#but god forbid you ever seek her out and APOLOGIZE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

addictedtostorytelling · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, it's me back again with more inconsequential asks. This is a bit long this time, I apologize.

First of all, the real CSI question: you've probably touched upon this subject before, but do you think Sara's reluctance to deal with her mental health issues, both pre-Natalie and post could be a reflection of her fears regarding her family's history of mental illness? I mean part of it is the cop-don't-wanna-deal-with-ptsd trope which we see with Nick too for example, but particularly in Sara's case it might also be a fear on her part that she knows her mental health is spirilling out of control, and even though it isn't the same, and logically she knows it, there's like a part of her that thinks that if she recognizes she's not okay, somehow, that makes her a bit like her mother. Does that make sense?

Secondly, not really a CSI question but related, is it expensive to get your driver's license in the US? Because Sara apparently got hers the exact day she turned 16 (according to a prop but whatever) and I don't imagine she had a ton of money in her name at that time. It's not important to her character at all, just thought I could come up with some fun headcanons for that one.

Okay, finally just a short question: do you only impart your wisdom on CSI or are you game for discussing other fandoms that you're in (based on your posts I'm guessing) like ER or AoS?

That's all, sorry for the long ask and I hope this won't take too much of your time.

PD: you got me into binge watching a league of their own and I am now a devoted fan.

hi, @its-a-geeks-world!

no need to apologize! i love talking shop. it's good to hear from you again. <3

also, i'm thrilled to know that you're enjoying aloto! it's such a great show. just absolutely *chef’s kiss*

i’ll take your questions in order after the “keep reading,” okay?

is sara's reluctance to seek treatment for her mental illness at all due to her fears regarding her family's history with mental illness?

sara’s reasons for not pursuing mental health treatment are manifold:

some of sara’s reluctance to treat her mental health issues is due to the fact that she fears “reopening old wounds.” her primary coping mechanism for dealing with her childhood traumas is to repress them, and by the time she is an adult, she has become fairly adept at “keeping everything tamped down.” as long as she doesn’t acknowledge her symptoms too much or (god forbid) actually delve into what her underlying issues really are, she is able to remain mostly functional, holding down a job, paying bills, maintaining her apartment, and generally keeping everything together, etc. she doesn’t want to ever “peel back the bandaid” too much, lest in so doing she reinjure herself and impair her functionality. in her mind, it’s better to limp around, experiencing dull pain all the time, than it is to risk being fully hobbled. she’s not going to poke at her problems when doing so might make them unlivable for her, you know?

meanwhile, some of sara's reluctance to treat her mental health issues is also due to the her professional anxieties about how it might potentially damage her career to be a law enforcement official who attended long-term counseling and/or was on medication for her mental illnesses. as talked about here, “while most police departments and crime labs allow for personnel to take prescribed antidepressants [and attend therapy] while performing their job duties, there is a prevalent stigma in law enforcement culture surrounding the use of such medications [and the attendance of therapy], meaning that sara might worry that if she were to take medications [or attend therapy] to treat her depression [and ptsd], her doing so might negatively affect her assignments, career advancement opportunities, and reputation within the department, were that information ever to become known by her coworkers and superiors.”

yet more of her reluctance to treat her mental health issues is due to her falling into the error of thinking that she doesn't actually need that kind of help because she occasionally experiences prolonged periods of upswing when she feels and functions better than what she’s typically used to. during s1-s9 we see this pattern play out with her multiple times: baby girl will start to spiral (like during her depression arcs of s4/s5 and s8/s9), but then just around the time she is about to hit rock bottom, she undergoes some kind of happy life change (like beginning her relationship with grissom in s5/s6 or getting married to him in s9/s10) that then leads to a short-term improvement in her mental health. when she is feeling happy and in love, it is easy for her to convince herself that she doesn’t need to pursue mental health treatments because, obviously, she is doing so well™. only when something inevitably happens to disrupt her stability (like her abduction by the miniature killer in s7/s8 or the divorce in s13) is she forced to confront her mental illness again; however, at these points, she is unlikely to seek treatment because her tendency when she is in distress is to recoil back into herself, shutting everyone and everything that could potentially help her out.

all of the above said, one of the biggest reasons why sara is reluctant to ever pursue treatment for her mental health issues is because, deep down, she fears that she is “unfixable.”

there are some hints on the show that sara has attended some therapy in the past, likely as a child, and the fact that she has and that it didn’t “cure her” back then contributes to her suspicion that no amount of talking about her problems is ever going to undo the damage that was done to her growing up in the environment that she did.

she fears that if she were to try to pursue treatment, eventually she would find that it was ineffective for her, at which point she would have confirmation that she, like her parents, was a hopeless case: destined to be miserable (and to make those around her miserable) for her entire life.

while by her mid-thirties, she knows it is unlikely that she will ever develop schizophrenia like her mother had, she does worry that she could turn out to be like her mother in other ways, particularly where it concerns her relationship with grissom.

as i talk about here,

[after her abduction by the miniature killer, sara] tries to tell herself to just snap out of it—she has made it out alive! she still has her job! she still has her friends! she still has grissom! and now she doesn’t even have to hide her relationship with him anymore!—but she can’t just snap out of it, and the fact that she can’t panics her, because if she can’t be happy now (with the dream career and the dream man and the found family and the support network and the high-end condo with a dog and 2.5 academic libraries’ worth of books inside), then how can she ever be?

is she destined to just feel shitty forever? is there no escaping her trauma?

this harrowing line of questioning leads to an even more harrowing question still:

what if she can’t deal?

she had been on the brink of a real breakdown before, back in ’04-’05, and had grissom not taken an interest in her mental state after she got pulled over for driving drunk, who knows where she might have ended up?

best case scenario: fired for coming into work loaded. worst case scenario: possibly in jail; possibly dead.

that was supposed to be her rock bottom.

but what if this time around she goes lower? what if she gets back to the place where she’s out-of-control again?

god knows grissom will try to save her—because he always tries to save the people he loves, especially when what they need saving from is themselves; because he’s always saved her before; because he’s her knight in shining armor; because that’s just the kind of person he is.

but maybe she can’t be saved.

maybe she’ll end up hurting him, not in the very literal way that her mother hurt her father, but in the sense that she’ll say or do something so horrible that it will break him. she has a tendency to act out when she’s hurting. (recall the cat lashing out with its claws when someone invades its recuperative hiding place.) she can make herself really repugnant sometimes. she wouldn’t necessarily intend to, but she might go for the “sucker punch to the feelings” on instinct. she might say something she couldn’t take back.

she doesn’t trust herself not to.

—but even if she were to keep herself in check, there’s also the possibility that she could hurt grissom in another way: by simply not being salvageable.

even if she never said or did anything actively horrible, what if he poured all of his love and devotion into fixing her, but she still didn’t get better? what if she never was able to be the person she was back in ’06-’07 again? she knows from personal experience how draining being a caretaker for someone with long-term debilitating mental illness can be and how much having to care for a loved one can alter the shape of your relationship with them, not necessarily for the better. she would hate to hold grissom back or deny him the kind of happiness he so fully deserves. she would hate to pull him down into the darkness with her. she remembers what happened between her mother and father, and the last thing she wants in the world is for her and grissom to go that same route.

so even beyond being conditioned to mask her pain due to her childhood experiences, sara also has this additional motivation to conceal how she’s feeling from grissom: namely, she doesn’t want him to feel guilty over her or to think that he has any kind of obligation to save her. she doesn’t want to make him party to her suffering.

she also secretly fears that for as wonderful, patient, and loving as grissom is, even he has his limits, meaning that he might eventually become disgusted by how “broken” she is and reject her. (her father got to the point where her mother disgusted him, after all.) if grissom were to leave her, she doesn’t think she could survive. she wouldn’t necessarily blame him, of course. but she would wither.

if she ever saw that love in his eyes go out, she might actually die.

deep down, she’s holding on to hope that maybe she’ll be able to turn things around before he actually realizes that anything is wrong—and that having a discussion about how she’s feeling will (consequently) become a moot point because she’ll just suddenly be “recovered” before her mental state even becomes an issue between them.

it’s very fitting that when sara writers her goodbye letter to grissom in episode 08x07 “goodbye & good luck,” she speaks of spending her “whole life with ghosts,” because she is very much haunted by the specter of the interminableness of her parents’ misery.

they never got better.

her father went to his grave a depressed, alcoholic abuser, and her mother will spend the rest of her life in long-term psychiatric care for schizophrenia.

while sara knows she doesn’t share their exact diagnoses (and that she would never behave in some of the extreme ways that they did), she also can’t help but fear that she, like them, will “never be free of it”—that there will always be some part of her that is irreparably broken.

to acknowledge that potential likeness between her and them is terrifying to her—the stuff of her nightmares.

so part of the reason why she avoids seeking treatment is because she doesn’t want that fear confirmed to her.

she doesn’t want it proven to her once and for all that she actually is “unfixable.”

she wouldn’t be able to bear it if she found out that she was.

so, yeah: the fear of being like her parents (and especially like her mother) is another major reason why sara never pursues any kind of long-term mental health treatment. she doesn’t want to have to confront the possibility that maybe due to her genetics and traumatic history, this struggle will be a lifelong thing for her, as it was for them. she’d rather just cross her fingers and hope that maybe someday her issues will all just work themselves out (never mind how miserable she might be in the meanwhile), because at least then she can cling to the notion that maybe she is not just like that™.

it’s not at all a rational behavior on her part, but it’s one that she comes by very honestly.

and certainly her fears concerning her possible “genetic destiny” play a role in the choices that she makes in this regard, as well.

how much does it cost to get your driver’s license in the us?

costs vary between states and are likely somewhat higher now than they would have been in 1987, when sara was sixteen, but generally they break down as follows:

there may be a one-time payment to take a driver’s education course either through one’s high school (which was a fairly common thing in the 80s) or through an accredited private driving school (which is more common now). costs for these courses vary but nowadays can range anywhere from about $20 to $200—though it’s worth noting that the costs likely would have been somewhat cheaper in the late 80s than they are at present. some driver’s education courses may alternatively make students “pay by the lesson,” especially for behind-the-wheel instruction.

typically, a student driver is required to pass a written test prior to being eligible to receive a learner’s permit. in california, one must be at least 15½ years-old in order to qualify for a permit.

there is then a one-time fee to apply for said permit, which nowadays in california costs about $33 (but which was likely cheaper back in 1987; i can’t find exact numbers, but i’m betting somewhere in the $15-$25 range).

in california, a student driver must have their learner’s permit for at least six months and turn sixteen years-old before they can get their license. they must also undergo at least six hours of behind-the-wheel instruction prior to taking their on-the-road driving test.

they must then pay another application fee—nowadays about $39 in california; again, likely somewhat cheaper in the 80s—to take their on-the-road driving test through the dmv. if the student fails their driving tests, they are allowed up to three retests, but each additional test costs $7, and after a third failure, their application will no longer be valid.

upon passing the test, they will be issued their license at no additional cost.

so all in all, in the 80s, i’m spit-balling that in total, it probably would have cost sara somewhere between $50 and $150 to go through the entire process of getting her license—which would have been a not insubstantial sum to someone in her situation.

i have some thoughts here about how she might’ve paid for this expense (plus others) during her teenage years, if you’re interested.

do i write meta for other fandoms aside from csi?

sure do!

while csi is the show i’m best versed-in and have written the most about by far, i’m down to talk shop about basically any show i regularly blog about.

of course, some shows i watch more casually, not putting a ton of thought into my viewership, so i can’t promise my level of analysis would be particularly high, but i’d love to have the conversation, nevertheless!

in the past, i have written some meta about both er and aos, which you can find here and here, if you’re interested. i’ve also got some hella old metas about lost here, as well.

just drop me an ask, should you ever want to discuss anything!

thanks for the questions! feel welcome to send others any time.

#answered #its a geeks world #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: sara #let's talk shop #csiverse

3 notes · View notes

coldflame96 · 4 years ago

Text

A Moment’s Peace

Summary: Hajime just wants to some peace and quiet so he can study for his entrance exam. His siblings are determined to make sure he doesn’t get it.

Rating: T (only for Hajime’s teenage boy mouth)

Also on AO3

Two in one day but I just wanted Hajime to suffer as the eldest sibling (solidarity!). It’s still Father’s Day so we also get some good dad Kyo.

Hajime wondered if moving in with Kinu would give him more peace than he ever got here. He just wanted to study for his entrance exams. But god forbid he ever gets a moment's quiet.

He heard the door open and pinched his nose in frustration.

He turned around and saw Kyoko standing in his door, panting. "Hide me, Haji-nii!"

He scoffed. "Why? And what have I told you about coming in here without knocking?"

"You have to hide me!" Of course she was ignoring him. "Kazu-nii’s gonna find me!"

"What, are you playing hide and seek?"

"Kyo-chan!" He heard their brother call from down the hall and the little girl squeaked in fear, jumping in his bed and burying herself under his covers. I just made that bed, dammit!

He was about to kick her out before his door opened again and his brother stormed in, looking mad as hell and holding...a broken model airplane. The one he’d gotten for his birthday. The expensive one. That must be why she's hiding. It took a lot to piss Kazuya off.

"Nii-san, have you seen Kyoko?" He demanded.

His eyes flicked over to his bed where their little sister somehow managed to blend in with his pillows.

"No,” he lied. “Now quit bugging me. I'm trying to study."

Kazuya huffed, muttering, "I can't believe her. When I find her she's dead."

He closed the door behind him a little too loud and it was once he heard the retreating footsteps he rolled his eyes and called out, "You can come out now."

He watched the small girl raise her head sheepishly, orange hair spilling over his blanket.

"Haji-nii, can I stay in here?"

"No."

"Why?" She whined.

"Because you're noisy and I'm trying to study."

"But if I leave, Kazu-nii’s gonna kill me. He said so himself!"

"Well, you shouldn't have broken his plane then. Stop being a baby and go apologize."

She pouted. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"Doesn't matter. You still broke it and it wasn't yours. Now go say you're sorry and stop bothering me."

She surprisingly did actually leave, though reluctantly, and it was once the door was closed and he waited a minute or so that he breathed a sigh of relief.

Maybe now he could-

The door slammed open again. “Haji-nii!” Kyoko cried. God dammit.

He slammed the pencil down. “What now?” he gritted.

“Kazu-nii hit me!” she sniffled.

“Well, yeah, you broke his plane. I would’ve hit you too.”

Her eyes practically inflated with tears and he had to force himself to look away and not cave. “But I did what you said!”

“That’s not my problem! Why are you even coming to me anyway? Where are Mom and Dad?”

“Mommy’s at work and Daddy’s in the yard.”

“Go harass him then!”

“Kyoko.” Speak of the man and he shall appear. His dad was standing in the doorway. “Why are you in here bothering your brother?” Kyoko immediately took her opportunity to run over and hug him.

“Daddy, Kazu-nii’s being mean to me!” she whined.

“Don’t fall for it, Dad!” Kazuya piped in from behind because of course he did. Why not just bring Mom here and have a whole party? It’s not like this exam was important or anything. “She broke my plane!”

“Kyoko, is that true?” he heard Dad ask.

There was a pause and then a sheepish, “Yeah.”

“You should apologize.”

“But I already did! And then he hit me!”

Why were they doing this in his room of all places? For fuck’s sake!

“Seriously?” he heard his dad say in an unimpressed tone. “She’s half your size.”

“She broke my plane.”

“Then you come to me about it, you don’t hit your little sister. Now say you’re sorry.”

Seriously, why the hell were they still in here? His pencil snapped in his hand and he could feel the veins popping.

“Sorry, Kyo-chan,” Kazuya muttered.

“Good. Now you.” Hajime assumed he was talking to Kyoko now but he didn’t care because he just wanted them to leave. “You apologize too.”

“But I already did!” she whined.

“You shouldn’t have gone in his room without-” he couldn’t fucking take this anymore.

“Can you guys get out?!” he burst out, turning to them, who almost looked shocked that he was even here which just pissed him off even more. “Geez, I have an exam in like 3 days and I can’t get anything done with you people coming in here and bothering me every five seconds!”

His dad and brother atleast had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.” Dad steered both of his siblings, who were glaring daggers at each other, out. “C’mon, let’s let your brother work.”

He tsked and sat back down with a huff.

Finally.

Maybe Dad could atleast keep those two busy for a while.

He stiffened when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. He turned slightly, the heat rushing to his face from the sudden affection and felt his dad rest his chin on the top of his head. How did I not hear him come back in? Dad’s face was unreadable but he almost looked...sad.

“Dad?” he questioned softly. “Are you okay?” He knew he had a temper. Did he go too far?

Dad kissed the top of his head like he did all the time when he was a kid and he blushed.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” he heard in his ear, and then the arms let go and the room felt a little chillier.

His dad smirked and ruffled his hair, and he batted the hands away in protest. “Don’t work too hard,” he said as he finally left the room

Hajime blinked in confusion when the door closed. That was weird. It wasn’t unusual for his dad to be affectionate or anything, but that particular instance felt...different, somehow.

He shook his head. Whatever. His family was weird.

But, he thought as he smiled to himself, I’m really gonna miss them.

#fruits basket #fruits basket another #hajime sohma #kyo sohma #kyoru

40 notes · View notes

hanawrites404 · 3 years ago

Text

Journey

@oc-growth-and-development

(trigger warning : smoking, mention of death)

Another day, another restorative morning, as if nothing else can motivate me enough to finally cut my laze and start the new day already.

I got off my bed and my eyes instinctively gazed out the window beside me at the wall. As usual, there wasn't much outside, just the same trees and lawns you would find in any other neighbourhood, yet I never seem to get tired of looking at them over and over every time I wake up. It was like a part of my everyday morning ritual which I definitely shouldn't miss, and honestly, I was fine with it. I was not the type of person to actively look for spices in my life after all, and even if I start to crave for it someday, I just wait for it to come to me.

Otherwise, everything just gotta be restful, that's all I want, to be honest.

The water was pleasantly chill to bathe in, too, and so was the dawn's sea breeze swishing through the balcony as soon as the curtains were tucked out and the windows were pulled open. If anything warm right now, it was the brisk sun and the brimming cup of steaming café au lait thawing my bare arms and fingers as I stepped out to lean onto the grill of my terrace. My feet were bare as well, touching the cool tiles beneath them as I felt the tingling sensation through my nerves.

I was still in my pyjamas, my hair up in a bun and it was still seven. Other than some elder citizens walking outside to get the minty air rushing and stray cats and dogs yawning and stretching, the scene in front of me was almost deserted.

It all felt quiet, but it wasn't prickly. The birds were still tweeting, the bulk of leaves rustled in a shimmer, and I could even hear my sigh as I blew the hot vapour from my cup, my lips slowly savouring the coffee bit by bit. It was very peaceful, I liked it.

But unfortunately, it wasn't real.

"미스......미스.....일어나 미스!"

I jolted up from the unfamiliar voice presumably calling out for me. So it was all a dream? I wasn't enjoying a utopian morning at my balcony back in Miami?? But it all felt so real....from the taste of coffee to the warmth I felt of the drink. So it was all my imagination? Wow huh....looks like the power of my mind is going to be a mystery to me for a while. I never knew that my brain could fool me into believing that I was relaxing at my home, and not dozing off in a Korean tourist bus.

"Ugghmm...Huh?" Still groggy from my sleep, I blinked twice before looking outside the window of the bus. By the look of it, I think we had come to the final stop. Before letting out anything else from my mouth, I silently turned my gaze onto the one who broke my slumber, namely the bus conductor.

He is looking right at me. Come on, say something....!!

"U-Ummm...." I stumbled, my index slowly moving to point at the complex the bus had stopped near at.

"역???" I cringed as I tried to pronounce the exotic word. Fuck. I didn't expect my voice to crack right in front of the bus conductor. And before anyone raises a question, no. I don't know Korean. I just happened to memorize only the important words I might need to communicate during my journey to Korea. But while I was still at home I felt pretty confident in myself, what happened to me now? It wasn't unusual of me, I am a human after all and I get nervous at times too. Yet it was.... surprising.

Hmm...it must be the anxiety of being in an alien country where everything is different from what I am aware of and what I have experienced so far. Different ambience, different language, and different people. Very strange and foreign, to be frank. But fresh and young, like a bite of a ripe green apple.

Nevertheless, the conductor just laughed at me and patted my shoulder very strongly. Ouch but Woah, now I could see why he was hired as the conductor. Strong arms, sharp eyes, along with a charm of his own to make people at ease. Even to a 'lost' newcomer like me.

"Yes yes! 역! Correct! Wanna come out??" With a grin twinkling on his bright face, he stepped away to let me through. I felt more relaxed than before as soon as I heard English from him, and it was pretty fluent too.

A small relieved smile broke on my lips too as I grab hold of my guitar case and my backpack and get up. My legs had gotten a bit numb inside my boots from not moving them much throughout the ride, and my jacket was almost off my shoulders.

"감사합니다" I quickly muttered before adjusting everything on me and stepping out of the bus. I didn't want to stammer again and, even if I wasn't in a hurry, I still wanted to make sure I reach where I was called to at an early hand.

"Have a safe journey!" The conductor waved at me, and I gladly turned around to return the gesture before entering the lobby. After I had made it inside, I left my belongings at a convenient place and went to the bathroom to fix my face and clothes.

I had been travelling for almost twenty hours; An eighteen-hour flight and a two-hour bus. It was back-to-back, and hardly I had the time to refresh myself properly and smoke a bit, but now was my chance to do so before I carry on to reach my destination.

With the help of the large mirror on the wall, I first removed my contact lenses and then washed my face and combed my hair. It had grown pretty long. But I wasn't planning on cutting them any sooner. I also dusted my jacket and jeans off and straightened my t-shirt inside.

After I was sure everything had been set, I put my lenses back on and vaguely looked around the room, and finding no one except me, I quickly stand near the ventilator above me and light my cigarette. What I was doing right now poses a threat to my health and is illegal, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine. I admit it shamelessly because why not. I have nothing to lose. We all are gonna die one day, so it's better we make the most of our lives and I was just doing that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just because I said I don't seek adventure vigorously, does not mean I don't have any thrill in my life at all. I do have it. Everyone has it. You just gotta make it interesting in your way, and that's how you gotta roll, champ.

Anyways, after a couple of puffs, I got disposed of the cigar and shooed off the smoke around me. It was only after everything seemed clear that I washed my life hands and dried them, then left the restroom and grabbed my luggage back before I started to stride again, to the reception counter.

After all the formalities were taken care of, I finally breathed the outside air of Korean afternoon. The sun was luminous and overhead, but the heat wasn't as severe as back in Miami. The number of clouds here are much more than there, or was it just for this particular day? I had no idea.

I am not a tourist here. I came here for a business trip, you can say. A man from here, a freelancing musical artist, had personally requested and invited me for a musical collaboration. The deal itself sounded quite intriguing, also with the fact that I'm half-Korean thanks to my father's lineage, yet ironically I have neither ever seen Korea with my own eyes nor I have witnessed its culture. Until today, that is.

So here I am now, strolling in the middle of the bustling city surrounded by college students touring around, laughing and talking with their classmates and munching on unique dishes and snacks I had never seen before. And while I was busy observing them, someone bumped into me, breaking my contact.

"Oh! 실례합니다!" It was a young blond guy, wearing a light blue hoodie with a couple of smiley badges pinned to his chest. He quickly bowed after apologizing and for briefly taking a glance at my face, hastily trots in the opposite direction. I eyed him, judging by his clothes and the books he was carrying in his arms, he looked like a college student. Hmm...no wonder why he was in a hurry. He must be late to class or something.

But anyway, I continued walking. That musical man had told me to wait near the back alley of a coffee shop that was close to the station. Hmm, that would be easy to locate. The coffee shop was right in front of me! Hah, how easy.

And so, without wasting any time, I ambled towards the cafè. It was a cute little shop, in my opinion. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bubbling creamy milk was evident in the atmosphere, and the colour scheme of the shop had pallettes of vanilla and caramel. It was like I had entered not a shop but inside a nestling coffee cup! Pretty cool, especially for someone who loves coffee like me.

Also, a bunch of customers were inside too. This place was not lonely at all. Some couples were on a date, singles who just want peace of mind with a complimentary cup of coffee, and business workers too! To be honest, I liked one of the employee's suits too. It was of a short brunette woman with glasses. She was kind of cute too. And by how she was still typing away rapidly on her phone even while on her break, tells how much of a busy woman she must be. Damn, God forbid that I ever be this much busy in my career.

Working even at breaks. Scary, in my opinion.

Needless to say, that wasn't why I was here for. The city was new to me so naturally, I would be curious, but business comes first in such a case. And in this case, it's my case. So bringing myself back to schedule, I leave to the back alley, waiting for that man so we could finally meet after talking through emails and phone calls.

But......what was that man's name again?

Ah....Zen.....

Hmm, weird name. But as someone who prefers to be called CJ than Catherine Joseph, I am no one to say so. Or even judge so.

Zen......I wonder what kind of person he would be in flesh. Same friendly and confident as the impression of him in my mind? Or just some different personality I never saw coming? Well, only time will tell that. But right now, we wait.

#catjose #mystic messenger oc #mystic messenger cmc #mystic messenger mc #mysme cmc #mysme oc #mysme mc #mysme #mystic messenger #cmc #oc-tober

6 notes · View notes

adenei · 4 years ago

Text

Rosa Hugonis

This fic was requested by @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass, based on her headcanon of the origin of Rose’s name. Her post can be found here (I reblogged it earlier today).

A/N: I have nothing against the names used in this fic!

*******************

Hermione had been nose deep in baby books from the moment they knew she was pregnant. Ron wasn’t surprised by this at all. He was sure that she’d always immerse herself in research about whatever topic she needed (or wanted) to learn more about.

Today, she was reading a baby naming book. They’d found out they were having a girl earlier that week and had proceeded to spend their evenings suggesting names for their soon to be bundle of joy. What Ron thought would be a fun game of finding the right fit, was quickly turning into a nightmare. Anything he suggested put a scowl on Hermione’s face, and he’d tried to let hers down gently.

“What about Helena?” she asked him. She had her finger on the page in front of her.

“Er- as in Ravenclaw?” Ron was trying to at least contemplate it. Before he could say anything else, she slammed the book shut.

“Why can’t you like anything I like for a name?” she shrieked at him.

“I could say the same thing for you!” He retorted. Oh fuck. Ron had been trying very hard to not lose his temper as much with her because the pregnancy hormones were unreal. Unfortunately in this moment, he hadn’t kept his cool.

“I’ve read through three separate baby name books! I’ve told you every single name I like, but you just keep shutting me down! It’s not like we have a lot of names that we have to rule out, Ron! Your family’s got mostly men. Aside from our nieces, we’ve got a wide range of names to choose from, but nothing seems to be good enough to you!”

“Really, Hermione? You’re really blaming this on me, right now? I’ve given plenty of suggestions, too, that you’ve shut down just as quickly. We’ve got four months still, there’s time! Hell, I know some people have waited for the baby to be born to officially decide on a name. It won’t be the end of the world if we choose to do that.”

Hermione let out a maniacal laugh. “Really? You expect me to wait until I’m exhausted from giving birth and then we’ll name our baby?! That’s ridiculous and you know it.”

“God forbid we not have everything planned out for once in our lives,” Ron grumbled.

“Of course we need a plan! If we don’t have a name now, we could end up with the most basic name. Honestly, what were you even thinking? Amelia? Halley? Madelyn? How boring can you get with names, Ron!”

“Those are perfectly fine names, and you know it. I don’t understand why you don’t like them!”

“I just told you why I don’t like them!”

“Well it’s not like we’re going to name our daughter some ridiculous name that nobody’s ever heard of!” Ron wasn’t thinking. He didn’t even realize he’d backhandedly insulted Hermione’s name. It took him a moment to register exactly what he’d said, but it was too late. “Hermione, I-”

“Go. I don’t want to be around you right now. And since I can’t apparate because I’m carrying your child, you can leave.” She gave him the deadliest look he’d ever seen.

Ron didn’t even try to apologize. He knew she needed to cool down, and so did he. So, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. He walked down the street, and without thinking about where he was going to go, apparated into the Granger’s backyard. His in-laws were visiting friends in Australia, so he knew he could seek solace in Jean’s prized rose garden until he felt as though Hermione would be ready to welcome him home.

He sat on one of the benches next to the yellow flowers. Man, he’d really fucked up this time. He’d basically called Hermione’s name awful, implying that no kid would want to grow up with a name so unique like that. It wasn’t true. Not at all. He loved her name, especially the uniqueness of it. And he especially loved that she’d finally succumbed to ‘Mione, the nickname he’d started to use shortly after they started dating.

If he was being honest with himself, he’d shot down every one of her suggestions because naming a child a big responsibility. Just as big as caring for and raising them. Their namesake would stay with them for their entire lives. He never quite understood how easy it had been for all his siblings to choose his niece’s and nephew’s names. Well, okay, maybe he had. George had named his son after Fred, Ginny and Harry named James for Harry’s dad and godfather, Percy had named Molly after their mum, and even Victoire’s name held significance to the war.

He didn’t regret himself and Hermione being the last in the family to have kids. Well, aside from Charlie, of course. Though, the dragons were his babies. Ron just wished there was an easier way to know that the name they’d chosen was right.

And then it hit him. He was staring right at it in Jean’s garden. Rosa Hugonis. Rose. Hadn’t Hermione mentioned that name? Yes! Yes, it was the first name she’d suggested. Ron was so giddy about the prospect of choosing from hundreds of names that he’d wanted to explore all their options before deciding on one, even though they both liked it.

How barmy of him! He should have agreed with her, then. But as per usual Ron and Hermione, they had to get in a ridiculous row over it, and then the answer had to smack him in the face when he least expected it. Ron stood up and carefully picked one of the delicate flowers off of the bush. He needed to get back to her.

With the flower in hand, he apparated back and all but ran to the house. He called for her when he walked in the door. She was in the living room, wiping tears away from her eyes.

“Hermione, love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” he said as he walked over and sat next to her on the sofa. “I figured it out. Well, er- you figured it out, really. It was the first name you suggested. Before we decided to throw around a few names that turned into what felt like a few hundred.” He handed her the delicate flower.

“Wh-what’s this? A-” Hermione looked up at him.

“Rose,” he said at the same time she did. “That’s it. That’s her name. You’d said it all along.” Ron put a hand on her small baby bump and kissed her.

“Rose,” she murmured as their lips broke apart. She looked down and placed her own hand on top of his. “Rose Weasley.” Hermione looked up at him. Her eyes welled with tears again, but this time a wide smile shone on her face. “It’s perfect.”

#ROMIONE #romione domestic fluff #baby rose weasley #tw: pregnancy

65 notes · View notes

clockworkgraystairs · 5 years ago

Text

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @aesthetics-11 @hizqueen4life @duarteegreenbriar @mysweetvilllain @judexcardanxgreenbriar @nite0wl29 @althekingshorses @thewickedkings @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @thesirenwashere @b00kworm @acourtofmoonlight @queen-of-glass @random-llama-socks @jurdanhell @cardan-greenbriar-tcp

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 [coming soon]

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation.

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier.

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too.

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted.

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late.

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing.

He called her. No answer. Again.

Had she forgotten?

Impossible, they met there twice a week.

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice?

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students.

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out.

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it.

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her.

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes.

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned. “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then?

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away.

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.”

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head.

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him.

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

Cardan shrugged. “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway.

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!”

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn?

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his.

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it.

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise.

Cardan just drove.

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting.

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over.

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way.

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place.

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him.

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?”

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.”

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.”

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair.

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare.

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen.

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down.

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?”

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks.

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.”

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn’t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too.

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her.

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after.

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.”

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused.

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago.

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him.

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling.

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks.

#i'm so so sorry it took me so long!!#BUT HERE IT IS #honestly i'm not that happy with it #but i'll try to make it better for chapter 3!!!#oh some good stuff coming there #jurdan #jurdan college au #college au #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #holly black #jurdan fanfic #tess writes

273 notes · View notes

earthendandinbetween · 4 years ago

Text

I’m so rusty at writing and also it’s 3 am so I dont know what kind of quality to expect here.

I wanted to write a lot of dialogue sooo I picked out the moment when Gong decided to talk to Kuwagattan before the ambush in pp2 in Calle’s timeline. Taken kind of in a middle part of the situation. I uhhhhhhh hope you like this very rusty ass writing.

“...Thank you, for agreeing to have a peaceful conversation,” Although his words were sincere, every word and movement felt….stilted. Performative.

General Gong shook his head slightly, watching carefully as the much larger dekapon took a step forwards. This, this didn’t feel right. They weren’t supposed to be on opposite sides like this, not at all. This--- The zigoton sighed inwardly. He felt responsible, of course he did. If he hadn’t died then none of this ever would’ve happened.

He came here for closure. That’s all. There’s no changing the past.

“Cut the formalities,” The voice of the akumapon general was jarring. It held so much familiarity to it and yet, there was such malice behind the tone. A venom to it that made him more of a stranger than before, “I’m not here to play nice. I’m merely humoring you before I tear those patapons apart.”

Of course. He couldn’t expect a politeness back. That was still a familiar facet to the other general, something he held even in the past. With the gleam off the green decals of his hammer, Gong gripped his own scythe a little tighter. He’d need to be quick. You cannot expect peace for very long, especially around an enemy.

“I understand,” More-so than he was going to state of course, “General erm...Kuwagattan. I merely wanted to ask a question.”

‘For my own sake’ was an addition he best felt left out of the equation.

It was almost difficult to judge Kuwagattan’s emotions, but there were very clear details he failed to hide away. A quirk of the brow as his expression changed to a more amused one. A glance to the side. He was thinking. But what about was much, much harder to gauge.

“A question?” The akumapon almost chuckled, a hint of annoyance still very clear, “You discover an ambush for your ally, cross enemy lines...All for a question? That’s...very you.”

He was taken aback by the statement. This was clearly bait to get under his skin, something he shouldn’t pay any mind to….And yet. The curiosity ate at him.

To Gong this wasn’t merely an enemy. He wouldn’t normally bother with such, unless he felt a truce or alternative could truly be made. This was unusual behavior of himself, thus it made the statement much more odd.

“What do you mean?” The general silently cursed himself for falling for it in the end. But, this was most likely the last time he would ever see the other. He wanted at least a few answers, even if brief or only half of the truth. Just to put this all to rest.

Kuwagattan’s eye further creased in amusement and he resisted the urge to glare, to react at all. Now wasn’t the time for petty fits or clashes. He’d learned well to remain patient.

“Heh. A Queen’s lapdog who instead of hunting down an enemy and cutting them down on-sight decides to commit to some useless honor code, who looks for some other solution in his plans before going to attack,” The akumapon’s pupil shrunk into a much smaller slit, voice half on the verge of laughter and half on rage, “Someone who learns of an ambush and instead of fighting back decides to pull--- whatever this is. Someone weak. Pathetic. Need I go on?”

“...It is not weak to seek a separate route,” Gong tried to loosen the vice-like grip on his scythe as he continued, “It is not pathetic to try to communicate with one who was once an ally.”

A resounding, yet dull thud echo’d in the crater momentarily. The zigoton stiffened, watching carefully as the other general had lowered his hammer, opting to lean against it. His expression had changed drastically. The anger and borderline hatred wasn’t concealed anymore. It was very clear that these statements were not welcome ones.

Gong wished he could blame him.

“So that’s what this is really about,” The utter venom that dripped from the low chuckle was enough to sting, enough to raise the guilt further, “You want to talk me out of what I’m doing. Bring me back and place me right back to where I was before.”

Gong took several steps back, eyeing the akumapon as he begun to circle, grumbling and increasing the grip on his weapon with every step and word as it dragged across the dirt.

“You want me to return to being Kharma’s pawn? That’s funny...Last I checked, I don’t answer to her anymore. So you can leave and tell your precious Queen that you failed. Again and again.”

There was something odd about the behavior. The hatred was very clear in his voice, but Gong could still pick up on something hidden underneath the tough facade. Hurt.

“This has nothing to do with her,” He kept his voice steady, calm, “I came here of my own will.”

“And why is that? You know we’re enemies. What are you gaining here? To try and make me feel bad for joining an army more powerful than yours? To make me regret embracing this form?”

“No.” The zigoton sighed heavily, “I’m not here to convince you to join me. I came here for a selfish reason, that much I can admit. I only wished---...To apologize. For all of this.”

The heavy footsteps that had been circling him paused. A look of confusion, hurt, and that ever venomous rage that seemed to dull at the words had taken over Kuwagattan’s features. This clearly, was something he had never been told before. At least, not like this. An apology was enough to stun him.

“...What?” his voice was much, much softer than the incredibly gruff voice he had taken before. One simple questioning word followed by an unnatural pause in the conversation.

“General Kuwagattan,” the zigoton steeled himself slightly, this whole ordeal had gotten so far out of his control, “I have made peace with Kharma. With General Spiderton. With the others who were still alive and had their souls unfairly taken. I feel--- although I know no matter what I did it would not have changed the pact--- I do feel responsible for not being able to stop it.”

Unnatural quiet. He expected a response, an interruption. Perhaps even an attack, but nothing came.

“...I am truly sorry, Beetleton.”

A moment of recognition in the other’s eye, an almost understanding look--- and then that moment of calm was gone, replaced with a furrowed brow, a shove of the hammer, a glare.

“Do not ever refer to me by that name,” Kuwagattan practically hissed, “That form of me is long gone, with all its weakness and mediocrity. That is not my name. You think that any of this matters? That I’m going to leave those pathetic cowards be? That-”

“Are you happy here?”

Another uncomfortable silence in the dark night of the crater hit. He felt like he was being dared to speak again by the utter taken aback look the other had given. Gong hadn’t meant to cut the other general off, but the question he had truly come to ask had been eating away the entire time. He needed to know.

“That’s it. That’s the question I had.”

“Wh...Why do---” the akumapon shook his head roughly, his voice lacking the bite it had much earlier in the conversation, “What kind of a stupid question is that?”

“...You are still a zigoton,” Gong replied, softer than intended, “Though we may be on different sides now, I still want to be sure that this--- This is truly what you want.”

“You’re a fool, Gong,” Came back the bitter response, though the venom seemed to be draining further with each word, sinking further into confusion, hurt, uncertainty, “This strength is all I have ever wanted, all I ever had. I owe it to Dark Hoshipon to show it off and gain revenge against those stupid circles.”

Strength. Always back to strength. The constant need to prove himself to somebody else. Being turned into a pawn yet again with no care to what happens afterwards. Gong forcefully held his tongue. Cursing his new leader could only result in a worse scuffle here. Gods forbid it turned into a full fight.

“I understand. You wished for strength, you gained such, and now you serve a new leader,” It only took a moment to think of his next words, “That. That does not answer my question, Kuwagattan.”

“What are you looking for, then? I gave you what you wanted. I’m glad to serve Dark Hoshipon in exchange for the power I’ve been given.”

“Tell me then. Is this what you believe in?”

There were clear cracks in the akumapon’s facade now, more and more of his true thoughts coming through as the conversation continued. This….wasn’t expected. However, Gong was willing to take advantage of the situation. Perhaps, prevent the general from dying once more. The quiet, almost shocked demeanor of Kuwagattan gave the zigoton another opportunity to speak.

“You do not wish to be a pawn again. Therefore it’s only fair to ask you. Do you want to fight for this? To destroy everything alongside that star? Is it what you truly believe in?”

“I-” The rage died off in the akumapon’s throat, replaced with a low, almost whimper-like sound of frustration and pain. He was breaking, “...What does it matter, anyways?”

“It matters because there’s a choice,” Gong kept his tone firm, “You do not have to be a pawn to another leader who wishes to achieve a goal with no worry for the consequences. You, Kuwagattan, can leave. You can find something you really believe in. Something worth that time.”

The hammer fell to the dirt, replaced with balled fists and a gaze that refused to meet his own.

“...If you’re so wise about all this,” the akumapon’s voice was more like a hoarse croak now, holding back appearing weaker, even for a moment, “Then, what is there to believe in?”

The question had taken him a moment to process. A vulnerable, honest sentence. Something sincere that wasn’t hidden behind pretending that he was better than such a fear.

“I cannot tell you what to believe in, or what to fight for,” the zigoton general dipped his head down, “That’s not for me to decide. If you choose to leave this charade behind, to abandon your leader, you can find out for yourself. There is a lot to fight for in this world, a lot to care about. That much I can promise you.”

Gong watched as Kuwagattan’s gaze led upwards to the night sky, something almost contemplative about it all. Something much, much more vulnerable. Very strange.

“A lot to fight for, huh?” There was a complete lack of rage, a complete 180 from the personality he had been clinging to before. This was so much more different. Calm, collected, “I’ve seen a lot of fights, but I don’t think I’ve ever believed in the cause. Not truly. This is all I have.”

“...It doesn’t have to be,” he held back the urge to offer the other a hand, “You can go at anytime, and find something better out there.”

“And if there’s nothing out there?”

“Then,” The zigoton leader cleared his throat, “Then you find me. You are still a zigoton general, a good warrior. I would be glad to help.”

“...I had considered running away before,” The much gentler tone was still deeply unusual. Had his words really worn away the akumapon this much? “It just never seemed to make sense.”

“It’s up to you. If you want to stay, or leave. It’s not weak to decide this isn’t worth fighting for.”

The eye contact was a wordless form of recognition. The fear of weakness. The confusion of it all.

“...I’m still going to face them,” Kuwagattan finally spoke up after a moment, “I feel like--- It will decide for me, that fight.”

Of course. The goal of the night was never to stop the attempted ambush. He couldn’t expect it all to be called off, to suddenly be allies, or friends. He just wanted this simple closure. To know his apology was heard, even if not accepted.

“I understand,” Gong gave a respectful bow, “Warriors are born to fight.”

“...You’re going to warn them.”

The statement took a moment to realize the context. The ambush. His discovery of it.

“Ah. Yes, of course. The patapons are an ally of the zigotons. It would be wrong not to warn them of the attack you had planned.”

“...I will prepare accordingly.”

“I am sure you will,” It was clear the conversation had gone as far as it could, with the end approaching quite quickly, “I shall be on my way.”

A grunt of acknowledgment signaled the general that it was over, his presence was no longer needed. He could only hope, with the strange, strange mind Kuwagattan had always been known for in the past, that perhaps his words had truly made an impact. A senseless death of one that he still saw as an equal...It would be unfortunate. The quiet chirping of insects were both welcome and strange after everything that had occurred as he stepped around the rocky terrain of the Babaran Crater. Had he done the right thing? Said the right words?

“General Gong?”

The gruff voice almost caught the zigoton off guard, causing him to jolt before turning slightly to look behind himself. The other held an almost ‘smile’ with his eye, a strange, almost understanding one. Quietly, Gong motioned for him to continue his words, a mixture of uncertainty and hope gripping him.

“...Perhaps we will meet again soon.”

And with the statement, Kuwagattan had disappeared off into the darkness opposite of himself, leaving the general to consider what he had meant alone.

It’s funny, how differently things play out compared to one’s thoughts. Meet again soon...

“I certainly hope so.”

#Rabbit At The Keyboard (ooc)#Writings (oneshots)#Wise General (Gong)#Stubborn Beetle (Kuwagattan)#(This was fun but I also hope my dyslexia didn't mess up too much of it + im so rusty at writing help

4 notes · View notes

lizzylunawizardessfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Changing History?

Pairing: Demeter!Klaus X Hades!Lizzy

Summary: It was very clear that there was a long history of generations of Demeters and Hades hating one another. being this generation's Hades, Lizzy wished to put the past to rest and try to befriend Demeter. Will her efforts pay off, will Klaus give Lizzy the chance to prove herself, or will the continuous loop keep repeating itself.

Warning: Angstish

“Shut in!”

“Control freak!”

“Troublemaking demon!”

“Oohh now we’re calling me a demon, real nice one you egotistical jerk!” Lizzy shouted her pastel blue hair floating in the hair and started to turn into blue flames. Letting out a sigh I could only standby and watch as Lizzy and my brother argued; I really wished he wouldn’t instigate her as I couldn’t help but feel bad for her, no matter how hard she tried to be nice whenever Klaus showed up he’d act coldly towards her. “Oh come now calm down you living candlestick,” I heard Klaus dryly say when instantly I heard Lizzy let out a small gasp. “Kl-Demeter that’s enough,” I quickly shouted as I had to remember to not use his mortal name as despite my attempts to put an end to the arguing I was ignored.

“I am NOT a living candlestick first of all! And calm down? Calm down?! You don’t get to come into my domain and tell ME to calm down when you’re the one who started this all,” she shouted as her hair started to fall back down going back to normal after a moment after taking a deep breath. “I’ve done nothing but try to be nice and to be civil yet every time you come here you’re just mean,” she continued letting out a huff before starting to walk over to me as I saw the fake smile taking form on her face. “Goodbye Lizzy,” I said, giving a small smile of my own hugging my friend as I felt her return it as well. “Goodbye Lias, please do take care. I shall see you again in six months,” she said while pulling away from the hug giving my arms a small squeeze before completely stepping away from me. “Persephone let's go,” I heard my brother say in a strict voice and when I walked forward to leave with him I couldn’t help but glance back once more but she was nowhere to be seen, just the falling of dead flower petals that almost resembled ash.

Once upon arrival back home in the world of the living it hasn’t been five minutes back and Klaus was already asking a million questions about if I was okay or if she tried to do anything. Letting out a frustrated sigh I dropped my shoulders letting out a quick “no, no, and no. Now will you stop asking please, the answer is the same as always.” He looked at me and pinched the bridge of his nose which I folded my arms over my chest and stared at him. “What, what’s that look for,” I heard him ask in which I took a deep breath as it was taking everything in me to finally speak my mind. “What you said back there was uncalled for, and quite honestly I’m mad you hurt her feelings,” I said getting to the point as this truly needed to stop, he needed to see he was in the wrong.

“Persephone the only thing that god feels is anger, she does not need your pity.”

“I’m not pitying her and that isn’t true, but then again what do you know? You haven’t even made an attempt to get to know her!”

“Pardon me, do not raise your voice to me!”

“You don’t get it Klaus! She’s my best friend and all she wants is to be able to get along with you and maybe even be your friend, yet here you are pushing her away before giving her the time of day,” I argued back letting out a huff.

~~~ Klaus’ POV ~~~

Blinking I looked at my younger brother in shock as he got loud with me as he certainly has never been like this before. Letting out a small scoff and to think he was standing up for the god of the Underworld, it didn’t matter how many Hades come and go; they will all be the same.

“Apologize.”

“Pardon me- what?’

“You’re going to go and apologize to her.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Fine then, I just won’t talk to you until you do so,” Elias said, turning around and starting to walk away from me. “Persephone,” I called his name, but he showed no sign of turning around. Letting out a small growl when I no longer saw him in sight, I couldn’t believe it's come to this. Standing there for a moment I finally gave in and created a portal to go speak with the god.

Arriving back into the gloomy and fiery surroundings I was approached by one of the denizens with a weapon in its hands. “State your business! You’ve already collected the goddess so what could you need from our queen,” it demanded in a questioning manner. “I’ve come… Seeking an audience with Hades,” I said pausing as I couldn’t believe I was doing this. “Follow me then,” the demon said after a brief pause, lowering its weapon and starting to lead the way which I silently followed. Walking through the castle I looked around as admittedly it looked a lot cleaner than how it looked when the last Hades was in control. Moments after walking we entered what looked to be the study room or a library. “The queen will be with you momentarily. Do not touch or break anything,” the demon announced before giving the warning and closing the doors after it left. Rolling my eyes I looked around and decided to examine a few things to kill time.

Over the large fireplace was the mural of Hades herself with her three headed hellhound, she had a soft smile yet it didn’t match the sad look in her eyes- no, no, I wasn’t going to be another fool falling for any tricks or lies. Walking around the room I stopped by the table that had a closed book that caught my attention. Leaning over I read the cover: The Hades tales: Lizette as on the spine of the book after I picked it up I noticed it had engraved 2019 -, so it was pretty much like the book I received when I started. Looking around to see if anyone was in the room I looked back down and opened it to read a little, this would be the best way to get insight on any evil plans she could be plotting.

Entry 4:

Another failed day of attempting to leave the Underworld; it’s official I’m stuck in this fire hole. Though now that I’m apparently a god, goddess? Eh whatever I am I cannot help but wonder about my mortal life; actually I couldn’t help but wonder if I’m here because I died. Not like I’m going to get any answers from anyone or anything for that matter. It’s going to take a while to get used to all of this and all of the duties, but hopefully things will go alright.

Rolling my eyes I continued to flip through a couple more pages till I stopped on another entry.

Entry 17:

I’ve finally managed to restore the garden! Even if many of the plants and flowers are dead or deadly they still deserve to be tended to like any other. Things haven’t been easy, but I’m grateful to the other gods who reside here that have pointed me in the right direction of what I should be doing. As I’ve become very proud of myself; I have declared that depending on the judgments of the souls that appear here that those who are deserving of a second chance will be reincarnated. Though I cannot control how they are reborn, at least they can watch over their loved ones to see them grow… It can only get me thinking of what will become of me when my time comes: will I get to be reborn into a new life or will I just disappear and cease to exist to be forgotten for an eternity with only the tales from this book be all that is left of me.

It was much to my surprise that I learned that she wasn’t keeping the souls condemned here, no wonder why it doesn’t feel as congested as it has in the past. My eyes softened at the words of how she questioned what happens after this life that not even I have really even thought of it that way. Peeking around there was still no sign of anyone in the room so I continued to read through. Then I came upon a more recent entry that looked very long.

Entry 60:

Truly I don’t know why I bother anymore, why do I continue to put the effort into befriending Demeter; I’ve easily given up on befriending the others who dislike me for the very same reason as his… Maybe because it’s simply because Demeter is Elias’ brother, but regardless it shouldn’t hurt so much every time he insults me and there are days where I can take it but even then I can only take so much. I fully understand I cannot change the history of what’s taken place, but that doesn’t mean it has to keep repeating itself right? To whoever reads this after-

“Oh what do I owe the return of the goddess of harvest,” I heard the familiar voice that disrupted my reading and quickly looked up to find where the god was to see her walking across the other side of the table. Before I could even speak I heard her say, “Oh don’t tell me, maybe you’ve come back to remind me just how much you despise me. Or maybe how you hope I rot in hell; oh wait I’m already doing so haha.” She had a straight face as the flat laugh at her own poor joke, the laughter that sounded nothing like the ones that I’d hear whenever she spoke to Elias. Clearing my throat I responded, “I never seek to be making returns here unless it’s for my brother, but no I haven’t returned to simply insult you… I’ve come to apologize.” Hearing that laugh from before I watched as she leaned against the wall and folded her arms with a raised eyebrow.

“You coming to apologize to me, surely it isn’t of your own accord... Let me guess, dear sweet Lias got angry with you and threatened you. To which of course god forbid you’re ever on his bad side that you’d pretty much do whatever to be in his good graces again,” she said pretty much hitting the mark. “Regardless if you are correct or not I’ve come to apologize and then be on my way,” I simply replied to which I saw her baby blue eyes roll. “Then don’t bother apologizing to me. Tell him whatever you wish, but I don’t want empty apologies. I’ve said my apologies and I’m tired of repeating myself so I won’t any more,” she outright told me as I blinked a couple of times not having expected that from her. “Whether you accept it or not I apologize for my… Rudeness,” I apologized for the sake of doing it though seeing her like this gave me an odd feeling.

I noticed her eyebrows knitting together as she was looking at me until I saw her making her way over to me. “Why do you have my book?! Give that to me,” she loudly asked before coming right up to me and snatching her book back and holding it close to her. Looking at her I think this was the first time we were ever this close and actually looking at her… Did she always look this pretty? “I thought reading it would give me insight to see if you were planning anything evil… But from the few I have read there was nothing sinister I could see. Forgive me for intruding into your personal book,” I said honestly before again apologizing though this time I was serious. She was silent with a pout on her face while looking me in the eyes, seeming to debate something mentally before soon enough a small sigh left her lips. Snapping myself out of whatever trance I felt myself slipping into I cleared my throat. “Yes well. Now that things have been settled… I shall be taking my leave,” I said excusing myself as with that I’ve used my powers to head back home.

~~~~~~

There were times when Persephone would grow bored and demand to go visit Hades; however it hasn't been six months yet, so I would take it upon myself to accompany my brother to make sure he would not stay too long. Of course I’d keep my distance, but watching the two interact slowly over time I came to see that their relationship was as my brother had said many times in the past, purely platonic. She certainly was a strange Hades as she never really behaved like one, but I wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Of course we still argued and fought as there were occasions I’d be forced to take part in the conversations the two would have; very much like the one they were having at this moment during tea.

“Again? To think Hercules would keep trying at this point,” I listened to my brother comment about her story from the other day. “You don’t think he could be in love with you,” was the next thing I heard my brother bring up only to hear Hades' laughter instantly afterwards. “Oh lord I hope not haha. Don’t get me wrong, when he isn’t trying to swing his blade at me Ted can be nice… He’s just not that bright,” she replied instantly before adding on “And besides let’s be honest; who is going to love me, of all gods romantically?” Letting that comment sink in I couldn’t help but feel this strange pit in my stomach.

“Well what about Rex? You’ve been telling me how you two were writing letters back and forth as of lately,” Elias brought up possibly trying to prove a point or something. Exactly knowing who my brother was talking about: the goddess of good counsel, Themis. Hades only seemed to shake her head in a no manner. “Or what about Vain? He comes to visit often no; surely a man with that kind of dedication to make time for you is bound to harbor feelings for you right,” Elias seemed adamant to prove her statement wrong. A name of a god I did not like; Kratos was a man I did not care for nor did I get along well with, but why did the possible thought of the brute being involved so closely to Hades bother me so much? It wasn’t like I myself harbored any feelings towards the lonely god... She simply shrugged her shoulders resting her chin into the palm of her hand.

“Yes he comes to visit when he pleases and brings the heads of his enemies as an ‘offering’ to give to me… But I really don’t think it has any more meaning behind it,” she said, shooting down that idea in a heartbeat. An exaggerated sigh came from Elias as he stood up from his seat before saying, “Lizzy there is someone for everyone, just because it isn’t now doesn’t mean that being doesn’t exist. Now pardon me I shall be right back.” With that my brother started to walk away from the table and exited the room with creaking doors closing behind him now just leaving just us.

A silence filled the room only hearing the soft crunch sound of Hades taking a bite of some fruit. Glancing over to her, her gaze was down at the plate I found myself carefully looking at her; how her pastel blue hair cascaded down off her shoulders like a waterfall, the way she delicately ate the slices of fruit. It was almost hard to believe this was the same god I was supposed to hate. Deciding to break the silence I softly cleared my throat and asked, “Do you really think no one would ever love you?” Watching as she picked up her head I noticed an eyebrow raise up when looking at me. “Why would it matter to you? Actually I’m surprised you haven’t agreed with me already and added how I’m just simply an unlovable god,” I listened to her say instead of actually answering my question while slouching in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. Internally I couldn’t help but wince, honestly hearing her say that so openly felt like a jab to the chest; however I guess that was my own fault for how I’ve mistreated her.

“Lizette list-” I began to talk trying to call her by her mortal name until she cut me off.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“I have no attachment to that name. Just because it’s written in my book doesn’t mean I have any memories of that name so it means nothing to me. And besides I didn’t think we were anywhere near a mortal name basis,” Lizzy proceeded to explain. I didn’t answer right away trying to find how to properly say what I wanted without sounding rude. “You’re right we weren’t… But I’ve been seeing what my brother has been trying to tell me, I realized I’ve hurt you a lot because I didn’t want to believe that a being could change how a god is supposed to be,” I started off with but didn’t stop there. “I know we fight because of me, because it was all I knew with how all the stories from past Demeters' I’ve read yet… Here you were trying to make that difference and I kept fighting it. I’m sorry Lizzy,” I finished talking and apologized in the end even if she didn’t accept it. After that things got a little bit easier, not perfect but better than the beginning.

~~~~~~

It was a new month as of course it was that time again where the god of thunder threw his monthly get together. “Are you ready,” I called out asking my younger brother as I hated going to these gatherings every single time as unfortunately Albert would never allow me to skip one, speaking of skipping I could only wonder if the ruler of the Underworld herself would be going. Hearing footsteps I saw Elias join me giving a nod of the head in a yes manner so with that I made our portal to Olympus. Greeted by the familiar surroundings already many of the gods and goddesses present greeted us while we made our way to the ballroom. Many were dancing or mingling, crowded as usual. “It seems that she isn’t here yet,” I heard Elias mutter under his breath as it was obvious that he was looking around for Lizzy. “Perhaps she decided to skip this month's party again,” I simply stated as that was one of the things I’ve envied about her; she managed to skip out on countless parties until the god of thunder himself goes to force her to come.

“Ah you made it, it’s so great to see the both of you,” the sound of the all too familiar cheerful voice was already making me feel slightly annoyed. Turning to where the voice was coming from and much to my surprise there Albert was with Lizzy right beside him, she didn’t look all too happy about being here; though then again I couldn’t blame her. Instantly Elias and her greeted each other with a hug as seeing her smile caused a small stir in my chest. There was a brief moment when our eyes met as I wasn’t completely sure how to react so I gave a small nod of my head along with a slight smile which she returned with an awkward one of her own. “Well as usual I hope you guys enjoy yourselves! If you pardon me Elias I’ll be borrowing her for a little bit,” Albert said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders bringing her to him. “Do I really need to dance, I thought making an appearance would have sufficed,” she asked while getting dragged away. “It won’t kill you to loosen up and dance once in a while Lizzy dear! Besides I’ve missed your company,” I could hear Albert say as soon enough disappeared into the crowd of gods and goddesses.

A small scoff came out as I felt myself slightly getting more irritated by Albert’s actions than normal. “Brother are you alright,” I heard Elias’ voice bring me back as I looked over to him. Giving a curt nod of my head I replied, “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” He seemed to give me a questioning look and seemed to shrug his shoulders lightly. “It just seemed like something was bothering you is all,” Elias said as I didn’t really do or say anything to his comment. After him excusing himself to go off to walk around I was left on my own finding myself to lean against one of the columns watching everyone dancing. That was when I got a glimpse of Albert and Lizzy dancing together and it only seemed to put me in even a worse mood seeing them together so close. Was this my punishment for how I poorly treated her in the past, was this to feel the pain that she’s felt herself; regardless it wasn’t pleasant. I tried to do everything I could to not feel anything for the ruler of the Underworld, yet here I was in love with her and it hurt. As the party progressed I found myself slightly drinking as I could only watch from the distance while Lizzy was currently chatting with Albert, Elias, and Rex as she looked like she was enjoying the conversation.

“So this is where you’ve been the whole time,” I heard the annoyingly cheerful voice of Hermes in my ear as I didn’t bother to look at him. “Not now Hermes I’m really not in the mood to really converse with anyone,” I stated wishing he’d simply go away. “Aw come now don’t be a party pooper! Oh are you watching your brother with Lizzy and them, Elias was telling me that you and Lizzy have been slowly getting along better,” He rambled on as I let out a sigh. It was when I noticed Kratos himself joining their group and greeted her with a hug, even going as far as kissing the top of her hand; nope I have had enough of watching this. Ditching my drink I simply started to walk over to them leaving Hermes on his own to his own rambling. As I drew closer I seemed to have caught the groups’ attention as Albert seemed to open his mouth. “Ah Klaus so you decided to join us! I was just about to go looking for you,” he said, wearing that usual happy smile that I hated, it always seemed so fake. I didn’t respond while I simply went up to Lizzy and grabbed her upper arm though making sure not to hurt her before starting to pull her away. “Come with me,” I said having mixed feelings as maybe having a few sips of that drink wasn’t a good idea. “Hey what are you doing?! Demeter what’s gotten into you,” I heard her asking while I just kept walking until we were alone out on one of the balconies.

Feeling the cool air against my warm face felt refreshing and helped me recollect myself a little. Feeling her arm rip out of my grasp I looked down at her as she had a confused yet stern look on her face. “Demeter what was that all about,” she questioned me, her arms now crossed.

~~~~~~

Back inside Elias was glancing over at Albert with a concerned look on his face. “Are you sure it was a good idea to take it that far,” Elias asked which Albert simply gave a small chuckle and gave the goddess of Spring a pat on the head. “Everything will work out one way or another. Besides, if he wasn’t given that push then what would have given him the drive to be honest with how he feels,” Albert said plainly as Vain showing up wasn’t a part of the god of thunder’s plans, but it seemed to help. Elias let out a small sigh before saying, “I sure hope so.”

~~~~~~

“Stop calling me Demeter,” I said instead of answering her question.

“Wait what? Then what do you want me to call you… Are you feeling alright?”

“I said stop calling me Demeter, I want you to call me Klaus,” I repeated myself but not stopping there. “Before you say anything I know- I know there was a time when I said I never would be on a mortal name basis with you, but I take that back.” She looked at me shocked with her baby blue eyes but after a moment they went back to normal. “If… That was all you wanted to say, that's fine but that didn’t call for you storming over and dragging me off like you did,” she replied. I felt my heart banging against my chest, taking a deep breath. I said, “But that isn’t all I have to say… I like you Lizzy, I’m in love with you.” All was silent except the winds blowing past and the faint sound of the music playing inside. “That isn’t funny,” I heard her say as now I was confused. “What,” I asked in return. “If- if this is some twisted sick joke of your’s it isn’t funny kay! Don’t go saying you love me if you don’t because I won’t be able to take it,” She explained as I could hear the cracking in her voice. “For the longest time I’ve been convincing myself to move on because I knew I never stood a chance, that you’d forever hate me because of who I am! So please- please don’t say you love me if it’s just a lie,” she continued as I felt my heart ache and sting as if pricked by needles; tears were falling down her face.

I walked up to her cupping her face in my hands to wipe her tears away. “I love you. I’m so sorry that I was so cruel to you, that for so long I just pushed you away and no amount of apologizing will make the things I’ve said go away… But I can only hope that you’d allow me to prove to you that I am serious,” I said, looking at her this close under the moonlight she was even more beautiful than usual. “Why now, what made you have a change of heart,” she asked, feeling her smaller hands overlap my own. “Because when I finally did take the moment to give you a chance I saw what a good person you were, you really aren’t like any of the Hades that came before you. For some time I kept my distance in fear of the possibility I grew attached; I’ve read past Persephones’ books and I found out their happiest days were with their Hades… And if I had to suppress my own feelings for the sake of my brother’s happiness I was willing to do so,” I said explaining myself as it felt good to get this all off my chest. “So… Will you give me a chance,” I asked patiently awaiting her response. A minute or two passed until she gave a small nod in a yes manner before I felt myself smiling with joy. Leaning down I pressed my lips to her soft ones; she slightly smelt of pears and honey. Pulling away I felt myself finally feel completely calm and relaxed which I felt her slim arms wrap around me completing the embrace.

“Could we stay out here a little while longer?”

“Hehe sure Klaus; I could use a break from being in there anyway.”

#god au #wizardess heart #fanfic #wizardess heart fanfic #lizzy luna #klaus goldstein #albert auburne #randy march #vain #rex blanc #ted #elias goldstein

9 notes · View notes

bottleofspilledink · 4 years ago

Text

God's Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter V

"Class dismissed."

The moment those words were spoken, the girls gathered their books and their bags, eager to leave and enjoy their two day holiday.

"And don't forget to read the book of leviticus over the weekend!" Sister Dolores followed up before leaving herself.

Unlike most other girls in her class, Eve didn't feel the need to rush. She wasn't reliant on the school bus. Her aunt had given her an adorable bike with a darling woven basket on the front, her name delicately written in cursive on a sign that hung from it.

She had to get home soon, however, for she would need to laundry her gym uniform to have it dried and pressed by Monday to accommodate the change in schedule.

The girl made her way to the bike rack near the school's gate, only occasionally slowing down to step on a crunchy looking leaf.

She had just stomped on another one, but instead of hearing the crackle of the leaf, all she heard was a very familiar laugh.

"Having fun?"

"Lilith!" She said, whipping her head up to look at the other, smile wide and cheeks flushed.

"Took you long enough," The girl said teasingly, grin just as wide as the other's, if just a bit more knowing, a bit more aware.

She hopped off of Eve's bike and began to unchain hers from the bars. "Lemme guess, you have Dolores as last period?"

"Yeah, sorry." The blonde couldn't help but notice how sweaty her hands shook as she undid the locks of her bike. "If I knew you were waiting, I would have hurried."

"Aw, really?"

"Yes, really." She plopped her bag into the front basket. "It's not polite to keep people waiting."

"Good point, but," Lilith got up from the ground, dusting off her skirt to shake the loose gravel out of it, "am I not also being rude for showing up announced?"

"Okay, but what's the point in being rude to someone even if they were rude to you first?"

The other chuckled, loud and musical and magnificent. Eve couldn't pry her eyes away from her if it meant salvation itself.

"Well, even if it was rude, I'd still wait. At least, for you I would."

Those words reached into Eve, stealing the breath from her lungs and taking the ever-present fear in her mind along with it, leaving only hellfire in her heart and her cheeks.

"Okay. Calm down, this is perfectly fine." Eve tried to reason to herself.

"It's just some friendly banter... with someone who's rumored to be a... That."

Eve mulled over her this, weighing the pros and cons in her mind carefully.

She wasn't doing anything wrong.

After all, there wasn't anything in the bible that forbid her from chatting with a friend, right?

It could maybe count as a sin if they spoke about inappropriate stuff, but they weren't talking about anything close to that so they should be fine, right?

Right?

"Wait how long has it been since I said something?"

"So why were you waiting for me, anyway?" Her voice was hushed, response clipped and snappy in tone, despite not wanting to come across as such.

Lilith's smile faltered, if only momentarily.

"Oh, I spilled soup over my envelope while looking over it during lunch so I was hoping to copy yours."

"Right now?"

"I could come over tomorrow if you're really rushing, but I don't know where you live."

"Do you know how to get to Eden Street? Ours is the seventh one on the street with the pale blue walls."

"Crap. I'm sorry, I've never been to that side of town."

"Okay, you know what, why don't you just come home with me and copy it when we get there?"

"Oh God, why did I say that?!"

"I have to get home by 4:30 and it's Friday so I'll be doing laundry."

"That works for me," The redhead said, beaming. "Lead the way!"

The ride to Eve's house was spent in silence, the speed at which they went and the occasional gust of autumnal wind, refreshing as it may be, was not the friendliest when it came time to hold a conversation.

Eve was ahead of Lilith, more familiar with the roads and all it's twists and turns and cracks.

She slowed down, however, when she realized that it had been more than a minute since she heard the metallic ringing of Lilith's bicycle bell break through the silence. But even then her ears still hadn't picked up on anything other than the breeze.

Eve didn't stop, rather, she hazard a look back and was immediately mesmerized.

Just a bit or so behind her was Lilith, her long, fiery hair flowing in the wind along with her pleated, blue skirt, the partially obscured sun that beat down on them made the girl's soft skin gleam, her-

"Fuck!"

Before Eve could do a thing, she went flying off her bike, courtesy of a large rock in the middle of the road, hands and knees skidding on the asphalt as she tried to brace herself.

"Eve!"

Lilith pulled the brakes and rushed over to the fallen girl, leaving her bike.

"Holy shit, are you okay?"

The adrenaline of all that had just happened had diverted her attention away from the pain, her scraped up palms clapsed firmly over her mouth.

"What's wrong? Did you hit your lip? Your hands?" She gently pried Eve's hands away from her mouth, to observe the damage.

"I said a curse word..."

"What?" Lilith asked, incredulous. "Of all the things you should be worried about, that's number one on the list?"

"It's against the rules!"

"So?"

"So I broke the rules."

"No, you didn't."

"What? Yes, I did."

"Eve, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"You were right behind me, how could- oh."

She laughed, despite the violent sting in her hands and the aching in her hands, she laughed, carefree and unhindered by the expectation to be quiet, dainty and delicate, unhindered by the need to be ladylike, she laughed like she hadn't laughed in years.

They sat in the middle of the road, letting loose in each other's company, snorting and cackling like madwomen, inelegant, and nowhere near refined or graceful.

And they didn't care.

"Eve, we gotta get up. Like now. Before we get hit by a bus."

"Yeah. I should probably get home and put some band-aids on these too."

She tried to get up by planting her hands on the ground to push her up, barely stopping herself in time.

"Need some assistance?"

"Yes, please," Eve said, arms going out towards the girl with her palms facing down, as if she were to be handcuffed.

Lilith grabbed the other by her wrists, careful not to let her fingers brush against any raw skin, and yanked her upward, muttering a quick apology as Eve had to bend her knees a bit too much for her comfort.

"Can you still ride the bike? Or do you just wanna walk the rest of the way?"

"We're too far for walking, so I'm gonna have to stick it out." She shrugged, walking over to her bicycle to try and turn it over.

"Let me get that for you." Lilith propped it up, picked up the book bag by it, and chucked it in the basket.

"You can barely bend your knees, I think it's better for us to share a bike."

"What about the other bike?"

"I think I have an idea."

Lilith had begrudgingly revealed that she had yet to get rid of her training wheels, which meant that all they needed to do was attach the bikes with a chain and they would be on their way.

"Hop on and hold on, blondie!" She sat in Eve's seat and patted the small, metal rack in the back. "I'm getting you home by 4:30 if it kills me!"

Eve smoothed out her skirt and took a seat, laughing. "Okay, we're ready to go!"

"Not yet, you're not."

Lilith reached behind her, soft hands seeking out the unscathed parts Eve's arms, making them wrap around her petite waist, her back pressed flush against the other's front.

"There we go!"

Before she could protest, they took off, making her clutch Lilith even tighter than she had been earlier.

"Focus." Eve told herself. "You have to give her directions, so you can't space out."

"It's what got you into this situation in the first place."

She didn't know whether or not that was something she should be grateful for or not, though she certainly didn't mind the gentle caress of her soft, red hair or the faint scent of the other's apple shampoo fillings her senses.

...

"She's so warm..."

The thought popped into Lilith's mind unprompted, the thin fabric of their uniforms doing nothing to lessen the feel of the other's soft chest and heat.

"Take a right," Eve whispered to her, breath tickling Lilith's ear ever so slightly.

She could feel the other's fingers shift every so often from where they rest on her waist. All the could do was clutch at the bike handle, trying to suppress the violent shiver that tried to make it's way through her.

"Another right by that street sign."

Her ear was less than a centimeter from Eve's lips.

The space between the two was simultaneously too close and too far for Lilith's liking. A small bump in the road could easily close the infinitesimal yet gargantuan gap between her ear and her lips.

It would be so easy to just-

"No." Lilith steeled herself. "If ever I get a kiss from Eve, it can't be an accident. I'm not that kind of person."

"Go straight ahead until we reach the post box then take a left."

She slowed ever so slightly during turns, taking special care not to jolt them too much when they drove over the rare speed bump.

She wasn't going to get a kiss from Eve in such a backhanded manner.

"Not like this."

Despite her rather turbulent thoughts, the streets here were serene, silent save for the crunch of leaves under the wheels of the bike and a dog bark every so often.

"Lilith?"

"Hmm?"

Eve laughed, chest rumbling against her back, breathy and barely above a whisper yet Lilith knew the noise would play over and over in her mind.

"You still have your training wheels."

She spoke in a hushed voice, akin to how they did in the library, as if they were sharing secrets.

"Yeah."

Lilith couldn't help but chuckle as well. While it wasn't something she bragged about, the way the other said it made it sound like it was some salacious piece of gossip.

"'S there a problem with that?"

"Nope." She could practically hear the smile in her voice. "Will you tell me why you use them, though?"

"I use them because I need them." Lilith teased. She was going to make her work for the answer to this.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Yeah? Tell me what you meant, then."

"I meant, why do you need them?"

"I never learned how to ride without the training wheels."

"And why is that?"

Lilith chuckled once more.

"Is this an interview?"

"No fair! I was specific, so now you have to answer."

"Do I?"

"Hmph." Eve huffed playfully, but didn't press on.

Or so Lilith thought, til the girl's fingers began moving up and down her waist, deathly light movements ghosting over her sides in an attempt to make her shiver.

"Tell me or I'll tickle you."

"I'd like to see you try."

Eve wouldn't dare... would she?

"You shouldn't though." Lilith added for extra measure. "We'll end up falling off and I don't think you can handle that so soon after your last tumble."

"I can take a lot more than you think."

"Oh fuck." She gripped the handlebars for dear life, cheeks tinted a light pink. "That's hot."

Lilith could only hope that Eve couldn't feel her heart hammering with how close she was.

"We're here!"

And with that, her mind was unceremoniously yanked out of the gutter.

Even with the day half done, Lilith could tell it was gonna be a long one.

____________________________________

Taglist: @anon-nom-nom95 @littlemisscalamity @melpomenismask @phillyinthebathroom

24 notes · View notes

tazzytypes · 4 years ago

Text

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 6

Thank you guys for your continued support! Your comments really encourage me to keep writing through any personal doubts I may have in my own writing.

Read on AO3 or see Masterpost for more chapters!

Em and Timothy stood in the hall, Grey’s bustling around them, the occasional Purple or Warden passing them by with a sideways glance. It had been two days and Emily still hadn’t spoken a word to Em, making her feel isolated from the pair. She didn’t want to admit the truth in Langdon’s statement — she’d find a way to reconcile with the other girl even if it was out of spite.

“She’s coming around,” Timothy assured her, “you could always talk to her, you know?”

“She likes you more,” Em said, Timothy shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You two are not great at admitting our mistakes, are you?”

“I stand by my words,” Em informed him, “and I won’t apologize unless it is sincere.”

Timothy sighed, understanding her reasoning but none the less finding the situation stressful. Emily had given him the same response only hours earlier. The two were remarkably similar, only diverging in small, almost microscopic chinks of their moral alignment.

“Perhaps if I could better explain—”

“My mom always said the best thing to fix an argument was space,” he sighed, knowing how that conversation would end, “just… be patient.”

“Hard to be patient when she misses game night,” Em jested, a small smile forming, “I had to team up with Coco.”

Timothy laughed, “the world appreciates your sacrifice.”

“Timothy!” A voice called out, the pair looking down the hall behind said boy. Em peaked her head out from behind his shoulder to see Emily standing there. Emily’s face fell and her posture became stiff, lips pressing into a thin line.

“It’ll all work out,” Timothy assured one last time before walking towards his girlfriend, hand going out to take hers when he got close enough. Emily spared Em a glance before turning to walk the opposite direction, pulling Timothy close to whisper something.

Em wasn’t good at apologies. She knew that. Her mother used to drag her in front of someone she offended and force her to say the words even if she didn’t mean them. Insincerity was a trait the older woman had refined… a tone of voice Em knew all too well.

So she turned on her heels and walked in the opposite direction, wondering if she was being sincere in her lack of action or simply being too proud. Her feet led her to the salon, not in the mood for Langdon to appear over her shoulder once more and bring up unpleasant emotions. The brunette wouldn’t even be able to focus on reading, anyways.

The salon was surprisingly empty and quiet. A Grey bustled around dusting and cleaning as a familiar tuft of white hair sat on the sofa.

“Where is everyone?” she asked rounding the sofa.

“Hell if I know,” Gallant sighed as she sat down beside him, “this place is a fucking maze.”

“Evie in an interview?”

He chuckled and smirked, “and I finally have some peace and quiet.”

“Where’s Coco?”

“She’s in one of her moods,” Gallant said, whatever satisfaction he had left him, smile fading into a frown, “God forbid I want to talk about something other than her.”

“As a hairstylist, I thought you’d be used to it.”

“It’s not like I worked the salon 24/7.”

Em reached for a glass of water, “fair.”

There was a moment of silence… peace. Naturally, Gallant couldn’t let it last for very long.

“So what’s your deal?” He asked as she leaned back in her seat.

“I’ve made many deals in my life, some savory some unsavory,” She said, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Well duh,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I meant personally. You’ve got this whole… mysterious thing that’s great, don’t get me wrong, but also there are like… four men left in the world and three are gay so you’re going to have to change your brand.”

“Well, I’m bi so that solves that.” Em said before muttering into her glass, “bold of you to assume I’m straight.”

Gallant rolled his eyes, “Everyone’s bi in the right situation.”

Em’s lips pressed into a thin line. She had met people like Gallant, people who said the exact same thing — toxic.

“Well I’m also ace so…” she says.

“So you’re either a prude or someone did ya’ dirty.”

“Or I just don’t like sex.”

“How can you not like sex?”

“I don’t know…” Em trailed, trying to press a point, “How can you?”

“How can you not?”

Em’s nerves were already wearing thin.

“Well, we all know where it got Stu.” She snapped. They all knew Venable was homophobic. Singling out the gay men? She didn’t even try to hide it.

“You really don’t pull the punches, do you?”

“It’s the apocalypse,” she said frowning into her drink, “If I held back I’d be dead.”

Gallant silently toasted her mentality, but the look on his face displayed a sort of… judgment. She knew the look all too well. It asked — “Are you really part of the LGBT community or do you just want to feel special?”

“Let me put it this way,” She said, putting her drink down and turning to the man, “Do you like Brussels sprouts?”

He looked at her like she had grown a new head, “no.”

“How can you not? I mean you must not have had the good ones…. Maybe it wasn’t seasoned right. No one just doesn’t like Brussels sprouts.”

“Alright, alright,” Gallant conceded, raising his hands in defeat, “I get your point.”

“I get it,” Em admitted after a moment of silence, “I can pass as hetero-normative if I need to and I have due to being in the closet. But both sides of the table always told me I was just seeking attention or going through a phase.”

“This conversation got way deeper than I was planning on it to be,” Gallant noted, eying his drink before mirroring Em and putting it on the table.

“Yeah,” Em admitted with a chuckle, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling, “Some things just didn’t die with the apocalypse, huh?”

“New world,” He said, glancing at Em as he mirrored her actions, “same bullshit.”

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

At some point, Em wandered back towards the library. It was a siren’s song she could not fight against. Also, one could only bare Gallant’s companionship for so long. The man had a way to take his good moments and completely ruin them. He had tried to ask her about multiple highly-sexual definitions as a sort of test of her sexuality or somehow prove it was real to begin with.

To quell her irritation, she focused on what she was going to do once she got to the library. There was a first edition Hawthorne she had her eye on, but the ever-looming threat of death made her wish for more science books. Hell, she’d take her old high-school textbooks over Hawthorne any day if it gave her the information she needed.

With a sigh, she took out her notebook and scribbled down yet another unanswered question to research into. It only grew longer as the days passed with no end or hope of answers in sight. The only way to survive was to wander out into the radiation, but she’d rather die at the hands of cannibals than fall victim to cancer and tumors. Perhaps if they focused on finding canned preserves the risk would be lower? It was more hopeful thinking than anything else.

Nose in a book, she barely even noticed the figure rounding the corner until her shoulder clashed with theirs. Pencil clattering to the floor, a hand beat hers to the mark and she pulled back as she kneeled on the floor.

Emily was before her, mouth twisting as she handed the pencil back and searched for the words to say. Em was the first to stand back up, Emily patting at her skirt to buy more time.

“Hey,” Em spoke, breaking the silence.

“Hey.”

“So…” Em bit her lip, looking to the floor to the ceiling and anywhere that wasn’t Emily before sighing and looking at the girl, “I’m sorry. I got so... consumed by surviving I talked to you like you were stupid instead of listening to your concerns.”

“As am I,” Emily echoed, shoulders losing their tension, “I pretty much called you a heartless bitch.”

Em chuckled, “we both got heated. It’s not like your mindset wasn’t warranted.”

With a half-hearted smile, Emily gestured to the library door, Em holding it open for her before following after. As always, everything was right where they left it. Books left to the side stayed exactly in the order she had arranged, bookmarks in the right places. It was the one corner of the world the chaos didn’t touch... or at least where she could begin to understand it.

They fell into place at a table, Em sitting in a seat and Emily sitting on the table itself. She looked around the room, obviously not having been in there since Em and herself fought.

“You know,” Emily began, “before all this I was protesting a coffee shop for exploiting child labor.”

“Now those kids have more to worry about than poverty,” Em finished the thought, “and they didn’t have the luxury of a decent childhood.”

Emily thinks about it and shakes her head, “I was always told I was getting angry for no reason, taking things too far.”

She looked to Em, “I’m tired of not being able to do anything and then it being too late.”

Em broke from her gaze, trying to turn the chaotic disorder of her thoughts into words, “I wish I could jump into the deep end like you, but I just… I just can’t be a hero. It goes against everything ingrained in me.”

Emily smiled sadly at the girl, squeezing her hand. She always seemed to understand without asking. Em thought it was like her superpower or something.

“Let’s collect info,” Emily reassured, “and when you feel like it’s time… we’ll strike.”

“When we think it’s time,” Em insisted, “ya’ll’s asses are on the line too.”

Emily smiled and shook her head, “we’ll take a vote. Do it like a jury or something.”

“Viva la revolution.”

They talked for a while, Em updating her on post-interview plans. They needed to find a way to conquer the radiation. There had to be more than one organization of doomsday preppers in the LA area.

“What about the cannibals?” Emily asked, “we don’t even know what or even if there’s an armory in this place.”

“That’s why I was thinking of sneaking into—”

They were interrupted by the screeching of un-oiled door hinges, both girls quickly turning towards the sound. Bookshelves blocked their view, but the telltale sound of steel-toed boots against carpet was unmistakable to Em. Emily looked to her friend as she stood, walking towards the sound.

“Erika?”

The Fist appeared from one of the aisles, smiling at the girl as Emily looked between the two. Em fell back to sit next to Emily, giving her a reassuring smile as she closed the notebook they had been looking at.

“You have a good ear,” The Fist said, turning to nod a greeting to Emily.

“Emily,” Em introduced, “Erika.”

“A pleasure,” The Fist said, Emily offering a still anxious smile before addressing business, “Mr. Langdon wishes to speak to you.”

“Me?” Emily asked, hand on her chest as she looked between the two.

“No,” The Fist replied turning to the third woman in the room.

Em’s brows knitted in confusion. “But some of the residents haven’t even had their first—”

“It’s okay,” Emily tried to reassure, nodding for Em to go ahead, “we’ll talk more about books later.”

Em gave a nod of confirmation before turning to The Fist, “lead the way.”

Once the woman’s back was turned Em sent a frantic glance to Emily. Had someone overheard their conversations? Venable killed people for just having sex. God knows what she’d do if she unearthed conspiracy.

“I’ll be with Timothy when you’re done.”

The hallways suddenly felt more foreboding, her paranoia making every shadow into an enemy. Would she be able to fight her way out of there? No… not alone, at the very least. They had guns… she didn’t. She knew how to disarm them. Bullets only went in one direction, after all. Then again, things like that were easier said than done. It was incredible what people were capable of when they were put between a rock and a hard place.

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

Langdon didn’t look up at her as she entered, gesturing to the chair she had sat in before as he shuffled through papers.

“Miss Mead tells me you’re instrumental in keeping morale up among the residents.”

Em paused at the arm of the empty chair, hand resting on the back, “Do you ever start with a hello?”

Blue eyes finally lifted from papers, a smile crawling onto his face as he put his pen down. His hands sat on either side of his work as he stared at her with what seemed like amusement in his eyes. “Do you ever directly answer questions?”

“Sometimes.”

A smirk of her own crawled to her lips as she settled into her chair, “I simply make suggestions on how to pass the time. What they do with that is up to them.”

“You sell yourself short,” Langdon noted, examining her reactions, “there must be something that drives your mediation between residents.”

“Boredom?”

“Actions cause reactions. There has to be something you wish to gain.”

Langdon leaned forward and Em’s skin prickled with anxiety. He didn’t know anything. He was fishing. He couldn’t prove anything. “Tell me… what do you desire?”

She had expected accusations, the lack of which made her at a loss for words. Langdon watched her think for a long moment. Her eyes trained on the floor, looking beyond it at something he couldn’t see. She shook her head, defeated.

“Honestly,” she admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Everyone desires something,” he pressed, “luxury, prestige, sex... Ah, well. The latter not so much in your case.”

Em either didn’t notice the faux pas or simply didn’t comment on it. Langdon knew it was low-hanging fruit, anyways.

“Material objects bring such fleeting enjoyment,” she sighed, “and then you’re bored again looking for something to fill the hole.”

She paused, genuinely unable to think of anything.

“I guess I’d like to live comfortably,” she admitted, “… not worry over rent or if I can buy food… but being here has negated the need for that.”

“Then let’s speak immaterial,” Langdon proposed.

That. That she did have an answer for, “motivation… happiness.”

Her interrogator was less than impressed, scoffing at her response, “sounds like something from an Instagram thirst ad.”

Em laughed, amused as she realized the truth in his words and how she must sound saying them aloud. Langdon was once again perplexed by her reaction. He had been expecting something much more defensive.

“But it’s true,” she assured, looking down at her skirt and fixating on a piece of fuzz that had settled on the purple fabric, “I want to have motivation to work on the things I love. I want those fleeting moments of happiness to last longer… but these days they only last a heartbeat before they’re gone.”

He continued to stare at her. She was an oddity among this lot, genuine in a way none of them could ever hope to be. Langdon could see the desire in her eyes and the sadness that came with knowing it was something that could never be given to her. It wasn’t fame or fortune… those desires were always so much easier.

“A material object gives focus to desire,” she finally finished, finally gathering the confidence to look back into his eyes once more, “but it is fleeting. I know that all too well.”

For once Langdon was the one who was at a loss for words. The two could simply look at one another for a long moment until Em broke the silence.

“May I ask you a question?”

He waved his hand for her to continue, “Why am I receiving a second interview before some residents have received their first?”

“Maybe I think you have potential.”

Em’s face twisted into a wry smile, “or you want me to think I do.”

She did have a way of making him laugh.

“You’re quite the character,” he admitted, leaning back as he chuckled, “it makes me wonder exactly what would happen if you let go.”

“Let go?”

“Of that anger boiling inside of you.”

There it was. The dropping of the pin. Langdon liked to get you comfortable before he shoved in the knife.

Once again, Em felt the need to edge around the statement. A sinner in church felt themselves being watched by a thousand eyes when the reality was not a single one was focused upon them. No. She’d watch her words until he accused her of conspiracy. She’d play it safe.

Langdon watched her become guarded. Hands once placed on either arm of the chair became centered on her lap, fingers twisted together. Green eyes dilated and he could see a muscle tense around her jaw.

“Momentary catharsis isn’t worth the consequences,” she noted.

“There are no laws anymore,” he noted, rounding the desk, “no rules. Chaos has won.”

Em shook her head, “don’t tempt me.”

If she hadn’t of known better she’d of said he looked… enthralled. There was an eagerness to his gaze. Langdon felt his heart leap in his chest. It was as if he was witnessing a phoenix rise from the ashes.

“You’re picturing it now, aren’t you?” he asked, “taking back the power Venable holds, leading a revolt to—”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Em noted, pulling back and leaning back into the chair in preparation to rise from it, “until the cards are in my favor I won’t move.”

His tone scared her as he continued to press and press a button she had been trying to ignore. It was like staring at a snake alone in the middle of the desert, unsure if its bite will simply hurt or turn your insides to mush. Either way, it was just the two of you. Even if you managed to wrangle it off you and cut off its head there was a chance you wouldn’t survive.

“Hold the cards too close to your chest and they will be wasted.”

He only moved slightly towards her and she jumped to her feet as if his mere presence was a blazing inferno. The buzzing feeling began again, spreading from her chest to her head and all the way out to her limbs.

“I think we’re done here,” Em said, words rushing from her mouth before they could catch in her chest. She took a step back. His hands moved quickly, but his touch was light as he grabbed her arm. He pulled her towards him, just as gentle.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, voice almost soft as blue eyes searched into her green ones, “I’m on your side.”

She yanked her arm from his grasp. Em did not care for cages, gilded or covered with rust. Langdon’s eyes looked hurt as she pulled away, gaze going desperately between her face and her arm as if trying to understand why she pulled away.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” She snapped before leaving the room as quickly as her feet would carry her. Langdon simply stood still and let her go, hand slowly falling to his side.

In her desperation to flee, Em’s surroundings seemed to blur around her. She had tunnel-vision and all that mattered was getting as far away from Langdon as possible. What he made her feel… there were no words for it. She was terrified and excited all at once. It was like being on a roller-coaster, the adrenaline rush making you run into danger again and again. No. She wouldn’t run into the fire. She wouldn’t play hero.

“Woah!” a voice exclaimed, “slow down.”

Timothy stood in front of her, hands on either shoulder as he bent down to look her in her eyes. They were frantic, dilated, and unable to focus on anything.

“What happened?”

Movement over her shoulder caught his eye from somewhere down the hall. Langdon stood there, hands coming to rest behind his back as he eyed the pair. A noticeable frown was on the blond’s lips, eyes narrowing on Timothy’s hands on the woman’s shoulders. Timothy felt like he had interrupted something… probably for the better. He honestly couldn’t tell.

Finally noticing Timothy’s gaze, Em glanced over her shoulder to find nothing but a dark hall. She quickly righted herself, calming her breathing and nerves.

“Where’s Emily?” she asked, voice almost robotically even.

“In her room…” Timothy said, pulling his eyes from the dark hall, “why?”

Em shook her head, “You were right… something is wrong with Langdon... wrong with this entire fucking outpost. We need a plan sooner rather than later.”

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

Hours later, Em couldn’t place why she had been so scared. When she looked at his face she just felt pain striking right at her chest and there was only a moment before the venom destroyed her from the inside out.

Timothy and Emily had noted her distress, promising to brainstorm ideas and meet up later once things settled down. While Em had been the first to propose that they keep their ear to the pavement, the patience to do so was quickly thinning.

There was something in Langdon’s eye… like he could see everything she had ever done or ever will do. It was like he knew exactly what they were doing.

Em paced her room, trying to keep her mind on the tangible instead of giving in to fear. A plan… she needed to figure out a plan. The Warden’s, Grey’s, and Venable were her best bet at getting a base-level understanding of how the outpost was run. She had tried talking to the Grey’s, but they either knew

Things just didn’t add up. Most of the residents, no matter their station, seemed in the dark about The Cooperative’s movements. Venable even seemed perplexed. There could be information in the woman’s room, but doing so would lead them to a quick death.

Their best bet would be to gather information from the Greys, scattered and benign as it may be. Emily was probably talking to them now as Em paced and paced. Going as a group would make them larger targets and more suspicious, but it was maddening to just sit and wait.

A knock on the door pulled her from her reverie. Em raced to hide her notes in her desk. Putting them all back in order was taking more time than she expected. Another knock came, harder and more urgent.

“Just a second!” Em sang, deciding to just shove all the papers in the desk and organize them later. Smoothing down her hair and straightening her skirt, Em stalked to the door and opened it.

There was momentary relief when she saw Coco, quickly replaced with dread when she realized exactly who was standing outside her door.

“Yes?” Em asked, leaning forward as she had one hand on the door and another on the frame. Coco had a sickly sweet smile on her face which could only mean one thing.

“I need your help.”

At least this time she hadn’t beat around the bush and wasted Em’s time with an hour conversation about doing makeup in horrible lighting. She stared at Em, an awkward silence falling between the pair.

“With?” Em finally asked.

Coco gave her a look, “my dress! Duh.”

Em’s eyes scanned over Coco’s dress, confusion marring her features as she looked back at the woman’s face, “what about it?”

“Not this one!” Coco exclaimed, rolling her eyes, “the purple one… well… the purpler one. I asked Mallory and she had no idea what to do but I saw you out here once with —”

“Coco,” Em said, voice like a teacher trying to get a rowdy student to sit in their seat, “what do you want?”

“Can you mend my dress?” Coco grabbed on to one of Em’s hands as she begged, “There’s a giant hole in my armpit and my interview with Langdon is in an hour. I swear I’ll put in a good word with him for you!”

Em pried her hand away from the woman and resisted the urge to groan. Taking a deep breath she weighed her choices. Finally, she let out a sigh, resigning herself to her fate and trying to be as nice as possible.

“I guess I have nothing better to do.”

A grin spread across Coco’s face and she took her hand once more, hardly giving Em a chance to lock her door before dragging her along. Coco was only nice when she wanted something. Em logically knew that. Yet, somehow, the girl reminded her of an old friend, rambling about this, that, and everything as she tugged her along to god knows where. If she stared at the back of Coco’s head for a moment she could pretend the blonde hair belonged to someone else.

Em quickly threw the trail of thought away. Last thing she needed was Coco spreading a story about how she cried over the woman’s pathetic attempts at being a decent human being.

Coco threw open the door to her room and quickly shoved the garment into Em’s hand, shattering whatever illusion of kindness she had briefly created. “Here!”

“What side?” Em sighed, turning the garment around in her hands.

The blonde looked up as she thought, raising one arm, then the other as if recalling the exact moment it ripped.

“Never mind,” Em droned, “I found it.”

The hole was quite large, probably due to its poor fitting. It wasn’t as if they had someone take their measurements before they arrived at the outpost. It reached from the armpit to halfway between the sleeve and the waistline. Coco had gotten lucky, the tear following the natural stitching of the garment.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” Em asked, Coco hovering over her shoulder as she examined the damage.

“Do I look like I mend my own clothes?”

The brunette sighed once more, “get a Grey to bring me something, then.”

“Don’t you have your own tools or something?” Coco scoffed.

Em rose her eyes to look at the spoiled brat.

“When’s your interview?”

Coco huffed and went out into the hall, leaving the door open so the other woman would be sure to hear her stomping. For a moment there was glorious silence, Em examining the inside of the dress to figure out how to sew it up. After a few moments, a figure caught her eye and she looked up at the doorway.

Gallant stood, leaning against the frame with a box in one hand.

“What’s she having you do for her?” he asked.

“Mending clothes,” Em sighed, holding up the dress, “you here for her hair?”

“Yup,” Gallant said with a pop, moving to set up in the room, “Don’t know how many more miracles I can pull in that department.”

“A comment on your lack of supplies or an insult to Coco?”

The man paused, turning back towards her as he eyes the ceiling in thought, “Both?”

They could hear Coco’s stomping before they could see her, the woman appearing in the doorway with a scowl.

“Here’s your supplies,” she snapped before turning to Gallant. She mouthed something Em couldn’t hear, but Gallant’s silent response was comically easy to read as he mouthed the words “I know.”

Wearing a plastic smile she had learned from customer service, Em took the needle and thread from Coco’s hand and pulled out what she needed from the spool.

“Did you get scissors?” Em asked as she looked around.

“No.”

Regretting her decision to help, the brunette turned to Gallant.

“Uh-uh,” He said, shaking a finger in front of him, “no way.”

“Just do it!” Coco snapped, falling back into a seat before her vanity.

With the grace of a sulking toddler, Gallant made his way towards Em, reluctantly cutting the thread. His frown persisted as he went back to deal with Coco’s hair.

“You owe me,” He grumbled. Em couldn’t tell if the statement was directed at herself or Coco.

“Did they ever figure out what caused that power out earlier?” Coco asked Gallant, the two quickly creating their own little bubble of which Em was not a part of. Not that she cared.

“Probably just some minor glitch,” Gallant dismissed, obviously not losing sleep over the issue.

“That’s hardly reassuring. My father paid millions to get us in here. You’d think they’d at least be able to keep it running smoothly.”

Gallant rose his hands, giving Coco a look in the mirror, “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Coco didn’t even hear him, going on some random tirade Em quickly tuned out. What she wouldn’t do for a pair of noise-proof headphones.

Both Gallant and Em went into a trace as they worked. Em remembered when she was little and wanted to be a fashion designer, herself and another friend spending their elementary school lunchtime drawing out designs. Her grandmother had been more than happy to teach Em how to use her old and outdated sowing machine. Childlike enthusiasm led to it breaking. In the end, her grandmother was only able to teach her a few things before she passed… most of them with a needle, thread, and her own hands.

“Are you almost finished?” Coco demanded, pulling Em out of her train of thought as she paced the room like an angry chicken. Gallant followed after her, trying to keep his masterpiece in place. “He can’t finish until you’re finished.”

Em paid her no mind, turning back to her work and maintaining her steady pace, “do you want this to look like it was patched together by a drunken child?”

Coco huffed and stalked back to her seat, much to the relief of Gallant.

“I have twenty minutes…” she continued to complain.

“And the walk down the hallway takes five.” Em reminded.

Gallant was content to wait. He’d worked on models before back when he was first making his break and he was well used to clothing mishaps. Coco, on the other hand, glared daggers at Em as she worked. If she was being honest, Em quite enjoyed annoying the woman. It was comically easy to test just how spoiled she truly was.

Fifteen minutes passed and Em finally finished the last stitch, knotting the end a few times to keep it in place.

“Finally!” Coco exclaimed, not waiting for the pair to leave before changing. It wasn’t as if there was much to expose. Victorian undergarments were infinitely more modest than modern swimsuits. As soon as the dress was over her head, Gallant did a few last adjustments to her hair.

“Fini?” Coco asked, staring at the man as he focused on one stray strand. One would think he was diffusing a bomb given the intensity he looked at hair when working. Finally, he nodded and Coco was gone from the room in an instant without a single word of thanks.

“She’s a mess,” Gallant sighed, turning back to pack up his things.

“For once we agree on something.”

“Why did you agree to do this?” he asked, waving a comb as he continued to pack up, “aren’t you usually holed up in the library?”

“Bored.”

Gallant chuckled, “Fair.”

Rolling the loose thread back around the spool, Em made her way back to her room. Without the outside distraction, something to focus on, her mind went back to its earlier worries. She felt like she was staring at a brick wall, wondering how to tear it down when her only tools were her own two hands. If she got to the other side… maybe then she could find something.

Movement caught her eye as she turned a corner, looking up to find Langdon holding the door open for Coco. Something stirred in her chest and she turned away and kept walking before it could fester. Her cheeks warmed as she felt eyes burning into the side of her head.

Emotions were far too stressful. That’s why she liked logic. She just had to focus on the logic. Then she’d be safe.

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

There was nothing like the impending doom of death to make people do anything to chase away anxiety. Even after a solemn vow to never play the game again, they had brought their make-shift Pictionary once more. Bits of extra paper and a whiteboard from the Grey’s common area used to draw upon.

“Oh! Cats the musical!” Coco yelled out as Andre drew, “Horny!”

Timothy kept an eye on his pocket watch, finally looking up as he called time.

“Rosemary’s Baby!” Andre shouted at Coco, circling the spikes at the top of the head he was drawing, “They’re horns!”

Coco huffed and waved a hand as she fell back in her sleep, grabbing her water and taking a drink as Timothy’s eyes returned to his watch.

“Okay! He announced, “Emily and Emily!”

Em got up and reached into the box of folded cards, looking at the words written. Her lips twisted as she thought about how to approach it.

“Ready?” Timothy asked. Em nodded. “Go!”

Rapidly, Em drew a caricature on the white-board as Emily leaned forward in her seat.

“Dolly Parton!” Emily shouted after a few moments. Em threw down the pencil in victory, a large grin on her face.

“No fair!” Coco bemoaned, gesturing to the pair, “you have fucking Da Vinci on your team.”

“I was on your team last time.” Em reminded.

“That was ages ago!”

Em’s eyes flitted up to the balcony which loomed over the salon, a familiar figure in black catching her eye. The glow of the fire made it seem like his hair was made of gold. He leaned on the railing like a content cat watching the mice play.

She pretended she hadn’t noticed him but could feel his eyes on her back, the hairs on her neck standing on end as the buzzing feeling began to return.

“Okay, Timmy,” Gallant declared, rising from his seat to take the board from Em, “our time to shine.”

Her focus on the man watching them was interrupted by Timothy tossing her his pocket watch. If not for the way it caught the light Em would have let it drop.

When she looked up Langdon was gone as if he were a shadow instead of a man.

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon #ahs x reader #ahs x oc #ahs #fanfic #fanfiction #ahs fanfic #american horror story fic

18 notes · View notes

clansayeed · 4 years ago

Text

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 7: The Bloodqueen

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

There are things in Kamilah's past she would not share with anyone, least of all Nadya. The problem is that Nadya can't always choose the stories her visions tell. When she learns the truth Kamilah lashes out.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Anything else you’ve need of before I take my leave?”

“No, Gerard. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He tips his hat to them. “Have a pleasant rest of your evening then, Lady Kamilah — Nadya.”

The butler lingers in the doorway; it takes Nadya a moment (too long, and she feels bad about it even if she can’t quite muster up the words to apologize) to realize he’s waiting on her. She looks up and hopes her smile isn’t too strained.

“Good night, Gerard.”

It was; it was definitely too strained. There’s a second where the elderly man looks like he won’t leave until she tells him what’s up. But he doesn’t pry. He’s worked for Kamilah too long to pry.

Though when the door closes behind him and leaves Kamilah and Nadya alone… she kind of wishes he’d stayed. As a buffer.

She pulls herself back into the room to find Kamilah’s expectant eye right on her. “You were saying?”

Crap, what was she saying? Does she know? How could she possibly know?

Fear makes Nadya tighten her hands — that’s when she remembers the notepad in her lap; the conversation they were just getting into when Gerard had said his final goodbyes.

“Right right right,” Nadya clicks her tongue, “we were talking about…”

Kamilah gives her a moment for her tongue to catch up with the rest of her thoughts but when it’s obvious that won’t be a timely thing; “You were telling me about the name the smuggler’s contact provided you?”

Yes, duh. “Right; Kavinsky, Langdon Kavinsky. Big money out in Vegas, I think he owns a casino or something? The last time the Amulet was on any kind of formal paperwork was when Kavinsky bought it a couple years ago from some private collector in England.”

“And he has it still?”

“Ugh, no. He lost it in some poker game.” Nadya flips through her notes maybe a little too enthusiastically; but it’s an excuse not to look Kamilah in the face and she’ll take it. “Lily found a bunch of transcripts of what look like… minutes? Like from a courtroom.”

“It isn’t uncommon for that tier of wealth, especially in an environment where large sums of money change hands quickly and not always in plain sight.”

“Got it — the Amulet isn’t directly named but there’s this pair, here look, they come into the game late. Then the girl, the guy, and Kavinsky keep sporadically mentioning some ‘historical artifact’ and about a week later the Amulet is no longer on Kavinsky’s inventory list.”

The minutes, the inventory; both of which Nadya tries to offer but Kamilah doesn’t take. She’s too focused on the trembling hand that holds them out. It makes her raise an eyebrow in wordless question.

“Too much coffee.” She explains, and nothing about Kamilah’s expression says she buys it, but thankfully this is more important than that.

Kamilah takes the pages and makes it a point of practically holding Nadya’s hand as she does. The effect is an instantly calming one; albeit temporary.

“This couple you mention,” Kamilah looks between the stapled pages with a furrow in her brow, “they aren’t named.”

Nadya nods; she’d noticed the same thing. “Weird, right? So Lil’ said she’d try and dig for some security tapes or something — if not from the actual tournament then from the hotel lobby in case they were guests. Actually getting hold of the guy himself is a last resort, but —”

“The fewer who know what we seek; the better.”

“Exactly.”

Kamilah sighs and sets the papers aside on the glass coffee table. She combs a hand through the curtain of her hair and can Nadya really be blamed for watching with just a teeny tiny bit of absolute adoration? Even like this, exhausted of the pursuit like they all are by now, she’s still timelessly beautiful.

But Nadya hadn’t come all the way across town to the penthouse just to share a name and a bunch of ‘maybes.’ Only she had the whole cab ride to psyche herself up and now… looking at her like this… now she doesn’t know if she can go through with it. Doesn’t know if she can bring herself to hurt Kamilah like she knows she’s going to.

“You deserve the chance to tell her in your own time and in your own way.”

That dumb, terrible part of Nadya that’s always thinking (and never in their favor) didn’t let her understand what she’d fully meant when she said it to Maricruz. Of course she definitely meant it for them — especially after everything that’s happened the last couple of weeks about secrets and lies and things always coming out at the worst possible time. But she hadn’t meant it just for them.

And this… this is something Nadya would rather Kamilah hear from her personally than anyone else. From Gaius, or (god forbid) from the woman finding it out on her own somehow.

Kamilah leans her head against the back of the couch; leaves her eyes open the bare minimum to look at Nadya through long dark lashes. That same uncomfortable surveillance, but now they don’t have shop talk to cover it up with. Nadya’s discomfort hangs over them like a piano on a fraying rope — if she can hear her own heart trying to punch a hole in her chest there’s no question about whether Kamilah can.

“Have you decided?”

Nadya swallows. “Decided what?”

“Whether or not you will tell me what you wish to tell me.”

“I —”

She fumbles when two fingers come crooked under her chin; raising it just the barest bit. Exposing the splotchy flush of her anxieties running down her throat and past the collar of her shirt. It’s that same kind of insistence Kamilah uses on her in the bedroom. A request Nadya has one last chance to deny. But once she doesn’t it’s no longer a request but a command.

That a woman of Kamilah’s caliber requests anything of Nadya is still nothing short of a miracle. She just has to pray it’s not short-lived after tonight.

“Kamilah?”

“Yes, Nadya?”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” — and before the vampiress can find amusement in her awkwardness — “something… something I’ve been keeping from you.”

The hand falls down and away. Kamilah sits up straighter; no longer so at ease.

What more could you possibly keep from me, asks the look in her dark eyes. And it’s not a request.

“Wait here, I need to… to go get it.”

Against every instinct in her bones Nadya stands and goes to grab her overnight bag. Poets have written tragedies about the struggle and heartache that grows with every step. Into the bedroom and where her bag rests on the chair in the far corner; like her subconscious wanted to give her as many obstacles as possible. As if that would somehow deter her. Nadya pulls back the zipper and digs all the way down to the bottom.

Even with walls between them she feels the weight of Kamilah’s stare.

One last breath…

She knew it would be difficult, but letting go of the journal is the hardest thing Nadya’s ever had to do in her entire life.

And at this point she’s lived quite a few lives.

It’s not about admitting that everything up until that moment is real. She’s come to terms with that — violently, almost. She didn’t really have a choice after all. Something about being taken hostage by the father of all vampires and being forced to remember things like the location of a secret Amulet or living through the murder of her best friend.

Truthfully Nadya still thinks Bloodkeeper is kind of a dumb title but she’s made her peace with it.

It’s about admitting things about this awful, cursed ability. Not to herself but to others; to the people she loves most. Things she’s only ever told the pages of this little book (and Valdas but she’s officially not counting him, on account of the fact that he’s a lying deceitful jerkface). Because nightmares and haunting memories aside there are some things Nadya is convinced shouldn’t be shared. Because there’s no amount of truth or resolution in the simple act of knowing these things that can outweigh the awfulness of it. Things that involve Adrian, the Trinity; even Gaius.

Things that involve Kamilah.

But Nadya lets go of it anyway. She has to be strong right now — for them both. Now more than ever. A little too late since she now knows this is the second Bloodkeeper’s account that Kamilah has ever held. This one, though, was given willingly.

She has a sinking feeling that doesn’t make a difference.

If she has a question Kamilah lets it die on the tip of her tongue. She takes the little book with a shadow of recognition. Despite that she opens it anyway.

Kamilah flips through the first few pages without really looking. Nadya’s a little relieved she doesn’t have to describe what exactly it is in detail. A quick thumb brushes along the edges and Kamilah sees the same thing Valdas did — the not-so-slow dissolution of sanity and legibility with every entry.

Back to the front, she smooths back the cover by the crease and lets her open palm rest on the first page.

It’s dated April 14 and in comparison to the rest of the book it’s pretty tame. From back when the memories were solely nightmares that came only in her deepest sleep. Fragments of an identity Nadya still doesn’t know; the tearful account of a young woman betrayed, Turned by the person she thought loved her most. And how at peace she felt when the tip of a white picket fence met her heart.

Nadya’s pretty sure the silence will drive her insane.

“It’s —”

Kamilah cuts her off without looking up. “I know what it is.”

Insanity it is, then. Agony, too. Tension bordering on the tearful until…

“I was given the impression you forgot the exact details of the… memories you experienced, more often than not.”

Nadya knows she deserves every clipped syllable. “I know.”

“I see now that was not the case.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Slowly the vampire turns the page; then another — and another.

Several times Kamilah attempts to speak — opens and closes her mouth when she accepts words fail her each time. It’s miserable for Nadya to watch and not know what exactly is holding her back. Is it that she doesn’t know what to say, or how to go about saying it?

Nadya might not be able to keep it together if she doesn’t find something else to look at; so she focuses on her hands in her lap, skin stretched white over her knuckles in taut fists. Inevitably her focus draws to the bracelet Kamilah gifted her — what seems like forever and a year ago. It feels heavier; like a shackle.

One she deserves.

“You once told me that I knew things you wouldn’t…” no, no that’s not right, “hold on — lemme try again — you’ve known… dammit,” because if there was ever a time to curse it’s now, “if I had any way to control these—these awful things I…”

Kamilah holds up a single finger. Nadya’s mouth shuts so hard and so fast she actually bites her tongue; stifles the painful little noise and swallows the faint taste of blood that Kamilah doesn’t even react to — not one bit — and that only tightens the knots she’s already in.

But she doesn’t even look up; not once. She just… reads. Devours page after page. Each time she turns a new one Nadya feels her heart skip a beat — finds it a little bit harder to breathe. By the time Kamilah reaches the last entry she might well pass out from lack of oxygen.

It would almost be preferable.

Finally Kamilah reaches the last entry. The most recent one; dated for three days after her return from Gaius’ withered clutches.

Nadya had penned it down because she was naive and planned never to share these awful pages with anyone — especially not these pages, especially not Kamilah. But it was the first vision she could call a memory and that was important for some reason. It seemed like a fitting final entry because it meant that all the ones before it were real; that she wasn’t crazy or dying or both.

If only feeling that way had made her words easier to write.

Nothing in the world could have done that.

It doesn’t matter whether I understand it or not. They felt fear. They were afraid. So I felt fear and I was afraid. The horde was two things at once: just another mobbing of the weak against the strong and a new kind of determined they hadn’t seen from humanity before. Humanity that wasn’t a part of the Order. I still don’t know what “the Order” is but this is the 22-nd time I’ve felt it. It’s probably an organization of some kind but the ones who think of it treat it like a person instead of many people. A persistent enemy.

I’m wearing armor, some kind of chainmail. Every step is heavy but whoever I am, I’m old so I might only be aware of it because I (me) am not used to it. The sword at my side is an old friend. I’m in a ballroom of some kind but there’s no music or dancing. Whoever I am I don’t mind this though. I think I have two left feet. They are coming but I (me) don’t know who they are. At least we aren’t underground. I keep thinking that. At least we aren’t underground. At least we aren’t underground.

Marcel comes running up to me through the crowd of panicking people. All of them: vampires. He’s carrying a sword and shield too big for his small size. They don’t match his fancy frock. I only notice this because frocks don’t do much against pitchforks and scythes. And I tell him as much. I tell him his weapons are not made for battle, and that he should leave. I just want to keep him safe. At least we aren’t underground. He’s so small sometimes I forget he is only a few decades younger than myself. I will not lose sight of you this time Banner, he says.

His Majesty, Our King comes up on the crowd. He summons me to his side because I am his Soldier. But I do so easier when I see Marcel’s face among the masses. I’m on his left and his Queen is on his right.

NOTE: I (me) imagine he gave a rallying speech, but I don’t remember enough to write it down here. I can’t stop thinking about Kamilah. She was wearing the dress from the Ball. I knew it was old but seeing it in these visions, memories, that upsets me. Seeing it covered in blood upsets me. And it’s a lot of blood.

The mob breaks through the barricades at the stroke of midnight. Our King and Queen and myself are on the front line. These are mere humans — workers laborers poor and starving. They aren’t a challenge. I’ve always hated being forced to attend parties and balls but this is my new favorite one. I force a man to swallow my sword with one hand and crush a woman’s throat with the other. I can taste their blood in my teeth. It splatters and drips down my armor. I polished the breastplate that evening. I keep Marcel close at hand just in case. At least we aren’t underground.

The Bloodqueen dances now like she did before the attack. Her dress picks up pooling blood from fallen prey and trails it around the floor. I try to keep Marcel distracted — he will weep like a child for the marble. I prefer it this way. Judging by the way the blood drips from her: mouth, hair, cheeks, dress, daggers, she agrees. I make sure to count my dead. She’s bested me in body count thrice now. I don’t intend to let her do so again.

There was more to it; there always is. Things Nadya can’t quite remember because she’s only human and how can she possibly be expected to remember every detail of something so terrible on top of exhaustion and stress and fear?

Nadya reaches out to take the book back — as though out of sight out of mind could possibly apply to this, them; here — but Kamilah’s nails dig into the leather cover savage like fangs. The sight makes her recoil which is most definitely the wrong thing to do even though she really didn’t mean to do it.

But the damage is done.

Kamilah can’t bear to look at her, she stands and pulls herself away. Seeing someone always so confident and at home in their own skin this way — pacing back and forth uneven and direction-less, mouth twitching with words held back, everything normally kept stable beneath the surface in danger of bursting out all at once — Nadya’s heart keeps breaking over and over and over again.

Knowing that she’s the reason for it all is worse in a way she isn’t sure she can describe.

“Are there more?”

Kamilah practically hisses the words; “Are there more of these… accounts?”

“No.” Nadya answers — only, hers is a short-lived relief.

“But this is not all that you remember.”

Remember; she spits — like its Nadya’s fault or something.

She doesn’t answer fast enough for Kamilah’s liking. The woman rounds on her one breath away from… from…

“That’s not all of it, no.”

“Tell me.”

“Kamilah —”

“Tell. me.”

“Tell you what?!”

“Tell me what else you have seen of my acts. How far back does your mind reach into our memories—my memories? Can you tell them apart; pluck out the ones which interest you? Do you witness each one from another’s eyes or have you suffered to become me, and kept that from me as well? Of what you’ve seen which is the worst of my sins?”

Nadya scrambles to think of one; tries to pull apart the tangled knots of what she did write down and what she didn’t and the difference between actual memories and things she dreamed of equal tragedy because can she really be expected to have all of that in her head all the time and not lose some portion of her own thoughts in the process?

“I — I can’t remember.”

Kamilah brandishes the book like damning evidence and Nadya’s the one on trial. “Obviously that is another of your mostly-truths.”

“That’s not fair —”

“Do you believe any of this to be fair, Nadya? Surely you are no longer so naive.”

What am I supposed to say? When it seems like everything she tells Kamilah is met with some kind of argument; like it isn’t ever going to be good enough.

All of that tied up with the rest of her and somehow Nadya still feels like she’s unraveling at the edges again. It leaves her gaping, noiseless, second-triple-quadruple guessing every word and thought until tears are brimming in her eyes and Kamilah just looks on.

“What do you want me to say?” Nadya begs. Her tears leave scalding trails down her cheeks. “Please, Kamilah please just tell me what you want me to say.” Because nothing I’m saying is right. Because you demand the truth and you demand answers but those aren’t the same thing anymore.

Pain flickers sharp in Kamilah’s eyes. A different kind of pain than what’s already there. Is it wrong for Nadya to hope it has something to do with the fact Kamilah made her cry; that she somehow regrets lashing out like this?

“I want you to tell me why. Why did you show me this, Nadya,” Kamilah drops the journal to their feet, “why would you hurt me in this way?”

But she doesn’t wait for an answer this time around. Nadya’s barely struggled through a wheezing breath and Kamilah is already at the other end of the room, back turned — can’t even stand the sight of her.

“Kamilah…”

Who doesn’t move.

When Nadya finally manages the simple act of standing its on wobbly legs. She may very well fall on her face in the strides it takes to get to Kamilah but she’d fall on her face a hundred times more if it mends this wound gored out of them.

“Just talk to me, Kamilah. Please—I-I don’t like this,” you don’t either — I can tell, “I was trying to—to put everything out in the open. No more secrets, nothing that could hurt…” hurt you — but you just said I hurt you, “Kamilah, please. This isn’t you.”

Nadya reaches out but Kamilah isn’t there. She’s just shy of Nadya’s touch — she may be blind and bleary-eyed but she knows when someone’s pulled away.

“You don’t know me.”

Kamilah has pulled away from her. Left her aimless; floating in some awful void where she doesn’t know what to say — to think — to feel or do to make it right.

“Though,” the woman laughs bitterly, “perhaps you do — and better than I would have ever allowed.”

Allowed? “What — are you saying you wouldn’t have ever told me about your life before this?”

Before me?

“And have you see me in such a way? No, never.”

“But you were the one who said we shouldn’t have any more secrets.”

“The circumstances were different.”

“Because they were mine.” It’s not a question. Nadya isn’t asking anything; just saying the things Kamilah would rather skirt around, apparently. “I can’t hide things from you but you can hide things from me no problem. That’s not how this works.”

Kamilah turns enough for Nadya to catch her in profile. To catch the slight quirk of her eyebrow at “this.” This—them—whatever they are or… or were. Because if this is the way Kamilah wants things then Nadya might have spent the last year making the biggest mistake of her life.

Kamilah shakes her head with a sigh. “No, you foolish girl. The secrets you kept from me — the severity of your struggle, the things collected in that damned book — they hurt you.”

“They —”

“Do not lie to me again.” Not like this, her unspoken plea — but Kamilah doesn’t do things like that, not now.

And Nadya promised she wouldn’t. So she doesn’t. And she really doesn’t know how to feel about how surprised Kamilah looks for it.

“My secrets, however,” she continues, “only hurt you if you know them. Things are better this way — or rather they were.”

Strangely Nadya feels like she’s had some version of this conversation before. Not with Kamilah but someone she dated, probably back home. How is it they’re arguing about Nadya’s dreamlike memories of every vampire ever including bad stuff Kamilah did and it’s still ringing out like a totally normal couple fighting?

Why does that make Nadya feel both better and worse about the whole thing?

“You make it sound like I did this on purpose.” She couldn’t quite shake what exactly was bothering her about Kamilah’s tone but that’s it — isn’t it? One of those rare times her lack of filter is a good thing. Mostly because Nadya isn’t really sure she’d have the guts to say it if she did have one.

Kamilah snorts; derisive and judgmental — and doesn’t even have the guts to look her in the eyes when she does it.

“You admitted to keeping it from me.”

“What, the—the journal? I’m not talking about the journal. I’m talking about the memories.”

I’ll take that silence as a yes then, huh. “Is that what you think? Is that why you’re mad at me right now? You think I wanted to see that side of you?” Question after question but Nadya barely even breaks to breathe let alone let Kamilah get an answer in. “Every single word in that freakin’ book that’s about you — those were the hardest words I’ve ever had to write!”

“Then why did you write them at all?”

“Because they’re important! Because they have to mean something!”

“Something like what, exactly,” sneers Kamilah, “beyond showing you swaths of carnage I once carved out of the world, or the blood that still seeps from my very fingertips?”

“Or maybe — wild guess here — they aren’t random memories I’m being forced to see? Maybe they mean something? Or… or…”

Now is definitely not the time to lose what little momentum she’s got — not that Nadya can really do anything about it. So Kamilah takes advantage of even the slightest falter.

“‘Or’ what, Nadya?” Calm, composed, effortlessly cool Kamilah — even now.

“Or maybe writing everything down made it easier for me to cope because I knew that the woman on those pages and the woman who held me safe in my sleep weren’t the same; not at all.”

The vampire recoils sudden; violent. Nadya can practically see the chains and walls and vast fields of thorns building up in strength and numbers behind her eyes.

“If you truly believe that… then you have learned nothing.”

“I’ve learned a lot, actually.”

“Not enough to spare you. They are one in the same — these women of whom you speak; one raised up to the heavens and the other damned to despair. They are both me.”

“Maybe once, but —”

“No,” she insists — and shakes her head in disappointment, “there are no exceptions. You do not—cannot—understand. For all the extraordinary things that you are, you are still mortal. And that blinds you; limits you.”

Limits us, is what she means. Nadya can’t tell which one of them she’s sparing by not saying it.

Her dignity flew out this particular door a long time ago but Nadya still tries to compose herself; wipes her tears with the back of her hand hastily. She hiccoughs with a squeak.

“Kamilah — I want to understand. I want to—to try at the very least. So why don’t you?”

Nadya doesn’t mean it as an accusation. Or maybe (on the inside) she does.

“Because I have seen this before. And I know how it ends.”

“That’s an excuse.”

“There is only one way this can end!” And suddenly their world of subtle metaphors isn’t subtle at all; its hundreds of miles away.

This. Nadya’s useless attempts at trying to help Kamilah open up?

This. Kamilah; who knows what she wants and takes it, and Nadya; who never seems to know her own head?

This. A two thousand year old vampire and the twenty-something mortal who is starting to see forever written with the letters of the immortal’s name?

“The things in that book —” Kamilah can’t even bear to look at it now, “— the version of myself you have seen, god forbid if you’ve lived through her eyes… I have not shunned her. I wear her every day, and I will until the end of my days. Yet while I have spent decades forcing her into my shadow there are those who would see her and call her Bloodqueen; who would bow to her feet and cower beneath her in equal measure.

“The very idea that you of all people have seen what I am capable of causes me pain, Nadya. I don’t know which thought is worse; that you might have committed my darkest acts with your own hands or that you still could. If I had known about this I could have found a way to spare you from it. But right now…

“Right now there is nothing on this earth I would like more than to open up your head and rip every single memory of who I was from your mind with my bare hands.”

Rancid fear — totally valid fear but try telling her that right now — rises like bile in the back of her throat. Nadya steps back, trips over her own feet actually, and feels the cool glass of the table hit the back of her legs. And oh god that was definitely the wrong thing to do because Kamilah’s eyes are flaring red and suddenly she can’t close the gap between them fast enough.

She pins Nadya in place. Hands hovering just shy of her upper arms. Kamilah is restraining herself from grabbing Nadya but only barely. No matter how badly she wants to close her eyes and turn away, though, she doesn’t.

She can’t.

“Are you afraid of me, mortal?”

Yes. “No.”

“What did I say about lying?”

“I’m not afraid of you.” I’m afraid of who you think you are.

“I don’t believe you,” any closer and Kamilah will have to step inside her skin, “not for all of the depravities you have seen—felt—lived through my eyes and others. Tell me Nadya,” the backs of her fingers are soft against Nadya’s cheek; it should be a crime to say such awful words in such a velvet voice, “which of them did you fancy best?

“Was it the slaughter at Damascus, and the bacchanalia we reveled in among the corpses? Or perhaps the culling of Versailles — were you witness to my machinations there? Did you see the part I played, the heartstrings I pulled and twisted until ma petit Marie trusted me with her life right up to the moment when I led the mob to her gilded door?

“Do you know to this day, four centuries later, I still cannot gaze out from a balcony without hearing the screams of a dozen chapel sisters and their charges while we hunted them down one. by. one.”

A familiar weakness knocks at Nadya’s knees. No, not this, please not again — she would give anything, everything, not to succumb to the rush of memories that crash into her in Kamilah’s voice. It might take more willpower than she has left to stop them. But she tries; god she tries.

“Stop — Kamilah please just stop.”

The vampire sneers back at her. “Why should I?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” —I won’t let you push me away with fear— “I don’t…”

“You wanted to know, didn’t you; to understand?”

They both sound so broken.

“I don’t want —”

“What? What don’t you want?”

“I don’t want to be protected!”

Nadya braces her hands against Kamilah’s chest and shoves with all her might. Where did that come from? And some small part of her asks do you want to know, do you care right now? Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she’s so angry at Kamilah right now she might actually burst with it.

Kamilah is too graceful of a creature to stumble in anything. But she does step back — a wildness still in her eyes but Nadya feels that too and takes it into her own frustration, sadness; torment.

“I am tired of you people trying to—to protect me from everything! You think you know what’s best for me but why don’t I get to decide that for myself? It involves me, doesn’t it? I deserve the right to choose, Kamilah! Stop taking it from me!”

She gets why people yell when they argue now — it feels freakin’ amazing. “Over and over and over again — I’m already losing my mind; my sense of self. I can’t lose my right to choose too.” I can’t lose you, too. “You think you know what’s best for me — why, because you’ve lived sooo many freakin’ lifetimes that automatically gives you permission over my mind, my body; my actions? Well newsflash; that’s not how relationships work!

“I kept things from you, I admit that. And I’m sorry. I literally can’t apologize any more than I already have. But you don’t get to act like this when you were the one who wanted honesty. You don’t get to throw a tantrum because you did bad things!”

She doesn’t mean some of it; but most of it is just raw and unfiltered Nadya. There was a time when Kamilah liked that about her. But none of this is to make Kamilah happy. Frankly she’s tired of trying to do that and finding walls at every turn.

Nadya sucks at mazes.

“There is far more than —”

“I’m sorry — did I say I was done?” And that’s another addition to her list of regrets when she is done — but she’s not.

She jabs a finger at Kamilah’s chest. “You keep telling me I don’t understand—I can’t understand. But if you stopped acting like I’m just another pathetic human you might realize literally nobody in the entire world can understand better than me. Not Adrian, not Gaius; me. And even if you took all this supernatural bullcrap out of it it’s not your decision whether or not I’m capable of getting you.

“You don’t get to pull me close and push me away any time you feel like it. You can’t spend one night telling me how you were afraid of me getting hurt and then shove yourself up in my face all ‘are you afraid mortal’ the next! That’s just not how it works. That’s not how this is going to work. I deserve better than that.”

Nadya grabs Kamilah’s hand the instant before she starts to pull away. Words are so important, you know? And they couldn’t be more opposite; Kamilah who chooses hers with the utmost caution and Nadya who just kind of spouts them off until the right ones come out in the right order. It’s because of those differences between them that she holds on tight even though she’s very well aware that Kamilah could break free with little thought.

Nadya says ‘I deserve better than that.’ But what Kamilah hears is ‘I deserve better than you.’

“Please,” she begs; though it would be helpful if someone told her what it was she was begging for, “Kamilah… please.”

The twitch of Kamilah’s fingers brush against the inside of her wrist. A bodily impulse to hold Nadya’s hand.

They hold each other captive with a gaze.

#bloodbound #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound fanfiction #playchoices fanfiction #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #; my fics

17 notes · View notes