can see that the same threat is just now wearing a new disguise, over and over again. 
And that the children, after everything, have another orphan with them, another person that they must carry on, and the story really does not stop but just moves forward, I love that. They will care for Beatrice in a way that they themselves were never cared for. I think The End is a really strange book in a lot of ways, and how I feel about it very often comes down to the day, but I do love that. I love that the children are willing to be the protection they never had, and I think there’s something very winning in that. Despise everything, the children never become the evil that seeks them. I think that’s the most hopeful thing of all, and the most JEWISHLY hopeful thing of all, Not that they will be safe, but that they will be GOOD, against everything.
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meetevieinthehallway · 5 years ago
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hi love!! i absolutely adore your writings!!! i was wondering if you could write something about maybe prince!harry?? if you’re comfortable? i just think you could execute a type of authority but also how soft he is with his girl so well!! :)) have a great day!!
prince harry is my KINK
this was rushed maybe ill do a whole piece ab this if people are interested??
this life is always so ridiculously chalked up to be luxurious.
palaces and personal workers and chefs and expensive clothing and precious jewels and endless fame that will extend into further history.
harry used to love it.
used to love how he could say he has never not lived in a palace and has had his whole family and heaps of friends around him at all times.
but now, as the older man he now is, it makes him see it in a bit of a different light.
huge palaces get lonely and workers and chefs aren’t there out of genuine want to be—it is their job—and you grow out of clothes and jewels are only so shiny for so long.
he learnt all of it the hard way.
with his father passing and his mother in an endless state of grief, he had to grow up a bit too quickly than anyone would’ve liked.
the luxury is all material, and despite his status it still comes at a price—the copious amounts of pressure and stress riding harry’s shoulders (he swears it’s made a comfortable home there). he’s used to the pain on his back and the tenseness in his forehead—he’s been raised in a way (or, has he done it himself?) that makes him deal with it—but right now he’s too fucking stressed to be doing this.
his tired eyes flicker, and his hands come to rub at his face as he leans back in his chair, trying to distance himself from the documents that are spread across the tabletop in front of him—the ones he has reread hundreds of times. no amount of reanalyzing can make them stick to his head.
it’s ridiculous.
it’s his coronation soon—for God’s sake—and if he can’t focus on the treaties and laws and everything how is supposed to take responsibility for the whole nation.
he’s been criticized as too soft already.
media pages and other leaders have called him too sensitive and boyish to lead, with how reactive he is to the people, crime, laws and his love.
his love.
she… gosh she is something different.
maybe that’s how he gets through it all: because she grounds him back to the deepest parts of himself.
if he’s honest with whatever power reigns above him, he doesn’t know how she had fallen for him with this status attached to him. he’s always busy—meetings and appearances and ridiculous-royal-things—and although he loves her to the ends of the world, she certainly deserves better.
she’s the most precious jewel harry could ever be in the presence of.
she spends her days reading in the gardens or tending to the horses or helping the chefs bake and cook; she’s the loved-by-everyone down to earth sweetheart that balances harry’s lifestyle.
and most importantly, balances harry.
she’s the normalcy in harry’s life; she’s not royal, and she is not of his land, but that is the last thing that matters despite how big of a deal it apparently is to the public. and right now, as he is at his desk with close to tears in his eyes from this overstimulation of everything closing in on him, he needs her.
he needs her hands and her lips and her eyes.
he needs her hands to touch him, her lips to calm him, and her eyes to love into.
-
he finds her with the horses and his heart just implodes. 
she’s murmuring to them softly, and harry wonders how he was lucky enough to be sent an angel on earth.
“ivy, you can’t kick your sister, lovie! know you’re just a baby…” she’s pressed her forehead to the baby’s nose, murmuring sweetly and petting his hair between his eyes. “’s not nice!”
he smiles so weakly.
it makes him emotional, and he’s staring at her with tears in his eyes and he visibly sees some stable workers look at him worriedly as they pass. 
he doesn’t care; he’d give his whole life if it meant that he could just look at her for the rest of his existence. 
she notices him first, and she grins when she sees him and she bats her eyelashes. 
“is that..” she gasps, “my prince charming?”, the back of her hand comes to her forehead and she feigns wooziness, “my knight in shining armor?”
he swallows and his smile stretches only millimeters. 
harry walks to her briskly, before reaching his arms out and crashing his body into her.
she giggles, chin falling to his shoulder and she doesn’t realize how much of a catastrophe he is until he sniffles softly. “you crying, love?” she murmurs, and she tries to pull back but harry is keeping her locked in place as he quickly answers “no.”
“hey, look at me please,”
that’s the other thing.
being a royal means you have to hold your ground and rule with intensity, and she is the only person who has him beckoning at every command and wish she speaks; he becomes a pliable mess that she knows better than he knows himself.
so he pulls back so she could see him.
her hands cup his face, “oh, lovie, what’s happened, hm?”
she’s the only one who emotionally cares for him.
so his hand comes to rest onto hers and his watery eyes meet hers.
“’m um… really overwhelmed.” he shakes his head, “dunno what to do. i just… i need you.”
but as he’s speaking his words are catching and he’s humiliated at the workers and people walking around them, whispering quietly to one another about what the-almost-king is upset about.
her eyes round and she looks at him sadly and softly. she notices the flicker of his eyes and the tentativeness in his voice, and knows that he needs her, and only her.
“well,” she murmurs “let’s get you out of work mindset and go lay together, okay? ‘nd you can talk to me.” 
he shudders on a breath and nods slow, “please.”
and as they begin the walk together to their shared bedroom, passing workers and the gardens and the fields and the rooms in the palace, with every step he realizes that all of this collapse under his feet, and she would hold him afloat.
harry doesn’t need anything but her.
and they reach their heavy doors and she walks to their bed to get it comfortable, and he rests his forehead on the back of the closed door.
“love?”
“yes, h?”
“i… i don’t want to be king.”
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thelovelydreamer17 · 5 years ago
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The Lost Adventures - Teaser
Summary: Starting junior year in a new school halfway through the semester was already hard, but after you and your biology partner make an alarming discovery it was starting to look like a walk in the park.  
Relationships: Robert Downey Jr. x Daughter! Reader, Eventual Tom Holland x Reader (As in later in the series) 
Word Count: 1,932
Warnings: Slight mentions of anxiety
Prompt: “I’m sorry, you’re what now?”
A/N: Here is my part in @afictionaladventure16 2K Celebration Challenge! It is loosely inspired by their series Safe and Sound, one of my all-time favorite stories. I haven’t posted anything in a long time, so go easy on me, please! This is sort of a prologue/teaser for the storyline. I have a lot of ideas on where to take this, should anyone want to read it. I hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!
You paced back and forth in front of the couch, biting on the side of your thumb. Indio was supposed to be here five minutes ago, you only had so much time before Robert was done filming and would be coming back. The minutes were counting down as your worry went up. As you crawled into the fifteen-minute mark you decided that this was ridiculous. Grabbing your bag off the counter, you swung it over your shoulder and hurried to the trailer door to get the hell out of here before anyone came back. Just as you were about to open the door, it swung open nearly hitting you clear across the face. 
“Shit, Y/N.” Indie waited until you had moved back before pushing it open enough so that he could slip in. He set the small cardboard box he was holding down on the little kitchen table and kicked the door shut with his foot. 
“You’re late.” You started to pace again, not being able to sit still. 
“I know, sorry.” He opened the box and started to pull out what you were going to need. “Mom was home and it took longer than I thought to sneak it away from her and then Andre stopped me at the front gate to talk about school.” 
“He’s going to be here any minute.” You let him take the bag out of your hands, crossing you then freed arms against your stomach. “This is a horrible idea.” 
“It’s a great idea, and I got Holland to try and stall him. It should work for a few minutes. Now come sit down and please stop pacing. You’re making me anxious.” 
You looked at him incredulously, “I’m making you anxious? How are you not already anxious?” 
“Because I know this is a good idea and I’ve been wanting to do this from the start.” He sighed and stood up, halting your steps as he placed your hands on your shoulders, grounding you. “I can remember the few years after you were taken when he was so full of grief and worry that he would drink himself into a haze, and then when that wouldn’t work he would switch to drugs just to make it a little easier. It took him years to finally come to terms with what happened, and get clean, but I know that he still struggles with it. 
“Every year on our birthday we light a candle for you, mom always will make a small little cupcake and we light the candle and make a wish that even if you don’t come back to us, that you are happy and safe and loved.” You wiped your eyes with the heel of your hand, letting out a sniff. 
“If only that wish came true.” He wraps you up in a hug, the solid six inches he had over you making it feel like a warm blanket. 
“And that is why we are doing this, so that can be true.” Giving you a kiss on the top of the head he pushed you away, “Now, let’s get this show on the road. Holland won’t be able to keep him away much longer and we need to get your nerves under control and get a plan together.” 
You wiped your eyes once more and nodded. Indie gave you a soft smile before handing you the box you kept in your bag.
“I honestly don’t know what half the shit in here is,” You let out a laugh and took it from him, walking over to join him at the table. He had started to lay out the papers and documents that you were going to use as both proof and evidence. You still hadn’t decided if you were going to press charges, but Indie was sure that Robert would want to. 
You had just placed down your copy of adoption records when the door burst open once more, this time without nearly knocking you out. Your eyes shot up and you felt your throat clench when you saw Robert standing in the doorway, a confused look on his face. Tom popped up over his shoulder, mouthing an apology to the two of you. Quickly putting down the papers, you took a half step away from the table as Indio tried to fix the situation. 
“Hey, Dad. How was filming?” He ever so carefully slid the papers under each other behind his back, and your thumbnail ended up between your teeth once more. 
“It was good, now does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” He fully entered the room, crossing his arms as he raised his brows at his son. “I’m assuming this has to do with Holland trying to get me to taste everything at the buffet table?”
You shot Tom a look of wonder, and he just shrugged, stepping into the trailed and closing the door behind him. 
“You guys said to stall him and I ran out of ideas.” You stared at him a moment longer until he added, “And I was also hungry.” 
Indie let out a chuckle and was about to add to the conversation when Robert interrupted him again. 
“Aren’t you the biology partner?” He was looking straight at you and you felt your face heat up without your approval. You nodded, your eyes flashing between Indie’s and Tom’s. If you were anxious before, you were damn near a heart attack now. This was not how this was supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen this way. 
“Yeah, she is.” Indie said slowly, “But there’s something else that she is as well, something that we need to tell you.” 
“Are you two dating?” You let out a high pitched laugh that sounded slightly on the verge of hysteria. 
“Dating, oh my god what is happening.” Your voice had risen three octaves and you run your hands through your hair before sitting down on the edge of the couch. You could feel their eyes on you, and Indio inched closer, letting you know of his unspoken support. 
“No, we’re definitely not dating.” He let out a sigh, turning around to grab all the papers behind you in an unorganized clump. “You’re probably going to want to sit down.” 
He walked over and sat next to you, leaving Robert to the armchair directly across from you both. Neither of you noticed as Tom snuck out of the trailer to give the three of you time to talk.
“Do you have the test results?” Indie asked you, mentioning the DNA results that started this all. 
You nodded and grabbed the box off the side table, digging through it until you produced the two thick pieces of paper. They were the official DNA results, you had both figured that the classwork would not suffice in this situation. 
“Okay, so I’m not really sure where to start this.” Indio glanced at you, and for the first time that day, he looked unsure of the situation. You gnawed on your lip, looking down at the papers that were just out of view of his dad. 
“Dio, what’s going on. You know you can tell me anything.” Robert said softly, making you both look up at him. Seeing the truth in his face, you made the decision for both of you. Grabbing the papers out of Indie’s hands you arranged them into a way that would make sense and passed them over to Robert. He took them,  his eyes not leaving yours as he scrunched his forehead in confusion. 
“Just read them. We can explain anything else afterward.” He nodded and started to look through them, switching pages every few seconds. You felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room as you waited for him to finish. When he got to the DNA results, his eyes flashed upward, looking between the both of you with suspicion. Finally, he set them down on the table between you and crossed his arms over his chest. Your gaze met Indie’s as you both wondered what the older man was thinking. 
It was silent, the tension in the room building until your leg started to shake again on its own accord. 
“I don’t understand what this means.” One look at Indio’s face told you that he wasn’t going to be any help, and you were forced to bite the bullet yourself. 
“I’m your daughter, his twin.” There was a moment's pause and when no reaction was made you continued on. “I was taken for what I think was this illegal black market adoption ring, people would steal kids and them sell them for a lot of money for this ring who would them sell them to other people who would think it was a legit adoption company. Usually rich, desperate people. 
I would have stayed there with them, but they were in a car crash a few years after they adopted me and I was put into foster care. I bounced around for a while until I ended up at the school that was partnered with Hamptons Bay for a Bio project, a DNA comparison project. Indie and I happened to be paired up, and we figured it out but then there was the contest, and then the Thymes and I wanted to wait but Indie and Tom said that we shouldn’t, and we were going to do this in a smoother way where we could ease you into the idea, but then Indie was late and you were coming and so we just had to blurt it out and,” 
He cut you off, making your mouth close with a clank of your teeth. 
“I’m sorry, you’re what now?” He looked at you, then changed his gaze to his son who had been awfully quiet since the conversation started. 
“She’s what now?” Swallowing Indie flipped through the papers on the counter before pulling out the two DNA results and your original birth certificate and the fake copy that the adoption ring had made. 
“She’s my twin, your daughter.” He laid all four out in front of Robert, “She’s Y/N.” 
This time, Robert took in the information and understood what he was looking at. You could see his eyes start to water and when he looked up at you again you could see that he understood. 
“It really is you.” He said it softly, a tone that you had never heard in the movies and interviews you had seen of him. It was a tone that was reserved only for his family. “You came back.” 
He stood up and moved over to crouch in front of you. Gently, he unraveled your arms and took your hands in his, his grip loose enough to allow you to pull away should you choose. When you didn’t, his grip tightened slightly as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. 
“We’ve missed you, Kid. You might not remember us, and to you, we’re probably strangers, but I have never stopped loving you or believe that you were still out there. Never.” You felt your own eyes water slightly at his words. Nobody had ever told you something with so much love and trust. This as a man you barely knew who had shown you more kindness in the last half an hour than anyone had in the past ten years. Sure, you had some good homes, with some nice parents, but they had never loved or cared for you as Robert claimed he did. 
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jessgartner · 4 years ago
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2020 Life Olympics
The real Olympics may have been canceled in 2020 but the Life Olympics persevered like the postal service of Olympics. 
First, I’d like to apologize for my role in the chaos of 2020 because I think I had a slight miscommunication with the powers that be and I feel partly responsible. Here was my plan for 2020: 
My theme for 2020 is Intention because I want to take the energy I feel right now and deploy it with more intentionality next year - bringing increased mindfulness to how I spend my time, money, physical and mental energy. And because I love wordplay, I also literally want to spend more time camping “in-tent” to enjoy more peace and quiet and beauty in nature.
The universe was like, “Oh, she wants to spend less money and more time outside? Well, shut it down. Shut the whole planet down.”
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I mean, mission accomplished, I guess? I did spend less money and more time outside and had to be VERY intentional with my mental energy to survive the day-to-day morass of 2020. Next time, I will be more specific with my annual manifestations. Sorry to all. 
2020 was brutal for pretty much everything and everyone. I don’t know anyone who isn’t in some state of grief right now, including myself. I debated doing a Life Olympics at all this year, feeling like-- what is the point? Hundreds of thousands of people died, our democracy is hanging on by a thread, and millions of people lost jobs, businesses, and homes. 
Like many people, I’ve been struggling with anxiety and depression this year which intensified as it got darker and colder outside. At a low point, I talked with my therapist about the struggle of just not wanting to do any of the things that usually bring me joy-- and how periods of relief were so fleeting. “But you have to keep doing those things,” she said, “even if they’re not working right now, you have to keep doing those things and trust the process; the joy will return.” 
So even though I don’t really feel like it and kind of feel like it’s dumb, I’m writing the 2020 Life Olympics. I’m trusting the process.
2020 Life Olympics Recap
Work - Participation Trophy
Starting a company is hard, operating a company is harder, but running a company during a global pandemic and economic crisis is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. 2020 was not a fun year to lead a business; it was hell. On March 15, the plan for the year pretty much went out the window and everything went into survival mode. I never take the company or my team for granted, but I’m particularly grateful to be able to usher this work into 2021.
Despite the craziness, we still had some big wins this year. We launched new product partnerships with PowerSchool and Amazon Business. We rebuilt our tool for equitably calculating district funding formulas. And I got to flex my creative muscles with EdFinToks! Throughout it all, I was lucky enough to be surrounded by a team of people who are as compassionate as they are talented. 
I’m worried about public education more than ever after this year, but I’m going to keep fighting every day to make it work better for kids. 
This is Work-Lite but I also spent a good chunk of time this year leading the modernization workgroup for Bill Henry’s transition committee after his spring primary election to become the new Baltimore City Comptroller, ousting a 25-year incumbent, Joan Pratt. This was an enlightening (and infuriating) experience for me that gave me a glimpse into the operations of a segment of the City government. This process also really helped crystallize how much I enjoy making public agencies function more efficiently; I’m excited to see what Bill does with the recommendations (some are already being put in action!)
Health - Gold 
This is the second year in a row (and ever) that I’m giving myself a Gold medal for Health. This was easily a year that I could have regressed on all of my healthy habits and no one would have blamed me. Instead, I leaned into protecting and improving my physical and mental health in 2020. It’s not an exaggeration to say that walking probably saved my life this year. I spent a lot of time walking around my neighborhood and various state and city parks-- walking is maybe not the best word; I stomp and charge around like I have a score to settle with the ground beneath me. My walking increased 370% in 2020. This is a habit of 2020 that I’d like to keep. My brain and body are happier if I can spend a little time walking-- stomping-- around outside each day. 
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I also did a lot of biking this summer. My cycling increased 200% this year-- with much more time spent cycling outdoors. My crowning achievement this year was biking to and from Annapolis:
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I spent a LOT more time outside this year which was critical for my mental health. On the downside, I only did 90% as much yoga and 60% as much strength training, so I want to try to be a little more balanced next year. 
I also invested a lot in my mental health this year. I kept up with therapy every 2-4 weeks and in October I decided to pursue a formal diagnosis for ADHD which I definitely have! Needless to say, staying in one place this year has been a special kind of hell for me. 
Home - Silver
Well, I definitely spent less money this year. And the way I did spend money made me (mostly) sad: 
Travel down 70% 
Auto & Transportation up 200% (boo cars)
Shopping down 60%
Personal Care down 35% 
Gifts and donations up 200% 
Food and Dining down 40%
Entertainment down 35% (I kept up my singing lessons virtually which accounts for a lot of this category) 
2020 was quite the palate cleanser from my 2019 year of hedonism but maybe we can go for a happy medium in 2021? Just kidding-- I will resume my hedonist ways the minute the world opens. 
I also redid my home office like every other work-from-homer on the planet and replaced my crumbling kitchen floor so the house got some TLC. 
But nobody enjoyed having me home all year as much as Darwin:
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Relationships - Bronze
What a weird year for relationships of all kinds. I’m giving this a Bronze because while I invested a lot into a few relationships this year, there are also a lot of people in my life to whom I haven’t been able to give my time and love. 
One of the most important relationships in my life this year was with one of my former students. After bouncing around in the foster system for many years, we reconnected around the holidays in 2019 and he started crashing with me while we tried to figure out stable housing and employment. He was arrested in January and was incarcerated for the next several months awaiting trial. Finally, we were able to negotiate a plea agreement with the State’s Attorney and he came home around Independence Day. We spent the next several months getting him set up with a phone and various identification documents-- a nightmare in normal times and a total abyss during the pandemic. I got him registered to vote when we got his ID card and I took him to vote for the first time (a supreme treat for this former social studies teacher):
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He’s now got a full-time job and stable living situation. Calling this THE success of 2020. Thank you to everyone who helped me with resources all year for housing, legal processes, and documents. It takes a village. 
It was a bizarre year for family. We lost my grandmother in September, so not being able to spend the holidays together felt like an especially cruel loss. Other big losses this year include a trip to France to celebrate a milestone birthday for my mother and my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding (Mosby seemed pretty ok with the alternative plan, though):
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But in many ways, my family has been more together than ever this year thanks to prolific group chats and photo-sharing. Mostly, I’m just glad everyone else is safe and healthy. As my father often reminds me, “Our problems are small.” 
And dating? What to do with this weird Jane-Austen-esque dating scene-- as if modern dating weren’t fraught enough. Is this the universe punishing me for ending my 2019 dating hiatus early? I, for one, have given up. You win this one, pandemic. I’m just going to have my little Twitter crush and call it a year. Next year, though...
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Horizons - Silver Gold 
You know what? It’s hard to expand your horizons without people or places. 
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I did the best I could. I finally got back on track with my Goodreads challenge and actually had a really good year of reading, including finally embracing audiobooks through my Libro.fm subscriptions. I especially enjoyed Michelle Obama’s book Becoming and Mike Birbiglia’s The New One on audio-- both narrated by their authors. 
I camped in Pocomoke (MD), Western MD, Lake Michigan, and Ohiopyle (PA):
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I explored over 30 new hiking/biking trails-- some favorites including the Youghiegheny River trail in PA, the NCR trail, Catoctin Mountain, the C&O Canal Towpath, Annapolis Rock, and of course, Stoney Run in my backyard. 
I left Facebook and started the Life Olympics newsletter. I’ll be honest, I don’t miss Facebook but I also don’t understand where that energy, time, and brain space went. I was spending cumulatively hours a day mindlessly scrolling Facebook and I quit cold turkey and barely noticed-- what black hole of our brains does social media occupy? I kind of thought that with all that extra time I would write the next great American novel or something. I’m probably spending a little more time on Twitter, which I could stand to cut back on. Other than that, I think I was just trying to process the shitstorm of this year. Maybe I’ll write the next great American novel post-pandemic. 
For the first time in my life, I feel somewhat ‘caught up’ on pop-culture. I finally watched Parks and Recreation (twice); I watched The Mandalorian and finally actually watched Star Wars (episodes IV-IX); I watched the final seasons of The Good Place and Schitt’s Creek; I’m caught up on Insecure; I watched The Prom and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom and Jingle Jangle; I even started Bridgerton. I know what everyone is talking about and I’m catching so many more pop-culture references these days. (I guess instead of writing the next great American novel I watched Netflix?)
2020 Lessons
I’ve spent plenty of time mourning the missed opportunities of 2020 and will probably always wonder what this year could have been in an alternate universe with a functioning government. But we only have this reality for now, and we made the best of it. 
I wanted to slow down in 2020, try to be more intentional, more mindful, and...
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No thank you! I liked the pace of my life; it makes my brain and heart happy. I’m happiest when I wake up in a different city three days in a row. I like darting around every borough of Manhattan for nine meetings and three cocktails and then taking a red-eye to Europe. I want to run around to eight conferences for 18-hours a day for three weeks and then sleep for 22 hours. I miss overloading my brain so much that I need a deprivation chamber to sleep. This is who I am. This is how I like to live. And when I was locked down alone in the house for a year, slowing down, being mindful, I never once thought, “I should have... when I had the chance.” Because I always did. And I always will. 
2021
We shake with joy, we shake with grief.
What a time they have, these two housed as they are in the same body.
Mary Oliver
We’ve had enough grief. 2021 is going to be all about joy.
Universe, let me be clear: this is not a euphemism or code or secret signal.
I want pure, unadulterated, abundant, joy. I want multi-course dinners in restaurants with lots of close friends and good wine. I want the virus so far gone that I can make-out with handsome strangers. I want a rollicking good time in France and/or Brazil and/or Prague and/or New Zealand and/or Bali. I want to spend the day after Christmas in NYC with my father. I want to be a glutton for theatre and art and music. I want celebrations and parties and sequins. 
I want to shake with joy. 
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If you’d like to receive the (shorter) monthly Life Olympics, subscribe here. 
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kuningannasansa · 5 years ago
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A musketeers rewatch (that nobody asked for) 1x04
(warning: not always complimentary towards all characters, especially not aramis, anne and athos. dont like, don’t read)
We start with Louis being a prat and in this instance I love it! 
Richelieu is wearing his red robes over the hideous black outfit. I wish it was just the robes. 
Athos wonders what’s wrong with Aramis and Porthos says “have you forgotten about the massacre at Savoy?”. This is clumsy exposition. Realistically Athos the character would not have forgotten but I guess the viewers need to know. 
“A strategically important pimple” - Lmao! Who says Armand hasn’t got a sense of humour! 
This marks the beginning of these strangely depopulated court scenes. I do wish they had been able to afford more extras!
The Duke’s name is Victor... idk how I feel about that
The conversation between Marsac and Aramis is very well written, the exposition feels natural and also Aramis handles the situation quite well.
Now the Duke is mad and everyone is trying to calm him down. Treville points out that they should wait for the facts and Anne says that the shot could have hit any one of them, they are family and should stick together. This is why I liked her back in season 1! She was clever, had some political acumen and was good at playing her role as queen (women being seen as the gentler sex whose job it was to calm mens anger) while still maneuvering and getting her own way. 
It is funny thou, how everyone else is making good points and Richelieu is pacing around in a panic not saying anything at first, not even responding to Victor’s insults. And when he does speak he miscalculates and angers the duke. He is brilliant when given time to think and consider, but not always quick on his feet lol (as pointed out by @tatzelwyrm in her wonderful fic Reformation, which I really must remember to review cause I fucking loved it).   
Louis calls the duke a pomous arse and Richelieu points out that France needs Savoy, but his face says he agrees xD
There’s definitely some sexual tension between Aramis and Marsac. Or maybe I’m just a shameless slasher... 
“If this gets me hanged, I’m going to take it very personally” - lol, I do love musketeers humour!
The scene between my dear grand deceiver and his bluff honest man of action is SO GOOD!! The dialogue, the delivery, the acting in general!
Richelieu’s room is ridiculously large and empty thou xD 
“Death in battle is one thing, but your world of back alley stabbings and murder disgusts me” - that seems to be the show’s morality in a nutshell and I don’t like it. Whether you’re killed by Milady’s dagger between the ribs or a musketeer sword, you end up no less dead. Sometimes secret assassinations are necessary, that’s why countries have spy agencies. And while yes, in battle you can see your opponent coming and have a good chance to deny him, I am convinced that a big part of why killing in battle is seen as more honourable is that it is the more traditionally masculine option. Also, it is an option most easily accessible to able bodied men. Everyone else can’t always afford to “fight fair”. 
“Not everything I do is pleasant, but it is all necessary.” - well, that’s not true either. Not all.
Richelieu panics again and wants to move the prisoner but Treville says a transfer would only attract attention and Richelieu is like “yeah, you’re probably right” lol. Poor cardinal, he’s trying to run the whole country alone but he needs advisors just like anyone else would to make the best decisions. If he would just admit it, his life would be a lot easier! 
Dartagnan gets all jealous and territorial over Constance. I know it’s meant to indicate their true love, but I’ve never found that shit charming. 
Aramis ties Marsac up. This is making me horny now. 
“I’ve thought of you many times” - omg, I gotta see if there’s fic of them!
Constance finds out that Marsac is a criminal and instead of kicking him out, she kicks D’artagnan out! Bless!
Okay, so the Duke’s men killed the 20 musketeers because the Duke thought that they had come to kill him and put his son on the throne. And Treville told him where to find them through Cluzet (spl?). But actually it was all a distraction to kidnap Cluzet. Noting this down, cause I don’t remember the plot anymore.
PORTHOS DEFENDING TREVILLE!!  <3
And Richelieu just couldn’t resist going to see his prisoner! 
And Cluzet worked for the Duke officially but was actually a Spanish spy! Okay, that makes sense. I wondered why they kidnapped him lol.
Richelieu is gloating now. He should have stayed away from there. 
“Total solitude, unlimited time to reflect... I almost envy you.” - oh Armand! You will learn in the Spanish prison :(
(yes, in this house the Spanish prison AU is canon)
Porthos: “this is the captain we’re talking about” Aramis: “which is why we owe it to him to clear his name” - damn, that’s a good argument! I like Aramis in this episode! That’s probably why I remember liking him a lot when season 1 first aired...
“If it is true, what then?” - @donnaimmaculata made an excellent point about that here: https://donnaimmaculata.tumblr.com/post/109300936446/aramis-was-actually-at-his-smartest-in-this
Louis playing swords with Louis Amadeus is so cute!! And the kid is a more gracious loser than Louis is a winner xD
“I don’t want protection, I want to be treated as an equal.” - that’s a good Constance line, much more feminist than that nonsense about the duchess later in the episode
And D'artagnan apologizes and promises not to lie to her again. Mentioning that cause his respect for her boundaries and acknowledging when he makes a mistake goes totally out the window in season two.
The duke: “Have you captured the man who tried to kill me?” Richelieu: “We should not be distracted by minor issues.” - what is wrong with him this episode?? he is not being at all diplomatic
The duke challenges Athos to a duel and Treville is so cool and quietly confident while Richelieu frets.  
And Treville smirks at his evident distress xD
Treville gets mad at Athos for humiliating the duke. He could have defeated him in a way that left him his dignity, apparently. But Porthos says he would have cut his head off, so Treville should consider himself lucky, really. 
Porthos is very good at spying!
Treville’s filing of documents is “meticulous”, apparently. Sorry, but that does NOT sound like him!
“I will never believe the captain is a traitor” - that’s noble of you Athos. Maybe you could have extended the same courtesy to your wife?
The confrontation with Treville is so angsty and well acted and tense! This is the show at it’s best, dealing with a serious issue and giving it the weight it deserves. I love!
It’s kind of sad seeing how in love the duke is with his wife! I hope he never finds out she’s a spy lol xD
Now Marsac tries to rape Constance. Was that really necessary? Like, really, why?? We understand he is an antagonist, there is no need to make him cartoonishly evil, especially by using violence against women. 
I don’t know what his friend being a seezy rapist says about Aramis thou...
Dart to the rescue, yawn!
I do love how we are led to believe they’re gonna kiss and then she goes “teach me how to shoot” xD
“Honour? There’s no word in the language more likely to cause stupidity and inconvenience” - lmaoo, Richelieu I feel you
“You think I won’t have you arrested? That you’re above the normal rules of soldiering?” - Yesss Treville, have him arrested! You will save everyone a lot of grief down the road!
Aramis punches Treville in the face! LOL! xD
Aramis and Marsac argue how to handle Treville (Marsac wants to assassinate him) and Aramis just cradles his face!
And then Marsac punches aramis in the face and knocks him out cold! LOL! xD
I love how the duke is actually objectively right in this episode. Imperialist France is meddling in the affairs of another sovereign state. The weak suffer what they must. And the musketeers are not on the side of good by helping the King and Richelieu conceal Cluzet. They follow their orders and work for the state, but the state is, well, not always nice. Just pointing that out...
The duchess looks so cool and beautiful riding into the garrison in that yellow dress with her cloak flapping in the wind!
“You traitor!” Cluzet says to the duchess. Pot calling the kettle black
“Not your average duchess then” - I don’t like this line! It sort of implies that an average duchess without fighting skills is somehow lesser and plays into a long pattern in television when women are only valued when they have “masculine” skills. But I do love her character a lot! More on that here: https://kuningannasansa.tumblr.com/post/100754198434/a-duchess-of-savoy-appreciation-post
Richelieu’s FACE when he sees D'artagnan as the guard! xD
But I wonder what his plan was? What if the musketeers had not shown up to save his ass?
“Paris has a number of excellent places of correction, if you’d like a tour of them all?” - aawwww, sassy cardinal! 
He even gives Dartagnan a look of acknowledgement. As well he should! The Cluzet switch was brilliant and funny!
Now Marsac is going to kill Treville, but Aramis stops him, saying there should be a court martial. Well done Aramis, keeping your head! Also, justice! It does exist! 
This is another very well acted emotional scene!
Aramis shoots Marsac, choosing Treville over him. It’s sad and tragic and wonderful television!
“I love my husband, very much” - I like their relationship
Lmaooo now Richelieu is already plotting the Duke’s murder xD  
Wet Aramis at Marsac’s grave is hot!
In conclusion, there were some things I didn’t like, but all in all this was a very good episode!
Red Guards killed in the line of duty: none
Women fridged: also none! this really was a good one guys!
Best dressed: Constance
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melissalfinch · 5 years ago
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My Journey From Theism to Agnosticism
I’m going to explain to you a few reasons why religion no longer works for me with supportive quotes from Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Socrates, and Sigmund Freud among other cultural inspirations. This is not going to be about my personal, scandalous, and fabricated experiences in a controversial sex cult because I haven’t had any, but I have witnessed enough to convince myself and others that they do exist. I’m not going to get into the details of the ugly, mentally abusive conversations I’ve been a part of and overheard in various congregations from different faiths. You will not get to gawk in entertainment at my explicit memories of the self-doubt, shame, and brainwashing from what leaders referred to as healthy chastisement, which only led to self-deprecation, depression, and arrogance towards those who did not share my faith. I choose not to get into the heartbreaking details over my loss of friends and pets, and the damage it inflicted on my family relationships, job losses that resulted, and the regretful religion-based decisions that I made. I choose not to get into those details in order to keep my own tear ducts dry. Composing this article the way it’s going to be presented has already required a substantial amount of bravery, causing months of procrastination and even nausea as I type.
With that stated, let’s get down to it. After reading two very informative books on agnosticism and atheism, The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins and God Is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens, both world-renowned atheists, and watching a some of their debates, I’ve been able to pull out profound quotes that I can relate to from my very core and which support my own theories that question faith and that question the health of adopting a religion.
First off, I’m going to discuss the subject of preaching. I am convinced that people use others to solidify their own faith by bringing them on board and plugging into their heads the conviction they lack. In their passionate preaching efforts, it seems that they are trying to convince themselves more than anyone else. In the Bhagavad-Gita, Krsna says to Arjuna that Krsna will carry in other devotees what they lack, but I have found in most preaching efforts that religious followers are attempting to force into others what they themselves lack.
Let’s consider the subject of death for a detailed example. In Dawkins’ book The God Delusion, he points out:
  “Polls suggest 95 percent of the population of the US believe they will survive their own death. I can’t help but wonder how many people who claim such belief really, in their hearts, hold it. If they were truly sincere, shouldn’t they all behave like the Abbot of Ampleforth? When Cardinal Basil Hume told him that he was dying, the abbot was delighted for him: ‘Congratulations! That’s brilliant news. I wish I was coming with you.’”
It surely has to make you wonder: are people insincere with their religion or more fearful of the process of death? Dawkins elaborates further on the subject by saying: 
  “It is a striking fact that if you meet someone opposed to mercy killing, or passionately against assisted suicide, you can bet a good sum they’ll turn out to be religious. Why deem it a sin if you sincerely believe you are accelerating a journey to heaven?”  
Hitchens further exemplifies my point in his book by recalling how, when he was thirteen, the headmaster of his grade school in Dartmoor, England, said to him during a no-nonsense conversation: 
  “You may not see the point of all this faith now, but you will one day when you start to lose loved ones.”
Hitchens concludes: 
  “Why that would be as much as saying that religion might not be true, but nevermind that, since it can be relied upon for comfort.” 
Which brings me to a question we should all ask ourselves: what’s more important, truth or comfort? I confess I still do not have a firm answer to that question, but I will say in my own modest attempt at wisdom, if you rely on something that may not necessarily be true but gives you comfort, down the road you will be more likely to question that very thing. Such doubt makes your comfort temporary and can have a reverse effect, often resulting in anger and regret.
To further support this theory, I’ll use what I found as a profound statement according to Hitchens’ take on Freud in The Future Of An Illusion, where he describes the religious impulse as:
  “essentially ineradicable until or unless the human species can conquer its fear of death and its tendency to wish- thinking.” 
The idea of practicing a religion out of fear and daydreaming simply no longer sits well with me nor others who tell me they have had similar experiences and have decided to leave religion behind. However, the group of atheists and agnostics I relate to is still in the minority, and many are afraid to admit it in a world still governed by religion.
In addition to specious faiths revealed through preaching and fears of death, we can also see that those pious leaders who chastise their congregations for sins and offenses are often the most guilty and ashamed of committing the same proclaimed abominations.
  “The policeman who lashes the whore has a hot need to use   her for the very offense for which he plies the leash.”             (Shakespeare, King Lear) 
I do not need to exhaust the hypocritical details of the acts of religious figures and dogmas to prove my point. You can spend hours and hours of your own time researching documents from various Judeo-Christian faiths criminalizing clergymen and other supposed divinely proclaimed leaders who have committed the same unspeakable crimes for which they condemn their flock.
After watching the 2019 film The Two Popes starring Anthony Hopkins and Jonathan Pryce, I heard Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio (played by Pryce), who wishes to resign as archbishop, sadly admit, “The bigger the sinner, the warmer the welcome,” as if to poorly justify the behavior of imperfect people.
Now the question often arises, do we fight it? Do we fight organized religion the way organized religion has fought among itself in a similar sectarian manner? Nineteenth century German poet, writer, and literary critic Heinrich Heine, whose many works have been banned by German authorities, says in his work Gedanken Und Einfälle (Thoughts And Ideas): 
  “In dark ages people are best guided by religion, as in a pitch-black night a blind man is the best guide; he knows the roads and paths better than a man who can see. When daylight comes, however, it is foolish to use blind old men as guides. 
Shouldn’t we use our knowledge of science to advance and not simply rely on fairy tales and fiction for all the answers?”
Marx critiques Hegel’s Philosophy Of Right by saying:
  “Religious distress is at the same time the expression of real distress and the protest against real distress. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opium of the people.” 
Surely we can admit the dangers of such an addictive drug.
In perhaps my favorite bold and simple statement on the matter, Hitchens paraphrases Socrates when he says:
  “I do not know for certain about death and the gods but I am certain as I can be that you do not know either.” 
I also reject the arrogance of such people who insist on the validity of their holy scriptures no matter how polite and endearing their character may seem during their attempts to persuade. 
Hitchens concludes in his book God Is Not Great:
  “Know the enemy and prepare to fight it.” 
In conclusion, I refer to Deborah Feldman’s autobiographical memoir, Unorthodox: the Scandalous Rejection Of My Hasidic Roots, on which the limited Netflix series Unorthodox is based. Ester Shapiro, remarkably played by Shira Haas, explains when asked why she left her Hasidic Jew tradition, “God expected too much of me. Now I need to find my own path.”  
My tears flowed during the viewing of that moment. For me, it has also been a painful process for my faith to change and to leave something I once felt so sure about. I often say that I broke up with God because the interrogation and grief I’ve received from others can easily be compared to a long breakup with a significant other.
In The Two Popes, Pope Benedict XVI, played by Anthony Hopkins, is also considering leaving his faith. He says, “I no longer wish to be a salesman.” The outreach conversion programs in the congregations in which I participated with always made me feel like I needed a shower.
In another conversation, Hopkins’ Pope states, “Change is compromise.”
Later on he admits, “The hardest thing is to listen, to hear God’s voice.” Whoever really hears God’s voice?”
One last quote I’ll share from Hitchens:
  “God did not create man in his own image. Evidently, it was the other way about, which is the painless explanation for the profusion of gods and religions, and the fratricide both between and among faiths, that we see all about us and that has so retarded the development of civilization.” 
Through my own life experiences, I’ve really seen the faults in humanizing our creator, this God we all talk about. People have let me down, broken my heart, misled me, misinformed me, betrayed me, violated me, and manipulated me. As I progressed in following a religion that egotistically humanizes God, I found their God also disappointing me, breaking my heart and misinforming me.
I find more ease in life simply not having all the answers, but enjoying wonderment in the science of nature simply for the sake of wonderment. As someone close to me once said:
  “Dragonflies are more fascinating than gods.”
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xxlovendreamsxx · 6 years ago
Text
yours, forevermore [4]
Forgot to post this here before I went to bed. Ooops. 
For: @kuriquinn, like always. Love you to bits, girlie. <3
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three
Sasuke doesn’t sleep, that night, too restless by the impending disastrous impact his loss of control will undoubtedly have on their relationship. Damn it all, he’s ruined everything again, hasn’t he? Ruled by the wrong thoughts as he has been too many times before. Sasuke doesn’t understand how he can be so stupid—apparently since his time as a nukenin, he hasn’t learned a goddamn thing about the ways not to fuck up his life.
If only Sakura had the strength to push him away, he wishes not for the first time. If only she could have said no. Maybe if she had, he would still have a chance of making things right between them. Of putting things back how they used to be—or at least, to some extent, anyway. But how can he, now, after so recklessly taking her virginity on the fucking wall of his office? There had been a bed in the adjoining room, yet he hadn’t even bothered to take her there. Hadn’t bothered to take his time, to learn what she liked.
(he’d been so selfish, as he always is—as he always has been since he was an orphaned boy.)
It doesn’t help that Sakura fails to show up as she usually does, the next morning. Sasuke grits his teeth, feels the guilt that has been eating at him worsen. His mood only gets fouler as the hours pass, as his teammate finds herself still missing and every knock that comes to his office turns out to decidedly not be from her.
He’s really fucked it up this time, he thinks by the time the evening comes. Goddamn lust… he repressed it for too long—they both did.
Brows furrowed heavily, Sasuke tries to turn back to his work and read the contract before him for the umpteenth time. He tries, and tries, and tries, but he fails, unable to even concentrate anymore. His mind keeps him too distracted, too agitated; winding relentlessly as it worries and rages and regrets everything he’s ever—
The quill snaps in half in his hand, and Sasuke curses, tensing in his seat. There are splotches of ink all over the document now, and it makes him want to snarl. Just what he needed, he seethes silently, exhaling a sharp breath as he begins to clean up his mess. Absolutely fucking great.
His anger rules him so much that he barely registers his office door clicking open and shut, or the pair of feet quietly padding his way.
He only realizes someone else is in the room when a small hand touches his shoulder, eliciting half a jump from him. Sasuke looks up, gaze wide, and takes in the sight of Sakura, cheeks wet with tears and green eyes puffy and pink. His mouth parts—
(a myriad of questions run through his mind: what happened? who hurt you? am i the one who did this to you? did someone say something to you? is there anything i can—)
—but he doesn’t have the time to move or even ask what’s wrong before he suddenly finds her mounting his lap, hands he can only describe as desperate sliding into his hair. She grips him tight, burying her face into his neck; he can feel her trembling all over, little breaths and noises puffing against his skin as she evidently tries her hardest not to fall apart.
(but by the dampness growing against his collar, he knows: she has already lost the battle.)
“Sakura, what’s wrong? What happ—”
Her hand claps over his mouth, and she begins to shake much harder. He can both hear and feel her little sobs as she tightens her hold on his hair, seeking to shield herself even more from whatever pain is gnawing at her. It tears his heart to pieces.
“Don’t—Don’t talk,” she whispers, hiccupping small, anguished gasps. “I can’t—It’s just—I don’t want to talk right now… I can’t handle any talking right now…”
His chest squeezes, and his throat grows tight. But as Sakura drops her hand in the next moment and pulls her face away to kiss him hard, Sasuke soon finds out he wouldn’t have been able to say anything anyway.
A noise falls from his throat, mismatched eyes blinking quickly. He feels her fingers tug at his locks, raking lightly at his scalp. All too quickly, they fall into his lap. Sasuke stills at this, breath hitching as she frantically works to free him. His jaw clenches when she pulls him out, blood rushing to his head. But as he goes to tell her that this isn’t right, that they shouldn’t be doing this right now or at least until they’ve talked about it, Sakura sobs against his mouth and holds him like she’s never needed anything more in her life, and it pushes all rational thoughts from his mind.
He can help her feel better, for a change. He can make her stop hurting.
(so he does.)
Moving his mouth along with hers, Sasuke joins his hand with her own as she reaches to tug her clothes out of the way. His belly burns as his fingers finally meet soft, wet skin, touching exactly where she guides him as she widens her thighs. Kissing her deeper, Sasuke touches her, pleasures her—hopes that he can make her slick enough by the time her grief demands for more. And when it does, he takes hold of her hips and helps her slowly sink down on his cock, trying his best not to let his head knock back against his chair as she starts to ride him for all he’s worth.
All he can do is hold on; even as Sakura keeps crying, keeps clinging to him. Kissing him like she’ll never get another chance. Heart twisting, Sasuke forces himself to focus on the way she sounds instead, moans and blissful gasps puncturing each hiccup and tearful breath as she rocks herself exactly the way she needs it. When she breaks away for air, he turns his lips to her neck, her shoulders, the top of her breasts. Mouthing hot kisses everywhere, running his hands over her sides soothingly.
She takes him by surprise when she comes: letting out a low, sweet cry, digging her nails into his skin. Sasuke stiffens, choking on a moan as she whimpers his name breathlessly, rides out her high. His mouth parts, feeling her quivering endlessly around his cock, grinding against his lap. He tumbles over the edge with her, spilling his hot sticky wetness into her warmth as he bites her shoulder to muffle his groan. His hold is almost bruising.
For a moment, he forgets that he is anything but hers. Forgets that they are anything but each other’s, caught up in a web of messes and heartbreaks.
He forgets, until Sakura’s arms slip around him once more, her soft, heartbreaking sobs puffing against him in a way that makes him swallow. The glow of his release fades, anguish settling in as it was. Closing his eyes, Sasuke holds her, rubs the back of her neck. His throat grows tight again; he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what.
(doesn’t even know if she wants him to, either.)
So he decides to wait, give her a little more time.
Regret finds him instantly when a knock sounds at the door half a minute later, shattering the moment. Sasuke curses under his breath, red rising in his chest.
“Whoever it is,” he growls, trying—but failing—to keep his frustration from coloring his tone, “I’m busy—”
But he finds his words cut off as Sakura shakes her head and moves to climb off of him, wiping her tears and quickly fixing herself. Too stunned to even move, Sasuke is forced to simply stare as she gives him a half-whispered thanks and heads out of his office, never looking back.
A short silence takes place… and then the knocking is back, louder and faster and just a little more forceful, snapping him out of his stupor. Heart quickening, Sasuke mulls his lips and tucks himself away, running a hand through his hair as he tells his visitor to come in. His jaw cinches when he sees Naruto and Kakashi enter, features holding a mix of anger and concern.
Damnit.
Sasuke isn’t stupid—he knows this looks bad. He is dishevelled, his office smells of sex and sweat, and Sakura has just walked out of here looking unkempt, but most of all upset.
Naruto fumes. “You—What the fuck, Sasuke!”
“Naruto, calm down—”
“Calm down? Kakashi, are you serious? Did you even see her? She’s torn apart and he—fucking hell, how long have you two—”
“We didn’t mean for this happen,” Sasuke snaps, eyes narrowed and sharp, glowering down at his friend. He won’t stand for any wild speculation to take place—Naruto should know better than to think they’d been screwing each other for years behind their backs. “I don’t know why Sakura is upset, but it isn’t because we…” He trails out, and snaps his mouth shut. Takes a moment to consider his words. “I’m not trying to use her. I didn’t want for things to turn out the way that they did. And not that it’s any of your fucking business but it’s only like this because we haven’t had the chance to talk about it.”
In return, Naruto and Kakashi are quiet. They exchange something of a sympathetic look, of which Sasuke entirely ignores.
He doesn’t need their help, or their advice. But if this keeps happening, and he and Sakura can’t manage to sit down and figure this thing out, there will be nothing anyone can do to fix their broken relationship.
.
.
For the next two hours, Sasuke inadvertently neglects his duties, unable to stop his mind from stewing on the particularities of his and Sakura’s earlier encounter. He finds himself conflicted; he wants to give Sakura the space and time she deserves, as he knows he would have liked for himself—but there is a need to care for her, to make up for the ignorance she’d faced from him for far too long, and it nags him like a burning itch.
He needs to know what happened, to know what has hurt her so much. To see if there is anything he can do, or if there is anyone to be held accountable. To… hold her if she cries.
(please don’t, please don’t—it hurts so much to see it.)
The last thing he wants to do is simply stand back and do nothing. It would kill him—especially when it’s been years since he’s seen Sakura this upset.
(and maybe, he hopes, he can also address the impulsive lovemaking that has taken place in these past two days—because silence and time have proven incapable of fixing anything between them through these past five years, and sasuke would sooner gauge his own eyes out than let that go on.)
So with a mull of his lips, Sasuke stands, and takes his leave, draping his Hokage robes by the door on his way out.
.
.
She isn’t alone when he arrives, much to Sasuke’s dismay; though a little muffled by the door and the sound of Sakura’s sobs, Ino’s voice is unfortunately distinguishable as ever. His brows furrow.
“—not your fault, Sakura,” he overhears as his hand rises to touch the knob. He pauses, uncertain he should intrude. “You can’t blame yourself for her death. What more could you have possibly done? We might be able to stitch people’s wounds back together and pull poison out of organs but—gods, as much as we’d all like for it to exist, there’s no cure for cancer. There’s not a single other doctor or medic in the world who could have—”
“You just don’t understand, Ino!” Sakura wailed. “I’ve been—I was treating her since she was two. It’s been six years! Six years I gave her hope, I helped her add months to her life that no one ever thought she’d have! Six years. I operated on her for every single surgery she had, cancer removal and transplants—I was with her through everything. And then one day her body just… just gave out?”
She makes a sound here, and it squeezes at his chest; something like a sob amidst a whimper, as though getting choked up by a thought. His hand tightens around the nob.
“I pushed her too hard,” he hears Sakura go on, hiccupping and sniveling as she seemingly tries to keep from crying. She can’t. “I thought she could handle another surgery, Ino, but I—It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault that she—”
Sakura breaks down here, crying out like she has never been angrier at herself. It hurts to listen, and it makes his teeth grit, but thankfully, her sobs quickly become muffled. Sasuke guesses—hopes—that it’s because Ino has wrapped her arms around her, as he knows he would have had it been him in the room.
This isn’t the time, he thinks, as he turns around to leave. Sakura’s clearly got too much on her plate right now, and she doesn’t need to deal with her teammate-who-once-could-have-been-more trying to do better by her. Or them. Whatever the fuck they are.  
Not today, anyway.
.
.
When he sleeps, he dreams of how things could have gone. Dreams of coming to her office and finding her alone, catching her off guard with her cheeks wet with sorrow. She’s pretty, as she always is—even when she looks like this. Even when her eyes are so swollen and red, as she hiccups and grimaces with every whimper she tries to keep in. She’s beautiful.
He dreams of thumbing away her tears, drawing her against his form. Dreams that she stiffens, gasps… and then breaks, so grievously. Sakura sobs, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tells him everything that has gone wrong lately, everything that has been weighing down on her. She buries her face in his throat, feeling safe and soothed in the warmth that his arms offer… and then tells him that she loves him, that she’s missed him.
In his dream, Sasuke kisses her, pulls her down on the tiny couch she keeps in her office. He makes love to her sweetly, murmuring back those same three words in her ear, intertwining their fingers. Sakura clings to him, calls his name, moaning with all her adoration—
And then he wakes; suddenly, brutally. Hard as rock and drenched with sweat. Closing his eyes, Sasuke falls back into his pillows with a groan.
Somehow, he doesn’t think things would have gone that easy.
.
.
To his great surprise, Sasuke sees her next on the following morning. Though her eyes still hold some remnants of a tearful night, and though she appears unable to meet his gaze right now, Sakura already looks to be doing much better than last evening, and it brings him a small sense of relief. He swallows against his suddenly dry throat.
“Sakura,” he says, nodding in acknowledgement to her presence. Yet when he does, Sasuke abruptly realizes that he doesn’t know what else to say.
What could he say? That he didn’t expect to see her? That he thought she would be at home? No, that sounded cold—like he believed her too weak and hysterical, neither of which she was. Then again, he didn’t think he should be asking her how she felt, either, lest she not want to talk about it… but it wasn’t really any better to act like these past few days had never happened, was it?
Lips thinning, he curls his fingers against the edge of his desk. His mouth parts, intending to say something but having absolutely no idea what, and in that moment, Sakura speaks.
“Sasuke-kun,” she starts, eyes still downcast, “about yesterday… I’m—I’m sorry about what happened. I wasn’t—”
Their gazes lock then, and she loses her words. She freezes up, breath hitching, and grips her files tighter to herself, flushing red—as though caught in a memory. Sasuke’s need flares with life at the sight; he knows without a doubt that she’s just thought about how she’d ridden him in that very chair barely half a day ago.
He’s up to his feet before he even realizes, eyes narrowed with a brimming heat as he draws her in by a hold of her hip and kisses her, free hand moving to cup her jaw. When Sakura doesn’t hesitate to respond, his heart stutters, jumps, makes him push her back. She hits the wall, gasping, and wraps her arms around his neck. Sasuke slides a hand beneath her shirt, groaning at the softness he finds. The sound she makes in response makes his head reel, and he kisses her harder, both hands dropping to hike her legs around his hips.
Blood burning desire guiding his body, he carries them both to his desk. Sasuke drops her against it, mouth leaving a path of hot, wet kisses down her jaw and the sensitive skin of her neck. He bares his teeth as she calls his name and opens her legs wider, biting fervently at her collar. The papers are shoved off in the next instant, body fitting to her warmth; he does his best not to rip her pants and underwear off, jaw tightening as he finds her already slick center.
“Shit,” he mutters, slipping a finger into her. She bucks into his touch, so he adds in another, catching her moan against his mouth. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“Sasuke-kun,” she whines, so he starts to move, fucking her the way he hopes she wants and seemed to like that first time he touched her. She calls his name again, but this time it’s higher, more breathless. Fuck. Fuck. Sasuke grunts, moves to suck at her pulse. Refrains from the urge to dive a hand into his pants and relieve some tension, like his mind so desperately screams at him to.
Sakura takes care of that problem by reaching to undo his slacks herself, uncharacteristically uncoordinated hands struggling to free him before she oh so blissfully wraps her hand around his cock, squeezing with just enough strength to make his breath catch. His chest rumbles, half with a groan and half with a growl. He pulls his hand away from her warmth to fold around her own, guiding her for a few delicious strokes. Gods, he thinks for the barest moment, how is it possible that he can feel both so drunk-in-love and drunk-in-lust?
“Please,” Sakura begs him, snapping him from his haze of bliss. “I need you—I need you right now, Sasuke-kun…”
Sasuke makes a sound, something of an agreement mixed with a broken patience; he roughly pushes down his pants, brings her closer to the end of his cluttered desk, and holds her gaze as he cradles her cheek, slowly fitting himself inside of her. His stomach flutters as they both release the breath they’d been holding when their hips meet, mouth capturing her own in a slow, hot kiss. She gasps and digs her nails into his shoulders as he readjusts the angle of her hips, drawing a strained groan from him.
He can’t explain the level of intimacy that settles over them when he starts to thrust inside. Faster than his heart wants to, but slow enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s just fucking her. Sakura clings to him, kisses him; whispers his name and brings him to life with her quiet moans. Sasuke feels his heart expand, small noises tumbling from his throat. He buries his face in her neck, running his hands over her sides. He doesn’t ever want this to end, wants to stay here forever—feeling so impossibly full and heavy with the sweetest adoration, in the arms of he only one he’s ever loved.
(and he wonders, for a brief moment, if sakura feels the same. if the emotions and the passion are just as overwhelming on her side… or if his desperation is the cause.)
And then Sakura’s hand dips down between them, and Sasuke’s pace stutters, breaks. Loses its rhythm to something wild. He pants, drops his hands to her ass, and seeks her lips with his own, mind wanting nothing but the sweet, sweet promise of relief. He finds it at Sakura’s keening cry, hips grinding tensely as he spills himself within her, snatching out to grasp and hold at a quivering thigh. Fuck. So good.
Still teetering from his high, Sasuke thinks he hears her whisper a confession, but he’s not entirely sure when his brain is still struggling to catch base with reality.
“I—I need to go,” she says a moment later, pushing forcefully at his chest to get him to back off.
Stumbling back, Sasuke stares dumbly for a few beats, watching as she hurriedly pulls on her bottoms with shaking hands. His mind only catches up to him as she steps over the fallen files and papers, moving quickly out of his office.
“Sakura, wait—”
But she is already out the door.
Jaw clenching tight, Sasuke furrows his brows furiously. He slams his fist against his desk, rattling it.
Fucking damnit.
.
.
A few hours later, when he tries to send out a summon for Sakura, Sasuke learns through Shikamaru that she has just left on a mission not ten minutes ago. He nearly hurls his cup of coffee at the ground.
“A mission?” he snarls, free hand curling into a fist as he looks up to his assistant. His glare is savage; he’s had enough of these godforsaken, untimely hindrances. “When the hell did she get one? And why wasn’t I informed?”
Shikamaru’s brows knit deeply. He gives Sasuke an odd look. “You were informed,” he states, slowly. “Weeks ago. Don’t you remember? You looked over the scroll yourself, said Sakura was the best for the job, and requested she be the first to know about it.”
Fuck. That’s right, Sasuke thinks. The Shimogakure mission—the one about the flu outbreak. How could he have forgotten?
“Are you okay?” his assistant asks, then, bracing a hand on his hip.
Sasuke’s jaw clenches. Forcing his gaze back to the papers on his desk, he returns to his work. “What makes you think I’m not?”
“Don’t play dumb, Sasuke—you’ve been cranky, lately.”
“So what? Am I supposed to let the sun shine right out of my ass like Naruto? I’m tired, I haven’t been sleeping worth shit since my inauguration, and everyone’s always chasing after me for some reason or another that usually isn’t important—so fucking sue me if I’m not in a good mood every day.”
“Or ever,” Shikamaru mutters, earning himself a most ferocious glare from the Hokage. He sighs, and waves him off. “Nevermind—didn’t mean to intrude. Sorry I asked,” he says, as he begins to walk out of the room. “I’ll be back later for the reports.”
Don’t bother, Sasuke scorns in his thoughts, even as he reminds himself that it is part of Shikamaru’s job to collect and deliver information. Whether he likes it or not, he will have to see him again today. Sasuke mulls his lips.
Why can’t the world just let him and Sakura be? Why can’t they just have one fucking moment to talk to each other? Maybe if they did, he wouldn’t be such a goddamn asshole right now.
He just wants some time to breathe.
.
.
Sasuke doesn’t see her for five weeks.
His mood becomes so rotten that before long, the whole village is talking about him, whispering even as he passes by. Rumors fly, but Sasuke pays them no mind, because what the fuck do they know? They can speculate for all he cares—all he wants is for Sakura to come home.
So he sits, and he waits, counting the days until she’s due to return.
.
.
It’s on a late Tuesday night that Sakura comes back. Sasuke is asleep at his desk, head lolled back into his chair, worn from a long day. He wakes to the feel of kisses on his jaw and throat—hot yet strangely gentle—and a warm weight against his lap. His body stiffens instantly.
“What the fu—” he starts to growl, but his words fail him as he spots too-familiar pink. Sasuke’s eyes widen. His breath catches, hands that had previously been ready to drive off his assailant now steadying against her hips. “Sakura—?”
A thin finger presses to his lips, and he stops. His heart pounds as her free hand slips to the side of his neck, her soft mouth moving to capture his own.
“Shh,” she whispers, cupping both sides of his neck to kiss him better. Sasuke stares, mind fogging up a daze as she deepens her affections, rubbing a thumb to his throat. His blood begins to ignite. “Don’t talk. We don’t need to talk. Let’s just enjoy this, all right?”
She didn’t need to tell him twice. Chest rumbling, Sasuke fists her shirt into his hands and starts to move his mouth in time with hers, relishing in the sound she makes. He pulls and tugs at the material of her clothes, tries to draw her closer, dizziness rushing over him. But something nags at him, holds him back—why shouldn’t they be doing this? He can’t remember anymore. Not when she’s flushed against him like this, so good and willing and needy, full of passion and full of lo—
Oh, that’s right, he thinks, muddle-minded; pulling away sharply, his wide gaze sets on her own, staring at those green, green eyes that he loves so much. Fucking hell, how could he forget again? She doesn’t know what these encounters mean to him. Because he keeps getting lost to his stupid lust, Sakura doesn’t think that this is more to him than just sex.
(but it is. and it always has been, and it always will be—she has never been just a place to put his dick in, just a tool for him to use to unwind from all this stress. she has always been so much more than that.)
Yet as he goes to say something, Sasuke finds himself once more making the same senseless mistake (so foolish, so selfish, when is he ever going to learn?) as he feels her hand drop down to his straining trousers, squeezing lightly. The touch effectively kills any words ready to spill from his lips. His mouth dries, fingers digging firmly into her skin as Sakura dips her lips to his neck, leaving a hot, wet path towards his chest. Fuck. He swallows when she slips to the ground. She settles comfortably between his legs, fumbling with the opening of his pants. He grits his teeth. Damnit.
Sasuke doesn’t know how he manages to hold any type of restraint as she smiles at him then, taking his half-stiff cock in her hands. He holds his breath as she moves, gentle fingers curling along the length of him to press and pump, causing him wonder how in the hell she can sit there doing that and still manage to only make his heart flutter like it does now.
(how is it that he wants to both fuck her brains out and gently push her down to make love to her? how is it that she can fill him with this unbridled need just as much as she can fill him with the sweetest adoration at the same damn time? is this what love is like for everyone else? for her? or is this the result of pushing back his feelings for years, repressing all the desire and affection he ever had for her to make their complicated relationship into something less awkward?)
Soft lips wrap around him, and Sasuke tenses, losing track of reality for a single moment. He can’t help the curse that falls out.
“Shit,” he groans, eyes sliding shut as his head tips back. Fucking hell, he wasn’t expecting her mouth to feel this good; so soft and slickened, almost just as warm as he remembers that spot between her legs.
This can’t be real, can it? Sasuke muses, everything around him blurring as Sakura works to lift and lower her head over him. He threads his fingers through her hair carefully, lips parting as she uses her hand to stroke whatever left of him she can’t reach. No, he had to be dreaming—Sakura would never surprise him like this after coming back from her mission. Not when they were so… messily involved.
(…or would she?)
Teeth scraping against the sensitive head of his dick snaps him out of his daze, and he hisses, harshly tightening his hold on her locks without meaning to. Sakura pulls away quickly, whispering a meek, earnest apology. But Sasuke doesn’t miss her wince, and he gentles his touch, meaning to say he’s sorry, too—only she doesn’t give him the chance, enclosing the tip of his cock in her mouth once more. He makes a sound that is half-strangled as she sucks, licks, rubbing a hand over his thigh as though she means to soothe him. The dizziness comes rushing back. Struggling to keep himself anchored, Sasuke whispers her name.
(holy fuck. holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck—)
His pre-cum dribbles, and Sakura gives a slight jump, pulling away with a curious look. Feeling his neck flush, he feels the urge to avert his gaze as understanding dawns to her face. But he doesn’t, and only pants softly, watching as she shifts her eyes to his and gives him a smile he’s never seen before. Sasuke learns exactly why that is when she smooths her lips over his tip and laps at the fluid, moaning softly.
(no, this is real. this is very, very real, and she’s here, between his legs and doing this—)
His control snaps.
Hauling her up to her feet, Sasuke growls something like a savage and roughly manipulates her body into bending over his desk, eyes wild as he just about—but not quite—rips off the clothes on her bottom half. He groans when he slips inside of her, tongue brushing the skin of neck at the cry she lets out. Biting down, he forces himself to stay still, taking a moment to absorb the way that she feels and the way that she looks, wrapped around him like this. Gods, she’s so wet. He has to thank whatever deity is out there; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her because he wasn’t able to keep his patience.
(but gods, does it kill him—she must have really enjoyed sucking him off so much.)
“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura gasps then, grabbing hold of one of his hips with iron strength as she whines and attempts to pull him closer. It doesn’t work. “Oh gods, I—please, I need—”
Slamming her wrist back against his desk, Sasuke loses all traces of the discipline he just had and begins to snap his hips up into her, frenzied with the desire to give her exactly what she wants. His vision blurs white at the sound she makes in return, tearing a groan from his throat. He seizes the plump flesh of her ass, cock throbbing as he builds an even more unforgiving rhythm. He nearly lets himself come at the way she moans, pushing back into him while she quivers and pulses around him with the most exquisite pressure. Fucking hell, he hopes he can last.
One of his arms snakes around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Sasuke mouths at the back of her neck, puffing choppy breaths against her skin. Fuck, he’s so close. His eyes slip shut, teeth gritting impossibly as he nuzzles her soft, rosy hair.
“Sakura,” he pants, tightening his hold on her.
No doubt sensing his fast-approaching limit, Sakura whimpers and shifts against him, reaching back to grab a hold of his hip once more; she flinches as she widens her thighs and rolls back against him, keening a pitched noise that makes him feel primitive. It doesn’t take long at this angle before she comes, squeezing his own orgasm out of him. He grinds out his high with another bite to her neck, sighing as he spills the last of himself into her.
The last thing Sasuke expects to feel is her hand sliding down between them to touch where they are joined. His mouth runs dry, softening dick twitching as she brushes against the base of him and whines.
“More…” she moans, biting her lip. “I need—I need you to do that again, Sasuke-kun…”
I need you to fuck me more, he could hear her say.
It’s all it takes to have him pulling out and flipping her around, hands finally shoving off the clothes still hanging on to her legs before hooking her thighs around his hips. Slowly, deeply, he kisses her, feeling her arms wrap around his neck. Drawing him closer, Sakura kisses him back, moving with twice the fervor, making him dizzy with passion. Sasuke takes this as an opportunity to lift her up and carry her to the adjoined bedroom, eager to pursue things there—but he loses patience barely half a dozen steps away, pushing her back instead against the cool, large glass window overlooking the village.
Luckily, Sakura doesn’t seem to mind; she is busied instead with pressing hot little kisses to the line of his jaw, greedy fingers tugging impatiently at the hem of his shirt. Sasuke obliges all too willingly, making quick work of his Hokage robe and dark grey top, a groan straining to slip out as her warm hands hungrily run over his heated flesh. Fuck, he really wishes he didn’t need a while before he could get hard again.
“Sasuke-kun,” she moans, and the sound is so needy that he finds himself moving to his knees.
Letting his instincts leads him, Sasuke widens her thighs, brushes his lips against the smooth skin on the inside. Sakura’s breath hitches, and he almost smiles. Clearly, he’s doing something right.
(though what that is, he’s not quite sure—was this even a thing people really did?)
Pushing the thought away, Sasuke kisses her there again, breathes in her musky scent, feeling his head spin and spin in a most sinful way. Gods, he wants to taste her. He doesn’t even care if she’s probably dripping with his own cum—he just wants his mouth and tongue on her.
Giving a low, throaty growl, Sasuke sinks his teeth zealously into her thigh and hikes the other one over his shoulder, kissing the hot, wet flesh now exposed. A shiver runs up his spine at the breathless, “Oh,” that slips from her, fingers digging deeper into her plush skin as both her hands find his hair, gently latching onto him. It makes him even more eager to explore, to map out every inch of that spot between her legs.
So he does just that.
He’s likely not the best at this, he suspects (if there is a best), but he is doing well enough if her shaking and whimpering are anything to go by, and that pleases him. Lips twitching against her, Sasuke lets his lover guide his mouth where she needs it most, welcoming any tip to her pleasure. Feeling himself grow hard again, he works and caresses her with even more vigor, lets himself savor the taste of her a little longer, moans and gasps working their way under his skin until he’s burning and burning—
“Oh, oh,” Sakura cries, then, fingers twisting sharply in his hair. “Sasuke-kun, I’m gonna—”
Faster than even he can understand, Sasuke grips her thighs with both hands, and swiftly maneuvers her to the ground. He flips her on her hands and knees before she even has the time to gasp his name, roughly pushing down his pants. His eyes flash with something feral as Sakura spreads her legs without his asking, rubbing a place that makes her gasp.
(needy, desperate. eager to be filled by his hard, hot co—)
“Oh please, Sasuke-kun, please—”
He slips inside her with one rough thrust, gritting his teeth at the moan she lets out, reveling in the pure nirvana of her slick, tight warmth. Holy shit, she feels so good. How could she keep surprising him like this? They’d been fucking not twenty minutes ago, and it’s like his body had already forgotten how she felt like.
Giving a few slow thrusts, Sasuke runs a hand up her back, feeling the ridges of her spine. His chest rumbles as she whines, clawing at the floor as she moves to meet him halfway. Her other hand reaches back, clinging desperately to his hip. Fuck, she’s beautiful. So damn beautiful. His heart swells so much it aches.
Lowering himself flush to her back, Sasuke buries his face in the crook of her neck and presses hot kisses to her skin, taking hold of a breast. He begins to move, at first slowly before promptly building up to sure, quick thrusts. A groan slips from his mouth—he’s already close. The hand kneading at her chest slips down, down, down—and into a thatch damp curls. Sakura collapses on her elbows when he starts to stroke, in frantic circles just like he’d seen her do; perhaps not exactly where she needs it, but with enough intensity that he knows he can get her there.
“Sasuke-kun,” she pleads, half-choking on his name. He nearly comes as she peers back at him over her shoulder, her big green eyes teary and filled with the deepest bliss. “Oh god, harder, I’m gonna come—”
“Shit!” Sasuke swears, pulling himself away to brace against her hips and thrust even harder. Roughly, he growls, “Open your legs wider, Sakura. Now.”
She does, and she comes, quivering endlessly around his cock as she cries out his name and trembles like a leaf. Sasuke follows soon after, grinding tensely inside her with a groan, leaning down to support himself against the floor; riding out his high, he presses his forehead to her shoulder, rolling his hips slowly against her ass.
They’re nothing but a mess of hot, panting breaths after, utterly sapped of strength and shuddering from the aftermath of their peak. Worried he might be crushing her, Sasuke rolls himself at her side and onto his back, fighting to catch his wits. Sakura is quick to topple on her front afterwards, spent. He can’t help but to draw her in against him at the sight, reeling in his postcoital haze. Sakura lets him.
“If I wanted to make you my assistant,” he murmurs after a while, “would you accept?”
He feels her stop breathing entirely. “…What?”
Letting out a content sigh, Sasuke tucks her sweaty hair back. He feels so full. “We could see each other more. With everything I have on my schedule, I don’t know if—”
Tearing herself away from him, Sakura gives him an indignant glare. Blinking quickly, Sasuke watches as she pushes herself to her feet, picks up her clothes, and angrily puts them on. His mouth parts to say something, but she beats him to it with snappish words.
“I have a job already, Sasuke-kun!” she says. “I’m not just going to drop the career I’ve built for myself and that I’m happy with just so you can have me at your beck and call whenever you feel like fucking me!”
Sasuke flinches, only now realizing how his words had sounded. Shit, he didn’t mean to say that—
“Sakura, no, wait, I wasn’t thinking—”
She slams the door shut, and he is left in silence. Sasuke stares, taking a moment to process that once again, she has left his office without giving him a single chance to explain himself.
“Fuck!” he roars, throwing the nearing thing within grabbing distance. The book tumbles a few feet away, the back cover snapped off.
Putting his arm over his face, Sasuke grits his teeth. If only he’d fucking thought about how his words would come across before offering something like that.
chapter five
A/N: Behold, Sasuke the orgasm stupid Hokage. Lmfao. Also didn’t I tell you guys that a lot of smut was going to come (no pun intended)? Heh.
One more chapter to go! 
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shayrey · 5 years ago
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The Elements - One
Warnings: Light angst, eventual smut, language
Word count: 2.4k
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC
A/N: This is a soulmate AU! This chapter takes place during CA:CW and future chapters will tie in with other movies. This story will also be posted to my Ao3. Reblogs are fine, but please don’t steal! I want to thank the wonderful beta readers that helped me with this first chapter, it honestly came a long way thanks to them!! @queenofalotofdifferentworlds @eliza246531 and @chaotic-inkme Also, I am sorry, I have not figured out how to add the ‘keep reading’ on mobile...
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577185/chapters/53952562
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Three months. That’s how long it had been since Levana and Danica had experienced a transformation that changed their lives forever.
It’s how long Levana, eldest of the identical twins, had felt anything but self loathing, doubt, and fear. It gripped her heart so tightly it was hard to pretend like everything was normal, but she did. She smiled and laughed with her sister and their friends. She wished every day that she could be how she was, carefree and spontaneous, that she hadn’t gotten such destructive powers. While the twins were mirror images, their powers were complete opposites, no where in the same vicinity to each other.
Looking at her twin, Levana saw how her blue green eyes sparkled with laughter and her full lips fought to contain the laughter inside. Her short hair framed her face beautifully and she honestly looked like a cute pixie with her glowing complexion and joy radiating off of her. Her fingers took a lock of her own long, wavy hair as she continued to smile at something that had the others laughing.
It was all different now. Levana had to pretend like everything was fine, that she wasn’t affected by her powers.
“I promise, Levi, you will enjoy the show!” Shuri tossed a chunk of bread at the older woman, effectively pulling her from her thoughts and to the present moment.
Levana rolled her eyes as she caught the piece of bread and used it to soak up the juice from the curry she had helped Shuri’s mother, Ramonda, prepare for their dinner. “I would much rather go with T’Chaka and T’Challa to Vienna for the Accords signing,” she grumbled as she finished chewing her food.
Said prince looked at her from across the table. “Levana,” the warning was clear in his voice but she only leveled him with a droll look.
T’Chaka raised his hand and waved it dismissively. “She is allowed her feelings and opinions, my son. Being so new to her powers, it is understandable why she disapproves of the Accords. We are not forcing her to sign them, only hoping that she will in time.”
Silence fell over the table and Levana glance up at the king. He had been like an uncle to her and her sister most of their lives. There was a kindness in his eyes, even now on the eve of his and T’Challa’s departure to Vienna.
Ramonda cleared her throat and broke the silent tension. “Danica, tell us about this show you and Shuri are having Levana watch.”
The younger twin smiled and nudged her sister under the table. “It’s about people who can control one of the four elements, and one person called the Avatar that can control all of them,” she smiled first at her twin and then at Ramonda.
As her sister went on about the show, Shuri joining in excitedly, Levana focused on trying to smile and seem like nothing was bothering her; but everything was bothering her. These powers she now has weren’t as glorious and amazing as they made them out to be. No matter how beautiful and wonderful, they are also destructive and chaotic.
Dangerous.
She swallowed thickly as she thought about what had happened in Sokovia to bring about the Accords.
Maybe she should sign them and have a leash put on her before she could actually do harm.
“Levana, would you like to help me with preparing some tea?” T’Challa’s voice broke through her dark thoughts and she looked up to see a calculating look in his eyes. She nodded with a smile that she had to force and stood with him, both of them walking to the kitchen.
The sounds of the Shuri and Danica talking about a cartoon to Ramonda and T’Chaka followed them into the other room.
The two moved perfectly around each other to start boiling water and getting the teapot ready.
Levana remembered a time when she was much younger and had first been brought to Wakanda. It had been right after her birth parents had died, just outside of Wakanda, and the twins, only five at the time, had been brought in by Zuri’s wife. T’Challa had been the only person who could get the twins to open up and feel comfortable.
They were like family, siblings even.
“Okoye will not give me any details about your training, says it is not her place to disclose that information,” he didn’t look at her as she paused in her task of scooping tea leaves from a container to the teapot. “I’ve seen how you’ve changed, Levana, how your eyes no longer shine when you smile. There was a time you would talk to me about everything, little one,” the childhood nickname brought a small smile to her lips.
Tears stung her eyes as she finished scooping the leaves into the pot. “I still do, T’Challa, but this is something I have to work out on my own.” Her hand absently rubbed at her right hip, a motion that drew his attention.
“Why haven’t you gone looking for him? He’s in New York, isn’t he?” He didn’t want to give up on his friend, but he knew her well enough to know when she was going to shut down.
She shook her head, her brows drawing together. “I can’t bring an innocent into this life.”
Pushing away from the counter, T’Challa took a few steps to grab her shoulders and turn her to face him. “A life of peace and luxury?”
Levana scoffed and rolled her eyes as she pushed her forehead into his chest. “I’m enhanced, T’Challa, and not just any enhanced person. I can control the elements, that’s something anyone would love to get their hands on. I can’t put anyone else in danger because of my powers, it’s bad enough that you all insist I stay here,” she fought a smile as she pulled away and looked up at him. “I think the only thing keeping my powers in check is the constant training I’ve undergone with you and Okoye since mama and baba took Danica and me in,” she moved up to kiss him on the cheek before turning to the kettle and removing it from the heat.
A heavy sigh escaped the Wakandan prince. “You are as stubborn and immovable as W’Kabi’s rhinos,” he helped Levana by taking the teapot while she gathered the cups.
“I take that as a compliment, T’Challa,” she grinned, feeling a moment of relief from the dark emotions that gripped her heart.
“Eh, but a compliment it was not,” he teased as they returned to the table.
Levana gave him a mock glare before looking to his father. “King T’Chaka, despite your best efforts, your son is an ill mannered brute and I apologize for any future damage done to his person,” the serious tone of her voice was dismissed with the teasing twinkle in her blue-green eyes.
The King merely sat back as he accepted his tea and shrugged. “If he has not learned some manners by now, it is time someone else should teach him.”
T’Challa gaped at his father as they all erupted in laughter.
The dark emotions gripping Levana’s heart was pushed away for the moment as she laughed and teased her childhood friend. It was always there, always making her doubt and hate herself, but she had to remember that it couldn’t rule her life. She had agreed to stay in Wakanda and work with Shuri and Okoye to understand her powers and learn to control them so that they didn’t control her.
— — —
Horror and grief was a thick blanket over the room as the twins sat with Shuri and Ramonda watching the news of the bombing of the Accords signing. Levana stood behind the couch where Shuri was crying softly in her mother’s arms and Danica sat next to them.
The twins had watched the bombing happen first hand due to Danica’s power of sight. While Levana’s powers were more hands on and destructive, Danica’s powers were more aligned for support, allowing her to see events happening in real time anywhere in the world. Unfortunately, or fortunately in the case of the bombing, she couldn’t hear anything happening, it was only the ability to see what was happening.
They found that her gift of sight could be shared with Levana when they were touching, but it could only be shared with Levana, and Shuri guessed it was because they’re twins.
Watching T’Chaka die in T’Challa’s arms was heartbreaking and absolutely destroyed the twins. As they joined Shuri and Ramonda to watch the news and grieve, a resolve started to grow in Levana,consuming her completely.
Her fingers dug into the couch as the face of James Buchannon Barnes was posted, marking him as the person responsible for the bombing and death of T’Chaka.
— — —
“Levi, the psychologist has shown up to evaluate James,” Danica broke Levana out of her thoughts.
In the past twelve hours the twins had scoured the internet and multiple leaked S.H.I.E.L.D. documents trying to find a way to prove James Barnes didn’t plant the bomb at the Accords signing. Levana was convinced that he didn’t do it but couldn’t find anything to prove it.
The older twin stood from the table she was sitting at and walked over to where her sister sat on the couch.
They joined hands and Levana was no longer looking at her sister in T’Challa’s personal living room in Wakanda but looking at a man sitting at a table in front of a secure containment cell where James Barnes was locked up.
With no sound to give them an idea of what the psychologist was saying, the twins relied on facial expressions. Danica was getting better at lip reading, but she still struggled with understanding everything.
When the man pulled a little red notebook with a black star on it and James became visibly nervous, Levana cursed and her hand tightened around her sister’s.
“I knew it. It was a trap this entire time to get James right here so this man could bring out the Winter Soldier,” Levana shook her head as they watched the man start to read from the book, slowly walking around the containment unit. Their hearts beat faster as James escaped the chair and started punching the unit, trying to fight the programming.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough, and when he escaped the containment unit he just stood there, the two men standing face to face. It was clear that the Winter Soldier had returned.
Levana cursed and pulled her hand from Danica’s, the vision slipping away from her as she stood up from the couch. Danica blinked and her eyes refocused as she pulled away from the scene and looked at her sister who was picking up her phone from the table.
“What are you doing?”
Levana put the cell phone to her ear as she frowned. “I’m going to try and talk some sense into T’Challa. He’s going to kill the wrong man and I can’t let him,” she closed her eyes as she listened to the constant ringing. “Dammit, T’Challa, answer your damn phone!” She hung up and immediately tried again. When he still didn’t answer she set the phone down and rejoined her twin on the couch.
“We need to see what is happening,” she held her hand out for Danica and waited while her twin took her hand.
What they saw next was James, the Winter Soldier, fighting Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and the CIA agent that had helped Steve and Sam find James. They watched with bated breath as T’Challa joined the fight.
“They can’t let him get away,” Danica breathed, her voice shaking in fear as the Winter Soldier started the helicopter.
Levana felt a chill run down her spine as Steve started running towards the helicopter. “What is he planning on doing, pulling the helicopter down with his bare…” her words cut off, stuck in her mouth as he jumped up to grab the foot rail of the helicopter, his shirt lifting to expose his hip bones and lower abdomen. The starburst shape on his right hip peeking out of the waistband of his pants caused Levana’s heart to lurch and she pulled her hand from Danica’s like she had been burned.
The vision fell away quickly as she stood up, her heart racing as her hand touched her right hip where a mark identical to the one on Steve Rogers was.
Danica’s eyes refocused as she looked up at her sister with a smile. “Levi, Steve, he’s…”
“My soulmate,” she finished, her bottom lip and chin quivering as she felt tears stinging her eyes.
The younger twin shot up, concern replacing the happiness on her face. “Levi, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you happy about finding your soulmate?”
The elemental shook her head and turned away, blinking away the tears in her eyes. Finding one's soulmate was supposed to be a joyful occasion, and on some level she was beyond happy to know who her soulmate is. Unfortunately, she wasn’t completely happy with this knowledge. The self loathing and doubt she felt was warring with the joy she felt.
If her soulmate had been some random person she might have been fine, she would have been happy with just keeping tabs on the person and keeping them safe. The fates had something else in store for her. Her soulmate is Captain America, a man that stood for freedom and justice, an Avenger. He could handle being her soulmate.
But she didn’t feel like she deserved to be his soulmate. The things she could do with her powers could classify her as a danger to humanity.
“I’m a monster, Danica. I can’t be with him,” she turned on her heels and started walking out of the room.
Danica ran to her sister and grabbed her wrist, pulling the elemental to a stop. “Levana, that’s ridiculous! Why would you say you’re a monster?”
Levana wrenched her arm from Danica’s grip, refusing to meet the seer’s eyes. “You wouldn’t understand, your powers can’t kill people. I can wipe an entire city, hell, an entire country, off the map with my powers. Someone like that doesn’t deserve to be with someone as good as Steve Rogers,” she quickly left the room, not waiting to hear what her sister had to say.
“Levana!” Danica stared after her twin with wide eyes.
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swissmissficrecs · 6 years ago
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Breakout Authors of 2018
Despite the fact that we are into our 2nd year of hiatus, there are still new fans joining the fandom all the time. In order to show that new authors can and do get recognized and appreciated, I've once again* gone through AO3 and compiled a list of new authors who:
- posted their first fic in the Sherlock (TV) fandom in 2018
- had a completed fic that got over 500 kudos or over 10K hits within the year
Caveats: some of these may be pseuds of established authors or reposts of older fics from other archives. I have not read most of these fics, so this is not a rec list per se, but I hope you find something you enjoy and give new authors lots of love!
* See my list of Breakout Authors of 2017 here
FinAmour and unicornpoe for FictoberLock 2018 (60K, M, Johnlock) - 511 kudos 31 different prompts, 31 Johnlock fics: one every day for the month of October! Each chapter is a stand-alone story. Some are written by unicornpoe, some by FinAmour, and some are written by us both! They range in length from ~500 words to ~3500 words, and there’s something in here for everyone. Enjoy the softness of these two bois in love.
JJJJ12 for A Woman Worthy of Being Pleased  (77K, M, Sherlolly) - 604 kudos, 15K hits As she helps Sherlock cope with Mary’s sacrifice, Molly realizes the detective’s similarities to her favorite literary heartthrob. Deciding she’s no heroine, Molly vows to finally get over Sherlock for good. Thankfully Fitzwilliam was nothing if not persistent.
Lediona for floating through a dark blue sky (58K, M, Johnlock) - 533 kudos Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. *** Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.
lupinjoallen for NSFW BBC Sherlock One-Shots. (49K, E, Various) - 10K hits A collection of NSFW one-shots based on BBC's Sherlock. Each chapter will have the title of followed by the character. Summary will also have character pairings.
P_Dunton for Patience (66K, M, Sherlolly) - 514 kudos, 13K hits Sometimes it feels like there is no point to go on. So when Molly Hooper finally decides she is not interested in this life of hers anymore, she just needs to wait for a bit before the moment is right to take her leave. (Un)fortunately for her things start to take unpredictable turn.
thecrowsdaughter for Double or Nothing  (81K, E, Johnlock) - 12K hits John is visiting a male prostitute when someone is murdered. Sherlock is on the case and John's secrets are out in the open. The case that follows will take them through the world of prostitution, murder, drugs and organised crime.
versarilaetus for Emotional Context, Sherlock  (48K, M, Sherlolly) - 511 kudos After Eurus's emotional vivisection, Sherlock returns to Baker Street and tries to put the shattered pieces of his life back together. Takes place immediately following The Final Problem, but before that happy little montage. Sherlolly. A mix of fluff and angst/crime and naughtiness.
unicornpoe for Sehnsucht (14K, T, Johnlock) - 725 kudos Sehnsucht: longing, pining, yearning, craving, intensely missing. An individual’s search for happiness while coping with the reality of unattainable wishes. John is here now, yes, yes he is. He and Rosie are back home in 221B with Sherlock, safe where they belong... but why is there still a hole deep inside Sherlock, wide and gaping and consuming? Does John feel it too? And what will it take to fill it?
vintagelilacs for just another saturday night  (9K, E, Johnlock) - 550 kudos John Watson didn't bring people home from the bar. Thanks to his night terrors, he was guaranteed to either get violent or wake up completely drenched in sweat; neither of which were ideal in a bed partner. There was also the fact that his miserable bedsit barely had enough room to accommodate him, let alone anyone else.But that was before he met Sherlock.
And these three authors started posting their "winning" fic in 2017, but otherwise fulfilled the criteria, having no other works posted before 2018:
BelleGeorgia  for The List (28K, E, Johnlock) - 529 kudos On John's computer, there is a file. And in that file is a word document. And in that word document is a list. A list that John admittedly reads more than he updates, but one he is very fond of nonetheless. Or rather: John keeps a list of all the times Sherlock isn't being a dick.
bumbleholmes for Warmth (20K, M, Johnlock) - 527 kudos Warmth spread through Sherlock, spilling from his heart and bleeding to the very tips of his fingers. It was a feeling he got very often now, between being around John nearly all the time and caring for Rosie; but the name for it had been lost, buried under shame, guilt, and grief. + John moves back to 221b with Rosie, and (mostly) everything is soft and gentle and warm.
Soft_Light  for Assistance Required  (12K, E, Johnlock) - 730 kudos Sherlock takes Viagra for an experiment. You can probably guess a lot of what happens next.
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commander-yinello · 6 years ago
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I've been following your blog for a while now and I wanted to say that I literally fall in love with all your writing, you're so talented! May I request some Juzen? One during Zen's route where Zen is kind of into Mc but after the mountains talk Jumin realises he's in love with Zen and plans to confess to him at the party. I'll leave the rest to you, sorry it's not really detailed. If your not doing requests thank you for taking your time to read this anyway and I hope you are doing well! 😊🌸
Waaaaaah *becomes a puddle of goo* I’m so happy you like my writing, your lovely comment makes me go all skldjdsldjssdlj~ And I am always up for amazing requests like these. I’ve tried something a little different than what I usually do, I hope you enjoy
His father told him everything had to beweighed up in life, measure the net losses and gains for maximum profit. Thatwas the foundation of strong and clever business ethics. Jumin saw a lot ofgain in helping Zen, despite the fallen actor’s claims on the mountainside. TheRFA was stronger with Zen in it, and the RFA was important. It was a logicalchoice.
Then the sun slowly began to set, and Juminsaw Zen laugh, and sass him back, and smile – a smile of relief, a hope thatwas there thanks to him. And as his heartrate sped up, and his mind went slightlyblank from happiness, Jumin wondered if this time he had made a decision basedon unprofitable reasons.
***
The party started off with Zen’s flawlessspeech. No one believed Echo Girl anymore. And as the reporters ran after thelying actress for a statement, Zen let out a relieved sigh before lettingeveryone know he needed a quick break. He winked at MC before leaving the stage,and something clawed at Jumin’s heart.
There was only so much a man could keepinside before he would burst. Jumin knew what he felt was foolish. He repressedevery tiny fantasy he could to stop it from growing, to give him illusions ofthings that could never be. The pain in his chest was something he was used to.
Still, against every better judgement, Juminapproached MC. She was stunning in her black dress with an open back. No wonderZen was so enamored with her.
“I would like to speak with Zen first,” heasked.
MC tilted her head, rightly confused. Herephrased the question. “I need to speak with Zen as soon as he comes back. Itis very important. He’ll most likely head to you once he sees you.”
He hadto speak with Zen before he spoke with MC. Because he knew what Zen wasplanning to do. Because once they did, it was over. Jumin knew it and stilltried to delay the inevitable. A foolish endeavor of a foolish man who couldnot contain his emotions.
But if he didn’t take this chance, this highrisk, low profit chance, he would regret it.
Perhaps she saw his desperation. Perhapsshe could guess the motive behind it. “Sure, I’ll send him to you at once,” shereplied with a big smile. Or perhaps, she thought it was RFA business.
Jumin started to wish it truly was thelatter.
***
“What is so important that you needed tosee me right away?” Zen announced his arrival on the balcony by being direct,as always. His white jacket stood out well in the dark night.
Jumin had trouble turning towards him. JuminHan never had trouble looking at anyone. Fear and anticipation made him numb,made him finally face the now blossoming actor.
Zen was truly handsome. No, he was so muchmore than that. He was honest, outspoken, true to his own values. He cared, andin that one moment on the mountainside, he had accepted Jumin. Jumin had alwaysadmired him, and now he wanted more than admiration. That sliver of thought wasenough for Jumin to spill what was on his mind, even as he had spent the lastagonizingly long minutes trying to talk himself out of it.
He couldn’t hear himself talk. Not when hewas so focused on Zen’s expressions. Seemed there were a lot of ways to showsurprise, shock and confusion, all at once.
“I… just- whoa dude. I didn’t expect this.From you. Not from you,” Zen said, holding on the balcony. His stance wasexactly as when Jumin expressed his commercial plans at Zen’s secret place,except now there was no sunlight, there were no jokes and the void inside hisheart must have swallowed the beating organ whole.
In movies, the one confessing would notwait for a reply. Instead, they’d make another romantic move, sweeping theother off their feet, kissing them passionately so that they’d have no choicebut to see how much in love they were.
“I should go. I need to go,” Zen muttered.
Jumin was painfully reminded how his lifewas not a movie, as the balcony door slammed shut and left him alone.
If rejection was inevitable, why did itstill sting?
***
Sad teenagers in romance movies comfortedthemselves with ice-cream and drama series. Jumin comforted himself with morework. It was his own fault for letting himself get carried away. He held on tothat numb feeling on the balcony and did not allow any room for stray thought. Toavoid the RFA needlessly fussing over him, he left a message congratulating MCand Zen the morning after the party, and then put his phone on silence. He evenmuted Assistant Kang, knowing how close she was to the two. He feared byreading any follow-up messages, he would waver and drown in his own mind.
The first few nights he had passed out inbed, with documents littering his face and pillow.
After the fourth day at night, he finally daredto check his phone again. That’s when he discovered Zen had tried to call him. Atleast ten times a day. There were many other calls from the other RFA memberstoo, and pleading messages from Assistant Kang to finally answer his phone. Lastly,there was an angry message from the actor, stating he was going to C&Rfirst thing in the morning.
Jumin wondered if it was possible for aheartrate to go so fast it stood still. What did Zen want to say to him? DidZen seek revenge for his confession? Did someone overhear him, and use it tohurt the actor’s reputation? Did MC break up with Zen because of it? Too manyterrifying questions with no answer.
That night, he couldn’t sleep.
***
He didn’t need coffee. He was wide awake inhis office, staring at documents he couldn’t read. Zen would be here anytimesoon.
His phone rang and he picked up withoutthinking.
“Jumin, finally!” MC’s voice rang through, “We’vebeen trying to reach you for ages!”
“MC. I apologize for causing you so muchgrief. I assure you, it won’t happen again.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. Have youspoken to Zen?”
He stared at his closed office door. “No, hehas yet to arrive. I’ll make sure to apologize to him as well, so you both can enjoyyour well-deserved time together.”
“Togeth- Jumin, what exactly do you thinkhappened at the party?”
Jumin leaned back on his chair, rubbing hisforehead. He didn’t want a step by step play of their romantic moment. “Iassume Zen gave you a beautiful bouquet of flowers and professed his love asplanned.”
Was that a giggle? “Oh, he gave me flowersalright. But he was so lost in thought, I had to ask him what was wrong. That’swhen he told me what had happened between you two.”
“I-“
“I don’t think he meant to tell me, it justleft him and he felt guilty for that. When I asked him how he responded, hesaid that he didn’t know what to say so he left. I told him that he’s an idiot,and he had to call you right away.”
He ran his free hand through his hair. “Youdid not have to say that. He was supposed to be with you.” That was, after all,the logical order of things.
“Pfft. I don’t know you guys for very long,but it’s obvious Zen always talks about you. He gave me flowers and you werethe first thing on his mind. What do you think that means?”
Jumin wasn’t sure what to say.
“Talk to him, please? You’ve made him siton it for four days.”
“I will.” A little chime on his companyphone told him he had a visitor. “He’s here.”
“Good luck!” MC last said before the callended.
The door opened to reveal Zen, who lookedlike he had ran from his house to the company, skin flushed and hair wild. Hismouth was slightly open, panting, ready to say a million thing, but upon seeingJumin he went silent, eyes wide but unable to utter a word, as if overwhelmed.
White brows furrowed, indiscernible thoughtsrunning across his face. Jumin noted how his expression was filled withanxiety, but not dread. “I need to tell you something,” Zen finally said, smoothingout his jacket and hair in a clear attempt to gather courage, and straighteninghis back to properly stare at the CEO-in-line. An attempt to stay calm, but clearlyZen was about to explode.
And Jumin wondered if that was how Zen hadfound him on the balcony, unsettled, out of place, taking the risk that every fiberof his being told him he shouldn’t. Zen wasn’t like him, he didn’t weigh potential,he followed his passion without hesitation.
Interestinghow it both led to the same thing in the end.
Jumin got up from his chair, not breakingthe connection of their gaze. There was that feeling again, the anticipationthat weighed on him on the mountainside and on the balcony. But this time, he alsofelt hope. The same hope he saw in red eyes that very carefully tracked hisevery move.
“I’m listening.”
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