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startanewdream · 4 years ago

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Mia

Summary: It’s not really an unplanned pregnancy if you planned it once - even it was twenty years ago, right?

Or the road leading to James and Lily’s baby number two. (Part of the Jily Lives AU)

Note: To be edited later with a link to AO3 as soon as this gets a title. Edited with the link to AO3 if you prefer. Also, this time there is mention of Sirius and Remus being alive because after the last one, I felt guilty.

Warning for... mentions of sex. That’s how babies are made after all.

_________________________

They are in bed, Lily’s head over his chest while he caresses her hair, both still recovering their breaths when she first talks about it.

'How do you feel about another?'

James raises his eyebrows.

'I don't know if I should be happy you enjoyed so much you already want more or if I should be concerned you are not satisfied, Lily'.

'What? No -' she giggles, turning in bed to stare at him, her auburn hair floating around her. 'I meant about another child'.

James is silent for a few seconds, considering it.

'So that means you are not satisfied'.

She rolls her eyes, but James can see the amusement in her face.

'In bed with you, yes, I am', she assures, placing a soft kiss on his chest, over his heart. 'But about kids, I've been thinking about it'.

James bits his lips.

'You know how I feel about it', he whispers. 'I hated so much being an only child that I found myself brothers as soon as I could'.

'Yeah and you did propose to me mentioning how you would like a house full of kids - enough to fill a Quidditch team, if I remember correctly'.

'I was babbling, afraid you were going to refuse me! You know you can't use someone's desperate proposal against him'.

She smiles softly.

'So you don't want a bunch of children?'

He touches her hair once more, keeping his eyes on the auburn strands, and it comes to his mind that he would like a child with that gorgeous hair of her.

'I do. Maybe not seven, but I don't want Harry to be an only child. It's just -'

He doesn't finish, but James knows he doesn't need to. Harry is just fifteen months old, an unplanned child in the middle of a war they are not close to winning and, truth be told, if James and Lily had more sense, they would not have one child, let alone another one.

And there is the fact that their only son is already too much involved in this war.

'Hey', she cups his face. 'Let's plan together'.

There is a pleading tone in her voice, and he knows that what Lily is asking is hope - for better days, for a time where they can have more children without worrying about what will happen to them.

He looks back at her and when their eyes meet, his heart beats faster. It should be silly considering what they were doing minutes ago and how he possibly cried in very colourful words that he loved her, but this is one of those moments where time seems to stop and he realizes, with a wave of electricity running through his body, with a certainty that leaves room for no doubt, that he loves her with all he has.

That’s why they are together, that’s why he asked her to marry him. Not because he feared for the future, not because he was desperate to enjoy as much time with her as they had left.

But because he loved her since what seems always now, and he won’t deny any hope for Lily, not when he's been living on it.

He kisses her softly.

'Let’s plan’, he agrees. ‘I think… maybe four kids would be nice. Two boys, two girls'.

She smiles.

'Well, we can't plan that'. Then Lily throws him a knowing look. 'You are thinking about forming a new group of Marauders, aren't you?'

He smiles unabashedly.

'Just think about family photos. Each one of our kids dresses as one of the Marauders. It would be the cutest thing ever'.

Her eyes shine, seeing beyond him.

'It would. Fine, four kids. We will need a bigger house'.

'We can expand the house, you know. My dad always said he thought of creating a new wing here; there is plenty of land'.

'Two rooms to begin with. They can share until they are older'.

‘Sirius always slept in my room when he came over’, James remembers fondly. ‘We almost burnt the house once or twice, I must warn you’.

‘Consider me warned. Petunia and I had separate rooms, but when I was younger -’, she pauses suddenly, and James can see the concern on her face. ‘What if they don’t like each other?’, she whispers.

‘They will’.

‘You can’t know for sure, I mean - you see how Petunia is with me. And Sirius can’t even talk about Regulus, what if -’

‘You are worrying too much, Lily’, he says gently, kissing the top of her head. ‘Maybe they will best friends, maybe they won’t. But I’m sure they will be family no matter what’.

She looks thoughtfully, but after a minute she nods.

‘What about next year? Harry will be two, it’s a good age gap’.

‘It would be nice. We can start practising now if you want’.

‘I thought we already did’, Lily winks at him. ‘But we can repeat tomorrow’.

‘Halloween fun?’, he smirks. ‘Will you be wearing a costume?’

‘Only if you do - and no, your antlers tiara doesn’t count’.

He pouts, making her giggle and kiss him until his expression relax.

‘Hey, Lily’, he calls her, his voice resounding with the hope he associates with Lily. ‘Let’s have another child’.

___________________

When Harry is five and he starts Muggle school, it comes to James that his son has been lacking other kids in his life. It’s not that he is lonely - he couldn’t be, not with James and Lily always there for him, not with the almost daily visits from Sirius and Remus, but he suddenly wishes there were more children in the house.

Now, he can’t count on Sirius or Remus to help him with it - both of them seem to avoid relationships like the plague, though for different reasons -, so he rounds Lily while she is in her office preparing a potion.

‘James?’, she calls surprised, when his arms embrace her from behind and he kisses her exposed neck (James loves when Lily is making potions because she keeps her hair on a bun and he has a weak spot for her neck). ‘This will explode if I don’t stir it’.

‘Let it explode’.

‘It’s a Draught of Living Death, we will turn into zombies if -’

‘Let’s make a baby’.

That makes her take her wand to freeze the potion and turn to him, with a funny smile.

‘Is that a weird way of asking for sex? If so - you used better lines before’.

‘No, I mean, sex is good too and most necessary, but I mean it, Lily. Let’s try for another kid’.

Lily blinks.

‘Why now?’

‘Why not now? Harry is still young, we are definitively young, what’s keeping us from having more?’

She bits her lip, thoughtful, and James feels suddenly dismayed.

‘Unless you don’t want anymore?’

‘It’s not that, I want it - it’s just, with everything that happened -’

‘I know, it slipped out of my mind too. But now, we are living in this peace for a while…’

‘But it won’t last, will it?’, she whispers as if she feels guilty of even thinking about it. ‘Dumbledore says he isn’t really dead and when he returns -’

‘Maybe he will stay hidden forever, maybe he is too weak to try anything’.

She smiles sadly.

‘Every time I look at Harry’s scar I know that something will happen, James. That’s not a normal scar, that means something, and I get scared’.

‘Hey’, he hugs her. ‘As long as we are together, we can face anything - didn’t we prove that before?’

‘Yeah, but - is it fair? To put someone innocent in the middle of our mess?’

‘It was not fair with Harry, but we managed. We can do it again’.

‘James…’

Lily looks at him and James sees she is not convinced, not really; he knows Lily enough to understand that she is rational - she likes to think first, whereas James is always the more impulsive. They complement each other. He takes her to fly, she remembers him to come back to the ground.

And he understands what she means, even if he wishes things were different.

‘You are right’, he sighs. ‘At least for now, until we see how things really are’.

She smiles, touching his face with fondness.

‘I want it, I really do. Don’t forget it’.

James kisses her hand on his face.

‘I won’t. In fact, if you want to start practising now -’

____________________

It’s just because the house is empty now that Harry is off to Hogwarts that the subject returns; they don’t exactly talk about it. James just sees Lily is not taking her potions anymore - they look at each other, understanding passing between them (one of the benefits of being married for over ten years) - and then suddenly and simply as that they are trying.

It feels a little weird to actually hope for once that something comes out of their moments together, but it’s Lily. He forgets everything when he is with her, focusing on just enjoying her company and touches and how they made each other feel.

But time passes and nothing happens. It’s been only three months, it’s nothing unusual, and Lily mentions seeing a doctor when the owl comes to tell them how someone jinxed Harry’s broom on his first Quidditch match.

That doesn’t seem like a good sign.

When they return home months after, in June, after seeing Harry all bandaged in the hospital, after hearing him talking about coming face to face with Voldemort, they don’t say anything. He buys the herbs for Lily and she is not surprised when he gives them to her.

There is no need to talk about it.

____________________

Most of the time their lives are full of things happening and Harry is always at the centre of a storm, so when James thinks about it, Lily was right. He can’t imagine facing dementors and going back to the Order with a young child to be cared for.

He can’t imagine how their child would be a target, how vulnerable and defenceless their child would be, without a love protection, without a prophecy somehow binding its fate. They made the right choice of postponing their second child.

That’s the rational part of him that suddenly vanishes the moment he sees Lily holding baby Teddy Lupin in her arms for the first time, that cute fat baby that giggles at her, closing his eyes for a minute - and then his blue hair turns as red as hers and his eyes are bright green.

It’s like a mini-Lily and suddenly James wishes more than ever that this war is over soon - or that it had never even begun because he can see that other life, the one where there was no Voldemort. Instead, James and Lily’s lives are filled with more children, happy shining kids whose worst problems are passing their school exams and not surviving. The life he always wanted for Harry.

His eyes meet Lily’s and she smiles at him, offering him to hold Teddy. It’s been forever since James held a baby, but he still remembers, not really forgetting all these nights he took care of Harry. Teddy is a quiet baby, smiling at him too, his hand raised to try to grab his glasses.

‘He is perfect’, he whispers, looking to Remus. His friend is beaming - James understands that happiness that comes with holding your child for the first time, with seeing that miracle in the shape of a baby that you swear to protect with all your heart.

‘Of course he is’, Tonks says cheerfully, while Remus hugs her, holding her close to him as if he doesn't believe he gets to be this happy.

James understands the feeling of living that light bright moment right after coming out of the darkness. There is nothing like that.

He returns Teddy to Tonks when he starts to whimper for his mother, and then he looks at Lily.

Her green eyes are filled with longing for a life they promised themselves they would have, and also a little bit of hurt. How did they lose sight of their dreams?

They both know the answer but it's not a comfort.

Later, when they apparate back to their hiding place - a sorry little apartment where they pretend to be a normal boring couple -, they don't wait to turn out the lights and they don't say anything before their lips are meeting, and it's desperate and harsh as it has not been for a long time.

Somehow James feels like they are making up for a lost time that won't go anywhere and that they can't retrieve anyway.

It doesn't matter.

When they first married all they had was their love and dreams. They still love each other and for those dreams - they will accomplish them.

________________

They never speak out loud but somehow in the aftermath of the last battle, it feels right that they get a new beginning just as everyone else is having.

It’s all about rebuilding - Hogwarts, then the wizarding world - the Ministry, the Aurors, organising a system that was clearly outdated - and their home. It's a long process and in the middle of it, they forget about worrying, about planning; they just go with the flow and somehow it works without they even meaning to.

Lily has this weird expression on her face, one that seems to mix disbelief and amazement as she turns to him one morning and says as if the most natural thing:

‘James? I think I’m pregnant’.

That’s the first difference from their first time. Now he is the one that leaves for the pharmacy while Lily prepares a potion - they will test twice, just to be sure - and they are together while they wait for both tests to tell them if her feelings were right on the spot.

They are.

There are two lines on the muggle pregnancy test and the potion turns blue and suddenly like that they know they will be parents again.

She hugs him then, her eyes filled with tears of pure joy, laughing when she sees James is really crying now.

‘I love you so much!’, he declares brightly, kissing every part of her face that he can (but with care, because a pregnant Lily always seems fragile to him, no matter the fact he knows this is not true).

And it feels that this is what he should have done the first time, when she first told him about Harry. They should be happy and only that. No worries. That’s the second difference.

There are parallels too, James thinks. Harry’s shock at the idea his parents will have a baby reminds him of Sirius’ reaction as if he can’t possibly understand how that happened (somehow, despite running into them a couple of times, Sirius still got shocked with the fact they made sex). Lily is as sick as in her first pregnancy, so the first months are mostly spent at home too.

And just like back then, Sirius comes to visit her every day he can, careful to bring her anything she may want to eat and offering massage to her feet that Lily doesn’t need to, but she enjoys anyway.

‘I can still see my feet, Padfoot’, she replies teasingly, lying lazily on the couch of the living room while Sirius' hands work their magic on her right foot. James winks at her.

‘Just enjoy, Lily. He is trying to get into your good graces. He wants to be named godfather again’.

Sirius nods unabashedly, grinning at her.

‘Remus is the next in line’, Lily says, shrugging. ‘But keep with that massage and we will think about you if baby number three ever comes’.

‘Still without a name for baby number two?’

‘You need to stop calling young Prongslet by numbers’, James scolds without any malice.

‘We are not calling Prongslet either, James’.

‘Of course not, Lily. It will be Elvendork’.

Lily rolls her eyes.

‘Not this again’.

‘It’s unisex!’

They indeed refer to their baby as Elvendork just because it’s easier than calling “it” or “baby”, and Harry throws confused looks at them, looking concerned that his new brother or sister will really be called that, though Lily assures him this won’t happen.

But the truth is that they really have not decided on a name, haven’t even discussed yet seriously until they return from the doctor with the news it’s a girl (James cried with this news just as he cries every time they go to the doctor and he hears the baby's heartbeat or even that shape in the ultrasound that it's not really discernible).

They are on the bed, with James looking wondrously at Lily’s now round belly and imagining their little girl (maybe that mini-Lily he once thought of, maybe a little Harry, maybe a little James - it doesn’t matter, he already loves her), when he whispers: ‘We can’t call her Elvendork’.

Lily throws him a surprised look.

‘Oh, no! Poor Elvendork!’

He is too enamoured with her to retort.

‘Did you think of any names?’

‘I have a list of names’, she admits. ‘But none of them feels right’.

They go together through her list; there are beautiful, weird and creative types of names, but as Lily said, none seems to fit yet.

Of course, they don’t lack ideas. Everyone seems to have an opinion.

Sirius is all for the stars, of course (but James thinks he is teasing, though some of them sound nice), and Harry suggests female heroes.

‘What about your mothers?’, Remus suggests, when he and Dora come over for dinner. Lily is sitting on the couch, playing with Teddy. The boy is four now, and he seems fascinated by Lily’s big belly - he had been too young when Fleur was pregnant with Victoire, so this is the first time he is really seeing a pregnant woman and understanding what it means.

Teddy already refers to the baby as his little cousin, sounding proud and excited to meet her.

‘Rose would be a good name’, Lily muses, but still it doesn’t seem to be what she is looking for.

At this time, with only a month away until their baby is born, James considers they are hoping that looking at her face will be enough after the birth - if not, he will just cry the first name that comes to his mind when they sign her birth certificate.

He only hopes he manages not to sign Elvendork. Lily would kill him.

‘I wouldn’t go for Euphemia’, he declares, shrugging.

‘As someone who has an outdated name, I second that’, Dora says, grinning at him.

But Lily looks at both of them with her brows furrowed, and James knows there is something on her mind. She doesn’t say anything until they are alone later.

‘You know, I think Remus might have the right idea’.

‘Liked Rose after all?’

‘No, actually, I thought about your mother’.

Thinking of his mother brings to James that smell of fresh-baked pie, the warmth of her hugs - she had always been there for him, to listen and to guide him - and not just him. She had been a mother to Sirius too and even to Lily in the few months they had together before she passed away.

He smiles softly.

‘I miss her, but Euphemia is not - ‘

‘It doesn’t have to be Euphemia. Your father called her Mia, right? We can do something like that’.

‘Mia Potter?’

‘I thought of Amelia. And we could call her Mia, for short. Like Teddy or Ginny’.

‘Mia Potter’, he repeats, savouring the words.

‘Amelia Rose Potter? In honour of both grandmothers?’

James beams, hugging Lily and letting his hand feel her belly. ‘I love it’.

The baby seems to like it too, because in the next second Lily is wincing and James feels the baby kicking.

‘You know what, Lily? I think Mia will be a great Quidditch player too’.

She sighs exaggeratedly.

‘I only wish she could wait to start training when she is out’.

_____________________

Because fate sometimes is funny, Mia Potter is born on Halloween Night and the first time James holds her he is wearing an antlers tiara that he forgot to take off and that no one warned him about.

Later he will probably hex Sirius when he teases him about it, but right now he just sits next to Lily on her hospital bed, and she beams at him despite her tiredness.

‘We did it’, she whispers, sounding amazed, and James understands the feeling. They are in their forties, they lived through two wars, they raised a magnificent young man and here they are holding their second child, a tiny baby who seems unbelievably perfect in every sense.

One minute, James thinks. Let us enjoy this one minute, just a little.

When the minute is over, he returns the sleeping Mia to Lily’s arms and goes to open the door. Harry is pacing in front of the door, looking agitated as James felt all during the labour, even though he never left Lily’s side.

‘So? Can I see my sister now?’

‘And my goddaughter?’, Sirius pops in, grinning. James laughs.

‘It’s Remus’ goddaughter, and, yes, you can come in. She is sleeping’.

They get around the bed, with Sirius hugging Lily and declaring her the most amazing woman in the world (‘Are you drunk, Padfoot?’ ‘Yes, I was nervous! ‘You won’t hold Mia until you are sober’), and with Harry touching the thin strands of dark hair on his sister’s head, looking at her as if it’s the most precious thing he has ever seen.

James thinks he was wrong about that selfish minute he spent alone with Lily and Mia. Seeing Harry and Sirius cooing about the baby, he realizes this is the kind of one minute he wishes to have more in his life.

‘Do you want to hold her?’, Lily offers, and Harry nods, unable to look away. He sits on the chair right beside the bed and James helps him hold his sister. She wakes up, crying, and for a moment Harry seems to be in panic until he raises and swings her softly, just like he used to do with his godson.

‘Hi, Mia’, Harry whispers. ‘That’s ok. There, there. I’m your big brother, you see? I’m here for you’.

There is a soothingly effect on Harry’s voice and after a few minutes, Mia seems to relax indeed, her crying turning into a sob that seems to be more because of the unfamiliar world she is now in than anything else.

‘She has your eyes, Dad’, Harry says, smiling. James looks back at his daughter and, more than the hazel colour that looks a lot like his, he sees the way she seems to be curious about her surroundings as if she wants to see all the world has to offer.

Mia has indeed his eyes.

____________________

Mia is three when Ginny calls her and Mia comes with an expression of guilt that tells James she has done something she shouldn’t. That doesn’t really surprise him. He saw his daughter running with Teddy and Victoire and whenever those three are together, something always seems to happen.

Most of the time involving some kind of petty mischief that gives James very much hope for his daughter.

‘It was not my fault’, Mia declares, looking sheepish.

‘I am sure it was Teddy’s’, Harry says, sharing a grin with James, because whenever they are discovered, Teddy always declares himself to be the guilty one, even though James can see exactly when it was Victoire (with her exuberant ideas) or Mia (with her direct-to-the-point ideas), clearly feeling it’s his role as the older of them.

‘It’s okay, Mia’, Ginny assures her tenderly, offering her arms and Mia doesn’t hesitate to go sit on her lap.

Mia loves her parents, adores Harry but it’s Ginny that she worships. Like with the broomstick: Mia learnt to fly at one like Harry, who gave her her first broom, but it was just last summer when they took her to watch a Quidditch game, where Ginny had scored sixteen goals that Mia had declared she wanted to be a Chaser when she grew up.

James had shaken his head in fake dismay at the fact his daughter had not been impressed with his Quidditch skills, but he didn't really mind: any reason he could to spend afternoons flying with her was good for him.

'We have something to tell you', Ginny says under Mia's concentrated look. Lily exchanges a smile with James; they already know, but hearing it again just makes them happier than words could describe. 'You are going to be an aunt'.

She blinks.

'Like you are?'

Ginny smiles.

'Do you know what an aunt is?'

'I know that Vic calls you Aunt, but Teddy calls you Ginny'.

'Well, I am Vic's aunt because Vic's father is my brother'.

'Like Harry is my brother'.

'Yes, so you are going to be an aunt because Harry will have a son or daughter'.

'Oh!' she looks at his brother, clasping her hands. 'With whom?'

'With me', Ginny explains while everyone laughs. 'Harry and I will have a baby'.

'Oh. Like Aunt Fleur had Dominique?'

'Exactly'.

'I like babies', Mia declares. 'Where is the baby? I want to meet him!'

'In a few months. He or she is still… not ready'.

'Oh'. Mia seems upset, then she shrugs. 'Can I play outside until then?'

Ginny laughs and places a kiss on Mia's cheek.

'Sure. We will call you when it's ready'.

'Mia', Lily calls, sounding amused. 'Do you know how Harry takes care of you?'. Mia nods. 'That's what an aunt does too'.

'Can I take the baby to the park too?'

'When he is older', James assures her. Mia smiles, her hazel eyes sparkling.

‘I will be the best aunt ever’, she declares, and then she is running outside (Mia can’t walk - she only knows how to run), back to Teddy and Victoire.

James watches her through the window, talking excitedly to them, probably telling them all about her news.

'I think you will have a handful with them in the future'.

'Me?', Harry laughs. 'If McGonagall doesn't retire by the time your child and grandchild are both in Hogwarts, I will be surprised'.

______________________

Mia’s name came from @blitheringmcgonagall cute amazing stories of Mia and Monty Potter, and the final scene is some sort of answer to @dear-james ‘s prompt of James and Lily knowing about James Sirius (to be properly answered some day, I hope!)

#eyes glistening #jily lives #Jily FanFiction #hinny #baby potter #i don't know the title yet #please help #to be edited later #t: fanfiction

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howdon-aldi-death-queue · 3 years ago

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NEW SAM FENDER INTERVIEW FOR NME

THE BIG READ

Sam Fender: “This album is probably the best thing I’ve done in my life”

The hometown hero has distanced himself from the ‘Geordie Springsteen’ tag, but there’s no shortage of rites-of-passage yarns and colossal tunes on the upcoming ‘Seventeen Going Under’

“You can see the ghost of Thatcherism over there…” says Sam Fender, pointing across the water to a vacant shipyard, where once the shipbuilding industry was so healthy that vessels towered higher than the rows of houses on the shore. We’re on the waterfront in North Shields, just outside Newcastle, and our photographer is snapping away for Sam’s first NME cover shoot.

The singer-songwriter stares stonily into the lens as wafts of seaweed and fishing trawlers are carried by the northern coastal breeze. He’s already been stopped for a few pictures with fans, but remains eager to point out the impact that Tory leadership has had on his working-class town over the last few decades. “It’s been closed since the ’80s, from the ghost wasteland of the shipyards. You’ve got all the scars of Thatcherism from The Tyne all over to the pit villages in Durham.”

It’s as good an introduction as any to the outspoken musician, whose 2019 debut album ‘Hypersonic Missiles’ was a record for his sleepy hometown to be proud of – tackling themes that range from male suicide (the heartbreaking ‘Dead Boys’) to world tensions (and the “kids in Gaza” he eulogised on its soaring title track). He set weighty topics against blisteringly well-executed Americana with the fist-in-the-air euphoria of Bruce Springsteen’s colossal choruses and sax solos. Much like his hero, Sam smartly weaves his own political standpoint and personal circumstance into gripping anthems of a generation, which earned him the ‘Geordie Springsteen’ tag.

“I can’t exactly bat off those comparisons, can I?” he says back in his cosy recording studio nearby. “At the same time, I don’t feel worthy of that tag. The first time I heard it, I was like, ‘That’s fucking sick’, but you don’t want to be riding off the coattails of The Boss for the rest of your life. I can write my own songs, they’re different and my voice doesn’t sound anything like Springsteen’s. I don’t have his growl; I’m a little fairy when I sing.”

He may have toned down the Springsteen vibes slightly on his highly anticipated second album ‘Seventeen Going Under’, due later this year, but there are still plenty of chest-pounding anthems capable of making your hairs stand on end: “I much prefer Americana to the music we have in our country at the moment. I love the leftfield indie stuff like Fontaines D.C, Squid and Black Midi, but I love a chorus and melodic songs. I think the American alternative scene has that down with Pinegrove, Big Thief, The War On Drugs.”

‘Hypersonic Missiles’ thrummed with a small town frustration almost that every suburban teenager could surely relate to. This was most notable on ‘Leave Fast’, where he sang about the “boarded up windows on the promenade / The shells of old nightclubs” and “intoxicated people battling on the regular in a lazy Low Lights bar”, a reference to his beloved local. But album two sees him fully embrace North Shields, an ever-present backdrop to cherished memories and harrowing life events of his youth and surroundings.

It’s no coincidence that the 27-year-old has turned inwards and penned a record about his hometown while being stuck at home like the rest of the country: “I didn’t have anything to point at and I didn’t want to talk about the pandemic because nobody wants that – I never want to hear about it again. It was such a stagnant time that I had to go inwards and find something, because I was so uninspired by the lifetime we we’re living in.

“I’ve made my coming-of-age record and that was important for me – as I get older, these stories keep appearing; I’ve got so much to talk about. I wrote about growing up here. It’s about mental health and how things that happen as a child impact your self-esteem in later life. On the first record, I was pointing at stuff angrily, but the further I’ve gotten into my 20s, the more I’ve realised how little I know about anything. When you hit 25, you’re like: ‘I’m fucking clueless! I know nothing about the world.’ It was a humbling experience, growing up.”

Early last year, before the pandemic hit, Sam was set to jet off to New York pre-pandemic to record in the city’s infamous Electric Lady studios founded by Jimi Hendrix. “Looking back, I’m thankful that it happened,” he says. “If I went off to New York and did my second album there… it wouldn’t have been the same record. I will go and do the third one in NYC, come hell or high water – I’m fucking out of here!

“The forced return home really informed the direction [of the record]. I was on the crest of this insane wave; we’d sold out 84,000 tickets for the [‘Hypersonic Missiles] arena tour that we still haven’t played yet. I’m still waiting to hear when it’s going to be rescheduled. It’s incredibly frustrating; I’ve got loads of frustrated fans. That was all cancelled on the day of the lockdown. I thought it was only going to be a couple of months and that it would be another swine flu thing, but fool me – I was stuck in the house like everybody else.”

It’s not the first setback that Sam has dealt with in his career. In the summer of 2019, he was ready to make his Glastonbury Festival debut with a Friday afternoon set on the legendary John Peel Stage, a rite of passage for any emerging artist, but had to pull out due to a serious health issue with his vocal chords. The mood in the room shifts dramatically at the mention of this devastating period: “I don’t want to focus on that, to be honest, because it’s just negative news and it’s in the past.”

“The further I’ve gotten into my 20s, the more I’ve realised how little I know”

Looking back now, he says, it was a tough decision, but ultimately the right thing to do: “We were doing so much at the time and I just burnt out. If you damage your vocal cords, you can’t take it lightly. If something happens like that and you keep going, you’ll fucking lose your career forever. I never want to end up behind the knife; I just refuse to put myself in that situation.”

The fact that his 2019 breakthrough ground to a halt again in COVID-decimated 2020 “was frustrating as fuck”, he says, “but I took solace in the fact that everyone was stopped in their tracks that time; it wasn’t just me.” This was in stark contrast to the singer’s experience of pulling the biggest moment of his music career in order to rest his vocal cords: “I didn’t talk for three weeks; I had to be silent and just watch Glastonbury on the TV, going, ‘This is completely dogshit’. But you can’t even say that out loud – you’re just saying it over in your head like a psycho. I’d take a pandemic over that any day.”

There was a brief flash of light when he headlined the opening night at the world’s first socially distanced arena, Newcastle’s Virgin Money Unity venue, to an audience of 2,500. Yet Sam’s not in the mood to wax lyrical about that, either. “It was amazing,” he says, “but it didn’t happen again.” A local lockdown in the North East brought the following shows – which would have featured Kaiser Chiefs and Declan McKenna – to a premature end in September: “It was another false start. We thought everything was going to get moving again but then we were just sat around [again].”

As for this reaction to the Government’s handling of the pandemic? It perhaps says it all that he’s selling face masks emblazoned with the words ‘2020 Shit Show’ and ‘Dystopian Nightmare Festival’ on his website. “I think everyone has said enough haven’t they?” Sam suggests. “I never want to see Boris Johnson’s or Matt Hancock’s face ever again. As soon as they come on the TV, I just turn it off.”

Political tension bubbles through ‘Seventeen Going Under’. Its second half boasts tracks such as ‘Long Way Off’, a brooding but colossal festival anthem brimming with angst and unease. “Standing on the side I never was the silent type,” Fender roars, “I heard a hundred million voices / sound the same both left and right / we’re still alone we are.” It’s gripping stuff; a Gallagher-level anthem ripe for pyro and pints held aloft.

Sam says the song is about feeling stranded amid political divisiveness here and in the US, epitomised when Donald Trump supporters stormed the Capitol in Washington back in January: “You’ve either got right-wing, racist idiots or you’ve got this elitist, upper-middle-class section of the left-wing, which completely alienates people like myself and people from my hometown.”

“The polarity between the left and the right has me feeling like I have no identity”

Closer to home, the last UK election, in 2019, saw the so-called ‘Red Wall’ crumble as working-class voters in the north defected from Labour to Tory. “The polarity between the left and the right has me feeling like I have no identity,” Sam says. “I’m obviously left-wing, but you lose hope don’t you? Left-wing politics has lost its main votership; it doesn’t look after working-class people the way that it used to. Blyth Valley voted Tory just north of here. Now, that is saying something! We’re in dire straits when a fucking shipbuilding town is voting for the Tories – it’s like foxes voting for the hunter.”

He’s even seen his own working-class friends peel to the blue side: “I’m like, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ I understand it, though. I’d never vote for the bastards because I fucking hate them and I know what they’re up to, but I get why people don’t feel any alliegiance to left-wing politics when they’re working-class.”

As ever though, Sam isn’t masquerading as an expert: “I’m not fucking Noam Chomsky, you know what I mean? I’m not going to dissect the whole political agenda of the Tories and figure it all out because I can’t. All I see is a big fucking shit sandwich – every day through my news feed – and it’s just, ‘Well: that’s what your dealing with.”

The singer is fond of describing North Shields as “a drinking town with a fishing problem”. Today he adds: “That’s been the backdrop of my life: all of these displaced working-class people. It’s a town that’s resilient that still has a strong sense of community. In a lot of big cities that’s dead. In London everything changes from postcode to postcode, but everything is quite uniform up here.”

When NME was awaiting Sam’s arrival outside the studio before the interview, a passerby clocked our photographer’s gear and asked, “Oh aye – are you waiting for Sam? We all know Sam – a good lad; very accommodating with nae airs or graces about him.” Another pointed to The Low Lights Tavern down the road, where Fender used to pull pints on the weekends: “He was a terrible barman, and he’ll be the first to tell you that. I think he got sacked about six times during his time there.”

Sam (who confesses of his bartending know-how: “He’s totally right!”) hit the local to celebrate when ‘Hypersonic Missiles’ won him a Critics’ Choice gong at the BRIT Awards in 2019, placing the trophy on the bar. “I owed The Low Lights one for being such a shit barman,” he says. “I wanted them to be proud of us because they fucking certainly wasn’t proud of us when I was around working there!”

“Celebrity stuff freaks me out. I’d rather just live my life”

He’s clearly a key member of the local community, then. How did he see the pandemic impact on his family and friends – especially when the North East faced the toughest Tier Four lockdown restrictions last December? Sam pauses before bluntly saying: “I lost more mates; there was suicides again. Mental health was the biggest thing. We lost friends who had drunk too much.”

A track on the new record, ‘The Dying Light‘, is an epic sequel to ‘Dead Boys’, with the poignant last line of the album ringing out “for all the ones who didn’t make the night”. Sam, unable to truly distance himself from The Boss after all, explains: “It’s very Springsteen. It’s my ‘Jungleland’ or ‘Thunder Road’ – it’s got that ‘Born To Run’ feel; there’s strings and brass [and] it’s fucking massive. It’s a celebration. It’s a triumph over adversity.”

He stresses that it was vital for him to be in regular contact with his friendship circle through that traumatic time: “It becomes important when you lose friends to suicide… You realise it’s always the unlikely folks. We lost a friend to suicide at the beginning of last year and it was someone you’d never expect. It really hits home; it’s important to check in on your mates.”

Sam has alluded in previous interviews to a health condition that he’s not yet ready to fully disclose, and tells NME that he spent three months shielding at the beginning of the pandemic: “I was alone for three months and that was very tough… When you’re completely alone and isolated, it’s impossible. I spent a lot of time drinking and not really looking after myself and eating shit food, but I wrote a lot of good lyrics.”

There’s a certain resulting bleakness to some of his new songs, but Sam also wanted light to shine through. “It’s a darker record, but it’s a celebration of surviving and coming out the other end,” he explains. “It’s upbeat but the lyrics can be quite honest. It’s the most honest thing I’ve done.”

You might expect a young hometown hero to rail at having been denied the chance to capitalise on his burgeoning fame in the last year or so, but Sam insists, “I still have imposter syndrome,” adding: “I don’t feel like it’s happened… I’m walking around the street and people ask for photos and it just feels bizarre. I’m like, really? I feel like I haven’t come out of my shell yet.”

Sam has rarely been one to court celebrity, and revealed in 2019 that he’d turned down the chance to appear in an Ariana Grande video. “It was an honour but I would have just been known as that guy in the video,” he tells NME. “All of my mates would have been flipping their heads off, but I don’t think she would really want an out-of-shape, pale Geordie. I’d rather just live my life, because all of this celebrity stuff freaks [me] out, you know?”

He might have to get used to it: things can only get bigger with the arrival of the new album. “As a record I think this one is leagues ahead [of ‘Hypersonic Missiles’],” he says, “I’m more proud of this than anything I’ve ever done. It’s probably the best thing I’ve done in my life. I just hope people love it as much as I do. With the first album, a lot of those songs were written when I was 19, so I was over half of it [by the time it was released]. Whereas this one is where I’m at now.”

“This is a dark record, but it’s a celebration of surviving and coming out the other end”

Still, he adds: “At the same time, this record is probably going to piss a lot of people off.” He’s referring to a line in one of the more political tracks, ‘Aye’, where he returns to his most enduring bugbear, divisiveness, and claims that “the woke kids are just dickheads”. Sam’s no less forthcoming in person: “They fucking are, though! Some 22-year-old kid from Goldsmiths University sitting on his fucking high horse arguing with some working-class person on some comments section calling them an ‘idiot’ and a ‘bigot’? Nobody engages each other in a normal discussion [online] without calling each other a ‘thick cunt’.”

He’s eager to make this statement, though, come what may: “I don’t fucking care any more. I’m not really sure how the reaction is going to be. People used to say things online about me and I used to get quite hurt about it, but now I’m like, ‘Well, they’re not coming to my house’… [But] I get so angry. In Newcastle we say ‘pet’ and someone was trying to tell me that was fucking offensive towards women. You’re not going to delete my fucking colloquial identity. It’s not even gender-specific; we say it to men and women. My Grandma calls me ‘pet’! That brand of liberalism is fucking destroying the country. We could be getting Boris Johnson and all them pricks out of office if we stopped sweating over shit like that”.

Sam might be outspoken, but he’s self-aware, too. When we were talking politics earlier, he said: “I didn’t want to start on ‘cancel culture’ because I don’t want to sound like Piers Morgan [and] I fucking hate that cunt. But there is a degree of it which lacks redemption; people fuck up. Everyone is a flawed character. If you’re not admitting that you have flaws, then you’re a fucking psychopath. The left-wing seem to be that way and the right-wing are fucking worse than they’ve ever been. Politically I have just lost my shit.”

In all of this uncertainty, though, it seems a sure thing that Sam Fender will take his rightful crown – as soon as the world lets him – with the colossal ‘Seventeen Going Under’. “It’s going to be a hell of a return,” he insists. “I know the fans are still there, you know? So I’m not really worried – I’m ready to go out there and do my thing. Finally!”

#sam fender #majestic interview #some important points were raised #loved when he said that he hates the 'celebrity façade of things'#long post

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mira--mira · 4 years ago

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Question from an aspiring writer:

How do you stay motivated on one project for such a long time?

I personally have the attention span of a goldfish, and whenever I have an idea I either have to write down everything my brain can spew immediately or have it be lost in the void for eternity.

Never mind going back and turning my outline into a fic or gasp editing.

Do you have any tips and/or tricks you use?

Ok, I got completely carried away with this just fyi, but hopefully I ended up answering your actual question 😂 tl;dr at the bottom.

To be honest, staying motivated is a tricky thing, one that I feel I'm still learning how to do even now and varies a bit between shortfics/oneshots and multi-chaptered fics/longfics. For a bit of background, I've been writing fanfic for about a year and a half, but I've been writing original fiction since I was seven, over a decade and a half, and I still wrestle with it. It's definitely a learning process.

One thing I wish someone would have told me when I was starting out was the power of ~scenes~ in either multi-chapters or one-shots. All writing is ultimately made up of scenes, but if you're struggling to put things together, focusing on an individual scene, or multiple short scenes, might help you focus on getting something completed, and it's something that eventually can be applied to longer works as well. Writing has been a snowball process for me and once I started getting anything completed, I felt more secure in knowing what I could write comfortably and what was out of my comfort zone, eventually getting to the point where I felt comfortable tackling bigger and longer projects and knowing I could stay with them.

OoT's interlude chapters and the snippet series are both good examples of scenes because I wrote them with that intention...even if most of them are actually two or three scenes combined. "Gai meets Hashirama and Madara", "Hashirama gets revenge on Kakashi", "Tatsuki and Hashirama pick flowers for Madara, then give them to him" etc. were all my starting points.

If you're first starting out and feel comfortable with outlines of some sort before you start writing I would encourage you to try and write down a bullet point list of your scene(s) and what you know you want to happen in it.

"Gai meets Hashirama and Madara"

* Hashirama meets Gai first, mistakes him for Lee.

* Madara is shopping for a gift for Hashirama

* Madara finds Gai and Hashirama, they spar, Gai kicks his ass, both of them love him.

This is how my initial outline looked for the first interlude chapter, technically each one of these "points" are their own scenes stuck together. Outlining is different for everyone, some people like super specific points, others even less detail than this. For me this is a nice middle that gives me a roadmap for the chapter, but allows plenty of room to naturally diverge and add detail. Play around with outlines and see what you're comfortable with/what gives you the best results.

I'm not sure of your individual situation, but if you're struggling to put together fics in general something like this might help. Doing this process again and again personally helps me stay on track and gives me a sense of progress.

This sense of progress is ultimately key and why I think motivation differs slightly between one-shots/short fics and longfics. If you confine the individual scene to a one-shot, that might give you the motivation to complete it. Even if you start writing and you get interrupted/can't finish having in one setting, bullet points sometimes help inspire me to finish because I'm not starting from scratch when I return to writing. The whole "eat an elephant one piece at a time" thing was difficult for me to learn, but ultimately proved true. Learning to chip away at something bit by bit is going to be the only (healthy) way to write longer projects you can't complete in one sitting.

For longer projects, it's a similar beast just on bigger levels and with an added dimension. I would actually suggest something similar to OoT for a starting project because it is ultimately broken up into arcs that you know and can reference, instead of making a lot of og content for a fan setting. Maybe not go into it thinking, 'I'll do a complete rewrite' but once you feel like you're ready for a longer project 30K+ or so, the rough outline method and the ability to follow arcs was what got me started when I eventually decided to make the fic multi-chaptered. Try writing one arc and keep yourself contained in that. Now the added dimension aspect in general for longfics is that you eventually want to plot individual chapters in a multi-chaptered longfic and individual arcs (character, plot, etc). This comes with practice. I honestly don't think there's a way to get around that. It's something that I'm still trying to work on and I can look back at my early work and see how I've improved, how I can recognize where things didn't go well in certain places, and how I would change them if I was writing today. That's a good thing to be able to do, it means you've grown! The other thing I find that helps with staying motivated week after week for longer projects is to roughly know where you're going and to try to be excited about a plot point/scene/chapter/etc that you're going to write. Really try to hype yourself up. For me, it's a moment that comes at the very end of the chunin arc and I start grinning even thinking about it because I know it's going to be awesome. It's always what gets me through the rough days, imagining the moment I'll get to actually write that scene in its entirety (it's definitely already outlined and I mentally play it out at least twice a week lol) and is a big motivating drive.

So far I think this is pretty standard stuff if you're an outliner and you've been writing for a few years, but the other thing motivational-wise for me is having a schedule. From reading this message alone, I would not suggest it for you right away. Get comfortable finishing small things and feeling confident that if you let an idea sit for a week or two, you can pick it back up and continue. But if you eventually dip your toes into longfics (and don't plan to pre-write everything before you publish) that routine and rhythm really helps keep me going. I've made a commitment, I've posted it online, I'm going to stick to it. No one is going to jump down my throat if I fail to keep it (this is still a hobby and having fun is the most important thing) but in my mind I should commit to it unless something irl prevents me from doing so. Don't put a tight deadline on yourself, I'd start with once a month or if you write shorter chapters every three weeks. This also would help you build up and get a readership, interaction being another big motivational key.

Also, it's important to accept that sometimes you bite off more than you can chew, and when you feel completely demotivated from a fanfic project...it's okay to drop it. It's okay to take a step back and work on something else. Maybe you'll come back to it, maybe you won't. If you can, try to pinpoint what it was about that project that made you demotivated, were you pushing yourself too much and you got burnt out, was it an ongoing series and your interest for canon lagged and so did the fic, was it just too stressful to keep juggling plotpoints, etc. and keep that in mind moving forward. Every experience can be a learning one and eventually make you a better writer that can eventually tackle those bigger projects. Don't be afraid to take on big aspirational projects, but don't walk into them blind either. Above all, and this is repeated a lot because it's true, enjoy what you write. Some days you might not. That's true with anything, but any project you take on the good should outweigh the bad.

This is my wrap up of the motivational section but I also wanted to throw my two-cents in about editing because "oh no editing" is a perspective I've seen from a lot of writers, and used to have myself, but I think is going to stifle your progress in the long run.

Here's the thing: you need to look forward to editing.

You don't have to be jumping for joy, but editing, imo, should be a positive thing. You have all these great ideas, you made it into a fic, something you wrote, and now you get to go back and make it even better! This is a tough attitude to adopt. I'm not going to pretend otherwise. It took me a long time to unlearn the negative attitude and even then sometimes I still wish the editing was already done once I type in the last period. But I've learned to at least appreciate what editing does and I try to think to myself as I'm going through and making changes things like "wow, this suddenly became so much better. X plot point that I thought of ten pages from now is suddenly being hinted at and doesn't come out of left field. The transition points are a lot cleaner, it's not so jarring anymore. I bet the readers are going to love this little detail. Here's some foreshadowing that I hope someone picks up bc it's going to come back in like 5 chapters from now" it's hard, especially when you start, but this is something you made, and now are actively making better and that's something to celebrate.

I hope this helps anon! I know it's a lot and I'm by no means an expert but I've been doing this for more than a decade because I love it and I want to help others get into writing to! I have no problem answering any writing questions you may have if you find this helpful!

tl;dr

-motivation is slightly different between short/long fics.

-starting out, learn to outline by scenes and focus on finishing small projects and getting to a point where you feel like you can put something down and come back and pick it up again in a week. Completion is key and will help you feel satisfied/know your limits.

-long projects also can work on the scene-to-scene outline but now with individual chapters and individual arcs. It's tough to balance both but comes with practice. Bit-by-bit is key, as is having 'one moment you can't wait to write', possibly a schedule if it works for you, and reader feedback are all huge long-term motivational points.

-editing is tough but learn to look forward to it instead of dreading it.

edited: added a bit more/few typos fixed

#asks #anon #writing advice #god i hope this is understandable #long post

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wishuhadstayed · 4 years ago

Text

First comes love, Then comes marriage....

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 3.2k 😳

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy (does that need a warning?) otherwise, none.

Summary: Aaron and reader return from their honeymoon with some exciting news (Part 7 to Begin Again)

Author’s note: Y’all know I couldn’t just leave it at a wedding 😘 (also the pic below is terrible quality but this is what I envision Aaron looks like on the honeymoon, plus slight beard, of course. You’re welcome 😏😉)

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Two weeks in the south of France had been the best of your life. Aaron, being a hopeless romantic had wanted something special for your honeymoon and planned it all, with a little assistance from Rossi and Emily, of course. No typical cruise to the Bahamas would do for his beloved wife.

Three days after your fairytale wedding found you lying facedown on a beach, warmed by golden rays of sunlight. The sound of waves crashing on the sand a soothing melody. A deep, familiar voice cuts in.

“You’re gonna get burnt if you don’t use some sunscreen.”

Turning your head and squinting one eye open, you spy Aaron. Dressed in nothing but a pair of swim trunks, he is truly a sight to behold. Broad shoulders, bare chest, all toned, athletic muscle, and all yours.

“Help me out?” you request, coyly biting your lip. “So I don’t miss a spot.”

“I’d love to,” he replies.

Next thing you knew, he was on top of you knees straddling either side of your waist as he leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck. Putting his massive hands to good work, he slowly massages the coconut scented lotion into every inch of flesh not covered by your bathing suit.

“Easy there, we are still in public,” you remind and he lets out a pouty groan. Moving from on top of you, he settles so close that your legs touch and fixes you with his best sad puppy look. It wins you over every time.

“The day is still young, my love,” you say, reaching to stroke his scruffy jaw. The mischievous grin he flashes in return is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

——————————————————————————

“Aaron,” you call from the bathroom as you’re preparing to go out for dinner. He arrives momentarily, dress shirt slightly unbuttoned and tie draped over his shoulder.

“What is it, darling?”

“Can you zip me up?”

“Of course, dear,” he replies, pulling your hips flush to him before tugging the zipper into place. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he places a warm, scratchy kiss just below your right ear, melting you instantly.

Taking in your form in the mirror, he comments, “You look ravishing.”

“If you don’t stop, we’re never going to make it to dinner.”

“Would that be such a sin?”

“You know we’ll probably never get another chance like this,” you remind him while buttoning up his shirt. “We should enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Alright, you win. Fancy dinner it is.”

——————————————————————————

The next morning, you woke early. Rolling over in bed, you find Aaron still asleep, his face serene. Not wanting to disturb your husband’s much needed rest, you slip quietly to the bathroom and into the large tub.

Waking alone, Aaron gets up to investigate, finding you submerged in the tub, the water and bubbles barely protecting your modesty.

“Good morning,” he says, taking in the sight before him with dark, hungry eyes. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. And you looked so peaceful I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“I had just started washing my hair.”

“I can help with that.”

Sliding forward, you create just enough room for him to settle behind you. Resting your head on his bare chest, you let out a soft sigh of contentment. His strong hands work the lavender scented shampoo through your hair, forming a rich lather as he gently massages your scalp.

“Mmmm, we should do this every day,” you whisper.

“I wish we could, but it’s back to the real world soon.”

“Let’s not think about that. Let’s just stay like this a while longer.”

——————————————————————————

Eight weeks after the honeymoon and things had indeed gone back to normal. Aaron had gone back to work, and you were running yourself ragged trying desperately to keep up with Jack. Between school, soccer practice, keeping the house clean, and trying to squeeze in time with Aaron whenever he was home, you were genuinely exhausted.

Early one Saturday morning you’re rudely awakened by a sudden and powerful wave of nausea. Shoving Aaron’s shoulder, you try to rouse him. “Hmm? What is it babe?” he manages, still half asleep.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you groan, clutching your stomach.

“What?” he questions, now more alert.

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

With that statement he rises, scooping you up from the bed and carrying you swiftly to the master bathroom. He places you gently on the cool tile in front of the toilet not a moment too soon. He smooths your hair away from your face as another wave of nausea overwhelms you, forcing everything out of your stomach. As you place your face on the cool porcelain bowl, he rubs your back soothingly.

“Are you alright, baby?”

“Yeah,” you reply shakily. “I actually feel a lot better now.”

Sitting up slowly, you turn to face him and see the thoughtful look on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I was just thinking...” he murmurs quietly, voice trailing off.

“Thinking what?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“PREGNANT?” you practically screech, eyes wide with shock. “You think I’m pregnant?!”

Pulling you close he explains. “You have been saying that you’ve been super tired lately.”

“I’ve been taking care of a 6 year old boy and running a house by myself, OF COURSE I’M TIRED,” you state crossly, unwilling to believe his explanation.

“I know you have darling,” he soothes, softly stroking your back. “But this seems like a classic case of morning sickness.”

Thinking about it, you can’t really help but agree, even if you’re not quite ready to accept it. “Yeah,” you sigh, leaning your head on his strong shoulder. “You’re probably right.”

“We should get a test. Just to be sure.”

——————————————————————————

Returning from the drugstore, you both head for the master bathroom once more.

“Wait here,” you request. “I’ll call you in once I’m done.”

A few moments later, you call and he enters. Finding you seated on the tile, he wraps his arms around you.

“How long do you have to wait?” he inquires.

“Three minutes.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“Terrified.”

Feeling you start to tremble, he squeezes you reassuringly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

“If you say so.”

“Well, it should be about time. You ready?”

“I can’t look, Aaron. You do it.”

Shifting slightly, he reaches for the test perched on the edge of the countertop. After a moment of silence, you can’t take it anymore.

“Oh come on! Out with it, you’re torturing me.”

Looking into your eyes with the warmest smile, he says, “It’s positive. We’re having a baby.”

Hearing the confirmation, you burst into tears immediately.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asks, pulling you closely to his chest and planting a soft kiss to forehead.

Looking up into his perfect chocolate eyes, you confess. “I want to have a baby with you, I really do. I’m just scared. So... scared,” you sigh.

“I know it’s unexpected and really soon, but we’ll figure it out. We always do, dear. I suppose this means you’d rather not meet the team for brunch today.”

“Crap!” you exclaim. “That is today isn’t it? No, we have to go. We promised. I’ll never hear the end of it if we don’t show.”

“We can reschedule if you want.”

“No, I’ll go. It’s fine. Just please don’t tell them, Aaron. I know you’re excited, but I’m just not ready.”

“I swear on my honor, I will not tell a soul.”

——————————————————————————

The whole way to the restaurant Aaron could barely keep his hands off of you and focus on the road. He was every inch the proud dad already, and no one even knew except the two of you. You had to admit seeing him so excited was exceptionally cute, and secretly it made you the tiniest bit excited as well.

Walking up to the restaurant, Aaron keeps a steady and reassuring hand at the small of your back. Approaching the door, Aaron opens it allowing you to enter first.

“There’s the happy couple!” Announces Rossi, standing to greet you both. The two of you make your rounds at the table exchanging hugs and handshakes with the whole team before taking your seats. Looking around, you notice Penelope has already taken the liberty of ordering mimosas for all the ladies.

Quickly flagging down the waiter you ask, “Can I have a glass of water please? Thank you so much.”

“What’s up, sugar?” Penelope inquires. “You’re not drinking? You just got married! You should still be celebrating!”

Trying not to raise too much suspicion, you do your best to brush it off with a reasonable excuse. “We had enough alcohol on our honeymoon to last a lifetime,” you laugh, hoping no one sees through your little white lie.

“Speaking of alcohol, I have a great story for you all,” you say with a sly grin.

“Oh no,” Aaron groans, covering his flushed face in embarrassment. “Do you have to tell it in front of everyone?”

“YES,” you insist. “It’s the sweetest thing. We had dinner one night with plenty of wine and when we got back to the hotel, he crashed on the bed, still completely dressed in his evening wear. I knew it wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in all that, so I started trying to take off his jacket and unbutton his shirt when he starts struggling and swatting my hands.

I heard him mumble, “stop, don’t touch me,” but I really didn’t think anything of it and kept on. Next thing I know, he’s slapping my hands again and I swear to God his exact words were,

“Stop trying to get me naked! I’m married! I love my wife!”

I almost cried laughing, I swear. I grabbed his hands so he’d stop swatting me and said, “Aaron! Aaron!” That finally got his attention. “I am your wife.”

“Oh,” he said, giving a thoughtful look. “In that case, carry on.” And then he immediately passed out again.”

By the end of the story, the whole team is roaring with laughter and Aaron is looking like he’d very much like to crawl under the table and hide.

“Oh my God,” says JJ, wiping tears from laughing so hard. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” Questions Aaron.

“Afraid not, boss man.” Morgan replies.

“Can we please change the subject?” your husband pleads.

Having pity on Aaron, Emily steers the conversation ina different direction.

“How have things been since you got home?”

“It’s been good,” you reply. “I’m just so tired! Keeping up with Jack and taking care of everything when Aaron’s gone is a full time job,” you say, patting Aaron’s knee and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“She’s been amazing, honestly. Jack loves having mom around. I was getting a little worried because she’s been feeling a little under the weather lately, but she seems a lot better now.”

Across the table, you can see the wheels turning in Penelope’s mind. Before you can even guess what she might be up to, she blurts out,

“Are you pregnant?”

The whole table goes silent in anticipation of your response.

You feel Aaron’s hand squeezing your leg under the table and you wrinkle your face in frustration as you give him permission.

“Go ahead and tell them,” you sigh.

At this everyone’s eyes widen as they listen closely.

Aaron speaks up. “Well, we were going to wait a while before telling anyone, but,”

“I’m pregnant,” you interrupt.

The whole table erupts into excited chatter.

“That’s fantastic news you two,” Rossi says. “It’s about time I had another kid around to spoil.”

“Congratulations,” offers Reid. “This baby will be lucky to have such great parents.”

“Oh, Jack is going to be such a good big brother,” gushes JJ.

“This baby is so loved already.” Emily comments.

“That’s gonna be one good looking kid,” Morgan chimes in, making everyone laugh.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Penelope inquires.

“We honestly have no idea,” you reply. “We found out just before you did.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God” Penelope stammers out, clearly panicking. “I had no idea! That was so rude of me to ask. I am SO sorry.”

“It’s okay, Penny!” you reassure. “You all would have figured it out sooner or later. Besides, we both want you all to a big part of this baby’s life. We love you all.”

“Does this mean we get to plan a baby shower?” Emily asks.

“If you want to, then absolutely!” you encourage.

Gazing at Aaron, you see him glowing with pride and excitement. Seeing his infectious smile and feeling his hand squeeze yours, you could feel your nerves melting away. You couldn’t help but begin to be a little excited for your growing family.

——————————————————————————

The two of you decided that you needed to break the news to Jack as soon as possible to avoid anyone letting it slip before you got a chance. The next morning as the three of you are all snuggled on the couch watching Sunday morning cartoons, Aaron gently broaches the subject.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yes daddy?”

“How would you feel about being a big brother?”

“A big brother?” He asks, quizzical look on his face.

“Yeah, buddy,” Aaron replies. “How would you like a baby brother or sister?”

Turning to face you, Jack asks matter-of-factly, “Mama, are you having a baby?”

“Yes I am, little man,” you respond, ruffling his thick blonde hair. “How does that make you feel?”

“It’s cool!” he says, grinning widely.

“You’re not gonna be jealous are you?” Aaron asks. “Because Mama’s going to be spending a lot of time taking care of the baby when I’m not home.”

“No, daddy! I’m gonna help, just like I do all the time when you’re gone. I’m gonna be the best big brother ever!”

Tearing up, you give Jack a tight hug.

“I love you so much, buddy.”

“I love you more Mama,” he says, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

With that, a giant weight is lifted from your shoulders, and the three, soon to be four, of you settle in for a perfect, lazy Sunday.

——————————————————————————

Two and a half months later it’s finally time for your doctor’s appointment to find out the sex of the baby. You knew you should feel excited, but with Jack at school and Aaron and his team out of town on a case, you couldn’t help but feel a little down. Not wanting to go alone, you called up the only friend you could think of.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jess, it’s Y/N. How are you?”

“I’m good, honey how are feeling? Is everything okay?”

“I’m alright now that the morning sickness is easing up. Listen, I actually had a favor to ask you. Aaron’s working and I have a doctor’s appointment and I really don’t want to go alone and I was wondering if you might be able to go with me.”

“Of course I will! You should have someone you know with you. Be there soon.”

Waiting in a cold exam room, you chatted with Jess until you were interrupted by a knock and someone entering the room.

“Mrs. Hotchner? My name is Gina, I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. This is your first baby?”

“It is.”

“And you’re here today to find out what you’re having? You must be very excited.”

“Very much so. I can’t wait to tell my husband.”

“Well let’s find out , shall we?”

As you roll up the hem of your shirt, she squirts some cold gel on your stomach and begins to move the probe.

“There’s the head,” Gina says, pointing to the screen. “And there’s the feet.”

After a few more moments, she announces, “Looks like you have a perfectly healthy baby girl. Congratulations!”

——————————————————————————

“Could have sworn it would be a boy,” you comment to Jess as the two of you settle on the couch. “You think Aaron will be disappointed? I know how much he adores Jack.”

“Disappointed? Never.” She reasssures, softly taking hold of your hand. “He’s crazy about this baby already. Goes on and on to anyone who will listen. He’ll be wrapped around her little finger the second she’s born.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course!”

“Oh that makes me feel so much better. Thanks for everything, Jess,” you say as you both rise and embrace each other.

“You’re welcome, honey. If you need anything at all, give me a call, okay?”

“Will do! See you later.”

“Bye!”

No sooner have you closed the front door behind her than your cellphone begins to ring.

“Aaron!”

“Hey baby, how are you?”

“Good, I just got back from the doctor. Jess went with me.”

“That’s good sweetheart, I hated I couldn’t be there with you. Listen, I’ve gotta run. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you and I love you.”

“I love you too. We’ll see you tomorrow. Be safe, okay?”

“Always, bye babe.”

“Bye.”

——————————————————————————

Later that night, you snuggle into your king sized bed with Jack. It always made you feel better having him around when Aaron wasn’t home. “Gotta get some sleep so we can see daddy tomorrow,” you say, tucking Jack in. You were both exhausted and passed out as soon as your heads hit the pillow.

The next thing you knew you were gently awakened by a soft hand gently stroking the side of your face. Slowly opening your eyes, you’re greeted by Aaron’s perfect face and the sound of his voice.

“Good morning baby,” he says leaning down to give you a soft kiss.

“Mmmm, good morning,” you return with a sleepy smile. “Jack, wake up! Daddy’s home.” you announce shaking the sleepy lump under the covers.

“Daddy! We missed you!” Jack declares, emerging from his cocoon.

“I missed you guys too,” he says sitting down and pulling Jack into his lap. “I’m sorry I missed your doctor’s appointment.” He says, draping an arm around your shoulders and placing one hand on your growing belly. “How have you been?”

At that moment, the feeling of movement from the baby causes you to tense up and take a sharp breath in.

Sensing the shift, Aaron asks, “Is everything alright, darling?”

“Yeah,” you reply, looking deep into his beautiful brown eyes. Everything’s fine. I think you’re daughter’s just excited to have her daddy home.”

“My daughter?” He questions, tears beginning to well up. “It’s a girl?”

You nod in the affirmative, and Aaron begins to cry as pulls you in as close as possible with Jack in the middle. Gently pulling back, you inquire, “You’re not disappointed, are you, Aaron?”

“Disappointed? Why would I ever be disappointed? She’s going to be smart and perfect and beautiful, just like her mother,” he says softly caressing your jaw.

“I’m getting a baby sister?” Jack pipes up.

“Yes you are, buddy,” Aaron confirms. “You gonna take good care of her?”

“Yeah! Nobody messes with my sister!”

“That’s a good big brother,” you encourage, running your hand through his hair. Turning to Aaron you mention, “I guess it’s time we started trying to pick out a name for her.”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he says with a grin.

——————————————————————————

Tag list: @ange-must-die @agenthotchner @yes-sir-hotchner @hotchner-carisi @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @tgibstan @themanip @word-scribbless @quillvine @whoredonlightfoot @miss-united-ace

#aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #thomas gibson imagine #thomas gibson x reader

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georgescatcafe · 4 years ago

Text

slippin’ into the lava (burnin’ up)

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: realistic minecraft au, pining, light angst, fire powers word count: 1,897 summary: It’s like he’s a kid again, wild and untamed, flames dancing along his fingers at the slightest spike in emotion. He had learnt to curb that, calm himself down, calm the fire inside down, but now he’s back to square one.

“I’m scared I’m going to burn you,” Sapnap says, quiet.

“I’d let you burn me,” George replies.

+ao3

;;

It’s like he’s a kid again, wild and untamed, flames dancing along his fingers at the slightest spike in emotion. He had learnt to curb that, calm himself down, calm the fire inside down, but now he’s back to square one.

George glares at the burnt marshmallow at the end of his stick. Sapnap tries to apologize, but it comes out flat—he’s disappointed. In himself. The night had been going so well, him and his friends out on the beach, not nearly enough wood or materials for a bonfire, leaving Sapnap as their next best thing. So they had been standing in a loose circle, Dream distributing marshmallows before remembering he’s got stuff for s’mores, proper s’mores, back in his house, so he’d gone back, and George had turned to Sapnap then, expectant, marshmallow on the end of a stick, and Sapnap had sighed and allowed the fire to burst from his skin, reaching into the night sky.

It had been fine. George hovered his marshmallow over Sapnap’s hands, and Sapnap tried to give him that perfect golden crisp. But then George leaned in closer, and the flames made his eyes glow amber, and he smelt like petrichor, like home, and Sapnap felt his heart jump, and with that so did the flames in his palm, shooting up into the sky and turning George’s marshmallow into something of a torch.

“I’m really sorry,” Sapnap says, genuine as he can, but George just brushes him off.

“We’ll just try again when Dream gets back.” He stares at the pathetic pile of goop and ash on the sand. “What even happened?”

Sapnap feigns ignorance. Claims that something outside himself might’ve set off the flames. “It happens sometimes.” And it does, really, but not this time.

George accepts it, but a good three feet remain between them until Dream gets back.

;;

The next time it happens, it shouldn’t have even happened at all. They’re on a hunt for lapis now, Dream wanting it for enchanting purposes, and they’ve just found the mouth of a cave, the path down it dark and treacherous. The dark oak forest that surrounds them doesn’t help in the least, the layers of leaves up above blocking out most of the sun. Sapnap leans against the trunk of one of the thick trees, eyes closed, just resting. He’s fine, calm, content to let Dream and George sniff around the entrance, figure out what monsters lay inside.

“So are you coming?” Sapnap’s eyes fly wide open. George’s breath is warm against his lips, and immediately their eyes lock, dark blue on brown.

“Uh,” Sapnap says intelligently.

George moves in even closer, and Sapnap finds himself backing up even more against the tree as his heart begins to pound. “We think this thing goes pretty deep, so Dream says to set up camp here and wait until morning, then head down as far as we can.”

“That’s,” Sapnap says, “smart.” He swallows as George nods.

“Do you want this tree then?” George asks. “It’s probably safest to stay in them instead of down here.”

From somewhere behind Sapnap, a skeleton rattles, proving George’s point.

Sapnap blinks. “Yeah. Unless, uh, you want it.”

George squints at him then, a frown on his face. He lifts a hand to Sapnap’s forehead, touching the skin there with the back of it. Sapnap’s breath catches. “Are you okay? You’re being, like, weirdly awkward.”

“No,” Sapnap immediately says. “You’re awkward.”

George snorts, brow lifting. “Yeah? Well, you’re—oh my God, Sapnap, you’re going to start a fucking forest fire!” Sapnap stares at him in confusion before looking down at where his palms are pressed flat to the tree. George is right. From between his fingers, little flames lick away at the tree. They turn to each other right as the smell of burning bark hits their noses.

“Shit,” Sapnap says.

“Can’t you cut it out?” George glances behind to look for Dream, who of course is nowhere in sight. “Oh my God.”

Sapnap lifts his palms from the wood, but the fire remains bright on his hands. “Uh.” He curls his fingers into his palms, turning his hands to fists, but then the fire only grows more aggressive, flames now curling up and over his arms. When he splays his hands out in front of him, the fire stretches out into the air, and he finds himself shouting a warning to George, who scampers away, fear flashing in his eyes. Vaguely, Sapnap remembers a river, and he finds himself rushing back the way they came to look for it. When he reaches it, he immediately shoves his hands under the water and tries not to hate himself.

;;

It happens with Dream too.

“You like George,” Dream says to him one day, and Sapnap finds himself fighting both the red in his cheeks and the flames in his hands. “How long has that been going on?” Dream asks, and Sapnap gives a sigh.

“When we were staying out by the beach,” he replies honestly. The next words that come out of his mouth are stuttered, reluctant: “I’ve liked him for longer.”

“So I’m guessing we’re a little bit past like?” Dream concludes, and Sapnap frowns. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s going to be weird being third wheel, but I can take it.”

Sapnap glances over at him as he takes a seat on the log next to him. “You’re not going to be third wheel,” he says. “George doesn’t like me back. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Dream places a consoling hand on his back. Sapnap wants to shrug it off. If it were anyone else, he probably would’ve. “He likes you plenty. Don’t be so negative.”

“As a friend, maybe,” Sapnap agrees.

Dream gives him a dry look. “I think as more, but you’re free to have your wrong opinion.”

At that, a small laugh works its way past Sapnap’s lips. Dream’s own tug into a smile. Soon, though, the laugh falls flat. “Doesn’t matter if he likes me. Every time he gets near I find myself, well,” he puts his palms in front of him, where tiny flames still flicker, “kind of hard to be affectionate.”

When Dream reaches over, taking Sapnap’s hand in his own, the fire dies right before they touch, and Sapnap knows that wouldn’t happen with George. He’d be the other’s destruction.

“You’ll figure it out,” Dream says. “It’s what you always do.”

Sapnap wants to believe him.

;;

There’s always a moment of clarity that comes before declaring something a lost cause. You look at the carnage all around and know there is nothing that could have prevented it, could prevent it. That moment, for Sapnap, occurs when he and George are on the roof, the starry sky endless and open above them, George’s small cottage warm and cozy beneath them. George is laughing at something Sapnap said, something clever, something smooth, head tossed back, mouth open wide in a bellyaching laugh, and Sapnap thinks he’s so beautiful, that this night can’t get any better, but then George calms down, and he looks over, a glint in his eyes, and he rests his head on Sapnap’s shoulder.

In no universe would Sapnap ever set George’s house on fire. In this one, he accidentally does.

It’s just the roof, and normally that’d mean it’s salvageable, but when Sapnap goes to grab the bucket he always carries with him, he remembers it’s empty—he used it on a dare from Dream the night before, idiot—and George lost his bucket two days ago. So now George’s house is on fire with no way to save it and it’s entirely his fault.

No apologies could fix this. The river is way too far. The trek there, at night, way too dangerous. “I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry, George, I am so fucking sorry,” isn’t—could never be—enough.

He leaves, and he hopes that the other at least acknowledges him after this.

When he passes by Dream’s house, the other’s lights are still on, so he is quick to bang on the door. Dream opens it. “I set George’s house on fire. I don’t have water. George doesn’t have a bucket. Help.” Silently, Dream sets off down the path. He leaves Sapnap standing alone in the doorway. Sapnap goes inside, locking the door behind himself, and decides he’s done enough damage already. Going back would only do more. He plants himself firmly on Dream’s couch.

At some point he must’ve fallen asleep because he wakes to water flicked onto his face. He opens his eyes to see George leaning over him, brows furrowed, frown on his face. “You’re an idiot,” George tells him.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap replies.

George grabs his wrists, holds them so that Sapnap’s hands are far from him, then kisses him. Heat floods Sapnap all the way through. George pulls back, sees the fire spreading across Sapnap’s palms, and immediately dunks his hands into a fresh bucket of water. “This isn’t really efficient,” George says. “Kind of dumb, actually. But it’s the best we can do until you’re back to normal.”

“What, are you seeing this as some kind of affliction?” Sapnap asks.

George gives him a look and Sapnap closes his mouth, sheepish. George glances down to Sapnap’s hands. Pulls them out of the water. “I’m doing this for you,” George says. “Dream told me about… yeah, your affliction.” He meets Sapnap’s eyes. “You really have a crush on me?” he asks. “That’s so embarrassing.” But his own cheeks are flushed.

Sapnap smiles, but it’s weak because… “I still can’t really do anything.”

“Could we start small?” George asks. He still has his fingers around Sapnap’s wrists, and he holds up one, Sapnap’s hand flopping over pathetically. George smiles before running his fingers up Sapnap’s arm and intertwining them with his own. So now they’re holding hands. Sapnap can hear the blood rush in his head as George meets his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“I’m scared I’m going to burn you,” Sapnap says, quiet. George brings their other hands together, palms pressed flat in a kiss, before his fingers slot between Sapnap’s.

“I’d let you burn me,” George replies, equally soft.

Sapnap lets out a breath.

“We’ll take our time,” George continues. “I’m scared too. I just don’t have the powers you have.” He laughs, and it’s a delicate sound. Sapnap takes it in. “I’m not affectionate. You know that, but… I don’t want you to be afraid of touching me, Sapnap. Of just being near me.”

He lets go of Sapnap’s hand to move the bucket, puts it on the floor. Takes their still-connected hands and puts them to his chest. Sapnap can feel his heartbeat. It’s rapid fire. “If I had your powers,” George whispers, “this whole world would be burnt down.”

“I love you,” Sapnap tells him.

“I know,” George replies. He squeezes Sapnap’s hand. “Nothing here has caught fire yet. You’re doing great already.”

Sapnap leans forward, brings their lips together, kisses him.

“Nothing here has caught fire yet.”

Sapnap lifts his free hand, curls it around the back of George’s neck, pulls him closer. George isn’t burnt. The bucket gets kicked over; Sapnap hears it hit the floor. The water spills out across wood. It’s fine. George’s hand comes up to cup Sapnap’s cheek. They don’t need it anyway.

#georgenap #sapnotfound #snf #fic #fanfiction

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word-addict-lisette · 3 years ago

Note

Dear Lisette,

I am back in you inbox, yay! How was your day? How's life? How's school?

I am really mad because we had this piece of work and it was like "pen down your idea on this statement, 'i can do whatever i want on the internet as long as i don't get caught' and i put down my thoughts which were 'this statement is true, i stand by it and you can do whatever you like as long as you don't get caught and don't own up' and then people were like throwing shade at me and i looked at it. I have 5 comments.

My teachers tried to delete it, my classmates literally lectured me and then she read it out loud and the whole class went looking for that one note i made. In the comments, people are spelling my name in caps. It was my opinion, and oh, look all of them are basically hypocrites. Let me just say, these people make me uncomfortable, they don't talk about exactly nice things or approriate things and they are all commenting ( without names too may i add) like "KAT, THAT'S NOT HOW THINGS WORK!" but with my real name and just arghhh.

Also if my teachers wanted me to say, "no, that isn't the right thing to do," or any other answer that the others provided them with, they shouldn't have asked for my opinion. They should have just forced us all to just type the same thing. The other people all wrote like, "no, its unethical and bad" or "False, no, its bad" and stuff like that, filmsy evidence and elaboration. I HAVE MORALS, i am just saying the truth. I feel like the victim of a hate crime. People don't like me enough already, i am a very intresting person, uh, yeah, we are gonna stop there.

Enjoy the rant i guess? I don't know? I am sorry for loading on you but there's a little extra rant so uh, yeah. im just gonna take this out, one sec.

Ok, so uh my teacher was like, next week, we are making pancakes. Fluffy pancakes. It was changed to pancakes without eggs? and now we have to make it ourselves, at home. Where do i get flour? What do i do with the extra flour? I don't know how to cook at all, my partner who has been extremely controlling and like kinda driving me insane, ( ahem i did the whole coursework) also she uses my friend's name for everything? Like, bestie i was literally helping out and you went all, "Oh you don't want (friend's name) to see you burnt right?". Obviously i don't but if i burnt down my house, she wouldn't be surprised. I BURNT MYSELF LAST YEAR, SHE SAW ME BURN MYSELF. Well, my friend burnt me and then the week after that, she burnt herself.

This happens a lot. Also, the very common questions and statements of, "Are you straight?" , "aren't you and (friend's name) dating?", "you guys would make such a cute couple" , " aren't you bi?" and "i thought the two of you were dating," there is nothing wrong with being bi but i am not attracted to her like that. So, they use her for leverage over me to get me to do what they want and also think im dating her? If we were dating, we would both be homeless. I like my house. This doesn't only happen with her. I once got shipped with my brother. I hugged him and some guy was like, "oh you guys like each other," that was awkward. Can i just add, a lot of people like majority of that community know we are siblings.

I also get shipped with his best friend, thanks to a rumor my brother made up. So, sometimes, i would get like comments like, "oh, you like him" or "(brother's name) told me that you and (brother's best friend) are dating," we are not dating. WE ARE JUST REALLY GOOD FRIENDS. I LIKE A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. LEAVE ME ALONE. Also, everytime i have a picture of a guy on my phone or something my cousin just has to tell my brother. THEY ARE STREAMERS. ONE IS OF V FROM BTS SO I CAN TRAMATISE MY FRIEND.

Everytime i cry, someone comes in my room. It is so annoying. LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT TO CRY. This is why i started reading sad books, listening to sad songs, watching sad movies so i have a reason to cry. There was this once, i wasnt selected to be part of my choir's competition and i was sad about it because i didn't feel good enough. THEY SAID I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. So, i cried but it wasn't enough so i read the saddest book i could find so i had a reason to cry but by that time, my feelings were gone. This is why i get breakdowns when im overwhelmed because of all this. You know how old i am. I have to deal with this and the pressure of always wanting to be perfect. What else can i do? I am not pretty or smart or talented or have friends, i have like 6 friends and nobody ever keeps me company. So, i focus on being perfect. 100%, i deal with not having any attention because my parents didn't pay me any attention just because i was "independent" or something?

Did i mention, i babysit all my siblings? I am the second child. I baby-sit my older brother. I am sleep-deprived because i can't sleep well at night and i constantly worry about everything and i have to take care of all my friends and it is so exhausting. Yet, i can not cry.

Thanks for staying with me through whatever that was. Uh, yeah, i took the quiz and got chaotic academia. That is my aesthetic. I really want one of those fancy skirts they wear like on pintrest and stuff? Like you know what i mean? The academia skirt? Yeah, i don't have one yet.

Question of the day, what is your dream profession or you could answer my other question which is what would you want to look like? Or you could answer both?

Ok, thank you again. i am gonna go study. Love and hugs and just literal joy sent your way!

- Kat, the ultimate dino mom of Leo, Billy Bob, Jessica, Sophie, Jackson, Sarah, Lily, the Micheals and all her other kids. (Jessica, Sophie and Jackson are mailboxes and Lily is a computer, Micheal is my screwdriver and laptop pencil, there are two micheals.)

Dear Kat,

It's really good to see you in my inbox. I'm sorry for replying late, but exams really had occupied my schedule today and I got my Saturday exam tomorrow. This week is going to be stressful and today's day has been pathetic. I had nothing to do except study and write exams. I feel like I haven't really been social recently and That I'm losing touch with people that I used to be close with and basically I'm letting overthinking take over my mind.

That is so sick. Why is someone's genuine opinion bothering them so much? I totally wouldn't be able to tolerate that. They ought to understand that there is a fine line between a fact and an opinion, and what you stated was just an OPINION. they have no right whatsoever to come at you like that. I totally agree... the teachers ought to have not asked for your opinion if all they desired was a particularly specific answer which opposed the statement. one of the reasons I hate the schooling system has to be THIS. people who are putting comments like that ought to realize that what you stated is exactly what they do in real life. They just want to be seen as the good kid here. At least you have the guts enough to speak the truth.

Miss! You don't have to worry about ranting out to me. You can rant to me for days and I'd still listen. Just go on ranting nobody is stopping you.

Ahhh! I've had that happen to me. I really understand how tough that can be. I really really hate being shipped with someone who I am just platonically friends with like you've got no valid proof to believe that we are romantically involved with each other. I've burnt myself plenty of times too. It's not a pleasant experience. Plus I also hate having controlling partners. Cause all they do is boss you around while they are barely doing a thing. It sucks.

Why? Just why? Why does it even matter to them? Who you date and what your sexuality is, is none of their business. I have no idea why people concern themselves with topics that really don't involve them. It's like people are just ready to make gossip out of anything. A person can't have a bestie without not liking them? I don't get what's so difficult to understand about that. I hate it when I'm casually talking to a guy and people start shipping us and start spreading rumors of us being in a romantic relationship. Another thing they do is, if a person likes me, they automatically assume that I like him back when I've barely even ever spoken to that guy. And yes! I like fictional characters! Don't even assume I like any of you fools cause You idiots bully me and ship me with total crackheads... And my standards are good enough for me to not include you guys in my list of *appropriate candidates* which consists of non-existent people.

Similarly, the moment I'm chatting with some guy, or like have a pic with someone on my mobile phone people just assume that fact that I'm crushing on him. Like no! I don't. We are friends... the others are celebrities, Why can't you understand that? I can't imagine how thick their skull must be considering they can't let a small statement like that sink in.

The crying thingy... I feel personally attacked. Nobody lets me do anything in peace, let alone crying. I literally use the washroom in my room and even my sister comes in there just banging on the door asking me to get the heck out of there and go somewhere else, like can't she use the other two washrooms or what? I like listening to sad stuff and reading angst cause somehow or the other it calms me down... it makes me feel at peace cause I know I'm not the only one who feels like crying. I've got a lot of friends, nobody remembers my birthday, I remember all of theirs'. They don't even text me, It's always me who takes the first step. All my friends just want me by their side cause I'm a smartass they want to show off as a trophy and cause I've got much better sarcasm than them. They just want to benefit from me. That's all. GOD, I'm not pretty at all. I look like a random idiot all the time. I look pathetic. And I lack talent... And you! I warned you, miss! You are pretty, beautiful, talented, smart, friendly, caring, kind and THE BEST!!!

I've never been given attention. Never ever. My sister has always stolen the spotlight. And I hate it. Not even my friends acknowledge me, my parents just ehhhhh. No matter how good I score, No matter how good I behave, No matter what. I'm just never good enough. My parents think of me as a rebellious kid. And I don't know what to do about that. All I've ever done is listen to them. My parents never allowed me to go out and play with my friends when I was a kid, they never let me go on overnight trips, and they barely let me spend time with the few friends I have. They never let me go to outings my school friends planned. Despite that, I never complained. I never had good friends because of that, yet I never complained. A lot of kids my age roam around in shopping malls by themselves, have sleepovers, spend money, roam around with tons of makeup on their faces, are in relationships, and even get into illegal shit. I've never done anything Like that. And yet... I'm never the good kid. I'm still the rebel.

I've got to take care of my sister almost every day. Get her to study, study myself, take care of myself while tolerating my grandmother. I really don't like my grandma, she s very fussy and just keeps yelling around the house the moment my dad and mom leave the house. I've got sensory overload because of her voice. And now I sit and have an anxiety attack almost every time she speaks. I've always got to strive for perfection as well. And I too can't sleep well at night just cause all the worries of the world, keep weighing me down.

Chaotic academia sounds good. It's the same aesthetic my sister got when I asked her to take the test! And oooh! Me too! I love those skirts and outfits they show on Pinterest. I'd love to have them someday.

My dream profession has to be that of a writer. Or perhaps even running a library. just something cozy. Ohh! I'd love to have brown hair, and I'd want to be tall just a little shorter than What I am right now. I just reached my father's height yesterday. And more or less, I'd like the rest to stay just as it is. and perhaps a lighter shade of skin tone. What about you though?

My question for you! If you were to be stranded on a beach island for a week. Who would you bring with you and how would you spend your time there. You can include whatever elements of nature you want to include like forests, lakes, and all.

Sending love, warmth, hugs, and whatever I have to spare that you would like to you!!!!

-Love from Lisette

P.S. That's an interesting family you've got, right there!

#kat the eccentric(indeed)#sweet sweet asks #dear kat #love from lisette #long post

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orsuliya · 4 years ago

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As we can see from the above there is a wide spectrum of possible interpretations of Xiao Qi’s behaviour post-Hunt of Doom. I’ve gone through good three or four different ones myself, some of them more harsh than those sent in by my lovely Nonnies and yes, this is actually something I like to think about, sue me. And yet I stalled when faced with those particular asks; could it be that I had no answer at the ready? Actually, yes, this is exactly what I’m saying. Which is why I felt the need to re-examine some of the particularly juicy scenes related to the subject. If only to stop getting so bloody depressed about this purported change... or, alternatively, hurry up and become a veritable fountain of tears already, with all of this hemming and hawing done with once and for all.

I think we can all agree that something snapped in Xiao Qi after episode 50. Not completely, as during Hu Yao’s retelling it’s made pretty obvious there was still plenty left there to snap. And even then Xiao Qi never went full psycho, for all that he had every excuse to do so. Why, he was able to stop in his tracks and delay - or even partially abandon - his revenge when it became clear it could potentially play into the hands of some unknown, possibly hostile and probably self-serving faction. That’s more than one could reasonably expect; to be frank, when watching those last few episodes raw I got mightily confused. Because really, nobody would blame Xiao Qi for going after Zitan with actual killing intent; it may not have looked quite right even then, but it made actual sense for the character.

And oh dear, did he become ruthless! I don’t think that drama!Xiao Qi would have normally gone after witless Imperial Mooks with such utter ruthlessness when not threatened directly and certainly not because of an insult. Until he did in episode 55, that is. Without one word, like a bloody grim reaper. Not to say that he was ever loud or, gods forbid, hesitant about his killing. But neither was he this single-minded about it. There is still plenty of emotion there or rather there is plenty of emotion before - including an actual tear! - and none in the immediate aftermath of the killing.

Huh. Is it me or does this scene resemble nothing more than a burnt offering? It’s a ritual sacrifice, just look how it’s framed! Plenty of fire and smoke, sacrificial animals Mooks butchered and fired up right at the gravesite and Xiao Qi as the presiding priest entering into communion with the dead and making a solemn oath meant to ensure their peaceful rest. Well, isn’t this neat. But it’s not about the aesthetics. It’s about the way this oath is worded. Xiao Qi addresses his fallen brothers directly, which means this whole revenge business is not actually about him. It would be much, much easier if it was! The only way he enters into this equation personally at this stage is as an executioner... and as a debtor. He feels that he owes those fallen soldiers, that much is made clear. As if he wouldn’t have felt obliged to get justice for them either way! Let me tell you, they take bro code very, very seriously up there in Ningshuo.

And yet, with this oath weighing on his soul, what is Xiao Qi’s first destination? It’s not Ningshuo, where he might be able to clear up this whole supposed treason issue (and wouldn’t that be fun to see!), get resources to exact revenge or hell, even admit and undergo penance for his perceived failings, if that’s his jam. It’s not like he has any other options if he wants to get justice. Unless he’s planning to go full Dark and Toxic Avenger, which doesn’t suit him at all. And yet what is his first priority? To save his wife, of course! Which he could have done just as well with the full force of Ningshuo Army behind his back, which he could have had but for the asking. It’s not like he could have known Awu needed immediate rescuing, he’s not bloody prescient.

So, on that list of priorities Awu’s safety trumps revenge. Good to know. But it’s still before everything else, right? Yeah, no. See, there is a reason he didn’t go to Ningshuo until he had no other choice but to seek out safety for Awu and all those civilians, the Dou kids among them. It’s the same reason he doesn’t force a mutiny right at the very start and not even once he has his back pressed to the wall by a horde of wild Hulans. And why he leaves it to this men to make their own decision to follow him and even tries to talk them out of it, reminding them that officially he’s a dirty traitor and all that. So... Free choice and good reputation of living Ningshuo soldiers trump revenge, who knew. Xiao Qi, dearie, that’s not how you go on a rampage, what kind of a ruthless avenger are you? A very poor one, that’s what kind.

No, really, he’s so bad at this roaring rampage of revenge thing that I’m getting second-hand embarrassment. Because the next thing we know he’s not even framing it as revenge anymore! If you pay attention to that lovely post-coital (what, it really is!) conversation in episode 60, some things immediately jump out. Like the fact that Xiao Qi is clingy as fuck and not that eager to go anywhere outside his wife’s bed. Like the fact that he says that he needs to go as it is his duty to get to the truth. Truth! Not revenge. And it’s not like he’s framing it this way solely for Awu’s benefit as he talks to her of revenge just one episode later; truth is what is going to figure the most in his pursuit of the true culprit behind the Hunt of Doom. Truth and justice. Which is nothing like this hundredfold revenge stuff from episode 55, although revenge - normal, standard type - will still come up time to time. Could it be that this oath is Xiao Qi’s spiritus movens with truth and justice playing the role of a fig leaf preserving some resemblance of reason and legality? It’s certainly possible... if his actions supported it in any way. And they simply don’t.

Because you know what just got put onto that list of priorities above bloody revenge? Duty. Duty that all Ningshuo soldiers have towards Cheng. Zitan is sitting in his room, while his ministers run around like headless chickens. Chaos and rebellion rule supreme... so what does Xiao Qi do? He takes the scenic route to the capital, absolutely disregarding the fact that after six more months and with no advantage of surprise - hard to keep his return secret when he’s at the head of an army - the trail of this dastardly culprit could go completely cold.

So far the list of Xiao Qi priorities goes something like this:

Awu,

his living men, which includes their reputation and freedom of choice,

his duty to Cheng and its people,

truth and justice,

revenge.

Which is pretty much what it would have looked like before episode 50, minus revenge that is. Ah, no, sorry, there is a change. There is an additional bullet point, Song Huaien. Who had gone well before truth and justice before the Hunt of Doom (remember that burnt receipt?) and now slots in right behind it. Still trumps revenge though! If he didn’t, Xiao Qi would have pressed harder during their little tete-a-tete at the end of episode 60. But no, he loses control only for the barest moment and even then it takes an implied insult to the honour of his fallen brothers in general and Best Bro in particular. Or, if that is not proof enough, he would have involved Song Huaien in his later investigation, putting pressure on him if necessary. And yet that quite noticeably doesn’t happen.

Okay, I think we’re pretty clear on this priorities thing, right? To recap, Xiao Qi’s post-episode 50 list of priorities looks like this:

Awu,

his living men, which includes their reputation and freedom of choice,

his duty to Cheng and its people,

truth and justice,

Song Huaien (currently an outsider) and his freedom of choice,

revenge.

Let’s change the subject. You are right on point, my lovely Nonnie #1, Xiao Qi hasn’t exactly changed. He just became more of himself, shedding - perhaps only temporarily - some parts, while embracing others whole-heartedly. Which hasn’t exactly gone unnoticed. And surprisingly enough I’m not talking about Awu; we shall speak of her fears in a moment. I’m speaking of Tang Jing and his strange way of reassuring Xiaohe that Dawang will be fine during their meeting with Song Huaien. DAWANG will be fine, says our faithful general, keeping a close and surprisingly wary eye on the proceedings. Why, it looks like he might be implying someone else might not be fine, that somebody being Song Huaien. Tang Jing is wrong on that count, but he had definitely noticed something off about Xiao Qi. Or maybe not off, but something that has him at the ready for possible violence, which would have been absurd before Dawang’s miraculous resurrection. Methinks someone is coming over as having no more fucks to give. Well, it’s not like Ningshuo guys disapprove! Just look at their determined little faces and upright postures (!) during the kneeling debacle in episode 61.

As for Awu... Personally I don’t think it at all strange that she questions whether Xiao Qi has changed. It would be much, much stranger if she didn’t. Her doubt is only natural as it comes right after she gets proof that Su Jin’er betrayed her in a most heinous way. And it’s not the first time she was taken by surprise like this: most of her loved ones changed in most unpleasant ways and some simply revealed their true colours. Daddy Wang, Daddy Emperor, Empress Dowager, Zitan, Potato (if one believes Helan Zhen), Xie Wanru, Zilu, Mi’er, Su Jin’er, they all turned out to be something else than she originally thought them to be and even her parents’ marriage turned out to be built on blood and penance. Turnip is not on that list as he start lying to her face only after she expresses her fear to Xiao Qi, although before she does so to Auntie Xu.

But let us look at our Dark and Toxic Avenger. He rolls up to the capital with his humongous army good six months late and does he get straight to business? Yeah, no. First he allows Awu to hold a sweet reunion with her brother, which could have damaged his cause if it ever hinged on empty posturing. It doesn’t, but still, Nonnie #1, what say you to this example of husbandly strictness? That he does not engage himself is not exactly out of character either; he does engage with those of Awu relatives he likes (so her Mom basically) and holds back with those he doesn’t (like the Screechers). He’s pretty ambivalent on Turnip, I think, especially now that he serves as Zitan’s mouthpiece.

Thank you, dear Nonnie #2 for making me pay attention to those two scenes in particular. That episode 61 conversation is something quite special and very, very telling. Let’s start from the beginning. It’s not Awu who raises the subject of Xiao Qi changing; he does it himself. She just muses on the subject in general and he immediately zeroes on it, volunteering such juicy ammo as the fact that other people think he had changed. Who are those other people, I wonder? Tang Jing? Other Ningshuo officers? Who the hell could have known Xiao Qi well enough and be close enough to have no problem with voicing such an inflammatory opinion? Must have been Tang Jing. Doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Xiao Qi is surprisingly conscious of his own behaviour. But I think it’s not exactly a new thing; I think his reluctance to take Awu with him in episode 60 was at least partially motivated by his fear that she’d see him at his worst. After all he didn’t actually confirm her theory about his probable reasoning. But back to episode 61! Xiao is also surprisingly insecure about his actions. At first I thought he was concerned solely about Awu’s perception of them, but now I’m not so sure. He’s a bit too touched and too grateful for her support - to the point of overselling her contribution, unless there were some cuts there, that is - for it to be just that.

As for that playfulness, merry Nonnie #3, there it is!

And strangely enough it’s Xiao Qi who initiates it. Awu’s comment about Princess Yuzhang needing to be brave doesn’t exactly feel like teasing. More like reassurance; I am your Princess Yuzhang hear me roar and you are not alone, you have a help-meet in me. He’s the one who turns to teasing her about her great bravery and being superior to Prince Yuzhang in this aspect. In the old days she might have been the one to put herself above him as a joke; this is weirdly reminiscent of that teasing but with Xiao Qi substituting for Awu. And even so their teasing doesn’t exactly last, they’re too clingy and scared for that. Well, Awu is scared, Xiao Qi is mainly conflicted. Although a lot less than before he got that sweet, sweet validation from his wife.

About that massacre talk... I just noticed that this talk of merciless revenge doesn’t exactly come of the blue. He says it in direct response to Awu voicing her fears. She’s afraid of even greater danger awaiting them in the future... so what does an excellent husband like Xiao Qi do? Why, he reassures his scaredy-cat wife that he already died once and this time it’s the culprit behind this whole bloody mess who’s going straight to hell, never to bother them again. Whoever he might be. I think... I think it’s Xiao Qi’s way of reassuring his wife that there is no need to be scared. “Darling, no, don’t worry about me, nothing bad is going to happen. Or rather yes, many bad things are going to happen, but to the guy who put this fear into your heart, whoever he might be”. It’s... surprisingly sweet. And not a complete miss; Awu is not exactly opposed, she just doesn’t want a bloodbath. True, he doesn’t respond to that; and how could he make such a promise when he doesn’t know if a bloodbath will be required. He doesn’t respond... but he does listen very attentively. And you know what? There won’t be a bloodbath, not in the name of his revenge, even once there is opportunity and proof enough for it.

Also, in this particular conversation? It’s Xiao Qi looking Awu in the eye and actively seeking this contact. She’s the nervous one here, the one whose behaviour is more out of line with their pre-episode 50 baseline.

Episode 62, second oath over Hu Guanglie’s grave. This time there is no talk about any pain or humiliation paid back hundredfold; Hu Yao asks Xiao Qi to get to the truth and restore the good name of Ningshuo army. He’s visibly moved and does just that. Hu Yao as the only survivor among Xiao Qi’s subordinates present at the Hunt of Doom holds a very unique position; she’s the living breathing representative of her fallen brethren, a conduit of their will. Truth and good name? Done. This moment may be, in fact, the reason why Xiao Qi doesn’t cut Zitan into pieces. It would exactly be all that conductive to restoring that good name. Zitan in exile after having publicly admitted his guilt is one thing, but Zitan brutally murderized in his own throne hall could potentially become a martyr. Sure, our Master of Mope is a regicide himself, but any canny politician would disregard that in order to hoist his bloody corpse as an undeniable proof that Xiao Qi needs to die as an uncontrollable beast. Add to that half a dozen wild tales of fiery jealousy over Awu, Xiao Qi’s rampant ambition, Zitan’s tragic martyrdom in name of the truth, whatever that truth might be... and lo and behold, Ningshuo guys are back to being public enemy number one. Well, not to the common people, they’re not, but to all those aristos who already break into hives at the very thought of filthy commoners deciding the fate of the Empire? Yeah.

Soon after that second oath Xiao Qi goes after Zitan... in a suspiciously bloodless, if psychologically earth-shattering way. Still leaving him an out and appealing to his conscience in a way. Which... is the worst possible approach to take with Zitan who has no conscience. That he lays into Zitan’s ministers with unprecedented ferocity is not exactly surprising. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it; even before everything there was a visible divide and even enmity between ‘them’ and ‘us’, it’s just that nobody dared to voice it in the throne room. The only thing that changed is that ‘they’ turned out to be even more useless than usual, allowing chaos and rebellion to run rampant; Xiao Qi has every right to be pissed and it’s not like he never baited the ministers with their own uselessness before. Although now that I think about it... Those two spears to the back might have done his verbal filter in.

The only thing Xiao Qi would have never done in the good old days when Hu Guanglie was still around (in corporeal form, ghosts don’t count)? He would have never threatened an Emperor with a public uprising. With Ningshuo army, however... Well, it wasn’t outright rebellion, but... No, actually. Exploding an imperial envoy absolutely was an act of open rebellion. It’s just that Xiao Qi still cared about forms enough to bow and make sure to give His Imperial Majesty the middle finger only in limited, discreet company. And even that could be attributed to the fact that he had at least some respect for both Daddy Emperor and Potato. Not much. But enough. For Zitan he has absolutely none. Had either of the previous incumbents fucked up to this extent, it could have gone pretty much the same. There must have been lots of dead and starving women and children on the way from Ningshuo to the capital.

Episode 63, family outing. They’re both optimistic enough, exactly as befits new parents. And then Xiao Qi recalls their old dream of living in peace; he does this with certain wistfulness, but the dream itself is something that kept coming up this whole time, so it’s nothing out of ordinary. And then Awu tries to get him to take a break. She doesn’t ask him to abandon his revenge. She wants to put all the current issues off and just... go. He quite understandably dismisses this idea. It’s not that he’s dismissive towards her concerns. It’s that she doesn’t actually voice any valid concerns here! I have no idea what this is even supposed to be. It’s not a demand nor a sensible request. It’s nothing he would be inclined to take on his merits. Is it mean to be a very clumsy attempt at emotional manipulation? After if fails, it becomes rather obvious that it was a long stretch to begin with, one that she felt obliged to make anyway with little to no actual hope of succeeding. And I even get why, but...

Come out and say what you mean, Awu. You can’t have you revenge for this, this and that reason, not without making things worse, just stop. She’s wishy-washy. Put off. Put off his investigation, leaving behind a potential enemy who thinks nothing of murdering people and has a hard-on for Awu? That’s not only stupid, that’s actively suicidal. Put off his all the current issues? Like keeping Cheng in one piece and not letting it slide back into civil war? Zitan isn’t magically going to get better at ruling, you know. None of the reasons for the initial chaos have been removed, well, maybe except a few rebellious heads. This plead, half-serious as it is, is insane. He’d have to be insane to agree to that. And he knows that she knows that. “Sure, honey. Once I deal with my enemies, we’ll go”. Is he humoring her? Perhaps, but I don’t think so. He takes a moment to think before answering. “We will do things your way once things are safe for us to do so“. Because you know what? Dealing with his enemies solves pretty much every other outstanding problem in one swoop. No, it really does. Including public discontent and world hunger. I’m not joking about the latter, by the way, remember that final voiceover?

I am sounding snappish, I think. It’s not that I’m judging Awu, even if it might seem so. I get where she’s coming from and I don’t dismiss her very real fears... but this is not the way to express those. She can do better. She has done better in the past. She’s traumatized as fuck, conflicted about her own role, afraid for their dream, fine. But it’s hard to blame Xiao Wi for reacting like a reasonable human being either, especially when her behaviour should be giving him pretty serious whiplash. One moment she stands with him and supports him in action, the next she offers him reassurance and voices her pretty reasonable condition... and the next she tries to half-heartedly propose something as totally bonkers as taking a break, leaving the realm in utter chaos. He’s not so stupid as not to know that something is up. So acting suspicious? It’s not actually unreasonable. And unlike most MLs would do, he doesn’t accuse her of supporting his enemies, not ever. He’s just concerned, if in a rather brusque way.

In fact, I’d say he’s surprisingly calm when Awu implies he’s raising their kid in a culture of hate in episode 64. He simply reminds the that Xiaohe has witnessed the massacre himself, so his reaction is genuine. And, as I personally think, not a half-bad way of dealing with trauma, very constructive. It’s not like the kid wants to go and shank Zitan himself; he’s talking about becoming a great general and then perhaps taking revenge. And, quite noticeably, Xiao Qi doesn’t say a word to this announcement. And yet the most he allows himself in response to Awu’s not very nice implication is a very matter-of-fact explanation with perhaps the slightest hint of defensiveness and no personal attacks. Now, this turning away from her is... concerning to say the least, so I understand your feelings on the subject, dear Nonnie #2. But.... is it all that bad? Let’s see.

He does turn away and responds only when she calls his name twice. And even then there is something nearly... insulting about his demeanour. He’s tired, that’s for sure. And perhaps dismissive. But notice that this deadpan tone lasts only as long as Awu keeps dancing around the subject, throwing up wild theories, even as they both pretty much know what the truth is. And even then he’s paying full close attention to her unusual behaviour, certainly enough to suss out something must have happened... and immediately offer his support. Which works! Or would have worked if not for bloody Auntie Xu. Or not bloody, at least not yet (please, Daddy Wang, hurry up!).

So let’s recap:

Awu implies that Xiao Qi is raising Xiao Qi in a culture of hate - to which he responds with facts and nothing but.

She uses this to gain momentum for another attempt at clumsy emotional manipulation (which she’s much better at usually) - he turns away very rudely as he finds this beneath both of their dignities and he’s not exactly wrong, is he?

She throws up a truly absurd candidature of Prime Minister Wen as the actual culprit, very blatantly playing up her wifely concern and fear - he dismisses it immediately, not even pretending he hadn’t seen through her ploy.

Then she tries to use her own brother to make him admit that there are limits to his revenge - and he gives her a warning glance.

After which he reiterates his stance and disengages. Which, fair. His previously supportive wife is playing stupid games and lying to him. He knows she’s smarter than that. If she had a theory about PM Wen or Turnip, that would be one thing. But she’s jumping. This is going somewhere. And it’s not exactly hard to guess where. Also, trying to hit the family button, even so subtly? After all they went through and after she already used it once during Screechergate, if in a much more brutal manner? And after she assured him that he was the most important person to her before they even left Ningshuo? Yeah, that’s not good.

And even then he doesn’t get offended enough for it to overcome his concern. Oh, he might have acted disinterested, but he’s been paying attention alright. And he starts the conversation again, asking her outright what is wrong. Because something obviously is. And she lies. Again. He calls her out on it very succinctly and without assigning any blame. “That’s not true”, he says and asks again what has happened. “Your heart is uneasy. Tell me. You don’t have to carry this burden alone”.

That’s more than reasonable. He gives her more that one chance of coming clean and puts her well-being above any possible offence or hurt of his own. “You don’t have to carry this burden alone”, dammit. That’s not exactly dismissive. All the same I do understand why this conversation might trip people up. It’s all about the tone. They’re not tender with each other - well, Awu tries for gentle concern, but she’s lying, even if that concern is real enough. He’s brusque enough for two. But you know what I think? I think this was the worst possible place to have this conversation. Bad, bad choice on Awu’s part. To one side they have a wall of maids including Auntie Xu the Blabber, even as the issue they’re discussing is of national importance and spies don’t sleep. To the other there are two kids. Little pitchers have big ears, you know. And besides, they’re talking about the true source of the kids’ trauma, something that Xiaohe is only starting to process. This is so awkward and so perfect at the same time! You see, there is something very telling about their voices. They’re quiet. So quiet that Auntie Xu, trying for a surreptitious whisper, speaks at pretty much the same volume.

Yeah, okay, Xiao Qi could have played it differently. They both could have. But his reactions are not really anything out of the norm, even if somewhat more human than usual. He’s so bloody tired and even their home - as you’ve pointed out so astutely, Nonnie #3 - is no sanctuary anymore.

After that they presumably go about their business and don’t really resolve anything until the evening. See, Awu really wants to say something when she sees Xiao Qi enter her rooms. An apology, perhaps? Perhaps not. He doesn’t let her either way, only offers to go with her. Okay. So they had that tense conversation and thanks to Auntie Xu the only chance of Awu coming clean went bust. He still comes to offer his support the moment he hears she’s in distress. That’s how very much he’s not holding a grudge. And he reaches for her first!

Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter more than your pain. It never will.

Ah, Mother’s Funeral 2.0 combined with Unpleasant Truth About A Wang Male 2.0, the latter offered after an even weaker token protest than last time. No change of behaviour there! And again, he lets her go and deal with her family on her own terms.

Then we get plotting scene, which was sadly hacked to pieces and we don’t even get to see Awu reveal the truth about Zitan. But from there on they act as one. No more of this emotional blackmail bullshit, no more dismissal, there’s a crisis and they’re a unit. And guess what, revenge just got shelved!

Or no, not shelved. Exchanged for truth and justice. Because even if Xiao Qi’s coup is fake as hell, he still reveals Zitan for the monster that he is. What I don’t understand is why does nobody really care about Zitan murdering Potato, but okay. Either Potato lives don’t matter or they need time to actually make a viable plan how to deal with this rotten kinder surprise. Or, and that’s probably accurate in any case, they need time to come out of shock. I feel you, guys, I would be pretty shocked too. The Yuzhang Acting Company can have this effect on unprepared viewers.

As for the Yuzhang Acting Company and Xiao Qi’s acting abilities... you pretty much know already what I think. And if you don’t, you can read about it here and here. Mark my words, Awu is the tougher cookie of the pair, while Xiao Qi is practically falling to pieces at particularly difficult moments. Then he comes back, actively seeks her support upon being confronted with the source of the greater part of his anguish (the throne, not Zitan) and they go live happily even after in Ningshuo with a whole horde of kids. The end.

Well, that exercise, as amusing as it might have been, proved only one thing. Either I’m blind or I had fallen victim to the Mandela Effect, because I swear Awu was the more clingy one of the two the last time I looked. And it is really not so. As to whether he changed... They both did? Hopefully it’s nothing that a few months of living in Ningshuo won’t cure; you will tear my headcanonny teasy-cheesy old married couple from my cold, dead hands! Even so, it’s not as drastic as all that; they are both fundamentally themselves, only stripped down to bare elements and at the same time burdened with unbearable trauma. Okay, that’s it, we’re done, bye.

Or not bye. Because what about that revenge? Well... I’m pretty sure that Hu Guanglie’s ghost will be pretty satisfied with truth, justice and a golden opportunity to torment Zitan to death in the ruins of the Imperial Mausoleum? Oh, and he also got a nation-wide mourning ceremony. Yeah, he’s happy enough.

#ask and answer #the rebel princess #sorry not sorry for grouping these asks #my heart is a fragile delicate thing #and so can take only a certain amount of angst #before it shatters into thousands of tiny pieces #this post doesn't make sense #don't say I haven't warned you #I'm a great fan of Awu and you know it #but she's in the wrong a couple times here #and I had to say it

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wellexecuted · 5 years ago

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First Year of Undergraduate Study: Lessons Learned

1) Notebooks won’t work for your year- long modules. They just don’t- you’ll find by the time your first semester has ended, you’ve already got three per module, and they’re all over the place. Unlike a binder, you can’t just clip in and reorder: missed readings completed later, seminars with additional notes emailed to you after class, will become random pages of notes in an (often indecipherable) spider’s web of in- class note taking, jotted information from readings, scraps of essay planning, that will take too much time to unravel. Do yourself a favour, and use folders- whether digital or physical- that you can divide up into weeks, or document types, and reference with ease when it comes to the exam crunch. Plus, you’ll save luggage space, something I’ve stressed, and will continue to stress time and again, will do your back and shoulders so much good as a commuter or big city student.

2) Talk to fellow students in all your classes. Talk to the people around you, for your own sake and theirs. They are just as dithering and clueless as you are- the kids you think are lofty and intimidating are often the friendliest. Making friends in your classes will make the awkward interim between reaching your lecture hall and taking your seat so much less daunting. It will also boost your confidence academically- being surrounded by people in the same boat as you is such a lovely thing, and when it comes to exam and deadline season, you’ll have shoulders to cry on, and like minds to share your ideas with.

3) Come up with your own, personal, deadline- hitting strategy. From the moment you choose your essay title, to the last hurrah of the final read- through, devise a loose method that works for you. Whether that’s starting weeks ahead with a detailed plan, or making brief summaries of readings to incorporate in the lead up to that final deadline, it will be so helpful to you in the long run to understand how you work in this respect. For many of us, it’s a totally new departure! Certainly with my a levels, I was so exam- minded from the get- go that I treated my coursework as secondary, an addition I took upon myself to nail and then pushed to the sidelines upon completion. Having a good, loose but solid method is integral.

4) Invest in a durable, lightweight planner. Even laptop users should have a paper planner- perfect for planning in advance, squeezing in your readings and research, scribbling email addressed, and jotting down room and time changes as they are mentioned. I discovered the Moleskine Weeks in January of last year, and I highly recommend it- it’s so slim and portable (did I mention I’m a commuter student???!!), and gives you your weekly overview on one side and an entire notes page on the other, as well as calendars at the front for the entire year.

5) Know when to give yourself a break. When you’re tired, sick or burnt out, do not fret over missing a day of lectures- befriend your seminar leader, and like- minded students, and ask them to catch you up. Seminar leaders are so approachable, and willing to send off any missed information. Become familiar with your university’s online database- often, lecturers will post lecture plan documents, and the slides of their presentation.

6) Check yourself when you start skipping regularly. Soon, the realisation that there are no immediate consequences for skipping class will hit. Make sure you’re going more often than you’re skipping: aim for an 80:20 ratio as a means of maintaining academic discipline.

7) Know where, when, and how, you work best. I mentioned in a previous post that now is the time to find your “thing”- your particular method of learning that Makes Things Stick. For me, it’s watching, and taking notes on, content (Crash Course World History being a long- standing favourite), alongside my readings and lecture notes. Not only should you try to come to know how you learn, but also when, and where, you learn best. I know plenty of people who can work for hours, in silence, in the university library- I personally cannot bear the absence of noise. I’ve found that I work best in two hour stints in coffee shops, and at home with some music in the background (Death Cab for Cutie have tonnes of gentle background music perfect for soft indie lovers). When is also a vital factor in your learning: whilst you don’t always have the luxury of determining when you study, it’s great to know when you work most efficiently when the day is all yours. As a self- professed “evening person”, I work the most efficiently between 4 and 10 p.m.- as a first year, I would often try and cram huge chunks of reading at 6 a.m. ahead of my morning lecture, and would suffer for it. This will help you immensely in the long run, and come exam season you will know what, when and where works for you.

8) Maintain your notes. In reading for, and taking notes during, lectures, you are creating a body of content to refer back to later. Treat it as such- read as broadly as you feel necessary, take notes in all of your classes, and do the work to catch up after skipped classes.

9) Enjoy learning, and exploring, your specialist subject. This slew of teaching and learning is the perfect time to enjoy the privilege of immersion- you’ve got tonnes of resources at your fingertips, professors who are absolutely infatuated with their fields, and time is on your side. Enjoy learning unabashedly! This first year of study is an incredible opportunity to find your niche.

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peach-the-owl · 4 years ago

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Far from Home

??? & Child!Reader

Why’d this idea come to me? I don’t really know, I guess I just kinda like writing obscure things. Did I write it anyways? Yes. Absolutely. Stepping just a little out of my comfort zone for this but I think it’ll be worth it. Does it follow canon? Probably not, but I tried to keep it close.

WARNING: This goes from 0-100 pretty fast (does that count as a warning? Whatever I’ll keep it here anyways)

Caleb has been working on a spell with Essek for a while, they'd explained what it was but you got bored and stopped listening after a bit, you were pretty sure it had something to do with space and time and that’s all you knew. It was almost complete all they had to do now was a quick test run to make sure nothing would go wrong for future uses, they were very focused as magical energy began sparking to life. You were enthralled by what was happening as the energy built up stronger and stronger, too enthralled in fact to notice the looks of concern shared between the two spellcasters. That short moment of concern and hesitance was enough to send the spell haywire, bolts of magic flying every which way, one of them coming towards you and before you could react your struck by it the last thing you hear as you blackout is someone calling your name……

Slowly your eyes crack open again immediately noticing you were outside looking to the sky, strange. You get up and look around finding yourself between some unfamiliar buildings, stepping out onto the street didn’t help either as nothing looked familiar to you. There were only two solutions to this problem for you, either you were somehow sent to Rexxentrum in a area you hadn’t visited before or this was some weird dream, you quickly pinch yourself… nope not a dream. You begin to wander aimlessly in hopes of finding something even remotely familiar to you, as you’re walking you start hearing bells but they weren’t soft, happy musical bells they were big, loud warning bells and you look around confused. A loud crash directs your attention to a tall tower where perched on it was the biggest ancient white dragon you’ve ever seen, far bigger then the one you saw from Mythburrow. With a fierce roar the dragon blasts its icy breath into the tower, chaos ensues as screams of terror rip through the streets, people were rushing in every which direction but through the crowd you see the dragon push off of the tower shattering it as it falls to the streets below. You didn’t know where to go or what to do, it’s not like you weren’t used to tense situations but this felt larger then anything you’ve seen or done before. The crowd of panicking people seemed to mostly come from an area where a giant ancient green dragon now stood unleashing a cloud of poison in its wake as it was attacking something or someone but it was hard to tell for sure as you were being pushed along with the crowd. The constant pushing and shoving of people causes you to stumble to the ground, no one paying you even a glance as they try to get as far away from these dragons as possible. You can feel ever stomp on your hands and kick to your sides as your basically being trampled, you curl in on yourself for extra protection as you carefully crawl your way out of the mass of people. It dawns on you that you might not even be in Wildemount anymore, but there was a time for those questions to be answered later as you hear a loud sort of explosion in the distance. You finally make it out of the crowd a bit battered and bruised but otherwise alright and make your way though the gaps between buildings where less people were still making their way through. Another explosion of fire, this time much closer to you goes off and out of it flies an enormous ancient red dragon, instinctively you duck down and throw your arms over your head for cover as it flew over you, pieces of flaming debris falling to the street in its wake. The dragon then slams into a large structure you could only think to be some sort of palace, hearing glass shattering, then you hear its booming voice tear through the city, feeling the need to cover your ears afraid you might go deaf.

"MOVE ON UMBRASYL! I CLAIM THIS IS MY DOMAIN NOW!" Who the heck was Umbrasyl? You didn’t know and you didn’t care, none of this made any sense, all you really wanted now was go home and be in the safe embrace of anyone from the Mighty Nein. A wave of heat hits you like a wall as flames pass the exit to the side street you'd stopped in leaving your right side singed, but you figured yourself lucky as those who were once running by now lay burnt or piles of ash. You hadn’t realized you were this close to the center of this city but then again you had no sense of direction in this place either, doing everything you could to ignore the sight and smell that lingered through the streets. Screams and shouts of commands could be heard in the distance, you couldn’t make out what was being said but you used it as a guide to find any source of help. Another surge of flames comes barreling down the open streets you ducking out of the way for cover but the building was unstable from the previous hit and it starts collapsing in on itself. You hurry to get out of the way before you get crushed, a large piece of flaming roof comes falling towards you making you wonder if this was how you’d die. Apparently and thankfully that is not the case as you are yanked away mere moments from an untimely demise.

"Are you alright child?" You take a second to catch your breath and look to your mystery saviour, hoping they were someone you knew. Before you was a man with thick dark hair dressed in velvet robes, you unfortunatly didn’t know them but you were still grateful for their help.

"I-I’ll be ok, thank you for saving me." Your voice was still shaky from that scrape with death.

"Oh, don’t thank me just yet. Now tell me, where are your parents?"

"I don't know, I don’t know where I am or what’s going on." Strangely you felt more panicked about all this unfamiliarity then you did the actual danger of this dragon attack.

"It's alright, you’ll be alright. What’s your name child?" The man calmly hushes you and gives you a smile, despite the situation you found it infectious and give your own to him.

"I'm (y/n), what’s your name?"

"You may call me Gilmore, now follow me and stay close." He holds out his hand for you to take and with no other options you take it now relying on a man you hardly knew to guide you through this city. As you carefully made your way around you notice your new friend scanning each area you come across very carefully as if looking for something or someone. "Where are they." His voice sounding just above a whisper.

"Where are who?" Your innocent question pulls Gilmore from some of his thoughts.

"I’m looking for some friends of mine, a bit of a colourful bunch with the tendency to make rash decisions." You weren’t sure if he worded it that way to try and lighten up your current situation or not but it caused you to giggle a little, these people sounded kinda like Mighty Nein to you although at this point you were certain they weren’t the same people. "Oh by the gods they didn’t." A look of horrified realization comes over Gilmore as he looks to the palace. His attention then goes back to you for a moment, his gaze now darting between you and the palace as he contemplates something.

"Is everything ok?" You could feel your panic set in again as Gilmore places a hand on his head a look of uncertainty on his face.

"I’d hate to put you in harms way child, but I can’t just leave you here either."

"Oh! I’ve been in plenty of dangerous situations before with my friends, I know how to handle myself." You strangely cheerful comment earns you a raised eyebrow and half-amused expression from him.

"What sort of people raised you?"

"Trust me they’re one of a kind, but they mean well." You hear Gilmore give a slight chuckle at this.

"Alright, I’ll have to take your word for it for now but we must still tread carefully." You nod in understanding and follow his lead as you now make your way to the ruins of the palace. Once you’d reached what you assumed were the front doors you cover your nose from the heavy smoky smell that still rose from the expired flames that had raked the area. You could see people coming to the area with gold, treasures, weapons, anything really, some emotionless others fearfully placing them down before heading off again. A faint sound of distress directs your attention back to the interior of the palace hurrying in you see now the gargantuan dragon snarling at a woman and three children around your age. Everything that follows happens so fast you feel as though you’re spectating your own actions as Gilmore directs the dragons attention away from the lady and kids while you, using some tips you had learned from Nott help them sneak away from the danger. None of them seemed to comment on being helped by another kid but you had to guess that things were already stressful enough to have to worry about such small details (get it small, because kids… I’ll see myself out). Heat and flames filled the room and you see Gilmore’s body skid across the ground smoking, a pool of blood quickly forming around him.

"PATHETIC HUMAN WELP." Even when not shouting, the dragons voice felt as though it could shake the foundation of this place. Seeing the dragon now lose interest you quickly spring into action.

"Child come back here, it’s danger to run out there." The lady whisper-yelled to you.

"Someone has to help him." You simply state running over to Gilmore, perhaps you’ve been in one too many situations where you've had to drag someone from the Nein away from trouble because this pulse of adrenaline was the first familiar feeling you’ve had in awhile. When you reached him you began to pull him back towards the entrance, you try to focus on your goal to ignore the blood that was starting to cover you. You see the lady take a breath before rushing to you she places her arms in a way to act as support and continues to carry him to the entrance. With her doing that you dig through your thoughts and remember something Caduceus had taught you, so you start look for anything that could help at least slow the blood flow. Your eyes land on a torn and slightly charred piece of a flag and figure it’s the best choice for now, grabbing it you run back over and place it on the wound Gilmore immediately gives a grunt of pain and winces instinctively grabbing at the wound, at least he seemed to have more focus now.

"Are you alright?" The woman asks.

"Don’t worry about me right now, we need to get to safety." With a shaky arm Gilmore points in a random direction. "There, we'll have shelter if we can make to my shop." The woman nods and starts moving towards where he’d pointed, you and the other kids following behind.

"You were really brave back there stranger." The boy says to you.

"Uhh, thanks. I learned a lot from my friends." You replied.

"That's cool, I’m Gren by the way, Gern Tal'Dorei." Was he trying to impress you? You weren’t sure but if the last name was anything to go off of you now knew where you were. But wait… you’d read a little about the Tal'Dorei family or at least seen mentions of them in stories and they were much older then the people in front of you, did this mean you were somewhere in the past too? "So what’s your name?" Your snapped out of your thoughts.

"Oh! Sorry, my name's (y/n), just (y/n) is fine."

"Hi (y/n), I’m Illiya." The shorter of the two girls introduces herself with a sheepish wave, well maybe short wasn’t the right word since you were the same height as her.

"Hi Illiya."

"And I’m Odessa, it’s a pleasure to meet you (y/n)."

"Pleasure to meet you too." The greetings all felt a little awkward and tense, maybe if things weren’t as bleak as they were you’d all be laughing. The rest of your walk was in an uncomfortable silence as you passed destroyed buildings and hid from potentially dangerous looters. The sky was dark by the time you reached your destination, being a destroyed shop, you all approach cautionsly having seen some men wander away from the ruined buildings. Gilmore, half-supporting his own weight, shuffles over to a broken but still intact bed resting in the farther corner of the broken building.

"Please, help me move this." You all help shove the bed over revealing a trapdoor underneath and with what little strange he had Gilmore lifts the door open. Looking down you could make out about three figures in the dim light, a half-elven woman with thick glasses steps forward.

"Who-who goes there!" She holds out a wand threateningly but lowers it when she takes a better look at everyone. "I’m so sorry, please come on quickly." You all make your way down the ladder being sure to hide and close the trapdoor once you’ve all made it down. "Empress Salda, it is good to see you and your children are alright."

"Barely, but thank you." The woman, who you could now guess was this Salda nods, the half-elf lady then looks at you.

"And who’s this?"

"I found this one alone on the streets, they were actually… quite helpful with our rescue." Gilmore comments through heavy breaths, leaning against a wall still clutching onto his wound.

"Hi, my names (y/n)." You introduce yourself for like the fifth time today.

"I’m Sherri." She replies, putting a hand to her chest.

"Cherry?" You repeat her name, wondering if you’d heard her correctly.

"No no, Sherri." You mouth "oh" and nod to her, she then turns her attention to Gilmore and starts doing what she can to help patch him up while the others try to settle themselves for the rest of the night.

Night falls and while the adrenaline from the days events had worn off leaving you tired you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. All you had right now where your thoughts swimming around in your head. We’re you really in the past? If so then that spell really did work. But what now? How were you gonna get home? Did you have to wait for the spells effect to wear? Would the spell wear off? Could you even get home? Were you stuck in the past permenantly? The longer you thought about it the more panic of never being able to return home crept into you. You lost track of how much time had past, paying little attention to the two people Sherri was originally with opening the trapdoor leaving this little underground bunker. Odessa, Illiya and Gren tried to help by playing little made up games, you mindlessly played along not really paying attention anymore. The muffled sounds of yelling and battle could now be heard from above you. Scooting yourself into a corner you let yourself have a good look around the room seeing the other kids huddle close to their mom, who defensively pulls out a dagger and Sherri looking very nervous and concerned next to an unconscious Gilmore. You pull your legs up to meet your chest, as selfish as it may sound all you really wanted was to just leave and go home where things were familiar, where dragons weren’t destroying everything, and where strangers you hardly knew weren’t the only people you had for comfort. You just wanted to go home.

The trap door swings open…

To be continued…?

I feel a little cruel just leaving it there but that’s all I have for this right now, should I do a pt. 2?

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jesatria · 4 years ago

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Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap. 7

Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 3.747 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.

Previous Chapters:

1. The Visit

2. Desire

3. The Harvest Festival

4. Triumph

5. Gifts

6. The Eagle Unbound

Chapter 7: Lighting the Candle

Consort.

It was an honor I’d hardly dreamed of during the years of my acquaintance with Isidore. Oh, there were a few times when the thought came into my mind, what it would be like to be his consort. In truth, I would’ve been happy to remain his lover. I knew how he felt about me and made my feelings for him quite clear. What more was needed? But now… now a whole new realm of possibility had opened up.

We spoke more on the matter during his visit. “You’ll need to be presented at court,” he told me one evening as we sat together in the great hall.

“What will that entail?” I asked.

“You’ll be formally announced at a court function, and then I’ll name you my consort.”

“It’s truly that simple?”

“Truly. The hardest part will be preparing you for it, I’ll need to have a dress appropriate for court made, to begin with,” he elaborated.

I tried to imagine myself in the kind of expensive gown worn by sophisticated ladies of the court and couldn’t. I’d hardly ever even seen such things, as court ladies were in short supply at Lombelon since Lady Shahrizai gave it to Isidore. “I think I would feel rather silly wearing somewhat like that.”

He smiled. “Mayhap. The trick is not to let it show and look as if you’ve always belonged there. Anyway, rest assured I’ll do everything possible to ensure you’re looking your best when the time comes.”

“I doubt I’d be any good at looking like I belong at court.”

He put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer on the sofa we shared. “Don’t worry about it overmuch. You’re hardly the first commoner to become the consort of a peer. It’s not so uncommon that they’ll see you as some kind of oddity to gawk it.”

“Well, that’s a little bit comforting.”

“You won’t need to come to court regularly unless you want to. I’ll not ask it of you if you truly despise it. If you like, I’ll buy you your own townhouse in the City and you’ll never need to set foot in the Palace.”

I blinked. “A… townhouse?” That was rather more than fancy dresses and jewelry befitting the consort of a Duc.

“Yes, a townhouse. Many peers have them in the City.”

“Do you have one?”

“No, I make do with quarters in the Palace. We would stay there when in the City, but I won’t force you to if you’d prefer a townhouse.” He gave his head a slight shake. “I’m getting far ahead of myself. The first order of business will be getting you a wardrobe befitting your new station.”

All of this was quite a bit to take in. I never expected it, never wanted it. I was happy with my life at Lombelon. As long as I had my gardens and loved ones around me, I was content. Now I was about to be thrust into a world beyond my experience. It was exciting and a bit frightening. I would go from Anne Livet, gardener’s daughter to Anne Livet, consort of the Duc d’Aiglemort. It was plain my relationship with Isidore had entered a new stage.

“… before that,” he was saying, “I think some changes are in order here. I’ve been remiss in keeping you as well as I should’ve been and I mean to remedy it. You should no longer be working as a servant here.”

“But the gardens…”

He held a finger to my lips and I fell silent. “I wouldn’t dream of parting you from your gardens. You’ll be free to do whatever you like with them. As for the rest of your duties, you are from now on free of them. I never got the impression you particularly enjoyed them anyway.”

I thought of the dull drudgery of cleaning and replied, “No, I do not. Except for cooking. That I would miss.” Ever since the quiche, which I’d since made several more times, I’d cooked a number of dishes for us. These had included more Camaeline dishes which were previously unfamiliar to me. They were hearty dishes, meant to fill you up during a long winter. Isidore was not very particular when it came to food, but he did come to miss the familiar cuisine of home when he’d been away for a while.

“I’d never forbid you from doing anything you like to do,” he said with a small smile. “Cook as much as you like.”

It was quite a bit to think on. I’d been a servant all my life and had long ago accepted it as my lot in life. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself without the usual rounds of chores, and a life of leisure was exactly what he was offering me. There was nothing I’d rather spend my time doing more than working in gardens, but what would I do when the season was over? What did noblewomen do all day, anyway? I supposed I would find out.

There was more to my new status than freedom from tedious chores, as I was to discover that night. Rather than go to the master suite, Isidore led me to the smaller bedchamber adjoining it. The room was familiar to me—I’d cleaned it plenty of times. It had been aired out and fresh sheets laid upon the bed. “This is yours, if you want it. About time we had adjoining bedchambers.”

I smiled. “I agree.” The room was mayhap twice the size of the one I’d lived in my entire life. “You mean for me to stay here even when you’re not.”

He nodded. “I know your current room has great significance for you. I’ll not ask you to stay here if you’d prefer not to.”

“To sleep on a feather bed every night? Of course I would. Though,” I noted, “I’d like to keep my own room too. Giving it up just feels… wrong. And there isn’t a shortage of space for the staff, so it’s hardly needed.”

That was the night I became the lady of the manor where I’d grown up. Some part of me could not quite believe it, though it was in keeping with everything which had happened since Isidore asked me to be his consort. There were more than a few jealous stares directed at me the following day, but that was nothing new—I’d been getting those since the day Thèrese had me bring Isidore a bottle of pear brandy. Others were genuinely happy for me. These included Marcel, who held no bitterness over it. “I’m truly glad that you’re happy, Anne,” he told me, “and I hope you’ll still consider me a friend.”

“Of course!” I exclaimed before pulling him into an embrace.

The rest of Isidore’s visit passed in a blur. Before leaving, he assured me he’d return as soon as he was able. As sad as I was to see him go, my head was clearer after he left, with the haze of love lifted. I had much to think on.

The day after Isidore left, I approached Thèrese. I needed some advice on particular womens’ matters and she’d been the closest thing I had to a mother growing up. She’d been the one to teach me how to cook and sew when I wasn’t occupied with my schooling or working in the gardens beside my father. I waited until the evening, when I knew she’d be overseeing the cleaning of the kitchen after dinner. I was keenly aware of my new status and did not want to flaunt it over them, so I had my meal brought to the dining room and ate alone. Had I taken my meal in the kitchen, I’d have earned more of the same jealous glares I’d already been subjected to.

I breathed a small sigh of relief when I stepped into the kitchen and found it empty save for Thèrese. “Pardon me for interrupting, Thèrese, but may I speak with you?”

She placed a stack of plates in a cupboard and turned to face me. “Of course, Anne.” We both sat down at the table.

“I need some advice,” I began, feeling suddenly awkward. “I’m… thinking of lightning the candle.”

There was no need for elaboration; Thèrese gave me a knowing look. “In the Duc’s name, I take it?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Ah. Well, these recent changes show he’s treating you as more than a casual bedmate.”

I nodded. “He means to make me his official consort, have me presented at court and all.”

Thèrese’s eyebrows rose. “He’s taking it quite seriously, then.”

“I’m quite certain of how he feels about me, but I can’t help thinking mayhap I should wait to see…”

“You want to know how I felt when I lit the candle,” Thèrese cut in.

“Yes.”

“My situation was different, clearer. I was married and I lit the candle on my wedding night. Normally I’d suggest you think on it to make sure, but in your case it seems clear to me that his grace has strong feelings for you and intends to see you well cared for.”

I want to take care of you, Anne. “He does.”

“Then you have your answer.” She smiled coyly. “I do recall you speaking about wanting children before. You’ve a good figure for child bearing, in any case.”

I couldn’t help but smile in return. “Thank you, Thèrese. I believe I’ve made up my mind.”

Later, I would come to wonder if mayhap I should’ve waited until I was officially named consort or at least to speak with Isidore on the subject. But I was eager, and in the end it proved to be a good thing that I was. I used my newfound leisure time to visit the shrine of the Eisheth in the village. It was far from a proper temple, consisting only of a simple shrine and living quarters for the two priestesses who maintained it. It also served as a hospital and apothecary of sorts. I’d visited many times to fetch herbal tea for my father. The last time I’d gone to the shrine had been when he was dying…

I shook my head to dismiss the memory. That was hardly what I needed to be thinking of at this particular moment. I opened the door to the shrine and stepped inside. The priestess was there, cleaning remnants of burnt incense from the offering bowl. She set it aside once she caught sight of me. “Welcome, Anne. Do you wish to make an offering?”

“Of a sort. I would like to light the candle to Eisheth.”

The priestess gave me a knowing smile. “I thought you might choose to light the candle someday.” Her statement made me wonder if word of my change in status had reached the village. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if it had. They’d known about me and Isidore for ages.

The priestess fetched a candle and led me over to the shrine. It consisted of nothing more than a statue of Eisheth. An offering bowl stood in front of it, along with a rack meant for candles. Only a few were currently burning. The priestess handed me a thick white candle and a flint striker. “Light the candle and place it in front of the statue,” she instructed.

I took a breath to steady myself and lit the candle. A place was free in the center of the rack and I set it there, careful not to spill hot wax on my hands. I lifted my eyes to gaze upon the statue of Eisheth. She clutched a harp in one hand; the other was raised in a gesture of blessing. Her face wore a expression of gentle serenity. It was time to speak the prayer. I did not need the priestess to tell it to me; every woman knew it. “Blessed Eisheth, hear my prayer,” I said, keeping Isidore’s beautiful face in my mind’s eye, “open the gates of my womb.”

It was done.

The flame burned bright and steady. I chose to take that for a good sign. Before I left the shrine, the priestess took me aside to explain the changes I’d now experience. It was nothing I’d not heard of before—I’d heard plenty of women who’d lit the candle complain of their monthly courses before and I couldn’t say I was looking forward to them. The priestess was kind enough to give me herbs to take if I was afflicted with cramps and headaches.

“If Eisheth should choose to grant your prayer and you get with child, please feel welcome to come to me with any questions you may have,” said the priestess. She was the closest thing we had to a chirurgeon and she acted as midwife to both Lombelon itself and the village. I thanked her for her assistance and took my leave.

The next weeks passed incredibly slowly. I was bursting with eagerness to see Isidore and tell him what I’d done. We’d never spoken of having children before and in truth I wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react. I doubted he would be angry—I’d not have done it I thought it would anger him—but beyond that I couldn’t say. Letters came from him regularly and I considered telling him in my replies before deciding against it. Somewhat of such important had to be said in person.

Summer finally turned to fall. By then I’d grown slightly more comfortable in my new station, though it was still strange to see my familiar possessions in such a different setting. Some of the initial jealousy had abated and the others generally treated me with courtesy. I couldn’t help but think how much harder it would be to adjust to life as Isidore’s officially-acknowledged consort. Well and so, I would deal with that when the time came.

The leaves were falling when Isidore at last returned to Lombelon. His eagerness was immediately apparent, as he all but ran over and swept me into his arms, accompanied by the familiar rounds of cheers from his men-at-arms. It was comforting to know there were people in his world who approved of us. I doubted I’d be so lucky when I met the entirety of his friends and family. One of them was Lady Shahrizai, after all, and that woman made my skin crawl.

I chose to tell him that evening, after we’d retired to his bedchamber for our nightly round of lovemaking. “There’s somewhat I need to tell you before we go any further,” I began as we sat together on the bed.

“What is it?”

I took a breath to fortify myself, then spoke. “I lit the candle to Eisheth in your name.”

I’d never seen Isidore look shocked before, but he did then. He stared at me, blinking slowly, trying to form a response to this revelation. “You did… what?” he finally said.

“I lit a candle to Eisheth,” I repeated, finding it suddenly hard to meet his eyes. “I suppose I should’ve spoken with you about it, I just… felt inspired to do it after your last visit.”

The mattress shifted and a moment later his arm was around my shoulders. “Anne, I’m not angry with you—I’m shocked is all. You’ve scarcely said aught to me on this matter before.”

“I’m sorry. I really should’ve spoken to you about it.”

He pulled me closer. “Tell me.” His voice held in it the now-familiar note of command.

“There’s not much to say. I’ve always wanted a child and when you told me you meant to make me your consort, I thought mayhap you might feel the same,” I admitted. My hand rose to stroke his hair. It was soft as silk. “Is it so strange that I’d want to have a child with the man I love?”

Somewhat softened in his fathomless black eyes. “No, it’s not. It’s a natural thing and I shouldn’t be surprised by it. I confess us having children is not somewhat I’ve considered, forgive me.”

“Would you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He was silent for a moment, gazing upon me with those lovely eyes I found so easy to get lost in. “Yes, I would.”

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. It was hard to contain my excitement. “Truly?”

“Yes, Anne. Truly.”

After, as I lay in his arms, I found myself too excited to fall asleep easily. A child. We were, provided Eisheth answered my prayer, going to have a child. I wondered if all women felt this way after lighting the candle, a rush of elation at the thought of getting a child by the men they loved. It might’ve happened this night, for all I knew. That we weren’t married was of no concern. A bit unusual, mayhap, but it wasn’t as if there weren’t women who got children with men who were not their husbands. Eventually my excitement gave way to exhaustion and sleep took me.

We spoke more on the subject of children the following day. “You were several steps ahead of me,” he admitted, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips. “I’ve only just told you my intention to name you my consort.”

“Call it a rare moment of impulse,” I replied.

“It’s not somewhat I’ve thought about much, in truth.”

“Really? I thought all the peers were concerned with getting heirs.”

“Many of them are. I’ve known it is my duty to produce an heir for House Aiglemort from a young age, but I might say I was lucky my father neglected to arrange a betrothal for me before he died,” he explained, “and I’ve had less time and appetite for the game of courtship played by most of my peers.”

I said a silent prayer of thanks to Blessed Elua that the late Duc d’Aiglemort had not seen fit to marry his son off at a young age. “And now that you’ve given the matter some thought, how are you feeling?”

“Excited at the prospect of getting a child on the woman I love.”

Isidore visited frequency that autumn, I daresay more frequently than he had any other season. If my revelation had anything to do with it, he didn’t say, only that it was easy enough for him to spend most of his time at Lombelon and travel to the City when needed. More than a month had passed since I lit the candle and I was quite dismayed when the monthly courses I’d been warned about came. The sensation was almost unpleasant enough to make me regret lighting the candle. Almost.

I didn’t let any of that discourage me. It wasn’t uncommon for it to take a bit of time, I knew. Our desire for each other had, if anything, grown more intense over time. I was his and he was mine. We belonged to each other.

“Sometime next year, I think,” he said as we sipped brandy together one evening.

“Why next year? It seems a long time to wait.”

His gaze moved away from me to the fire burning steadily in the fireplace. “There is like to be trouble on the border.”

“The Skaldi raiding in large numbers again?”

“Yes, only worse,” he replied. “They’ve managed to find a leader to unite them.”

I thought back to what he’d told me about the Skaldi before. “You said they were a fractious people. It must be an impressive leader who was able to unite them.”

“From everything I have heard on the matter, he is exactly that.” He drained his glass and set it on the table. “I don’t believe in keeping troubling news from you, but I don’t want you to worry about this.”

I clasped the arms of my chair tightly. “I can’t help but worry.”

His expression softened. “I know. If it’s any comfort I have been doing my best to strengthen the border defenses and plan on making a request to the King for more men soon. We are taking the threat seriously. Now,” he stood and took my hand in his, “I can think of more pleasant ways to pass the night than worrying about the Skaldi.”

I stood and followed him to the bed, thoughts of a possible Skaldi invasion draining from my mind. A moment later our hands were at work undoing each other’s clothes as we kissed deeply. The feeling of his lips on mine sent pangs of desire coursing through me. No matter how many times we made love, our passion for each other burned as hotly as ever. Our clothes were soon a pile on the floor. His rough, calloused swordsman’s hands were on me then, stroking and caressing every part of me. Ah, how I loved the feel of them on my bare skin!

I lay back on the pillows and spread my legs. He took his place between them, then bent to perform the languisement. It didn’t take long, wet as I was already. He pleasured me with sure, quick strokes of his tongue until my arousal was nearly unbearable. When he pulled away, Naamah’s Pearl ached from the loss. He sat upright on the bed between my legs and I felt his rigid phallus press against me. Knowing what he was about, I lifted my legs to rest on his shoulders as he thrust inside me. It was a position we found in the Trois Milles Joies, ones we were both fond of. His firm grip held me legs in place as he rode me. I kept my eyes on his face, finding it impossible to look away from his smouldering dark eyes and the smile he gave me, that small, secret smile I always loved to see. My own climax was nearly upon me; I slid a hand between my legs to rub Naamah’s Pearl. I let the waves of pleasure overtake me and I cried out his name when I reached my peak. His followed shortly after mine. When it was done, he fell back on the plush pillows and pulled me close to him. We fell asleep that way, in perfect contentment.

It was a little over a month later, as the last leaves were falling and winter’s chill could be felt in the air, when I realized I was with child.

#kushiel's legacy #jesatriafic #simple pleasures #isidore d'aiglemort #anne livet

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silvia7272 · 5 years ago

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7 ~ Its Costume Change Time.

I kinda lost track of how many I’ve made at this point, (It's actually 10) but I was in a creative mood and wanted to drabble with the information the superheroes have gotten already. I’m excited cause I’m happy with the artwork I made alongside this, so I really hope you like it.

Chloé Bourgeois is like an older version of Hiyoko Saiyonji (From Danganronpa) but one is hated while the other is loved and I don't really get it.

Word Count: 4479

Tags: @queenmj10, @fangirl39, @animegirlweeb, @northernbluetongue, @daminett4life, @raisuke06, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @luleck, @themamaravenclaw, if you wish to be tagged all you have to do is say.

***

“Sooooo~ you wanted to see us?” A confused black cat hero pondered as he was on top of a supposedly abandoned building. He had gotten a call from his Lady asking him to meet her and Crisono at this specific location. Apparently, the redhead had seen it whilst circling Paris. He of course came and was reunited with the two heroines.

“Yes, pardon if I may have intruded on any free time you had but I thought since there aren’t any Akuma’s today I should ask for some first-hand information” Chat saw a whiteboard behind Crisono, and finally took notice of other belongings that didn’t seem to fit with the abandoned building appearance. Maybe this was some sort of hangout?

Maybe that meant they could all watch Big Hero 6?

‘Chat focus!’

“It's fine, I wasn’t doing anything important anyway” In truth, he was meant to be practising some piano but that could wait.

“Oh good, I’m glad. Ok, first I would like to know the radius of how far the Akuma’s can go? Whether once someone is controlled will they always be under Hawkmoth’s spell or if distance matters?” A map of Paris had appeared while Chat tried to think.

“We’ve never actually investigated that before, we’re more focused on catching the Akuma than becoming a detective right M’Lady?” She nods as well.

“But I guess when there was an Akuma on a train half a year ago, the train driver was Akumatized and led everyone to space by her own free will, so maybe around there.” Ladybug circled the area of the map she believed the spot could be.

“Ok it’s a start, maybe one day we can go along the tracks and see if we can nearly become Akumatized? Or possibly get a willing volunteer to help us out? But we’d have to take precautions of course. If we can no longer summon a butterfly, then we’ll soon find the radius. That way it could be safer for us as we’ll have an area to work with, to see where the mastermind is.” She sure seemed confident.

“It would have to be on a day no Akuma’s will be sent out, it would take too long to get back to Paris in case there’s an emergency.”

“I suppose if one of us stays behind to keep an eye on matters here that would be fine, or if we have back up for some moments”

“It depends if Master Fū would let us use the Miraculous like that”

“I’m sure it will be fine, as long as it's for a better cause”

“Yeah I suppose you’re right” Chat watched as they negotiated back and forth, it was interesting. He found it almost enjoyable to listen to them talk, this was all so exciting to him, a mystery yet to be discovered.

Although the way they talked… It was like they had been acquainted before.

Before they all knew each other perhaps?

Then did that mean Rosina knew Ladybug’s identity?

“Chat have you been listening!?” A stern Ladybug asked. He was caught, he shrugged and gave a guilty smile to her as she put her hand to her forehead.

“Don’t worry its fine Ladybug. Cheer up. I’m sure we can find Hawkmoth soon, with all of our help combined I’m sure it’ll be a victory.” She pumped her fist out with Chat joining in as well. It was nice to have someone as energetic as himself on the Team now. Who knows, maybe Ladybug could lighten up a bit more and learn to have more fun?

“Although there are other things to go over as well? I may need an account of all of the Akuma’s that have happened, their powers and Akumatized items, possibly a tally chart of how many times they’ve been Akumatized as well. Then there's where exactly they’ve been Akumatized, it may form a pattern pointing to Hawkmoth. Even the centre of the radius could give up a point” She was rambling now, and Chat couldn’t comprehend most of what she was saying because of how fast it came.

“Hold up Crissi, you’re going too fast. And how long have you been thinking of this? Have you done this before?” She looked over to Chat for an awkward amount of time before blinking… Very… Slowly.

“Yes…?”

“That doesn’t sound convincing at all” What did she have to hide?

“Yeah you’re probably right”

“Let us get back to business, shall we?” They spent the next hour coming up with potential plans to do in their spare time.

***

It was afternoon by the time they had finally finished.

They all went their separate ways to rest and hopefully continue further on another free day. She knew it would take a while before she could get an account for every single Akuma that had ever happened.

Hopefully sooner than later, Crisono still had a lot to talk about.

The duo was impressed with her vast knowledge of ideas for this type of thing, she definitely did this before, but with what a black feline couldn’t work out.

Crisono had taken to swing through the buildings of Paris to relax, she had done too much explaining in a single day she needed to stretch herself. Her Aunt had nagged her to teach them more about the analytical side of being a hero… The detective side basically. And she didn’t believe Ladybug and her Aunt would be comfortable in the same room together. So regrettably she had to take on the burden. And it had burnt her out, she sighed as she tried to think of anything she may have forgotten before she spotted someone standing on a rooftop.

‘Is that-? It is!’ She smiled with glee, she was able to see two of her friends in a single day, and not even with school playing a factor.

She glided over near her, hoping to playfully scare her, like a jest she had done to Mari that one time, she still didn’t know why she was so angry with that but oh well, maybe Chloé would appreciate her humour. Oh dear Lord no

But she couldn’t bring herself to.

Not after seeing the same sadness she saw similar to the Luxembourg trip.

“Chloé?” She saw the blonde's eyes widen and look to her, that sadness disappeared and was filled with annoyance.

“What are you doing here- More importantly, how did you get here!” Crisono pointed to her grappling hook before plopping down on the railing, sitting on it. It was extremely cold and uncomfortable, but she was this far already she can stick it out.

“I was out with Ladybug and Chat Noir, since I’m still new here I wanted as much information we had on Hawkmoth and Akuma’s. So, I’ll probably start asking for first-hand accounts from people” She probably shouldn’t be divulging this type of information to a civilian, but she was sure Ladybug wouldn’t mind, after all, they were all friends.

“That won’t work, Akuma victims forget everything afterwards” She mumbled into her arms but Crissi could still make out every word.

“Really, well that’s a bummer. Well~ I still have plenty of ideas left to use” It became silent, and since Rosina hadn’t been in company like ever, she just figured Chloé had grown bored of talking.

“Why did you become a hero?” She was surprised by that question, normally they’d talk about other common teenager things, or as common as Rosina would read about them in magazines.

“Well, my Aunty asked me if I had wanted to become one when we were fighting, err crime. She trained me all my life but always made sure I was safe. I really wanted to become a hero because I wanted people to think of me as a number”

“Huh?” Chloé heard something similar when she reluctantly looked at the LadyBlog after finding out Rosina was Crisono. She mentioned something about numbers, but no one knew what that meant.

“What do you mean by that?” Crisono looked out at the horizon, and for once, Chloé noticed there wasn’t a smile on her face.

“I believe everyone has a number.” She fiddled with her ring, almost playing with it.

“Dedicated just to them, for how many people care for them. The number is solid and cannot be changed. It will be constant for all your life. You may think you have more, but you will acknowledge how true that number is. In truth, I believe I have a low number… Which is why I want to be a number for everyone else.” That… Kinda made sense. Chloé saw how she was still kind to everyone that she met, even to Lila. She gave everyone new to her a compliment, she never seemed angry at anyone of her classmates, even if they wanted to take her away.

“I’ve always known my number to be lower than everyone else's. But that’s because I haven’t interacted with anyone else before now. And I’ve… Accepted that it won’t be higher, but to be someone else’s number, without having to receive anything in return would just be bliss to me. But I know when not to push it.” She stood on top of the railings and started walking around, she was getting antsy from staying in one place.

‘She’s in heels how is she able to walk on something so tiny?’ Chloé thought to herself.

“I get it, you want people to remember you. I kinda thought the same” Crisono looked over to her to let her know she could continue.

“I… Thought I couldn’t be a hero as myself, because no one would’ve trusted me to believe me. I thought because I was still Chloé Bourgeois, everyone would still hate me. But then… When I got a Miraculous, it was amazing, I thought I could be just like her. Like Ladybug. I wanted to try and help people, and I thought I was getting better at it.” She smiled ever so slightly, but it quickly vanished.

“But I blew it. I failed at the first rule of being a hero, I was so angry at my Mother that I exposed the fact I had the Miraculous. And because of my anger and ideals of being a heroine, I put so many people in danger. People could've been hurt but I was more focused on thinking I was a hero than being a hero.”

“Chloé…”

“Because I wanted to be Queen Bee, not Chloé Bourgeois! And I couldn’t even do that.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as Rosina stood in silence.

All she wanted was to be nice but didn’t know how. With everything Chloé had told the redhead, she’d been given everything in her life with the snap of her fingers, if you had that chance what need was there to be nice? At least that’s what Rosina concluded.

So, she hugged her. Causing Chloé to freeze at the sudden contact before slowly wrapping her arms around her, letting it out. Even if she cried for a brief time, she needed it.

“Chloé. I don’t think you need to be Queen Bee to be considered a hero. We can help you. Me, Marinette and Kagami too.” The blonde wiped her eyes, hellbent on stopping this show of emotions.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend. No one will believe me, hell I don’t think I could believe myself. I’m utterly ridiculous for thinking I could even be a hero anymore” She argued back, even if they were friends she didn’t know for how long, what if she did something she couldn’t take back, if she went too far because she wasn’t aware of self-control, what if she was left all alone again? What if-

“Chloé, you don’t need powers, or a costume, or money to be a hero. Just do what your heart wants, morally do what's best, we can help you with every step. You’ll never be alone Chloé. Just trust us. Let me help you be Chloé Bourgeois”

She immediately hugged her back, the waterworks flowing down again.

“Thanks, Rosy”

“C’mon Chloé no more tears, we have to be happy so no Akuma’s come and bother us.” She put a finger to her cheek, thinking of a solution.

“I know, why don’t we go flying again?” Before Chloé had any time to register what the younger heroine had suggested, they had already jumped off the building. Chloé screamed before hanging onto Crisono for dear life as said girl made the hovering board, Chloé soon realised she had grown to resent that contraption with a growing passion.

‘Besides, I think I have an idea on how you can be a hero Chlo’

***

“What do you mean it won’t work?” They were both on the balcony at their newfound home. They had to either stay there or go on different roofs after Marinette’s Parents would come into the room unannounced, and as much as Rosina found it endearing, it wouldn’t help the duo if they overheard them being heroines.

“I’m sorry Rosy, it's not that she isn’t my friend. It's just because she revealed herself to all of Paris. Including Hawkmoth. If I gave her Miraculous again her Parents, friends and home could all be targeted. And I couldn’t live with myself if they got hurt for Chloé” Marinette had momentarily stopped drawing as she said the last sentence.

“I guess I didn’t think of it like that. When people have loved ones to consider getting hurt that makes revealing stuff tricker” Marinette gave a confused look before she realised what she meant.

“Trickier”

“Oh? Thanks, Mari” It was silent as they look upon the night view. Rosina thinking of ways to help her friend. To be a hero in and out of costume.

“She is starting to become better, but I doubt Master Fū would allow it to happen again. Chloé would have to make sure she never lets anything slip about her being Chloé or Queen Bee.”

“So, wouldn’t that mean she can have a different Miraculous?” The Silver eyed girl mused, it seemed so simple to her.

“I doubt Chloé would like that either”

“How come?” Turning her head to the side so she knew she was paying attention.

“I saw how happy she was when Pollen was there, it was like she was truly delighted, I did think she was the perfect Chosen for the Bee Miraculous, but now who would take it without Chloé being upset and causing an Akuma-”

“Marinette calm down, you’re thinking too far ahead again!” Tikki insisted, floating up to place both her hands on Marinette’s cheeks.

“Tikki’s right, it hasn’t happened so no need to worry” Rosina was trying to remain positive; she swore she would never attract another Akuma ever.

“Right… Thanks, guys”

“It's too bad you can’t change the costumes, Aunty told me since its magic no one can tell who it is behind the mask so a costume change would be great… No idea why no one knows it's me then?” The bluenette jumped when she heard what the other had muttered out.

“Wait- What was that?” She asked.

“Yeah, no one knows it's me even though I don’t have magic” Thinking that had been what Mari was talking about, she finished with her trademark smile.

“Isn’t your ring magic?”

“I thought it was just a special worm on a string?” She was so confused.

‘So that’s what it was’

“…I meant the other part” Marinette sweatdropped. Her behaviour should’ve been expected at this point, but she was still random.

“Changing costumes?” She tilted her head as Marinette's smile widened. She had an idea.

“Tikki, you said that the Miraculous responds to the Chosen’s wishes of what outfit we have right?”

“Yes?” She was just as puzzled as Rosina.

“Then would it be possible to change it again?” Tikki’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I see yes of course” She nodded in understanding.

“Chloé must’ve modelled her outfit after mine, so maybe if I can change it enough for Hawkmoth not to recognise her then she could be a hero again. Now I have to design until I’ve worked out which one is best. C’mon Rosina, let’s go back home, I’m sure Maman has some cookies for you.” Rosina’s eyes widened before picking Marinette and Tikki up and running straight towards the kitchen.

Boy did she have too much energy.

***

“Ok guys Cya, I need to go” Their redheaded friend enthusiastically waved as they ran off for their fencing lesson.

“Man is she too energetic at times” Marinette sighed.

“You have no idea, I had to pry caster sugar off her at one point” She shuddered as she recalled that memory. They continued talking as they had these past weeks. If you had told the two, they would be friends when they were 10, they would’ve scoffed at you while one would say utterly ridiculous multiple times. But they had changed that. And as they made plans in Chloé’s room they found they were becoming closer, not best friends yet, but they would get there. There was no doubt Rosina was already thinking they were best friends. But what else could they expect from their new friend?

A few hours passed by before Marinette had to get going, something about her Parents needing help.

Chloé didn’t really remember what but she did know one thing.

She was alone.

In her empty room.

And no one was there.

But of course, she was used to it. Besides, she could call them later on… Wait Rosina still didn’t have a phone.

“I know. I declare for my first act of being nice, I’ll get Rosina a phone. She’ll remember the first phone so much she’ll never get rid of it.” She starts looking at phones for her friend. Which one would be the best for her, which had the best reviews, which one was the easiest for her to use considering she doubted she’s ever had one before?

“That one looks cute, ugh this is so boring, I wasn’t made to be a search engine. Ughhhhhh, I want Jean to do this, but it has to come from me… How does anyone do this? I hate my life” She dramatically flopped onto her bed; all the woes of her thumb aching fallen on Death ears.

“Is this a bad time then?”

!!!

“Ladybug! You came to help me wow you must’ve sensed it- Wait! Crisono?” She waved as Chloé stood frozen mid hug from Ladybug.

“Yep, surprise”

“No-no, I can only have Ladybug here I’ll talk to you later, but you have to go” Chloé tried to push Crisono out the balcony. She saw her jump off buildings all the time she wasn’t worried. And like hell was she going to spill her surprise.

“Wait Chloé, I came here on official hero business” She tried to reason.

“Then do it somewhere else”

“It involves you Chlo” She halted her movements.

“Me?” Ladybug took that as an indication to continue.

“Yes, Chloé, it's about your position with the Miraculous. I’m sorry I never really talked to you about it. Crisono talked to me because you felt upset” Chloé glared at Crisono, hadn’t that meant to be a private conversation? However she couldn’t stay mad for too long, she only did what she thought was right. Plus, she was a hero.

A real hero.

“Who said I was upset, I’m not upset. I don’t need to be Queen Bee anymore.” Chloé tried to put on a strong face, but anyone could see through it, it was just they didn’t seem to point it out.

“Think we can talk about it?” Ladybug felt it was weird to have this type of relationship with Chloé, after always fending off her attacks of affection, willingly coming over to the hotel seemed absurd.

So, they talked.

But really talked.

Chloé may not have been the first intended target but she was damn better than the previous one in the long haul.

“I understand Ladybug. I don’t blame you for doing the right thing, that’s why I idolise you so much. You always look out for everyone good or bad.” Chloé waved her hand dismissively even if Ladybug could tell she really wanted to be a hero.

“Chloé, listen to me. I heard about the incident with Lila at your school, and how you’ve changed since you’ve gotten two friends pointing you in the right direction, and how you're treating them fairly. You’re learning Chloé, and I’d like to help too” Ladybug pulled out a box containing something Chloé knew all too well.

“That’s-” She was about to reach out but stopped midway.

“Are you sure? I mean I know I am the best wielder of the Bee Miraculous but why now?” Ladybug smiled. Chloé always had to brag about something even at a time like this. Good, she should be confident, and not change too much to be someone she’s not.

“This will be the start of your test to continue being a hero. Crisono and I will train you to become a stronger hero. In the end, the Master will decide if you can continue or not. But there is one condition” Chloé grimaced as she could guess what it would be.

“I know, I know, I won’t reveal my identity to anyone… But, you do know I know who Crisono is right?”

“Yep she knows, I told her first and its ok. I only let my friends know” Plus Adrian she wanted to add but that would cause an argument about her being careless and this was about Chloé, not her.

“Actually, two conditions” She nodded, whatever it took to be a hero for Ladybug, no for herself. She had to prove it to herself the most before heroing.

“Because you’ve revealed yourself you must change your costume design, I was able to draw a design I think best suits you” She handed the blonde some paper, wow Chloé muttered. Her designs were on par with Marinette, maybe they drew together?

“You have to think of that design once you transform, Pollen has already seen it and knows, once you both think of it, you’ll be able to change it. And you must change your name” The two hero’s smiled.

“That’s actually three things”

“Chloé!”

“Alright chill” She was given the box with her Pollen pooping out. They embraced each other as it had been so long since their last meeting.

“I missed you so much” After a few minutes they began pondering name ideas, each one getting shot down by Chloé herself.

“Ugh, none of these can stand up to Queen Bee! Can’t I just be Queen Bee 2?”

“No Chloé,” Crisono was thinking intently. Scribbles of names on paper were scattered everywhere as none could satisfy the young blonde.

“Wait, what about Sovereign Stinger?” The blonde’s head perked up.

“Having a supreme rank aspect like a Queen, as well as a quality for a Bee … Well?”

“Well I guess it’ll do; I’ll keep it for now before a more efficient name matches my graces” Secretly she loved the name. It was long and was fancy, as if she’d change it, she just didn’t want to seem like she enjoyed it. Another hug ensured before Ladybug had to leave and go back, Crisono copying her.

“Remember Chloé, become a hero you want to be, continue being Chloé Bourgeois.” And they left.

“…She is getting the best phone ever”

***

Chloé was experiencing an emotion she’d never felt before.

Never in her life.

What was it?

It's definitely not because she had found the perfect phone for her friend.

Or that she had a smaller gift for her two friends as well.

Or that this would be the first gift she’s given to them; the hotel didn’t count shut up.

It most certainly wasn’t the fact they were standing in front of her after she pulled them both into an empty classroom.

It sooo wasn’t the fact that she was nervous or anything.

“Well, Chloé? What is it?” Marinette inquisitively asked, Rosina busy standing on the desks with her arms, legs straight in the air.

‘Too much energy’

“Look, Rosina, I know you don’t have a…” She muttered something the girls couldn’t figure out. Baffled for why the girl was blushing so much.

“So… I- ugh, here!” She shoved the gift into the direction of the redhead. Rosina swivelled around to sit on the desk, her Aunt told her when receiving a gift, you must sit properly, or it’ll be rude, and she didn’t want to be rude to her friends.

She pulled a rectangular box out of a pretty bag that Marinette deduced cost a bomb itself.

“A… Phone?” Rosina tilted her head, showing she was confused.

“S-So we can all keep in touch. It’s a bother having to text Marinette every time I want to tell you something so this was a better solution” Rosina would’ve hugged the girl then, but she held up her hand.

“Hold on you haven’t opened everything yet, one of them is for you D- Marinette” She caught herself, thank god.

Marinette took the bag and out came two phone charms. There were three flowers tied in a circle, one blue, one red, and one yellow. Except for the blue on one was bigger while the red remained a smaller size. The reverse effect on the other.

‘They were specifically made for us in mind?’ The bluenette concluded.

“Huh? A charm?” The Silver-eyed child guessed, it looked so pretty, she didn’t know what it was for. But she was sooo going to keep it.

“I thought they'd make the phone look better… Well?” She knew they may not like them, Chloé knew she should’ve gotten the bigger charms, but Jean said these would be better.

“Anyway, it's not like they mean anything, they came with the phone” Marinette would have given a remark back to the girl, if she hadn’t noticed the charm on said girls own phone. She was trying but still didn’t know how to say it, she could see she cared though, otherwise, what would the point in getting all three identical charms?

“Thanks so much, Chlo, I’ve never had a charm before. Thanks!” The redhead hugged the other, the blonde already used to the affection at this point pat her head.

“Yes yes, now get off you’re ruining our clothes.” She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

‘Keep up the good work Chloé. I know you can do it.’ She placed her own charm on her phone.

A reminder that these were her friends.

And she was damn sure she would keep them.

***

How do you like it? I wanted to try and give Chloé a steady Redemption Arc but still with her in character, so it doesn’t seem too soon of a change for her, is this good or should she still be different about it. Also, I’m going to upload the picture separately since I think that might seem better and not as many tags.

Question, should I make some art posts for some ML characters? Like just a short story for any character you request. It will give me something to do and I can further develop a character for my story. Up to you, I just need to hone my drawing skills. I kinda forget stuff I’ve already written about, so I think I haven’t stated Rosina has a phone beside the first thing I posted but that one happens in the future.

Also is anyone interested in a final songfic? One last sone for that series to end, it would have Marinette sing the song that was on the piece of paper. Plus plenty of class salt.

Have a nice day.

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empressxmachina · 4 years ago

Link

Patients Zero - iii. by Imperial-Radiance

~Also on Wattpad~

*gasp* *cough*

Oh, good god. What? I thought I was— But, how am I—? Didn’t I get—? Wait, where am I?

Hard: I’m on something hard. Hard, flat, slick, and cold. My back hates this. I’m guessing it’s a floor. But I feel grooves, not just one that takes up my entire hand. It almost feels… made for me. Impossible. My eyes; they’re closed. It’s dark, behind and in front of the lids. Yet, there’s a glow: a… soft one? Not the blinding white from before? It’s cool, still, but not as much somehow. I wait for a voice to give me any sort of insight of where I am, and all I get back is just the gentle hum of a… a… Wait, is that a fan? No, is that a heater? Even on the hottest days outside in the real world – real because this is a fantasy, still, especially if I’m alive – it never went past room temperature. I… I’m boiling like I’m stuck in an oven.

Oh, my god. Am I being cooked in here? No, screw that. I’ll accept going out in plenty of ways in this diminutive state, but I will not go out as someone’s di—!

Well, this is… new? I finally lift my back up and open my eyes, and I’ve found myself lost… and in pain. Holy crap! Everything hurts! Ugh. But that’s the least of my worries. I’m alive, somehow, for some reason. But, why, and why here, wherever here is?

Am I crazy? This sure looks like a living room: not very different from my one at home. There’s a sofa, a table, and works of art that admittedly caught my vision immediately. I’ve liked to think that I’m not a leech for moving media, so not seeing a television or the like here is pleasing. There are dimly lit LEDs as large as me, a rug across the ground over there as large as me, and an actual fan even larger than me. Sure, it nearly takes up a whole wall like a fireplace would, but the latter would be unconventional. It’s blowing out heat, so it must switch between hot and cold. The only thing missing is a collection of literature of varying genres, but I doubt printing that small is even possible. Besides that, it’s like it was made for me.

But that’s just it. That’s fucking weird. It’s made for me, and how small am I now?

I must be going insane. This can’t be real. This room can’t possibly be mine—Oh. Oh shit.

That’s a kitchen over there behind me. A real kitchen – well, as real as it can be with its counters and cabinets. But it’s the actual cooking stuff that made it real: the primitive tools in the corner for refrigeration and cooking – some solar funnel/pot thing, I think – and the bruised yet familiar food scraps from my past life stacked in a triad of pyramids next to them. Wait, past life? I say that like it’s been forever since I was… ambushed… by someone big enough to make a place like this if they’re careful.

I’ve got to get out of here. But what is here? First things first, I should probably get my ass off the floor: this uncomfortably perfectly-sized floor.

O-Okay. Up and at it. The floor isn’t an ocean anymore. Appliances don’t have as much of a chance of killing me now. If I go this way, then I can sit at this table right here and contemplate all the dumb stuff I did to get here… wherever here is, not to mention there are enough chairs to fit a whole family or a group of housemates. Housemates. AmI alone here? Why am I here? Why do I keep asking myself these questions rather than just looking for the answer?

I’m irrational. This is irrational, but I must make the most of it. No, screw it, do I even have a choice? Well, with all these grabbable, sharp things around, I guess the answer’s technically a ‘yes.’ But. I’m not that depressed. I’m not. Not *sigh* that depressed. I’ve fought this long for others’ lives before and my own at this level, so why stop now? It’s not like I’m not used to being like this. It’s just this current situation that’s new… and heaven knows how much I love surprises… and rambling. Where was I? Oh, right.

If I go that way, now, then I can go to a surprise upstairs with who-knows-what… or who-knows-who. Would they really bunk me with someone else? I wasn’t one for strangers at full size, so how would they think I’d manage one on this scale!? They’re the ones that are short-sighted, not me. Ugh, I can’t wait to deal with that possibility. Though, maybe I don’t have to.

There’s the door. Huh.

I know I just got out of some stasis a moment ago, but it only just occurred to me that all the windows are covered and presumably closed. There seems to be no light peeking out of anywhere, either, so either it’s still nighttime, or I’m enclosed somewhere cut off from the world. No, the latter’s always going to be true here, now that I think about it. I don’t know where here is, but I do know it sure isn’t out there. There’s no use in not verifying it, though.

I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised how what should be a small door doesn’t have a lock. Yet, it has a hinge – two of them? Okay. Am I too dumb for not checking the windows? No, just crazy, but I knew that already. What’s crazier, though, is how I’m simultaneously right and wrong upon opening this door.

This is a small house, and this sure doesn’t look like a lab, a ward, and especially not that basement. To be honest, I kind of expected there to be grass or an equivalent on the ground here. Ground. I say that like this place containing me isn’t on a freaking table right now. Well, to be fair, they brought in real grass, plants, and stuff for the diorama dwellings, so I guess it’s not that weird. But those were for hundreds if not thousands of people on several stations. This is just me… and a house for me… on a table.

A table in what looks like a… a bedroom? I mean, I think I can make out the mountainous shapes of a bed, nightstands sandwiching it, and I think a dresser across from them, but it’s freaking dark in here. I’m surprised I can see that far away. Those LEDs boxed in my walls shouldn’t be able to reach that far, even if their brightness was somehow magnified through the cracks between windows and the door, yet here they are. Despite that, there’s no denying I’m in some resting place for some giant somewhere. Somewhere.

I could be freaking anywhere, but where?

I do know one thing: it’s damn fine that I don’t have a fear of heights. That helped me back there with the commons, so it’ll help me here, too. But, god, damn it, that drop is large. I bet it was intentional, along with my placement here. With the back edge cut off by the wall and the front sharply opening to this no man’s land of a room, I don’t have many options of escape.

I hear a heater running like a radiator under a window on one side of this table, and I’d rather not get burnt to cinders today. I could test my luck descending the curtains, but I don’t think I’m in proper form to climb or slide down. The opposite side is blocked by a chair in the corner. Falling onto a cushion might not be a bad idea. Maybe there’s a vent I can get through behind there. Hmm.

Screw it. I’d rather risk seeing my maker than wait for them to come to me. Chair, it is. It seems like the only way to go. But, should I take a leap of faith or weigh my options? Eh, watch with my luck, and this room’s patron comes back in and throws something atop of me – maybe even themselves. A smudge on somebody’s ass: that’s not legacy worthy. At least if I’m up here for some time, then I can probably make it back in the house and use it for even a smidgen of protection.

Hopefully.

Huh. Should I be bothered by how my steps aren’t clicking across this surface? I mean, they never did in the basement, but there were plenty of people around causing noise and whatever. Here, I’m alone… at least for now. That should be calming, shouldn’t it? Alas, as I continue forward, the curve of what-now-looks-like-an-accent-chair crests over the horizon and—

Oh, curse me.

So, I was right in being worried about possibly being suffocated to no end in colossal clothing. But, of all of them, did it have to be scrubs? I’m no color aficionado, but I do think that’s how that health-centric blue is supposed to look in this lighting—er, lack of light, I should say. Of course, they’re not just any scrubs, either. Any sensible physician would know to discard of their scrubs in at least a hamper to be washed after use or just use a new pair. These look like cast-offs like mad.

I’d put money down on them being his. That monster brought me here, didn’t here? Then, me being here would make sense: I’m where he lives or, at least, stays so he can watch me like some project.

Looking back at this rather extravagant house for a subspecies like me, who knows how much other preparation has been done since he acquired me? Is he why I’m hurt like this? Speaking of hurt, wasn’t I beeping before, and that led to all of this? It’s stopped now, and so was I, but is replacing it with pain much better? If I run away, then how do I know that the beeping won’t restart and lead to an even greater demise?

I’m curious, though, considering he could’ve ended me earlier while I was presumably incapacitated if that were his goal. But what if he may have plans for me, instead? What if he’s planning for me to run away, and that’s why he’s away, probably watching from afar? The basement had cameras whether they wanted us to know they were there or not, and I bet there’s some in here, too, with night vision, thermals, and all that other fancy gobbledygook. Ugh, it’s dark and distant in here, but damn it, I’m going to find one if it’s the last thing I—

Are you kidding me?

Do not tell me that’s been him this whole time. Him, and he’s that? Well, that’s poetic as hell, isn’t it? He was going to take me out beforeall this crap started. Now, he’s going to do me in here, instead, screwing me sideways and 1-upping me even more so.

In my visual pursuits of a camera, the last thing I expected to find was an I.D. To surprise me even more, I recognized the face on it. I remember my first time seeing it.

I was on a lunch break, just reading in my journals about Match Day – how it had been the largest amounts of matches in history or whatever – and then Doc Adams suddenly broke the fun and excitement, coming in with a list of our future interns. One of them was him. If it had been just a few years prior, then I would’ve been excited. After all, there’s nothing wrong with more doctors, right? But, Adams, the louse, has… had been trying to get me out of the doctoring game since.

It’s because he knows that I’d be better at his job than him, and the supervisors at the system H.Q. have been telling us both this. I can’t help that I love – loved– helping people directly so much to not replace it with a tedious desk job, even if it looks over pretty much everyone else in the hospital. Thus, his solution was to put more and more people in our ranks to dilute the focus away from me. It worked for a while until someone had a symptom that they didn’t know how to treat, but I did.

Despite my knowledge, this new guy was perfection, though, and from across the ocean, no less. I bet Adams creamed his pants at him on the list: this—What’s his name again? Oh, yeah: this ‘Mikul Merchant’ or whatever. I wonder how many bribes Adams had to make to get him. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? The first day for the interns would’ve been months ago, and the kid and I are both here, apparently, with him ruining my life just as much if not more so than he would’ve been without this wretched disease.

Though, if he was already on this continent way before then, then he must’ve been excited, too. After all, I’m sure his home country has its own center like this where he could’ve been. Why was he here, and how in the world did he turn out to be a carrier, too?

Upon registration, everyone is given I.D.s, but rather than having the random number sequences and barcodes the others get until they’re rendered useless by dwindling heights to where they can’t carry the damn thing, carriers’ listings are just ‘zeroes’ with a Q.R. code. I’m positive that’s how that self-deprecating squad of bugs found me and put their emotions out on and into me. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one here, so why would they charge me rather than someone like him? Well, besides his youth, foreignness, and relative handsomeness that may correlate with them, unlike me, he’s a carrier of and might as well be immune to both strains.

Curse this minute minutia. Curse my imperfections. But, most importantly, screw this—!

*CLICK* God, no.

Before I can even blink, a beam of light blinds me, revealing the previously dark side of the room and thus allowing me to see that this isn’t just a bedroom but more like a hotel room. A vanity adjacent to a closed closet appears. It’s spanning across the wall opposite me, this table and chair, that house of mine, and the window. How I didn’t see the reflection of this house in the mirror beforehand is beside me. But, no other reflection aside from my own hasn’t yet come into view, which makes me wonder if this is genuinely that giant’s room.

I know I used to come across my team’s scrubs in my office on occasion, so who’s to say that a lead person isn’t just keeping subject/’Doctor’ Merchant’s clothing with them for testing or safekeeping? Though, I don’t think that just throwing them across a chair shows its direct importance or proper sanitation practices. Or, maybe there’s another type of experiment going on. Perhaps it’s just dealing with me and what I do in this new location? Either way, that doesn’t answer whose room this is or why—

Never mind. There, he is. I’m here with him. I should stop doubting myself. No, this is the one time I should challenge anything and everything I’ve ever known.

Emerging from what I assume is a bathroom, a lanky, lean embodiment of a supposed human comes through. Supposed. Humans aren’t meant to be that large. It’s almost godly – the glow of his mostly bare, solely-pants-wearing, towel-draping-necked form – but I’m not glorifying a monster, checking his face and onyx hair over the sink and counter like he hasn’t done anything wrong. His auburn skin with no marks in sight is so nourished like he’s been able to bathe sensibly and get proper sunlight. There’s not one eye bag or wrinkle like he’s never had a single stressor in his life: the pampered, pompous prick. I’d almost say he’s prettier in person, but beasts are never pretty.

If you’re here, then you should be under all the stresses. Yet, here you are, flouncing around almost naked like you aren’t contracted with and spreading disease! If that’s the case, then why the hell am I here, trapped with you—!?

You… You… You’ve got to be kidding me. I mean, it was only a matter of time, but… don’t fucking dare.

Before I can even comprehend it, his almond gaze snaps on me like a locked crosshair in a gun’s sight. I try freezing in place, but I’m sure the vanity lights are making my eyes glow like a beady animal’s, so it’s all in vain. Aside from that, I didn’t think he had even noticed me at first, but then he had squinted his eyes and cocked his head like an inquisitive dog trying to hear. Just to test my luck, he even acknowledges me… or whatever he thinks I am if he doesn’t know for sure for some reason,

“H-Huh?” He sounds so soft, almost… Nope, I’m not going to say that. There’s no way he actually cares. I… I’m nothing in comparison. He’s taken out souls larger and smaller than me, so what difference would I make? “Is something there?” See? ‘Something.’

I’m a thing now.

I almost thought he’d salivate for his new toy, treat, or whatever I am to him. He’s already been a predator in public upon thousands of eyes. How much craftier will he be, all alone? I’m not going to wait to find out. Even if that’s what he’s expecting me to do, I don’t care. It’s fight-or-flight, and the former is definitely out of the question.

“W-Wait!”

Like hell, I’m doing that.

#g/t #my writing #patients zero #giant male #sm #male giant #medical fic #pandemics on my mind lmao

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wicked-game-black-butler · 5 years ago

Note

Tis' I, Mamma Bird on her Tumblr account. I lurked for a bit then decided that I would officially introduce myself by asking for 6, 7, and 17 of your author asks. Hope you are having a pleasant day, dear :).

Ahhh! Hello, darling Mamma Bird! *glomp* Thank you so much for the ask!

6. Another thing I’ve read recently that’s made me laugh is an adorable, silly couple moment between Sebastian and Ciel in @chromehoplite‘s Six-Thirteen. Here’s the quote and a link to the story below.

Sebastian pulled back and smiled slyly. “Didn’t you say you were hungry?”

He had… at school. Now, he was hungry for something else. His stomach rumbled in protest before he could even voice his desires.

Sebastian feigned ignorance, cocking his head. He sat Ciel on the lowest branch of the tree and pushed him back so that he was lying flat upon it. The omega’s pulse raced when Sebastian pulled up his dress shirt, but then slowed immediately as the demon’s ear made contact with his abdomen, speaking to it in mock condescension. “What was that belly? I didn’t hear you correctly. Can you say it again, louder this time?”

More gurgling, a glug-glug, and a series of angry grumblings issued from Ciel’s body.

“Ahh, I see…” the incubus replied, tracing his finger teasingly around the boy’s belly button. His voice held all the interest of an archaeologist having been told the secret location of the Holy Grail (which incidentally, the demon already knew). Ciel’s belly spoke once again, and he nodded his head in fervent agreement, “You don’t say… I wasn’t aware; how scandalous!”

Ciel pushed futility against the incubus’ head. “Cut it out.”

Sebastian ignored him and pressed on. “I’m sorry, that’s not on the menu right this moment. Mhmm… Uh huh…. Yes, I understand, but unfortunately it’s attached to me.” Sebastian gave the belly a soft kiss and came up, looking positively abashed. “Precious, I don’t mean to alarm you, but your stomach is every inch the pervert you are.”

I love little silly couple moments like this in fiction, especially since they’re not seen very often, not only in fanfiction, but original fiction as well. But silliness, stupid inside jokes, and joking behavior like this shows the depth and intimacy of a relationship and it just tickles my little Hufflepuff heart.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655840/chapters/33858567

7. Oh, it was a character death in @jennamoreci‘s book, The Savior’s Champion. I won’t give too many details away because I don’t want to post any spoilers (because I highly, highly recommend reading it!), but said character ends up sacrificing themselves for Tobias and I was in tears. One of the biggest sob fests I’ve had because of something I read had to be Erwin’s death in Attack on Titan. I was sobbing, like ugly, couldn’t read because the screen was too blurred by my tears, left hiccuping mournfully afterward, sobbing. I honestly haven’t watched the second part of season three yet because I’m not ready to see that.

17. In all honesty, I come up with far too many fanfiction ideas than is good for me. To help me not to overtax my creative energy, most of the ideas that I entertain are typically one-shot style in nature, just so I can focus most of my creative energy on Wicked Game (I don’t do well when I have my creativity stretched all over the place...I get burnt out too easily, then). But here’s a few ideas (both longer fic and one shot) that I’ve been tempted to write...

An EomerxOC Lord of the Rings fic where the OC is the sister of one of the Rohirrim and, through her brother and her father’s military posting, she gets introduced to Eomer and they end up falling in love. But they’re not able to be together because, through a series of events, she ends up being betrothed to and married to Theodred. As Saruman’s hold on Theoden and Rohan increases, Theodred and the OC’s relationship would take a dark/abusive turn until he is killed. Then Eomer and the OC have to work through their mutual trauma and grief before they can be together. If I ever get around to writing it, this story would be filled to the brim with angst and mutual pining and all the pain of a slow burn.

A Steve RogersxOC fic where the OC had a chronic illness and lives in the same apartment building as the Captain when he first comes out of the ice. They end up bumping into each other by accident, one that the OC pays him back for, and they end up striking up a friendship. And through him helping her through her illness and her providing him a sense of normalcy (amongst other things), it ends up becoming something more.

A short BardxReader fic (probably only three or four chapters at most) where the reader works at a bakery in the village near the Phantomhive manor. Bard happens to pop in one day and, through a conversation with the reader, reveals that he has difficulty cooking, so she volunteers to help tutor him whenever he has the time to come to the village. An attraction quickly forms which eventually leads to a romantic/sexual relationship between the two.

A short WolframxReader fic (probably only two to three chapters at most) where the reader German and is an assistant to Nina. She accompanies Nina to the Phantomhive manor to assist with Sieglinde’s measuring for her new clothes and she ends up bumping into Wolfram, who quickly takes interest in the reader and they strike an unlikely friendship because of his awkward English speaking abilities. This would probably be the fluffiest of the fics I would write because of Wolfram’s cute, bumbling nature when he’s out of his element (which is insanely endearing). Eventually, after him finally working up the courage to ask the reader to teach him English, things end up progressing between the two and their friendship becomes something more as well

A modern AU, reader insert one shot with Sebastian where the reader has had a hell of a week and has gone to a local club to blow off some steam. She quickly decides it was a bad idea, until she gets hit on by a devilishly handsome gent who approaches her at the bar. At first she tells him off, because she thinks he’s just like the other men who have hit on her that night, but Sebastian challenges her to dance with him and just see where the night takes them, she can leave him at any point. One thing leads to another and they end up back at the reader’s apartment where some intensely steamy lecherous activity takes place. The one shot ends with the reader waking up and finding a note Sebastian left thanking her for a memorable evening and his number should she ever desire to do so again.

Those are just a few, lol. I have plenty more that I’ve thought of, but we’d be here all day if I listed them all. But if there’s any that I’ve listed that people would be interested in reading, I would be willing to write one of them to help give my brain some work outside of the Wicked Game story line. ^_^

Once again, thank you for this ask! And thank you for your support of my writing. I love reading your reviews (I’ll get to answering your review for chapter 25 after I get off work) because you have such a detailed way at looking at my writing and I love seeing what you pick out. So, thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you’re having a good day, too!

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ijustwant2write · 5 years ago

Text

A Magic Bond-Merlin x Magic!Reader

(GIF credit to @magnificentwardrobe and @dean-just-kiss-cas-already)

Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Summary: ‘Can you please write something about a powerful and kind magic user falling in love with Merlin and he loves her back but they can't be together because she's royalty and he'd not?’

Characters: Merlin x Magic!Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name (Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, arguing, sadness, heartbreak, anger

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taking my brothers hand, I smiled at him as he helped me out of the carriage, picking up my skirts as to not trip over in front of everyone. My brother and I approached the steps of the castle, King Arthur and his Queen, Guinevere waiting with their knights and staff to welcome us. As we began with the courteous greetings, I felt eyes on me, and it wasn’t just one pair. Brushing it off, I stood back as my brother spoke, glancing back at my own knights and staff, hoping that they remained in order.

“Your majesties,” he started,“thank you for welcoming us into your kingdom once again. I look forward to spending time in this beautiful landscape, as well as with yourselves.”

“Thank you, that is very kind.” King Arthur bowed his head slightly.

I curtsied.“My brother tells the truth. It has not surprised us that our alliance has become as strong as it has, it seems that both kingdoms are extremely happy and at peace.”

“And hopefully we shall grow even stronger with you by our side. Please, let us get you settled in.”

We followed them inside as our belongings were collected, the servants working hard under the pleasant sun that shone on us that day. We made easy small talk as they guided us through the halls, coming to stop by my allocated room first.

“This is where you’ll be staying. Your brother shall only be around the hall. If you are ever in need of any assistance, ask any of our servants or handmaids.” Guinevere smiled.

“Also my manservant, Merlin.” Arthur gestured to the man who had been close by.“He’ll be happy to help, won’t you Merlin?”

Merlin politely smiled.“Yes sire.”

“Thank you Merlin.” I said before entering the room.

How could they not see it? How could they not see our sneaky glances to each other? Arthur may have thought that Merlin was invisible to others, but I could never forget him. It had been torture without him by my side, and even worse when we couldn't speak. What with both of us having magic, we had searched for ways to communicate, but some techniques seemed dangerous, meaning we remained silent for most part. Letters were sent, but Merlin was a servant, how was he to answer?

It felt like there was an itch in me as I awaited to see him again, I was desperate to be in his arms again. Only one other person knew of this, Gaius, and he only knew because Merlin was awful at keeping secrets around him. His excuses for sneaking away needed to get more creative.

"You have done plenty for me Missy," I said to my handmaid as she hanged the last dress in the wardrobe,"please go rest in your quarters before the feast tonight."

She curtsied, thanking me before leaving. Just as I suspected, not long after Missy left, there was a knock at my door. I called for them, an enormous grin emerging as Merlin slithered into the room. We had a moment of serenity, a split second of stillness before rushing into each other's arms. Laughter spilled from us, the impatience of us both finally gone. Crashing our lips together, I squealed into it as he lifted me off my feet slightly.

I was breathless when we pulled away."I don't think I can go that long without you again."

"Neither can I."

"How are you? You haven't been on any other death defying quests have you?"

"Well..."

"Merlin, you promised!"

"I did not! And how would I keep to that promise when it's my destiny to protect Arthur?"

"This is why I hate not speaking for so long. I never know what's happening here."

"And I never know what's happening to you. How has you magic been?"

"It's got stronger as I've been training. I'm more in control than before, and I've also been studying the old books for new spells too. Actually, I think we may have a new way of speaking to one another."

"Not through our minds right?"

"Yes! I think I'm ready now!"

"But what if it doesn't work?"

"But what if it does?"

We were interrupted as my brother called out for me, breaking apart just in time as he let himself in.

"Sorry for the interruption."

"That's alright. Merlin was just checking on me." I covered up.

"Oh, well I think we are both fine with the arrangements, right (Y/N)?"

I nodded, dismissing Merlin. George really knew how to choose his moments. And I knew what was coming next. The God awful lecture that always came when we visited others; how I should conceal my magic, keep my emotions in check, no messing around. It irritated me to no end, he wasn't the one with powers, he didn't know what it was like. However, I couldn't snap at him, he only meant it out of kindness, he was my brother, my only close family left.

We had cousins and aunts and uncles, but they were far away. It had been George and I for a long time, and unfortunately there had not been much guidance on how to deal with my magic for him. My parents had possessed magic too, though for some reason it had skipped my brother. I think at first it had bothered him slightly, the fact that I was able to do all these amazing things and he wasn't, and also a lot of the attention was on me as my aunt's and uncles trained me. Though over time he grew wise, he realised that magic was something everyone needed to embrace, something that would come with much time and persuasion of the people. And we were slowly working towards a future where magic would be welcomed into everyday life.

I tried to keep my eyes to myself throughout the lavish meal. Merlin was right there, inches away from me, even serving the drinks; he leaned over me, his breath radiating off my ear, sending shivers down my spine. This wasn't fair. Arthur had married Guinevere, surely I could be with Merlin in the future, especially since we both had similar powers.

George nudged me, a warning look flashed on his face. I shrugged at him, wondering what I had done wrong (and besides, innocent flirting wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?), taking a sip of my wine. He subtly rolled his eyes at me, a fake smile plastered on his face. But I saw right through it, and he wasn't just annoyed with me, there was something else going on. He had been hard to conversate with, he was putting on a front to the others. I wouldn't ask him about it now, it wasn't the right time, and I knew he would lie anyway.

Later on my brother excused himself from the table, wading through the crowds to exit the room. Anyone not paying attention wouldn't have even noticed, assuming he was being polite and engaging in conversation; they would be wrong, and I knew this was the time to go after him. Fortunately I had not been pulled into any conversations, slipping out of the room and looking down the hallways for George. However, as I was about to venture off, someone gently grabbed my hand, only slightly alarming me.

"Merlin, what are you doing out here? Won't Arthur need you?" I whispered, though there was no one here.

"I can slip away for a while, he's got other servants to use." He was already guiding me down the hall, to where I didn't know.

"Merlin what if someone sees us?" I giggled, completely forgetting why I came out in the first place.

"Since when did you care?"

"I...oh, come on, let's go."

We rushed through the castle, lucky that there weren't any servants around (all of them being at the feast) and hiding from the guards. I didn't feel like a princess, I just felt like a young girl in love. We made it out of the castle, escaping to the edge of the forest, panting as we ran. The sun was just setting, giving us our last hour of light; I knew that we wouldn't even have that long together.

"What are we going to do Merlin?" I sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"My brother, my kingdom, I don't think they would accept this."

"Accept us?"

"Yes. And although I don't care what they say, I have a reputation to uphold, it could push my brother and I out of the monarchy."

"I-I understand-"

"Which is why I'm giving up my title."

"W-what?!"

"I don't want to rule if you're not there beside me."

"But what would you kingdom think?"

"My brother would still rule. And he'll easily find a wife, he has many suitors lined up-"

"Where would we go? You realise that I have to stay here for Arthur-"

"But what if your destiny is fulfilled? Arthur is king now-"

"(Y/N), I won't let you give up your title-

"Merlin, I won't become queen, my brother shall be king for a long time. Besides, isn't there something I could do with my magic? If I rule and people don't accept it, I'll be burnt at the stake."

"But what if they did?"

"Merlin, I'd rather be living in rags, in the countryside with you where I can use my magic freely."

He could only stare at me, a sadness filled his eyes. He pulled me into his embrace, not saying anything more. I meant what I said. My brother wouldn't want it, my peers wouldn't want it, but I did. It sounded crazy, it was almost impossible, and I was willing to take that risk for him.

"I mean it Merlin, I'll work everyday in the fields for us to eat, make friends with our neighbours, see your clothes."

He chuckled."You've never done a days work in your life."

"I can learn. Plus, I'll have magic to help."

"Magic isn't something to play around with."

I looked up at him."You sound like Gaius."

"(Y/N)!" George angrily yelled.

Merlin and I jumped apart, our eyes widening as we saw him and two of our guards marching towards us. How did they know we were here? And how on Earth was I supposed to explain this? He harshly yanked me by my upper arm away from Merlin, standing in front of me. Merlin was smart enough not to retaliate, especially now that the guards had restrained him.

"What do you think you're doing?! Let go of me!" I snapped at George, struggling against him.

"Me?! What about you?! Our guards inform me that my sister has been sneaking around with a servsnt boy, and out of the castle!"

"I'm am not doing this in front of them!" I pointed to the guards.

"Well they won't be here for long. Take him away, explain to the king why we must lick him up."

I glared at my brother before sticking my arm out towards them. Casting a spell to make them forget, they blinked a few times before I thrusted my arm out again, sending them flying back; they were knocked unconscious, lying still on the ground. My brother finally let me go, I rushed in front of Merlin, even though he was more than capable of protecting himself.

"This isn't some one time thing, or puppy love. Merlin and I are serious about this."

"Did he know about your powers, or have you just found out?" George sneered.

"He knew. I told him because I trust him."

"What if he's telling the king? What if he's telling secrets to him to take us down?"

Merlin spoke up."I haven't and I would never do that. Also, Arthur values your friendship, he would never want to overthrow you."

"You two could never be together, he's a servant-"

"I think you're forgetting the queen was a servant too." I interrupted."But Arthur loved her."

"And you're saying this is love?"

"Yes. I love him, George, I love him deeply."

"And I love her." Merlin confidently said, melting my heart.

George hesitated to speak, his eyes flickering between us."Well I'm sorry, but there's already a suitor waiting for you back home."

"What?! George, how could you?! You promised me-"

"I did that to stop your nagging! We need this alliance to save our kingdom!"

"Save our kingdom? What are you on about?"

He lowered his voice."The prophecy, I think it's starting to come true."

"What prophecy?" Merlin asked, carefully walking closer to us.

"It's noth-"

"There was a propechy that one day I would marry a powerful being to save our kingdom. We assumed it would be someone possessing magic."

"We don't know that. What if it does mean this suitor I have for you?"

"But what if it doesn't?"

"(Y/N), stop arguing. This is happening."

"No, I won't let it happen. I renounce my title."

"The council won't let you, neither will the Druids, you know that they need you."

The Druids. I had forgot about them. They were desperate to find a safe haven, somewhere they wouldn't be hunted. It was part of the prophecy to help others with magic or alike to be at peace with everyone else in the world. Those poor families, those innocent children.

"(Y/N)," Merlin turned me around to face him, his voice quiet,"we both have destinys to fulfill. And yours is extremely important, especially if you're helping people to be who they really are."

"But....but what about us? Why do I have to give up something I love in order to do this?"

"Because those are the rules. I mean, could you imagine Arthur's face if I was to marry you?"

His attempt to cheer me up didn't work.

"Merlin, you know this means-"

"We don't need to say anything. I know you'll be amazing, you'll be one of the first kingdoms to reintroduce magic as part of everyday life. And then you can be yourself, and show off your beautiful magic."

"And then you can come to our kingdom, and...and-"

Before I could start rambling, extend our time together, he cupped my face in his hands, leaning down to kiss me. I indulged in this, memorizing how he felt, how gentle he was, how much I loved him. I wanted to do what was best for our kingdom (despite wanting to renounce my title, though I knew George would handle it fine by himself), however a future without Merlin was dark, I hadn't thought of it without him in a long time.

"We need to go back, they'll be wondering where we are." George said as Merlin and I parted.

It was if time had slowed down when we walked away from each other. I held onto his hand as long as I could, grasping at his fingertips until we were no longer connected. My head whipped around to look where I was going, silently crying as the distance grew between us. George and I said nothing as we trudged back to the castle, I could feel the anger building up inside. It took everything in me to not cast some spell to throw him away from me, or at least trip him up.

"George, please don't tell Arthur of this." I pleaded."Merlin deserves this job, he is so hard working and one of Arthur's most trusted servants."

"I won't." was all he said.

"I want to go home."

Silence.

"George, I want to go home!"

Still nothing.

We were now back in the castle, approaching the doors that led back to the feast. Loud chatter, laughter and music was bursting out of it, even though it was closed off from us."I can't go back in there." I croaked.

"You have to." George wasn't in the mood for messing around. Not that I cared.

"Just say I felt sick. Something didn't agree with my stomach."

"No, you're coming back in."

I defied him, already walking away.

"(Y/N), get back here!"

"You're already controlling the rest of my life, let me have one last decision."

I didn't care who was around when I slammed the door. My knees buckled beneath me, something that had never happened before, but I couldn't help collapsing into a heap on the floor. I tugged off my jewellery, annoyed by the heaviness and any sound it made, as well as flinging my shoes off; if I could have ripped that dress off there and then, I would have, but the corset was far too tight to do so. Curling into a ball, I sobbed as I laid on the floor, the cold slabs cooling my hot body.

This heartbreak was too much to bear. We were here for another four days, associating with the king and queen, meaning Merlin would be there every step of the way. How could my brother so this to me? He hadn't even consulted me! I would never tell of Merlin's magic to George, that wasn't fair of me. Merlin has a huge secret to keep, and if it ever got out, it would mean the end for him. What if the prophecy had meant Merlin? What if we were to be together? I had faith in it, it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart anymore than I already had.

Merlin and I were powerful, two powerful beings that would change the world. My brother had no power over us. This was a minor setback, an obstacle to overcome that would prove that we were meant for each other; and I was determined to bring him back to me.

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