#but ill do my best to cross reference my timeline | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punemy-spotted · 4 years ago

Text

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness��pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #steve rogers x reader #mob!au #mob!steve #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #dark!fic #dark captain america #captain america #writing challenge

986 notes · View notes

zoophagist · 2 years ago

Note

I honestly love seeing different people's explanations on how Renfield even met Dracula and came to worship him, because Stoker really didn't think it through did he. So, what's your opinion? Both your version of Renfield-wise and book-wise?

oh MAN this ask got buried in my inbox for a while, sorry! awesome question to dig into! answer below the cut because i get lengthy, as usual.

my version of renfield's backstory is largely based in 'the book of renfield,' and that takes the angle that renfield has been groomed for vampire nonsense since his childhood.* in this set up, he was indoctrinated by another vampire, likely a bride of dracula, who brought him into dracula's service, but renfield did not meet dracula in the flesh until the events of the novel, consistent with his crying out to dracula "i have worshipped you long and afar off." he's been psychically linked to dracula the whole time, and can have frenzies or dreams that get him closer to seeing/communing directly with dracula, but nothing more until dracula comes to england in stoker's canon. i have a backstory page that goes into more detail about why renfield comes to accept worshiping him, but the main thrust is that he's a well-simmered stew of religious trauma, parental issues, and a very particular fear of dying and facing judgment.

strictly book-wise, as i interpret stoker, though? hmm. i mean, yeah he really didn't think it through, and i know that there are those that posit renfield has no prior connection to the count outside the book timeline, but i am personally in the camp of the long-game reading. i do think renfield has been in dracula's service for a long time, again, referencing his declaration "i have worshipped you long and afar off," but also on the grounds that by the time dracula is in england, renfield is already incarcerated and it is a Significant Point in the text that dracula cannot get into the asylum without invitation when mina is there later, so he has not been previously invited in. consequently it seems highly unlikely that he could have had the blood-drinking contact necessary to give renfield that kind of psychic link to his comings and goings,** as this would have given him access to renfield's cell. if we say renfield is not already a thrall of dracula when the book starts it would force us to assume dracula immediately arrived in england and his number one priority was making a minion of a man trapped in a not-yet-relevant-to-him asylum, effectively useless for vampiric bidding, which makes very little sense. renfield also has a reaction to the storm in whitby, before dracula would even have gotten to purfleet's asylum, ruling that option out entirely, as i see it. but given the fact that dracula has never been to england before, it is also necessary to extrapolate an explanation of how renfield crossed his path prior to the novel's timeline. renfield was at some point a man of standing and means (we know this from his reference to knowing the late lord godalming and membership to the windham house, and it is also implied by his educated thought, remarked on by seward). this makes it possible to imagine that renfield could have had the means to travel, either for business or pleasure, to the continent. why he would ever be in transylvania is a mystery to me, but we can have some leeway in how far we imagine dracula to have previously traveled. his limitations are needing native soil and an inability to cross moving water, and if we generously assume waterways are comparable today to what they would have been during the mid- to late-1800s when renfield could have been in europe, the count could likely get as far as the rhine river (taking a large detour to avoid the danube)! so... possibly renfield got attacked by dracula on a trip to europe? that's my best guess: blood exchange in europe, brought back to england when he showed signs of being ill, and at that distance, able to recover enough without further feedings and avoid ending up like lucy but maintaining as mina did the mental link to dracula. how that became worship and not just a chance encounter i think might have to do with renfield's religious leanings, since he seems a little zealous (maybe was a devout man before dracula?) and with the continued, inexplicable feeling of connection to something supernatural, possibly voices in his head or visions of an immortal being, one can imagine a conflation between god and dracula occurring for him. it is also implied that dracula can communicate with renfield enough if not to directly order him, then to motivate him to take actions (see his knife attack on seward when the crew begins transfusing blood to try to save lucy; renfield attacks him the same night as the wolf attack on the westenras, and seems satisfied to have made him bleed, not kill him, indicating it's an attempt to prevent him from being able to transfuse more of his own blood to lucy). knowing this, we could maybe extrapolate that renfield was previously drawn into more acute worship of dracula by the count's orders and compulsions.

god, okay, essay over. i think that's all i wanted to say. if anything's unclear or if you have differing thoughts, please do send more asks! i love pulling out all the little details to try to work out drac facts :)

* there is an argument to be made that renfield's oral history of his own life is unreliable and that he may omit things or intentionally choose to misrepresent them, which is equally great as a literary perspective on the text, but i take him largely at his word because it seems consistent with stoker's renfield's compulsion to feel important and drop clues/truths without being able to say the most crucial, vampiric truth. so, do with that what you will.

** the characters of the novel do not acknowledge this directly, but it is canon that renfield's apparent ability to sense dracula's doings and the symptoms around their psychic connection are the same as those that mina gains from exchanging blood with the count. the implication is, as a result, that we must understand renfield to have exchanged blood with dracula at some point.

#||x LET ME ENTREAT YOU OH LET ME IMPLORE YOU! [ answered asks ]#||x IF YOU WISH TO STUDY ZOOPHAGY [ headcanons ]#||x THE GOOD BOOK [ meta & dracula relevant content ]#||x LONG AND AFAR OFF [ ooc ]#||x FANCY ME HURTING QUEUE! THE FOOLS! [ queue ]

5 notes · View notes

thermodynamiclawyer · 4 years ago

Text

yeah, this is gonna be a trainwreck. here’s @bandagegirl ‘s and my GHS headcanon masterpost. our goal was to have at least 3 per character, if not more. we kinda had to group the last few characters together in the end, though. it’ll be split up in categories between the characters in the Game, then Anime-Only, and then overall Worldbuilding at the end as for easier reading.

Game Characters

Gregory

the Lost World/Gregory House is Gregory’s own manifestation through loneliness and envy. (see Worldbuilding)

he’s WAY older than a grandfather of James. he’s more of a great-great-great-great grandfather, but it’s easier to just call him grandpa.

he’s been long dead in reality for years. always constantly dreaming and manifesting his Lost World and eventually never woke up.

there is almost 0 records of him from reality. because of this, there is no clear time period he originated in, unlike the guests.

he’s a collector. he loves historically significant antique items to put on a shelf and learn all about.

as taken from the manga, his favorite historical subject is War.

he suffered from frequent night terrors as a teenager, making it difficult to sleep before the manifestation of the Lost World.

while he usually tries to set up a weekly chore schedule for the residents in the hotel, he usually ends up doing everything himself (both because the guests throw in the towel very quickly and that Gregory wants to do everything right).

his magic abilities include teleportation and immortality, but he’s still very prone to injury.

Gregory Mama

she’s actually a manifestation within the Lost World that Gregory used to cope/punish himself with.

has the tendency to adopt new guests as family members only to eat them/their souls later. this also applies to Gregory attempting to manifest new family members in the past, to which he stopped after Gregory Mama has shown to steal their souls each time.

obviously, she’s not Gregory’s real mother, rather a personification of the abuse Gregory suffered in reality.

as young children usually don’t use their parents real name often, she doesn’t have a real name.

James

he’s a child who escaped reality after discovering a forgotten family member (Gregory) in very old family photos; having little to no relation to the rest of the family.

plus, hearing rumors of a hotel that only appeared during moonless nights only encourage him to take on a challenge.

since he’s related to Gregory (even if it’s very distant), his monster transformation was a lot faster, becoming a full rat in little under a month.

he LOVES horror movies, especially slasher films. he might be a little too influenced by them.

he owns a large range of weapons, from toy water guns to actual chainsaws. that doesn’t mean he’ll use them responsibly, though.

he’s a very smart kid, even to the point where he can be manipulative to both the kids and the adults. he’ll even convince other kids to take the blame for him whenever he starts problems.

his parents from reality miss him very much.

Catherine

in reality, Catherine was a German nurse in the 1940’s during WW2.

as a human, she was actually afraid of the sight of blood and would get lightheaded whenever she had to treat a soldier’s wounds. however, as a determined nurse, she tried her hardest to become tolerant of blood. tolerance became fondness and fondness became obsession to the point where she was hurting her patients just to see blood again.

she is attracted to both men and women, however she experiences internalized biphobia. due to this, she’s desperate to find true love with a man while specifically trying to avoid romantic relationships with women.

she knows how to take care of children.

she molts her skin during periods of time, you know, since she’s a lizard.

she didn’t gain magic powers along with her transformation, but instead gained physical strength.

Cactus Gunman and Cactus Girl

both originated in the Mexican revolution, especially around 1910.

Gunman had been shot in the chest a few times in his life and surprisingly survived each of them.

Gunman’s personality completely changed once he arrived in Gregory House with his sister, becoming a paranoid coward from the brave “hero” he made himself out to be.

they both grow seasonal flowers in the springtime. Gunman grows one large red flower on his head, which he hides with his hat in the spring time. he prefers to only show to his potential lover. Cactus Girl grows smaller white flowers in her hair.

Gunman is in dire need of glasses.

Gunman is quite fond of gardening, and loves to talk about flora. sometimes, Lost Doll will accompany him in the courtyard while he weeds.

they would die for each other, so don’t cross them.

Cactus Girl can shoot better than Gunman, but prefers her lasso and other melee weapons. she’s sworn off using guns after the revolution.

Cactus Girl has the ability to spawn in zones in smaller closed areas, such as turning her hotel room into Cactus Land; sort of like a pocket dimension. it’ll disappear as soon as she leaves the room.

sometimes, they both don’t need to eat due to the occasional Photosynthesis, and can go a long time without water.

Hell’s Chef

he worked as a highly regarded chef in Russia at a fancy restaurant, with mixed European family origins.

him and Mirror Man were coworkers of some sort.

he came from a long line of wrestlers, but broke family tradition to cook as a passion and career.

he died after the restaurant went up in flames.

his throat is still scratchy and rough from the incident, so he isn’t much of a talker. not to mention the language barrier and that he’s still attempting to learn the language everyone else speaks in Gregory House.

while the appearance of his meals look absolutely irredeemable, Chef’s cooking is actually very tasty; so much that you almost can’t taste the poison. he prefers making meals that are hearty and savory, rather than “looking good”.

he prefers to do all the food shopping and butchering. nobody knows the best ingredient selections like he does.

like Catherine, all of this “magic ability” went to his incredible strength.

most, if not all of his body is made out of wax, with vein like wick all throughout the body, giving him general bodily structure.

Neko Zombie

(see Worldbuilding)

Clock Master and My Son

My Son was a stillborn in reality; the death of him and his mother gave Clock Master an alcohol addiction and depression.

1960 is the year My Son and CM's wife died, making it when time stopped for CM. he’s sort of “stuck” in 1960 in a way, which is why the year is plastered on both of their foreheads.

My Son was technically "born" in Gregory House.

when Clock Master came to Gregory House, an infant My Son was already waiting in his room. Because the child died before getting a name, CM referred to him as My Son.

while CM's time abilities are getting worse with age, they never were great to begin with due to the Lost World's unusual flow of time.

My Son's time abilities on the other hand have the potential to be the most powerful ability out of everyone's when he gets older, being able to play multiple timelines at the same time and even rewriting reality. this is due to being born in the Lost World, so his ability has adapted to Gregory House’s “time” system.

Judgement Boy + Gold

instead of a singular character, Judgement Boys are classified as a “species” considering there are multiple of them, with more being produced in the Judgement Factory daily. there is not a singular JB.

the Judgement Factory in Gregory House is a sub-factory of a much bigger Core Factory, where it branches off into different zones and other manifestations. There are countless Judgement Factories in existence, all with numerous JBs being produced and trained.

Judgement Boy Gold is an individual one-of-a-kind model, however, there are more in the “Metal” series similar to him in different factories with a variety of training jobs.

JBs came into existence after a lawyer in the early 2000’s won a court case that suppressed the rights and safety of these assembly line workers in a Toy Factory, which caused hundreds of workers to be injured or even killed. realizing the consequences of his actions, he spiraled downwards into insanity and ended up in Gregory House, rarely leaving his hotel room and eventually manifesting the Factory.

most models or designs of a Judgement Boy are based off of toys; one of the very few things reflected from the lawyer’s fatal court case.

the standard JB’s appearance is a bastardized caricature of the original lawyer, only with added cages and robotic features. the lawyer began transforming into a red monster with sharp teeth and claws, but never saw the results as he disappeared into the Core Factory one day, never to be seen again.

see @ask-factory and the #extended factory tag for a more extensive story.

Mummy Family

Mummy Papa, Mummy Dog, and Mummy Mama originated somewhere in the 1980’s.

the reason they’re in Gregory House is an overlap of death and the fact that Mummy Papa was unintentionally poisoning the 3, leading to ending up in the hotel as a “punishment”.

they’re Bloodhounds.

Mummy Papa loves to collect weapons and owns a saber collection, especially older historically significant ones.

Mummy Dog enjoys morbid facts and likes to tell the other children about death.

Mummy Papa has Münchausen Syndrome by Proxy, which is triggered when the sword shifts in his head. because of this, he keeps himself and the rest of his family sicker with unclear motives, perhaps to have the ability brag about their ailments. (more details here)

Mummy Mama suffers from more immune-system based illnesses and anemia while the other two deal with physical and phantom pain, which they all pass off as colds.

the plant in Mummy Mama’s head is a parasite, and needs to be fed directly to continue living if Mummy Mama gets too weak. (the plant prefers blood)

TV-Fish

one of the few characters classified as a species.

TV Fish have a wide variety of fish or other sea creatures they can be. the TV Fish in Gregory House are much smaller.

some TV Fish don’t even have to be TVs. some can be other electronic appliances just as long as they’re combined with a fish skeleton.

they can be found across other Zones and places besides the Lost World, some with localized and native species differing from what we already seen.

TV Fish are an invasive species in the Lost World.

they’re attracted to people with better memory. a person more intact and in touch with their memories could attract an entire school of TV Fish!

Roulette Boy

practically a God, Roulette Boy has reality bending powers.

however, since he follows his own rules strictly, he sets limits on himself as to only use them for his games, and won’t apply them to himself since he’s the Game Master.

nobody knows what the “rules” he follow are, but he restrains himself on what he can do while hosting a game. though, once you’re in his game, it’s almost a free-for-all and he can change you to be whatever pawn he sees fit until the game is over.

while RB prefers traditional board games, nothing’s stopping him from hosting RPGs or other turn-based video games (as seen in Lost Qualia.) he also loves gacha games and gambling.

when not hosting a game, he likes to roleplay.

Angel/Devil Dog

she is not a guest in Gregory House, neither a manifestation of the Lost World. she is a messenger from an entire separate outside world/reality, and she’s always been Angel Dog.

her, Death, and Gregory have been around equally the longest.

her and Gregory have a long history of rivalry. she’s always meddling in the Lost World and trying to let souls out a backdoor. whether she’s doing it to free them, or just to piss off Gregory, depends on her mood.

Angel Dog has a solid grasp on reality, however, her reality is different from the guests. it’s why her and Neko Zombie get along.

she doesn’t have a split personality disorder, as she chooses to become Devil Dog whenever she feels like it. her decision making is very emotion-based.

she’s a Dachshund!

Devil Dog likes soccer, and Angel Dog likes american football.

Lost Doll

ever since coming to the Lost World, she has either stopped aging altogether or she ages very slowly, as most object-based guests do.

she’s a wooden marionette with the ability to change her size.

in reality, she belonged to a very poor family who could only afford a few outdated wooden toys, which is why Katie was so special to her.

she’s good friends with James, even if she’s usually the one falling victim to his pranks. sometimes, when Katie takes over, it can be the other way around.

she has poor volume control and tends to shout when she’s excited or provoked.

she’s the youngest guest.

Death

Death, like Gregory Mama, is a manifestation of a part of Gregory's life.

he was created from Gregory’s favorite comfort movie, The Seventh Seal.

Death used to work in Gregory House as a doorman, welcoming the guests and wishing them goodbye, but fleed when Gregory Mama appeared and got rid of all other "manifestations".

his goal is to free Gregory's soul and end the Lost World, which is only possible if Gregory is the only person left.

Anime Characters

Dr.Fritz

Dr.Fritz is also German like Catherine, but came a little later in time.

back in reality, his body slowly stop responding, so he illegally tried to build himself a new body. that new body wasn’t fully ready yet when he decided to transplant his own brain when he was wheelchair bound and starting to lose arm control, so it was a very long process.

because of his condition, doctors either didn’t treat him correctly or flat out ignored his problems, so he has a strong mistrust to other doctors, which is why he wanted to operate on himself. the other doctors said there was nothing they could do, but he had other plans in mind.

he was there for the Berlin wall falling, and still has a piece of it as a keepsake.

he falls apart easily and has to re-sew body parts or snap his neck back into place. Catherine helps put him back together (in return, Fritz helps her shed.)

Catherine calls him Fritzchen on occasion.

he documents the species of the patients he treats out of curiosity and hopes to help them better. his treatments may be considered “unethical” but he knows for certain that if it’s to cure or treat the patient, he’ll go great lengths to break any rule in the medical field.

Mono Eye Wizard + Frog Fortune Teller

both are canonically married to each other, i just wanted to make sure everyone knew :]

Mono Eye Wizard wears a helmet, and he’s also an amphibian with one eye underneath his robe.

both are very interested and knowledgeable in the Magical and Paranormal side of the Lost World.

both held onto their souls for longer than most people, but lost them in the end.

Wizard is normally very powerful, he just SUCKS at summonings. (plus, he’s a little bit of an idiot)

on the other hand, Frog Fortune Teller isn’t very powerful, but she is very smart (and stubborn). she’s almost always right, especially if it’s a bad thing she predicted.

Wizard, and other characters such as Musha Dokuro and Egypetit all worship the same Dark Lord.

the little horned skeletons in Wizard’s cult are also classified as a species. sometimes, he allows in other interested members.

Wizard is fluent in latin.

Second Guest

the Second Guest, as shown at the end of the season two, has the silhouette of a rat. that’s her actual form; a shadow.

her “job” is to eavesdrop on other guests to go and report to Gregory Mama.

she’s very fast, quiet, hard to catch, and a big snitch.

the others call her “Hello Sister” as a title, while Gregory Mama calls her “My Lovely Daughter.”

her cigarette embers still glow on the wall, which is one of the only signals she’s in the room, especially in a poorly lit one.

usually only Gregory, James, and Mama can “hear” what she’s saying.

Chef strongly dislikes her and Lost Doll avoids her like the plague.

Prompters

a pair of indistinguishable twins, escaping reality after being rejected of their dream to become famous theater actors. both young adults.

they work multiple part time jobs, including helping out in the Judgement Factory in the hotel and Kabuki's theater, along with Poor Conductor’s performances.

they share drinks at the bar. their favorite drink is a raspberry/strawberry milkshake with two cherries. don’t forget to give them two straws!

they’re both learning how to cook with Hell’s Chef. so far, they can dice onions very well. :]

Public Phone

he’s in the Lost World as a punishment for being a greedy thief in reality.

he can create fake alibis, passports, various cards in addition to faking voices.

he’s drinking pals with Clock Master.

he takes any currency, just nothing fake. only HE can be the swindle here.

he’s a perverted little bitch.

Various Species

Haniwa Salarymen are classified as species, created from overworked businessmen in reality. The occurrence of them are very common, and season 1 happens to focus on one of them.

Black Ducks are a species, specializing in working kiosks, amusement parks, and other booths. Speed Mouse is never seen without a team of Black Ducks. Street Vendors sometimes accompany them.

Musha Dokuro are an invasive species to the Lost World.

Trap Mice are a (rare) artificial species built in the Lost World.

Dead Bodies are also classified as a species. they are the result of Death freeing an individual’s soul, leaving a husk/empty body behind.

species like these show up in reality to those who are close to their visit in the Lost World, appearing in the background or the corner of their eye, replacing real people.

individuals in all of those species are not visible/noticable until you interact and get close with them. they’re like NPCs.

Others

Wooden Lizard was Captain Wood’s favorite keychain that came to life.

Fat Chicken is an omnivore. He can and will eat anything.

(see here for Pig Gentleman and Mirror Man.)

Mirror Man can summon his own pocket dimension.

Kinko and Inko know more than they lead on, and Kinko is definitely much more powerful, but he can’t be bothered to do anything about it. he’s lazy.

Inko smokes cigars, but hates cigarettes.

Earth Man (from Lost Qualia) is non-verbal. he’s also very eco friendly!

Hell’s Taxi is a manifestation of a false sense of hope to escape the Lost World. it can also manifest in Reality to pick up new guests.

Egypetit’s head is made up of Gold, a strong conductor of magic in the Lost World.

Poor Conductor was powerful enough to manifest his own room into the Lost World, rather than checking into the Hotel himself.

Unbaba is semi non-verbal and cannot remove his mask. he’s definitely powerful enough to make guests lose their souls.

Bonsai Kabuki needs to water his head frequently or else he’ll be drained of energy, and be unable to open his third eye.

The Rainbow Dragon fossils, which Bonehead is after, are cursed, and uses his wife’s voice to compel him into seeking after them to claim yet another victim.

Toilet Baby may not be as powerful, but he can still summon dangerous attacks related to pocket dimensions.

Sleepy Sheep is used as a vessel in his sleep for those who are powerful enough to enter dreams.

Worldbuilding

Gregory House was a real place back in Reality, and it originally belonged to Neko Zombie and his loving family.

However, years and years of built up envy and hatred from Gregory, a person who didn’t receive the same love and luxuries as Neko Zombie, manifested the Lost World as a way for him to cope with the things he didn’t have in Reality, bringing the house down with him.

The remains of the house in Reality is now a mere rumor in the town, but its influence spreads across many zones to this day.

Neko Zombie is the final remaining member of the original owners of the house.

Him and Gregory are LONG forgotten for generations in Reality.

Zones are a loose term in the Lost World, which could mean alternate realities, different dimensions, etc. The Lost World is a zone with its own manifestations.

Another Zone could have its own origins and realities. Reality is not a zone, if that makes sense.

A Zone itself can manifest as a single individual or object being the Core that keeps the zone existing. (See The Core Judgement Factory that branches off Sub-Factories into different Zones.)

The Lost World is a very large Zone that reaches and branches off into other Zones, pulling in individuals.

Because of Zonal shenanigans, time moves a lot differently in the Lost World.

awful hospital does a better job handling zones better than this, actually. we took a little bit of inspiration from it. see here and here for a better grasp on what i’m trying to say.

#ghs #gregory horror show #ghs headcanon #I CANT TAG ALL THE CHARACTERS ILL ACTUALLY RUN OUT OF SPACE #i didn’t include firebird bloody wheel or bell seal only cuz we didn’t have shit for them n they weren’t related to other characters #anyways holy SHIT please enjoy i’m gonna fuckin shower or some shit #oh yeah That Guy isn’t included either cuz he hardly exists

73 notes · View notes

abbydramarambles · 5 years ago

Text

The REAL Ending CLOY

This is my headcanon and you can’t tell me otherwise. The epilogue in Switzerland is set a few years after the events of that piano concert. They have already found a way to be together more permanently. To me the house doesn’t seem like a vacation house, it seems like a home home.

There is that photo of Se-ri on the bridge, not something one would frame for themselves. RJH definitely lives there. Check out the north Korean coffee kettle and other souvenirs as well. This is the sort of stuff one would have in their home.

The only thing holding RJH to North Korean is his parents, the fact that they could be killed if he were to defect. After they die, he has no reason to stay. We’ve already been shown that he is resourceful and would know exactly how to get out. Not to mention that everything in north Korean runs on money, if you have connections like Se-ri and RJH do....anything is possible. And to me these two people with all their power, well they would find a way.

Dan’s mother travels out of the country a lot as well for business. I think the 2 weeks is the longest trip Se-ri takes while RJH’s parents are alive. It’s not the only trip of the year. I doubt her employees would be saying “you’re going to Switzerland again??” if it was a once a year sort of deal they wouldn’t think she had a man. They even say “it’s lasting a while this time”. Come on who in the world would think it’s a relationship if their boss goes to switzerland for 2 weeks a year. It’s her favorite 2 weeks of the year because of it being uninterrupted time.

Well with her wealth and his determination, and connections via his family, I'm sure they'll find a way eventually, either it is his parents passing away (since it has been about 6 years between him going back to NK and the epilogue meetup), or him somehow getting a long term mentoring position at Switzerland. You’re telling me Dan’s mom a department store owner can swing to Europe anytime, and Se-ri who created a whole scholarship for her man can’t swing something in collaboration with Papa Ri?

I got the impression the student performing his song on stage was a full-time student in Switzerland. RJH is not studying abroad but is teaching NK scholarship winners. Seri has been traveling back and forth a lot but these two weeks are the longest continual time they have together.

When Seri first sees him in Switzerland she asks how dangerous his journey was, and he didn’t answer, just said he got on the wrong train but reached his destination. “Destination” implies a final location to me, not just a two-week stay. For two people who find it torturous to be apart for even a moment, destination would not have been thrown around like that. It could’ve taken his Dad some time to manage the politics to make a permanent teaching position with the National Symphony. He did see his son cry in the car after leaving her. That man is powerful, the 3rd most powerful man in North Korean. A political manipulation genius, a man always one step ahead of the others. He got his son and 5 people in and out of South Korea. You best believe he can make it happen. He’s not going to sit back and leave his only son living without his only dream. Plus RJH was never a flag waving patriotic North Korean anyway. He already expressed that he wanted to stay with SeRi in South Korea, have a child that looks just like her. It’s kdrama script writing 101 to not have your lead character mention a deep desire such as this one unless its foreshadowing or serves a larger purpose. And Park Ji Eun is no noob writer.

Let’s look at the way the show itself references fate and destiny. Regardless of how impossible it may seem, these two always managed to find each other again. Fate is pushing them together and is on their side. I don’t think fate wants them to meet 2 weeks a year. Fate didn’t make them meet in Switzerland, in North Korea, in South Korea, and in Switzerland again for 2 weeks a year for the rest of their lives. I can’t entertain that. A lot of people think that the epilogue on the hill and when she meets him for the first time again in Switzerland with the parachute are the same time frame. I don’t think so. I really do think the piano concert is the ending and the picnic is the epilogue. It’s years from then, when everything has been sorted about how to be together permanently and it’s a window in to happy every after. Just look at their body language and expressions in the last scene, they are totally at peace and seem to have gotten everything they wanted. Even the music radiates peace. Listen to the lyrics of Sigriswil that play as the camera pans out “wandering this strange night, won’t you be here by me? now I hold your hands, with you I’ll be alright...how does it feel, my friend? It’s been a long day and night” THEY ARE NO LONGER WANDERING ALONE THAT IS THE POINT. period. It was a “long day and night, but now I hold your hand” ... how does it finally feel to have your happy ever after....my friend. IT REEKS OF OPTIMISM and closure. In film making the atmosphere says everything about what is unsaid in the script.

You best believe he won’t leave a stone unturned to be with her, see her grow old and live in the house of dreams with their twins. Just the fact that he vocalized this thought in the show leads me to believe that it did indeed happen.

Believe in what the show is telling us to believe. What it’s showing us, not telling us even. That love will always find a way.

Cloy’s ending also reminds me of very heavily of (spoiler) that of “my love from the stars”. It was written by Park Ji-eun, the same writer as CLOY. So yes they are forced to be apart in that show too, but he finds his way back and each time they meet its for longer and longer and its implied that one day it will be forever. If an alien could find a wormhole to make it back to his love interest, north korea isn’t looking too bad. Same thing with her other star crossed lovers show “legend of the blue sea”. The mermaid finds him again against all odds and they live happily ever (plus a baby). Hey I’m just saying that the precedent has been set on how this seperation works through our writers own works. Having seen all of Park Ji Eun I know exactly how she structures her endings. It’s almost always the same. The mermaid made it back, the alien made it back...north korea is where we draw the line? They’re only apart for awhile till they figure it out, and they work hard to do so.

Whatever this image is from TVN left it unaired. They shot something they had to pull back. My crack theory brain says she looks a bit pregnant. Actually, that ain’t even a crack theory, I stand behind it. Son yejin is so slim, and judging by the material of the dress it just wouldn’t fall like that unless they were trying to make her look pregnant. Like LISTEN, just LISTEN to me. They put in the effort to get the actors in these outfits we have never seen before, they even gave seri flowers...whY?? There are no other purely promo shots that didn’t have footage attached. The only ones I can think of are the ones they took in front of a greenscreen for the photoframes inside their house. THIS WAS A REAL SCENE THAT WAS DELETED. South Korean dramas pre-film certain scenes (like the swiss ones) and live film the others to make slight changes to the storyline based on audience reaction. During airing there was quite a lot of political backlash a la north korea.

There are some stills TVN released that weren’t screencaps. But ALL of them were in outfits relating to scenes we have seen, such as this one. It just would make no sense for them to go out of there way to get this image on the jam packed expensive swiss schedule and not just do greenscreen in korea like they did for all the other promo material UNLESS it was a real scene.

So you want more evidence for plot points that indicated the original, unaired, together forever in Switzerland ending?

Let’s look at some details, at one point in Episode 14 when Jeong Hyeok's father is meeting with the bad guy Senior Colonel who tries to use photos of Jeong Hyeok in Korea as a bargaining chip, he says "You should retire quietly. Using your health as an excuse won't raise any suspicions." now whilst this may be a casual reference to him being old and that health issues are plausible, it's also possible Jeong Hyeok's father has had some long term illness they've not mentioned which would add to why it wouldn't raise suspicions.

The main reason I thought of this is it would sort of line up with some other details, in the finale when they're deciding whether to send them back or not, at the NIS briefing they mention how the North has requested keeping it quiet and confidential, they mention "They want the confidentiality term to be five years. They're being sensitive about it because one of them is a high-ranking officers son". Then if we fast forward toward the end when Se-ri is receiving the timed messages, a year passes after her birthday message from Jeong Hyeok, after that scene we see Jeong Hyeok having his farewell meal with the townspeople and preparing to leave after being accepted as a pianist for the National Symphony Orchestra, presumably around the same time as Se-ris birthday given that scene was right before. Se-ri then comes up with her Switzerland Music academy idea probably a few weeks or month or so after she read RJH's text about meeting and then it tells as it's one year later, Se-ri waits but doesn't meet him and returns home, her mum says "It breaks my heart to see you return in disappointment every time" which if that's a correct translation it means it's been more than once by this point. Add up this entire timeline....guess what it comes out to. FIVE YEARS. That’s how long it takes them to sort out a permanent solution for their problem.

When he chooses to defect it will be much easier for him considering he’s making trips to Switzerland already. All he would have to do is walk into a South Korean embassy in Zurich. They have an open door policy for North Koreans, he doesn’t even need to cross the DMZ again.

You want even MORE proof? Okay my friend, I’ll bite. Why are there photos of a couple with children?? Honestly come on I really don’t have to say more.

They had to leave the ending open. Due to the political situation, they couldn’t exactly show RJH, a North Korean, defecting. Pretty sure our buddy Kim Jong-un would not be chill with that. However ridiculous it is, the show had multiple attacks on it while it was running by political parties saying it violated the “national security act”.

The ending was clearly cleverly re-edited to be less explicit so the viewer can read between the lines but the show-runners can protect themselves from lawsuits and public sentiment regarding a sort of maybe illegal situation. If you believe they met for two weeks a year for the rest of their lives, you don’t know RiRi Ri-eally well ;)

#crash landing on you #cloy #yoon se ri #ri jung hyeok #ri jeong hyeok #hyun bin #son ye jin #kdrama #binjin #dooly #riri couple

883 notes · View notes

writingithink · 4 years ago

Text

Tangled Timelines Chapter 4 Rated: T Chapter Word Count: 8,468 Chapter Summary: Their tour of Torchwood does not go well. Notes: Okay so it's been awhile, but I'm back! Life is still p busy and chaotic, buuut the muse is kinder to me when there's more sunshine, so ... *shrug* I can only hope the update is worth the wait XP Hopefully the fact that it's the longest chapter yet helps?

MASSIVE thanks to @hey-there-juliet for being an amazing beta, as always.

All mistakes are definitely mine, being as I cannot leave anything alone.

I own nothing.

Read it on AO3!!

<-Ch 3

They left the warehouse through a dingy corridor, which the Doctor suspected was actually a tunnel. The air felt stale and damp despite the ventilation shafts running above them. Plus, Yvonne was currently silent, not giving them an enthusiastic description of where they were or where they were going - likely an attempt to disorient them. Cheeky, really.

“All those times I’ve been to Earth, I’ve never heard of you,” he told her, mostly trying to figure out how that was even possible, and partly because hearing nothing but their echoing footsteps was starting to get on his nerves.

Rose was quiet, both verbally and in his head, as she continuously looked around them. Being escorted by armed guards through a creepy tunnel was putting her on edge. He squeezed her hand, but had a difficult time trying to project reassurance across their bond.

“But of course not. You’re the enemy,” Yvonne said. “You’re actually named in the Torchwood Foundation Charter of 1879 as an enemy of the Crown.”

Wait, 1879?! Torchwood, 1879.

“1879,” the Doctor repeated aloud this time. “That was called Torchwood, that house in Scotland.”

Just you?!, Rose exclaimed, outrage flitting through their connection. They don’t even mention me? Oh, that is just- just typical Victorian. I bet it’s because you said you bought me or whatever. I was just- just a thing. Good enough to be knighted and banished, but don’t get even a teeny tiny mention on this Charter of theirs?

I’m sorry, do you want to be declared an enemy of the crown?, he asked her. While he was able to keep his amusement off of his face, it was very apparent over the bond.

“That’s right,” Yvonne was saying, “where you encountered Queen Victoria and the werewolf.”

“I guess she really was NOT amused,” Rose quipped.

“Her Majesty created the Torchwood Institute with the express intention of keeping Britain great, and fighting the alien horde,” Yvonne informed them.

Suppose it’s best that I wasn’t mentioned, his wife admitted over the bond. Imagine what would’ve happened if Torchwood did know about me and snatched me up, took me prisoner or something before we even met?

She actually made a very good point.

“But if I’m the enemy, does that mean that I’m a prisoner?” the Doctor asked, more than a little worried.

Earth during this time, from his perspective? Mostly harmless. Torchwood, however, had an awful lot of very not-harmless extraterrestrial technology. And while they couldn’t get into the TARDIS and couldn’t actually stop him from sensing where she was, they did seem to have a sporting chance of keeping them from reaching her.

“Oh yes,” Yvonne answered as they made a sharp turn and exited the tunnel to stop abruptly in front of a heavily enforced door. “But we’ll make you perfectly comfortable. And there is so much you can teach us. Starting with this.”

The door slid open and she led them into what appeared to be some sort of laboratory.

“Now, what do you make of that?” she asked, not needing to be any more specific. There was no way that he couldn’t know what she was referring to, the way the sphere was hovering at the end of the narrow space, every single piece of equipment in the room trained on it. And it was decidedly wrong. More wrong than the ghosts, than Torchwood’s existence, than … anything on the planet , really.

The Doctor couldn’t take his eyes off it.

All of his senses were going haywire, forcing him to block out most of the bond in order to shield Rose from just how- how awful this thing was.

“You must be the Doctor,” he was dimly aware that someone was speaking to him. “Rajesh Singh. It’s an honor, sir.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, still unable to look away from the sphere.

The timelines were tangling up around it, some passing over it as if the sphere didn’t exist, others indicating direct consequences of its future actions, or inaction - who knows. But those timelines were the only real sign, aside from the fact that he could see it, that his senses were giving him to prove that it did, in fact, exist at all.

“What is that?” his bondmate asked, dropping his hand. “It’s- it’s-”

“We got no idea,” Yvonne had no qualms to admit.

The Doctor shut down even more of the bond (a difficult feat), activating senses that he rarely used and was sure would only serve to give Rose a headache (or worse) if they leeched over to her. He had some ideas, none of them good, but still needed to narrow it down.

“It’s wrong,” his wife proclaimed.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong with it?” he vaguely heard the bloke - Rajesh - ask her.

“I … I can’t … I think I might be sick.”

His attention snapped back to his bondmate and the Doctor opened the bond a little bit more, as much he safely felt he could, attempting to comfort her while also determining exactly what she was sensing from the sphere. Rose was still new to telepathy, really, and there was a possibility that other senses were activating as well. Unfortunately, he also needed to figure out what the sphere really was, and couldn’t focus the majority of his attention on his wife as he walked up to the platform. All he could safely ascertain, without going too deep into her mind to focus on the task at hand, was that she wasn’t truly ill and that her mind wasn’t in any danger.

“Well, the sphere has that effect on everyone,” Yvonne said. “Makes you want to run and hide, like it’s forbidden.”

“We tried analyzing it using every device imaginable,” Rajesh explained as the Doctor re-blocked the bond and put on his 3D specs, hoping for once that he was wrong. “But according to our instruments, the sphere doesn’t exist.”

Oh, why couldn’t he have been wrong? The sphere was so steeped in Void particles that it almost looked as though it was made of the stuff.

Yvonne had said that the ghosts were a side effect. He was starting to get an idea of what may have happened.

“It weighs nothing,” Rajesh continued, “it doesn’t age. No heat, no radiation, and has no atomic mass.”

“But everyone can see it,” Rose pointed out in disbelief. “Touch it, I’m assuming. It’s there.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it? It upsets people because it gives off nothing. It is absent.”

The Doctor couldn’t stop looking at it. It was … well, obviously it wasn’t impossible, but it should be.

“Well, Doctor?” Yvonne asked, snapping him out of it.

“This is a Void Ship,” he admitted, refocusing on the weakening barriers he’d erected around their bond, trying to reinforce them in order to keep his anxiety and fear from crossing over. The blocks wouldn’t last much longer, the mental energy to keep them in place would be too great, but he just needed a little more time to get a handle on himself. They would figure this all out. They had to.

“And what is that?”

He could feel his wife attempting to reach him and hated that he was keeping her out. But really, they needed to avoid the inevitable negative feedback loop, especially since he had to do his best to appear calm and collected in front of these people. The Doctor took off his glasses, but still couldn’t stop looking at the ship.

“Well, it’s impossible for starters,” he told them, unable to think of a better word. “I always thought it was just a theory, but it’s a vessel designed to exist outside of time and space, traveling through the Void.”

Finally able to rip his gaze away from the sphere, he turned away, sitting down on the stairs leading up to the platform. Yvonne and Rajesh were quick to flank him, forcing Rose to squeeze past them in order to sit next to him. The Doctor put his arm around her automatically, and his barriers crumbled away. It was easier to keep himself calm (well, more calm) now that he wasn’t looking at the thing.

“And what’s the Void?” Rajesh asked.

It’s the space between parallel worlds, yeah?, his bondmate confirmed, attempting to send soothing waves of reassurance across their connection and dutifully not complaining about being cut off.

“The space between dimensions,” he explained to the others after mentally agreeing with his wife. “There’s all sorts of realities around us, different dimensions, billions of parallel universes all stacked up against each other. The Void is the space in between, containing absolutely nothing. Imagine that - nothing. No light, no dark, no up, no down, no life, no time.” The Doctor actually found himself feeling better, giving them a heavily edited lecture, separating himself from all of the potential ramifications for a moment. But only for a moment, before dread began to claw back up his spine. “My people called it the Void. The Eternals call it the Howling. But some people call it Hell.”

“But someone built the sphere,” Rajesh pointed out. “What for? Why go there?”

Oh, he did love it when people asked the important questions.

“To explore?” he hazarded. “To escape? You could sit inside that thing and eternity would pass you by. The Big Bang, end of the Universe, start of the next, wouldn’t even touch the sides. You’d exist outside the whole of creation.”

In a rare moment of complete synchronicity, he and Rose both thought of the Beast in the pit.

The Doctor hadn’t thought it possible, but the Void Ship suddenly seemed even more sinister.

Before time.

Perhaps a being could exist before time … if they crawled out of the Void. But how would that even work? He wanted to convince himself that it was impossible - had to be. But …

It doesn’t matter, Rose chimed in, easily getting his attention. We stopped him. Whatever’s in that thing, it isn’t that.

She seemed so certain of this that the Doctor couldn’t help but believe her.

“You see, we were right,” Yvonne said, smugly. “There is something inside there.”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, frowning deeply as she smiled on.

His bondmate was now thinking of a different memory from Krop Tor. What the Beast had predicted for her.

The valiant child, who will die in battle so very soon.

He could feel the beginnings of the negative feedback loop that he’d been trying so hard to prevent.

I told you, it was wrong, the Doctor insisted, trying to project his complete certainty of this fact. Their timelines were entwined - it was all or nothing. And he still didn’t trust what he’d glimpsed at the Olympics, couldn’t allow that kind of hope to blind him of the danger of their current situation, but he played the memory for her anyway. He needed her to believe it. They just needed to get through this.

“So, how do we get in there?” Rajesh asked.

Oh, how he hated it when people asked the wrong questions.

“We don’t!” he ordered, launching himself up off the platform. “We send that thing back into Hell. How did it get here in the first place?”

There would have to be a tear in the fabric of reality for it to come through now that his people were gone. And he was going to have to figure out how to close it before it got bigger.

A tear in the fabric of reality?!, Rose shouted in his mind as she got up to follow him.

“Well, that’s how it all started,” Yvonne unknowingly saved him from having to respond to his seething wife. “The sphere came through into this world and the ghosts followed in its wake.”

“Show me,” the Doctor demanded, voice clipped as he took Rose’s hand and marched out of the room.

You’ve known about this Void stuff the whole bloody time, she continued complaining over the bond. Why the HELL didn’t you say something sooner?

I didn’t want to worry you unless I had to, he admitted. When it was just those ghosts, I thought that maybe it would be a simple fix. But that ship is corporeal. It made it properly through. The ghosts haven’t, so I thought I might just be dealing with a potential crack in the Universe. An almost crack. Like when you drop a mug and it gets a tiny hairline fracture. It hasn’t actually broken, just damaged enough that bacteria can get caught in it. You shouldn’t really drink out of it anymore if you can help it, but if you wanted to you could still use it to store pencils.

They took a left and barely made it past the door before he heard Yvonne shout, “No, Doctor.”

He quickly pivoted, accidentally dragging his bondmate in a circle, and then purposefully held his head high as they walked past the door again.

So the ship broke the mug, then, Rose continued as Yvonne and one of the soldiers caught up to them.

Yup. The metaphor kind of falls apart a bit after that, though. I’ll think of something better, just give us a tick. And … I’m sorry. It’s not like I thought you couldn’t handle it or anything.

They were directed to a lift, and as soon as they got inside his bondmate let go of his hand and crossed her arms.

Honestly, the Doctor pleaded across their bond, I was hoping that I was wrong. That it just appeared like they’d crossed the Void.

She glanced his way before eyeing the screen that was tracking their progress up the floors at a rate that was much faster than he could recall lifts being in this time period. The further up they went, the more his senses were screaming at him that things were not right. Timelines were twisting into strange shapes, and what was an occasional flicker everywhere else was more like a strobe as they shifted in and out of existence. The Doctor felt increasingly grateful that the barriers around his senses were much stronger than the rest.

You really weren’t trying to keep me out of some plan you’re cookin’?

Absolutely not, he hastily agreed. Me? A plan? Bold of you to think I have one.

His bondmate covered her mouth with a hand as her laughter rang out over their connection. Much better. Well, relatively. They were still in the middle of a gigantic potentially-Universe-ending catastrophe, but who said he couldn’t still appreciate the little things?

Yvonne led them out at the 45th floor - the very top of the building. Or maybe skyscraper was a better word.

“Right this way, then,” she said, and while Yvonne had started off leading them, they soon matched her pace - the breach was so large that there was no way the Doctor could have missed it even without the escort.

Within moments they turned a corner and there it was. Dormant, but there.

“The sphere came through here,” Yvonne stated. “A hole in the world.”

The Doctor dropped Rose’s hand as he approached the tear. Even in its current state, he could tell how large it was - that it had been growing. He reached up a hand, tracing its edge. Tingly. Tingly, but the bad kind. His hairs stood on end.

Is that safe? His wife’s worry coated their bond.

It’s fine, he assured her. It’s closed … for now.

“Not active at the moment,” Yvonne continued, “but when we fire particle engines at that exact spot, the breach opens up.”

So they made the hole, then? Why?!

He could tell that his bondmate was wondering the exact same thing.

“How did you even find it?” the Doctor asked, deciding to start at the beginning (so to speak), as he backed away to look at the rip in reality in its entirety.

“We were getting warning signs for years. A radar black spot. So we built this place, Torchwood Tower. The breach was six hundred feet above sea level. It was the only way to reach it,” Yvonne answered as he put on his 3D glasses.

Oh. Oh. The edges were steeped in just as much Void particles as the ship - which was just about what he’d been thinking, but still. Anticipating and then seeing were two very different things. He didn’t want to see what it was like when active. It should have never been active.

Do they just have an unlimited budget, then? Country spending all it’s money on this?

The Doctor could tell that his wife wasn’t actually talking to him, but the thought was quite loud and quite irritated. He glanced back to see Rose standing a few feet behind him with her arms crossed, frowning as she glared at the back of Yvonne Hartman’s head.

“You built a skyscraper just to reach a spatial disturbance?” he couldn’t help but ask. “How much money have you got?”

“Enough,” Yvonne blithely answered before walking away.

Well, that was … fair? He never had figured out all of the rules for money, especially for talking about money. Humans were just so … so weird. The Doctor took off his glasses and tried not to roll his eyes.

“Look who’s talking,” Rose whispered in his ear.

“Oh, speaking aloud now, are we?” he muttered back.

“Mmhmm,” she responded with a cheeky grin. “Gonna let me try out your 3D glasses? Aren’t these from when we saw It Came from Outer Space after the last time we failed to see Elvis?” Turns out third time isn’t the charm.

This time the Doctor really did roll his eyes as he passed his bondmate the glasses. It really shouldn’t be this difficult to see Elvis Presley, really it-

He stopped himself from going down that train of thought. Much more important things to think about. Rose tilted her head as she stared at the breach, then turned toward him. Her jaw dropped.

“Doc-”

“Come on now, Doctor,” Yvonne called before Rose could finish her sentence.

“Yup! Coming!”

They both turned and followed their ‘tour guide’ away from the rip in the multiverse, his wife passing back the glasses as they went.

Why are those black things all over you, too? The, er, Void stuff, Rose asked over the bond.

They’re also on you. We’ve been through, remember? But we’ve just got a light dusting. Everything else, you can barely see the thing for the Void, he explained as they caught up with Yvonne only to be led into an office.

Rose paused by a window, pressing her face up against the glass as she looked down at the streets below them, while the Doctor … for lack of a better way to phrase it … wandered off. It was different, though! The rule was for Rose not to wander away from him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t wander away from … uptight know-it-all heads of shadow organizations. Whom his wife was- was guarding. While he investigated!

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of interest going on at the moment. And everyone was ignoring him. He was able to get a good look at their equipment, though, so at least there was that. It was simple enough, but he doubted he’d have enough time to dismantle it before a bunch of soldiers with guns came and stopped him.

“Oh!” he heard Rose exclaim from around the corner. “Look, we’re in Canary Wharf!”

The Doctor quickly placed them in his mental map of London. Good to know. He wasn’t yet sure why it would be good to know, but it couldn’t hurt. The ‘ghosts’ were everywhere, so it wouldn’t help with that, but if he needed to contact UNIT at any point, they would need to know his position.

“Well, that is the public name for it,” Yvonne was saying as he headed back toward them. “But to those in the know, it’s Torchwood.”

Right then. And now they were in the know, so it was time they listened.

“So,” he began as soon as he entered the room, “you find the breach, probe it, the sphere comes through six hundred feet above London, bam! It leaves a hole in the fabric of reality. And that hole, you think, oh, shall we leave it alone? Shall we back off? Shall we play it safe? Nah, you think let’s make it bigger!”

“It’s a massive source of energy,” Yvonne justified. “If we can harness that power, we need never depend on the Middle East again. Britain will become truly independent. Look, you can see for yourself. Next Ghost Shift’s in two minutes.”

She began leading them away, yet again, and he was tired of the tour.

“Cancel it,” he ordered as Yvonne walked past.

She’s not gonna listen to ya, his bondmate oh-so-helpfully pointed out.

“I don’t think so.”

The timelines were stretching taught all around him, blinking in and out even faster. He’d experienced temporal tipping points, he’d experienced fixed points, but he’d never experienced something like this. It was fraying his every nerve and it was taking most of his mental energy just to keep the effects of the anomaly from leaching across the bond.

“I’m warning you, cancel it,” he snarled. Why couldn’t she just listen? Why couldn’t she see that her actions right here, right now, could stop the Universe from being ripped apart?!

Rose, unaware of his mental turmoil, recoiled slightly, eyes widening. He could feel her prodding around the bond, trying to get further into his mind, asking what was wrong and baffled at his lack of response.

No no no no no. Not right now, not when he was constantly erecting and re-erecting barriers. It would be too much, if she got in his head fully. Too much, too much, too much.

Yvonne Hartman spun around, showing some real emotion for the first time since they landed at her precious headquarters that she had no idea may as well be a tomb.

“Oh, exactly as the legends would have it,” she said, voice dripping with condescension. “The Doctor, lording it over us, assuming alien authority over the Rights of Man.”

“Let me show you,” the Doctor panted, racing back behind a glass wall just as he succeeded in forcibly pushing Rose out of his head. Their bond went silent. A sinking feeling permeated his being, but … later. He’d deal with it later, explain later. One problem at a bloody time. “Sphere comes through,” he announced, pulling out his sonic and pointing it at the glass, making sure Hartman watched as it splintered around the initial impact site. “But when it made the hole, it cracked the world around it. The entire surface of this dimension splintered. And that’s how the ghosts get through. That’s how they get everywhere. They’re bleeding through the fault lines. Walking from their world, across the Void, and into yours, with the human race hoping and wishing and helping them along. But too many ghosts, and-” he gently poked the glass wall and the whole thing shattered onto the floor.

For a moment, everyone was silent. Maybe he’d gotten through to her.

“Well,” she finally said, “in that case, we’ll have to be more careful.”

He glanced at Rose, meeting her eyes for only a moment before she swallowed and looked away.

“Positions! Ghost Shift in one minute!”

In a few long strides, the Doctor avoided most of the glass, fully ready to beg.

“Miss Hartman, I am asking you, please don’t do it.”

“You’re putting everyone in danger,” his bondmate chimed in, and he didn’t like the panic and desperation in her voice, so he didn’t dare turn and try to look at her again. Seeing Rose upset wasn’t going to help. “Not just London or Britain, but the whole world! Maybe the whole Universe!”

“We have done this a thousand times!” Yvonne shot back, as if that somehow made it better.

“Then stop at a thousand!” he shouted, timelines strobing in and out so quickly that he could barely think straight, barriers beginning to crumble and he didn’t have the energy left to build more, not if he wanted to figure out how to stop whatever Miss Hartman seemed determined to start.

“We’re in control of the ghosts,” she tried to convince him. “The levers can open the breach, but equally they can close it.”

The Doctor stared at her, and came to a decision, though not the most ethical one. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures, and since he was no longer using all of his telepathic energy to keep his wife from stumbling into the minefield that was his mind, he could do something else. He could project towards Miss Yvonne Hartman. She worked right next to the breach, which means her brain was likely primed for this sort of thing. Universe ending? Fine. Fine. Let her end it, then. But could she make that call? Would she be able to live with herself … whether she lived at all?

“Okay,” he said brightly, breaking eye contact once the suggestion was made and practically skipping back toward the office.

“Sorry?” Yvonne asked, just as confused as he figured she’d be.

“Never mind. As you were,” the Doctor smiled, grabbing the nearest chair and rolling it over towards where Rose was standing, still preternaturally silent in his head despite the fact that his barriers were now almost non-existent.

“What, is that it?”

“No, fair enough. Said my bit, don’t mind me,” he replied, taking a seat and turning toward the nearest worker. “Any chance for a cup of tea?”

The woman at the desk ignored him, but she did turn toward Miss Hartman and announce, “Ghost Shift in twenty seconds.”

“Mmm, can’t wait to see it,” the Doctor said, over exaggerating his excitement, his clenched fists the only thing giving him away.

“You can’t stop us, Doctor,” Yvonne declared, though it didn’t seem like her heart was in it. Good.

“No, absolutely not,” he agreed, crossing his arms. “Come here, Rose. Come and watch the fireworks.”

His bondmate finally walked over to him, and he was quick to weave their fingers together. And just like that, every barrier he had, even the ones that were normally easy to maintain, fell away as if they’d never existed in the first place. Her eyes widened, a barely audible gasp escaping before she moved even closer, stumbling before taking a seat on his lap.

I thought-

She didn’t give him time to finish the thought.

Sod it! If this is as long as our forever might be, I’m not gonna spend it pretending that we’re not together, her mental voice a disconcerting mix of defiance, anger, sorrow, and fear.

“Ghost shift in ten seconds,” the woman at the computer announced.

Rose’s grip on his hand tightened.

“Nine.”

The Doctor locked eyes with Miss. Hartman.

“Eight.”

He could see the fear there, just under the surface.

“Seven.”

He raised his eyebrows, daring her.

“Six.”

I love you, Rose’s mental voice whispered across the bond, tentative, afraid to mess up the game of chicken he’d started, but also desperate with the need to tell him.

“Five.”

I love you too, the Doctor replied, squeezing her hand, eyes still never leaving Yvonne’s, grin still plastered on his face.

“Four.”

It was a staring contest, with the entire Universe at stake, and he could tell that the fact that he didn’t actually have to blink was beginning to unnerve her.

“Three.”

C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon !

“Two.”

His respiratory bypass kicked in, though his smile didn’t falter.

The word ‘one’ was about to pass through the worker’s lips.

“Stop the shift,” Yvonne ordered. “I said stop.”

“Thank you,” he said, managing to not let on just how worried he’d been there for a second.

“Yeah,” Rose seconded, “thank you.”

“I suppose it makes sense to get as much intelligence as possible,” Yvonne said, visibly shaken though doing a pretty good job of trying to hide it from her employees. “But the program will recommence, as soon as you’ve explained everything.”

“We’re glad to be of help,” the Doctor replied, not wanting to push her any farther. It wasn’t safe to use telepathy around humans at the best of times, and his mind was all over the place.

What?!, his wife screeched in his head.

Not you, he quickly backpedalled. We’ve been over this, remember? You’ve got the activated genes for it.

Not that, you plum! You went in her head?!

“And someone clear up this glass,” Miss. Hartman was saying, interrupting the silent row that was starting up between them. “They did warn me, Doctor. They said you like to make a mess.”

“They’re not wrong there,” Rose agreed, standing up awfully primly and crossing her arms.

The Doctor pouted up at her.

I wasn’t in her head, it was just a projected suggestion. Just- just like really loudly thinking in her direction, he tried to explain. I’m a touch telepath, I can’t properly enter another mind without direct contact. Well, aside from you, obviously.

And that works? Thinking loudly at someone?, his bondmate scoffed over their connection, disbelief apparent.

When you’re a telepath? Yes. Sometimes.

And in his case, with great difficulty. Really, he’d just gotten lucky.

It was just luck?

The Doctor sighed before finally standing, forced to move out of the way by the workers who had arrived surprisingly quickly to clean up the glass. Right, no barriers at all now, and no mental energy to make more. Rose obviously still had her own, since he wasn’t getting a stream of endless random thoughts and feelings. Well, this was going to be embarrassing. Actually-

Do you have a headache right now?, he asked her, briefly glancing at the workers around them before taking her hand. The ones that were obviously part of the Ghost Shift program had started typing on their computers again.

No, not really.

How’s that?

It didn’t make sense. He felt awful, the Void and the shifting, snarled up timelines constantly grating at his senses.

I mean, for a second there I thought I might pass out, but then I just kind of … I dunno, turned off the weird stuff?

And oh, how he wished he could figure out exactly what she meant by that, but now - unfortunately - wasn’t the time. Glass taken care of, Yvonne was now entering her office, nodding at them to follow. They both glanced back at the wall where the Void sat, waiting.

“C’mon,” his wife whispered, finally giving him a smile as she grabbed the chair and pushed it in front of her.

His gratitude, the Doctor was sure, must have been abundantly apparent. He took a deep breath before they both followed Yvonne into her office. Rose took a seat in what had been his chair, so the Doctor took the other.

“No,” Miss. Hartman was quick to correct, hands on her hips, “that’s my seat. We’ll get another.”

He turned to his wife just in time to see her rolling her eyes while failing to suppress a grin. Yvonne made the request, and by the time he walked around the desk again, a worker was rolling another chair in. They were quite efficient, he’d give them that. Then again, they had still not managed to get him his tea, so …

They’re not getting paid to listen to you, Rose commented. They’d be paid to bring Yvonne Hartman tea.

The Doctor smiled at her sarcasm as he got comfortable in his new chair, putting his feet up on the desk and leaning back. Blimey, he was tired.

“So these ghosts, whatever they are,” Yvonne asked, getting straight back into it, “did they build the sphere?”

“Must have,” he replied, not that he really knew. “Aimed it at this dimension like a cannonball.”

Though if the ‘ghosts’ were following in the void ship’s wake, he was partly curious and mostly terrified to find out what was actually inside the craft. Hopefully just more of whatever the ghosts really were, but possibly some sort of weapon. Who knew? Hopefully they would never have to find out.

Rose began chewing at a fingernail, looking out the window.

“And the energy?”

He raised both eyebrows, though wasn’t completely surprised that these humans would gladly siphon power even while not understanding how it was being generated. Problem was, they shouldn’t be able to do any of it and wouldn’t be able to do any of it without the alien technology they had stolen. Timelines strobed in and out, faster and faster and faster.

“I could use some energy,” the Doctor replied. “Quite the day I’ve been having. Where is that tea?”

His wife took his hand, weaving their fingers together as Miss. Hartman gazed skyward for a moment before (finally) ordering the tea.

Is there anything I can do to help?, Rose asked.

I doubt it. Since you can’t sense all of this, and I would not want to show you, it’s not as if I can even-

Before he could finish the thought, his mind was suddenly full of Rose and light and love and over half of his senses cut off. There were no more tangling timelines blinking in and out of existence - there were no more timelines at all .

The Doctor blinked, trying not to panic.

Yvonne said something, but he wasn’t sure what. Wasn’t paying attention, as he realized that his wife wasn’t in his head.

No.

She had pulled him into hers.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked, wiggling his fingers in front of his face. It was so strange. His mind was still in his body, but yet … not? There was a slight lag between thought and action - about 5 picoseconds.

You are amazing, he exclaimed over the bond.

Rose grinned, mind radiating smugness.

How did you even figure out how to do this?

They certainly hadn’t gone over it during any of their telepathy lessons. And he hadn’t yet had the chance to look for more specific information, being as he’d only just found out how it all worked.

I don’t know, Rose’s mental voice admitted, uncertainty coating the words. I just kinda imagined what I wanted to do and then … I don’t know.

Blimey, she was going to be a much stronger telepath than he was.

“I asked what you would have us do if you had your way. You said send it back, but how exactly do you propose we do that?”

Ah. Good question. And where things got downright complicated (not that they weren’t already). The Doctor gave Rose’s hand a squeeze and then let go, wanting to determine if touch was a factor in this newfound ability of hers? Theirs? He wasn’t sure, had only ever done anything remotely similar when invasively telepathically connected with someone, touching their psi-points. This was much, much different.

The connection held.

And most importantly, for the moment - overall it was completely unsustainable, not having access to most of his senses - he could think clearly.

“I’ll need access to your equipment, and a comprehensive list of exactly what alien technologies you have at your disposal, because there’s a chance you may have what I need to properly seal and contain excess void particles. And I’ll need the TARDIS.”

“A comprehensive list? Hah! Nice try, Doctor. The relevant equipment, I may be able to allow.”

“May?”

“Torchwood serves Queen and Country, and there are calls I would have to make.” Now she didn’t look amused.

“Make them,” he urged.

“And when they ask about the energy?” she requested, eyebrows raised.

Calculations raced through his head.

“Well, there’d have to be energy sending them back. So you’d have that, right?” Rose piped in before he could compare the results with historical precedence - took longer without his time senses.

Point was, his wife was right, pretty much. And now wasn’t really the time to get picky. They were going to have to compromise.

“A lot of energy in the transfer,” he agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “Run the maths yourself, but reversing all of the particles will take up the energy of key commands, power usage normal, and the energy created by all of the particles reversing at once would be massive. Long term may not be what you wanted, but I also doubt you wanted to annihilate the planet and potentially destroy all of reality, so …”

The Doctor shrugged.

Got a little rude, there, Rose oh so helpfully pointed out.

“We’ll just have to see what they say,” Yvonne said, though she didn’t look convinced, even as she began typing quickly on her computer.

You’ve got to admit, at least it’s progress, he had to point out.

Yvonne looked away from her computer, immediately turning toward the ghost shift control area right outside.

“Excuse me?” she called, getting up from her desk, “Everyone? I thought I said ‘stop the ghost shift’.”

Both he and Rose turned toward where she was now shouting out of the doorway.

“Who started the program?”

Not a single person was reacting. The Doctor stood up, taking his wife’s hand as they slowly followed Miss. Hartman out of her office. This was not good not good not good, and he could really use access to a few more senses right about now.

“But I ordered you to stop? Who’s doing this? Right, step away from the monitors, everyone.”

I’ve not exactly trapped you here, y’know, Rose pointed out, thoughts laced with anxiety as she looked from person to person, blankly typing at their monitors.

“Gareth, Addy, stop what you’re doing right now,” Yvonne ordered, the words having no effect. “Matt, step away from your desk.”

The Doctor stretched his awareness, finding that he had more energy than he thought he’d had as he tentatively shifted across their bond, the action feeling like simply walking through a door in his own mind for all of the effort it took. With great care, he was able to selectively access more of his senses without too much discomfort from all of his time senses.

“Matt, step away from your desk! That’s an order!” Yvonne shouted, and he now sensed her building panic. “Stop the levers! Andrew!”

Workers ran in, trying to manually stop the levers without much success.

He could sense nothing from the employees controlling the program.

“Look at their ears,” Rose breathed, memories from their own trip across the void engulfing the part of his awareness still resting deeply within her mind.

Their ears.

He listened for another moment before pinpointing the one typing the fastest.

“What’s she doing?” the Doctor wondered aloud as he marched over to the one who Rose identified as Addy, making note of how deeply connected they still were but unable to properly address it. Didn’t have the time.

“Addy, step away from the desk,” Yvonne urged as both she and Rose followed him.

He snapped his fingers in front of Addy’s eyes, not getting a single reaction.

No one home.

“Listen to me,” Yvonne continued as Rose stifled a gasp before turning and waving her hand in front of the man across the aisle, “Step away from the desk - oh! The call’s connected!”

“She can’t hear you anyway,” he told her, dread forming in the pit of his stomach as he turned toward the monitor. “They’re overriding the system. We’re going into ghost shift.”

With great reluctance, well aware that the results would be exceedingly unpleasant, the Doctor reactivated his time senses. Because he needed to know what exactly was happening in order to fully monitor the situation.

“Hello, this is Torchwood One, calling mayday, threat level alpha, activation code eight- four- delta- whisky- zero- seven- foxtrot,” Yvonne recited over her comm.

Sensations slammed into him all at once, timelines knotted together and breaking off, the spin of the planet speeding up and slowing down at a rate unnoticeable to the humans. He zeroed in on the devices attached to Addy’s ears.

“It’s the ear piece,” he bit out, swiftly becoming overwhelmed by the activating void but unable to retreat. He couldn’t afford the luxury. “It’s controlling them. I’ve seen this before.”

Of all the parallel worlds, really.

“Situation is dire,” Hartman continued into the phone. “We are requesting backup immediately. The Ghost Shift has been compromised, the Doctor is assisting.”

Hey, that’s where Mickey is, his wife pointed out even as she placed a hand between his shoulder blades, offering him comfort for what would have to come next. With great reluctance, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He sonicked Addy’s ear pod, and within moments she and all of the other partially converted Torchwood employees screamed before collapsing at their desks.

“What happened?” Yvonne demanded, eyes wide in terror as she likely realized she’d lost complete control over the situation - welcome to his world, really. Typical Tuesday, that. “What did you just do?”

“They’re dead,” he informed her, not having time to sugar coat it.

Despite their connected minds, Rose reached down and felt around for Addy’s pulse point.

“Is it really …” his wife paused, finding herself unable to say it all out loud. “Again, but here? Or …”

The Doctor could feel her mind racing as he attempted to gain control of the ghost shift program. Yvonne’s attention returned to her call, though he stopped paying attention.

“I think I know exactly where they’re coming from,” he admitted, loathe to be the one to confirm her fears, but unwilling (not to mention completely unable) to lie to her.

“But … Mickey was- and Jake, and-”

An image of her parallel father flashed through both their minds as Rose clenched her jaw.

Every sense the Doctor had was positively screaming as the seconds ticked on by and the tear widened.

“We’ll figure it out,” he near shouted as it all became too much.

Just as he managed to apologize mentally, Rose seemed to breach his mind even as a large portion of his consciousness remained in hers. The pain seemed to dull, sensations cushioned by the added presence.

Please, please tell me you can’t feel this, he found himself pleading, both grateful for the respite and horrified that the pain might simply be being transferred.

M’fine, his bondmate assured him. I’m just trying to help you make barriers.

Oh.

Well.

Huh.

While he had helped her construct some in their initial training, the Doctor had to admit that the sensation of someone doing it for him was novel.

“They’re patching into our systems. What are those ear pieces?” Yvonne asked.

“Don’t,” he ordered as he continued entering commands into the system. It wasn’t overly complex, but the time crunch was a bit of an ask. As much as he wanted to spare her the horror, he couldn’t afford to make time for sentiment.

“But they’re standard comms devices,” Miss. Hartman insisted as Rose stepped away from the desk, getting a better look at the levers.

“Trust me, leave them alone,” the Doctor insisted as he raced over to another terminal.

“But what are they?” he heard her ask, but ignored the question.

There were multiple universes on the line, after all. And nothing he tried was working.

“Ugh!” Yvonne’s exclaimed. “Oh, God!” He had warned her. “It goes inside their brain!”

“What about the Ghost Shift?” he asked, needing their host-slash-captor back on track. The Doctor looked up from the monitor at the bright, terrifying tear in spacetime opening up mere feet away from them all.

“Ninety percent there and still running,” she replied, quickly joining him at the desk. “Can’t you stop it?”

“They’re still controlling it, they’ve hijacked the system,” the Doctor quickly explained, standing up and pulling out his sonic screwdriver.

“Who’s they?” Yvonne asked, and nope! No time to get into that.

“It might be a remote transmitter,” he continued as he scanned the area, “but it’s got to be close by. I can trace it.”

With that, he ran, following the signal, dimly aware that Yvonne Hartman was tagging along.

“Keep those levers down,” she ordered as they raced out of the room. “Keep them offline! Help is coming.”

Rose broke away from where she’d been helping the others holding the levers back, quickly overtaking Miss. Hartman but still hanging back slightly.

You weren’t tryin’ ta leave without me, were you?, his wife asked, her mental landscape pulsing with agitation.

Wouldn’t dream of it, the Doctor assured her. After all, she had complete access to every single thought in his head now. He was fine to leave it entirely up to Rose, whether or not to follow him into near certain death. Not like he could stop her any other time.

“You two, you come with us,” Yvonne ordered a pair of soldiers walking past, not that it would do them any good.

They all slowed down, following his lead as they neared the source of the signal.

“What’s down here?” he asked as they reached a section of hall blocked off by plastic.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Yvonne admitted. “I think it’s building work. It’s just renovations.”

“You should go back,” the Doctor told her, taking his wife’s hand before carefully passing into the cordoned off area.

“Think again,” Miss. Hartman scoffed, once again ignoring his advice. It’s as if she truly didn’t understand that he was trying to help her.

We’ll figure this out, Rose assured him this time, despite knowing that he was completely aware of the terror and doubt pulsing through her headspace.

I love you, the Doctor told her, hoping that it wouldn’t be his last chance to say it.

I love you, too.

It wasn’t long before they reached the source … though he couldn’t see anything. At least, nothing obvious.

“What is it?” Yvonne asked. “What’s down here?”

“Ear pieces, ear pods,” he finally began to explain. “This world’s colliding with another, and I think I know which one.”

“We’ve met them before,” Rose continued, just as metal footsteps began clanging from every direction, shadows appearing to circle them behind the flimsy curtains.

“Fell through a crack on accident. Should have been impossible. Now we know why,” the Doctor elaborated, shifting so that his wife was directly behind him - connected lifespans or not, he was the one who could regenerate (hopefully).

“What are they?”

“They came through first. The advanced guard,” he told her, trying to keep the fear out of his voice and doing a rather poor job of it as the creatures surrounding them ripped through the plastic. “Cybermen.”

Rose and Yvonne both ducked as the soldiers began to open fire, and he grabbed both their hands in an attempt to get away that was thwarted before they’d even managed to move more than a few feet.

“We surrender!” the Doctor quickly announced, raising his hands above his head to show he was unarmed as the sounds of gunfire faded. He swallowed, blinking a few times and not allowing himself to turn around.

“Yeah, we surrender!” Rose quickly followed suit, gaze straight forward.

He turned to Yvonne, raising his eyebrows and giving her a slight wave.

“I surrender,” she - finally - agreed through gritted teeth, throwing up her hands.

They were quickly marched back to the Ghost Shift area, escorted into the room with guns to their backs.

“Get away from the machines,” the Doctor shouted. “Do what they say. Don’t fight them!”

Before the scientists at the levers had time to move, they were shot down.

“We are the Cyberman,” one of their captors announced - likely the Cyberleader. “The Ghost Shift will be increased to one hundred percent.”

The timelines around them had become utter chaos within the past fifteen minutes - the Doctor wasn’t sure how he would possibly be able to see straight, never mind think properly once the breach was fully opened.

If it’s not helping, just let go, his wife insisted, tugging him back toward her mind. Despite the fight or flight responses bombarding her systems, it was still much simpler in there, cut off from the nauseating sensations of slowly crumbling dimensions.

Glad my primitive human brain can help, Rose’s (slightly sarcastic) mental voice echoed around him as the levers raised.

“Here come the ghosts,” he warned, bracing himself.

Even cut off from his time senses, the full activation was brutal. The Doctor could sense the barriers Rose had made earlier shatter, despite his primary consciousness being nowhere near them. He grimaced, doing his best to keep the pain of it from touching his wife’s mind. No wonder it was so easy for her to move him telepathically - he no longer had any defenses.

They shielded their eyes, watching as a growing number of spectral figures approached through the rift.

“What are we going to do?” Rose asked, clinging to his side as the strain of protecting them both inside her head began to wear on her.

His precious girl. So, so strong. The last thing he wanted to tell her was that he didn’t know, but the most he could do was not say the words. The last thing he wanted her to feel was his own fear, but all he could do was put on a brave face. Everything else was transparent, an open book.

“Achieving full transfer,” the Cyberleader declared.

The Doctor watched as the forms solidified. “They’re Cybermen. All of the ghosts are Cybermen. Millions of them, right across the world.”

“They’re invading the whole planet,” Yvonne stated, and he noticed the blinking light on her ear piece indicating that she was still in a call.

“It’s not an invasion,” he corrected. “It’s too late for that. It’s a victory.”

“You’re the ones who gave it to them,” Rose couldn’t help but point out.

Yvonne opened her mouth only to clamp it shut again as the nearest computer began to repeat ‘Sphere Activated’ on a loop, claiming each of their attentions as data flashed on the screen. The Doctor frowned, eyes widening as he tried to make sense of it all.

How did a Cyber Invasion lead to a Void ship?

How did a Void ship lead to a Cyber Invasion?

Calculation after calculation, and none of them added up.

“But I don’t understand,” the Doctor stepped forward, commanding notice, needing to know. “The Cybermen don’t have the technology to build a void ship. That’s way beyond you. How did you create the sphere?”

“The sphere is not ours,” the nearest Cyberman replied.

“What?”

But … it was active.

It had activated precisely when the Cybermen fully manifested out of the void.

Sure, it didn’t make much sense for it to be theirs, but if not …

“The sphere broke down the barriers between worlds. We only followed. Its origin is unknown,” the Cyberman continued.

“Then what’s inside it?” the Doctor asked, despite knowing that the answer wasn’t coming.

#ten x rose #tenrose #time petals #ficandchips #dw fanfiction #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #fic: tangled timelines #my fic

12 notes · View notes

joiedecombat · 4 years ago

Text

Continuing in the vein of common Pride and Prejudice AU plots: Elizabeth marries someone else!

A lot of the time this is just to set her up as a wealthy widow of a peer and turn the disparity of social standing on its head, but sometimes the writers are out for blood.

Prime example: The Events at Branxbourne by Caitlin Williams.

This is The Worst Timeline. Okay, maybe Amy D'Orazio's Mysteries of Pemberley has it beat for overall bleakness, but Mysteries is a Gothic, they're supposed to be bleak. I'm not sure what Branxbourne's excuse is.

By the beginning of this book, almost the entire cast is miserable. Jane died of a fever shortly after Elizabeth's sojourn in Kent. Mr Bennet had what appears to have been a stroke, and though he survived it's left him physically impaired. Charles Bingley doesn't speak to Darcy any more since Jane's death; Darcy has spent the last several years burying himself in Derbyshire while Georgiana, in the care of her Fitzwilliam relatives in London, has fallen in with the bad influences of the shallow fashionable set. Colonel Fitzwilliam married Anne de Bourgh and didn't realize how much he loved her until she died giving birth to his son. And Elizabeth is married to an Earl who is mentally ill, abusive, deeply in debt and might have murdered his last wife.

GOOD TIMES. The only characters doing at all well for themselves are, oddly enough, Lydia and Wickham... but not with each other.

Naturally things only get worse from there once Darcy crosses Elizabeth's path again for the first time in years and starts to realize just how bad a situation that she's in.

"Do not cry, Elizabeth. I could bear anything but that."

She trembles. Looking about, seeing we are half-hidden by the trees and that there is no one around, I reach out and press her hand, squeeze her fingers tightly, but only for a moment. "My love, do not cry."

"Your love. Is that what I am?"

"Can I be plainer?"

"Yes, please." She surprises me with a broad smile. "Please do be very plain about it."

"You are my love," I tell her. "My only love, till the end of time. Whatever else my happen, and we may expect dark days ahead, never doubt that in this moment, beneath this perfect, blue sky, on this warm September day, you are loved as no other woman has ever been loved before. You are loved for all that you are, for what you once were, for all you will come to be."

"Mr Darcy, if only you had not once hidden your talent for compliments so well, then we might not be in this terrible mess."

I love a good Darcy To The Rescue story as much as anybody, but this one's A Lot. You've gotta be in a mood to wallow in the melodrama, to want to see these characters pushed to their limits by a situation that can't be endured and which their society's laws and mores offer no palatable solution for.

The happy ending comes as it should, but the trip there is an especially rough ride with little comic relief.

Content warning: domestic abuse, depiction of mental illness, infidelity (emotional if not physical), angst, first person present tense narration.

"If you, too, would enter into this marriage for practical reasons, I would be more easy with the notion. Then we would give to each other only what was received."

He smiled faintly. "Alas, my desire to marry you is formed by the wishes of my heart, not my head, so I cannot oblige you."

"If I did feel myself forming a more romantic attachment, I would welcome it. I just want you to understand that I do not know whether it will occur. It must be yours to decide whether or not you can be in an unequal marriage."

"I have considered it," he admitted after a thoughtful pause. "I see how you loved your husband, and I did not expect to supplant that. I shall readily admit that I am a jealous man, and to know that your heart belongs to him is difficult for me to accept. However, my choice is for an unequal marriage no matter what we decide. Either I can be with you--the one I love--or I can marry another and, thus, be with one who might love me but whom I do not love. You see, just as your heart is for Henry, mine is for you. That will not change.

"So, fully apprehending your hesitation, I say yes, I do agree to a practical marriage with you, accepting whatever amount of affection you give to me because I cannot live without you."

Amy D'Orazio's The Best Part of Love, meanwhile, has Elizabeth already married and widowed by the time she meets Darcy. Her husband was murdered in a treasonous plot that required her to live incognito with her family in Hertfordshire for a couple of years, allowing Darcy to make his usual astonishingly bad first impression at the Meryton assembly and fall in love more or less at first sight.

Rather than Branxbourne's unrelenting angst, this book is a whole soap opera: unnecessarily complicated backstory, misunderstandings and mistaken identities, high emotion, a mystery, and a sharp plunge into acute misery in the third act when it turns out that Elizabeth's late husband might be considerably less dead than advertised, to the dismay of nearly everyone involved.

It's a very well-written soap opera, and worth reading if you're looking for that kind of emotional roller coaster.

The essence of the problem was that there was simply nothing he could do for the situation. He had never before been faced with a challenge for which some action could not be taken. He could neither buy anything nor persuade anyone, work at something nor study a topic, take himself away from his pain nor have the pain removed. He did not even have the comfort of despising someone. There was no one to despise, not even himself, for all had acted with honour and integrity and done the best they could with the hand they had been dealt. It was nothing more than a circumstance beyond anyone's control, and that made it insupportable.

After leaving him to wallow about in his despair for a fortnight, his cousins came for him as he had suspected they eventually would.

"Have you left your house at all, Darcy?" Fitzwilliam's face bore a look of vexing kindliness.

"What do you think--that I sit here all day pining for her?" he snapped.

"That is precisely what I think," Saye replied, tousling Darcy's hair as he walked by and then further compounding his sin by not even looking to see the angry scowl Darcy gave him.

This book also contains my favorite version ever of Colonel Fitzwilliam's older brother, here (as in all of the rest of D'Orazio's Pride and Prejudice fiction) named Viscount Saye and characterized as a languid, almost terminally unflappable dandy with very few social filters to speak of and absolutely no fucks to give. He's an affectionate cousin to Darcy and usually gleefully awful, and is a character I enjoy very much.

Content warning: very brief reference to suicidal thoughts, high melodrama.

#the events at branxbourne #the best part of love #pride and prejudice #ongoing adventures in austen pastiche #honestly I wish I could recc more of d'orazio's books #but she has this tendency to do one supporting character dirty each time #the thing with mr bennet in mysteries of pemberley wasn't too bad #but goddamn leave bingley and col fitzwilliam alone

8 notes · View notes

brightbeautifulthings · 4 years ago

Text

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

"'What if sometimes there is no choice about what to love? What if the temple comes to Mohammed? What if you just love? without deciding? You just do: you see her and in that instant are lost to sober account-keeping and cannot choose but to love?'"

Year Read: 2014, 2020

Rating: 5/5

Context: It's hard to know where to begin writing a review for this book. I read it for the first time in graduate school in about five weeks (alongside everything else I had to do in grad school, so I don't recommend that), and it basically blew my mind. At the same time, it's hard to imagine tackling it any other way for the first time. Despite its difficulty, there are things obsessive and immersive and, appropriately, even addictive about it. Full immersion might be the only way to read it for the first time, and I obsessed about it for months afterward. Since I'm not on any deadlines, I took it more slowly this time (21 weeks) so I could enjoy the writing and the nuances without the pressure to finish. For my less coherent weekly updates in real time, see my blog posts. Trigger warnings: Everything, everything. Death (on-page), child death, animal death, suicide, suicidal ideation, rape, pedophilia, possible incest, child abuse/abusive households, graphic violence/gore, eye horror, severe injury, drug use, addiction, alcoholism, mental illness, depression, OCD, grief, racism, ableism, transphobia, sexism, inexplicable hostility toward Canadians.

About: If it's difficult to know how to write a review, it's equally hard to describe what Infinite Jest is about. It's about so many things, tennis, addiction, communication (failures), and entertainment among them, but I'll do my best. Beneath all the numerous characters, timelines, and subplots, the main plot is about a film so entertaining that it kills anyone who watches it, robs them of all desire to do anything but watch it until they die, and what a faction of Canadian assassins will do to possess it. The auteur is James Incandenza, a suicide whose son, Hal, is a prodigy at Enfield Tennis Academy. Next door to E.T.A. is Ennet House, a drug rehabilitation center where Don Gately, former thief and Demerol addict, is taking it day by day to stay sober. Though they don't know it, Hal and Gately are connected, and the deadly Entertainment and those who seek it draw their paths closer and closer together.

Thoughts: It's rare to find a book that is actually as smart as it claims to be, but IJ is--certainly much smarter than I am, despite all my attempts to make sense of it. It starts off strong and doesn't let up for several hundred pages, which is a huge achievement all by itself. Wallace excels at writing extremely polished sections that could almost function alone as short stories, and the first chapter is one of my favorites in all fiction. It's reassuring, I think, to start the book off on a strong note, in case we worried we were in for a thousand pages of tedious slog. It can be both, but it's often heartfelt, insightful, and funny as well, and the payoff is well worth the effort. I don’t know how Wallace manages to pack every page with so much meaning. Anybody can put tedious lists in their books or make reading purposely difficult (and I have attitude about writers who do this for no reason), but there’s nothing haphazard about this book, despite its size and varied focus. Everything seems utterly intentional. The conversations are really top-tier; Wallace has a great ear for how people talk, and it's a fascinating look at how communication works and doesn't work.

Thematically, I think the book succeeds on more than any other level, including plot or structure. If we could say this book is "about" anything, we would almost certainly start with the themes and not the plot, which is often secondary to whatever point Wallace is trying to make at the moment. It takes an in-depth looks at things like addiction, depression, loneliness, failed communication, sincerity v. irony, critiques of postmodernism and metafiction (while being very meta itself, at times), and the very specific selfishness of an American culture that insists on freedom even to the point of self-destruction. At times, it feels a little heavy-handed or like it was yanked right out of an intro to philosophy course, but I suppose something in a thousand pages has to be obvious if we're ever going to pick up on it. A lot of these themes resurface in his other work, from "This is Water" and "E Unibus Pluram" to Orin Incandenza's Brief Interview style Q and A (and he would be a perfectly fitting character in that book).

The characters are some of my favorites in literary fiction as well, particularly the Incandenza family and Don Gately, and to a lesser extent Joelle Van Dyne (although Wallace typically doesn’t write female characters very well, and she comes with some issues). Hal and Gately couldn't be more different; Hal excels at everything he's ever done, and Gately has a record that includes accidental homicide on it. Hal is the hero of non-action, since little that happens in the book is engineered by him, while Gately is closer to the more typical hero of action, who defends the undeserving at great cost to himself. Yet their struggles with addiction are similar, and they both manage to be incredibly sympathetic characters. In my opinion, the book is always at its best when we’re with Hal or Gately, but I’m strongly driven by good characters. Despite being dead, James Incandenza's presence is also felt all over the book, from the Entertainment he created to his haunting ETA and sticking beds to the ceiling (probably the weirdest ghost I've ever seen in fiction). He's a tragic character in a book full of tragic characters. The others are too numerous to name, from the other tennis players at ETA and recovering addicts at Enfield, to the various bystanders populating Boston. We get brief glimpses into almost all of them, and while they may not all feel relevant at the time, most are memorable or heart-wrenching or slapstick funny, or all three. It's a book that contains multitudes.

That's not to say it's always on point though, and it isn't. There are a number of very serious problems with representation in this novel, and they're as bad as its detractors claim. A lot of the 90s humor aged very poorly, but that's not an excuse for some of the unabashedly racist depictions of African Americans, the uncharitable descriptions of Steeply's and Poor Tony's cross-dressing, or--however much I love him as a character--the fact that Mario Incandenza’s descriptions are ableist in just about every possible way. Wallace thinks he's capturing "voice" when he's really encouraging harmful stereotypes. The humor of the novel often doesn’t depend at all on these stereotypes and would in fact, be a lot more funny if I wasn’t spending so much energy cringing at it. So many of the little racist and ableist asides could have easily been edited out of the entire novel to make it less offensive. There are also sections where he seems at pains to be as gross as possible for its own sake. There are plenty of things grim or uncomfortable or flat out distasteful about this book, but sometimes the graphic violence kind of jumps out and stabs you in the eye, say, with a railroad spike.

If there are times when I was totally absorbed in the little tragedies of the Incandenza family or Gately's struggles, there are plenty more where it's like pushing something heavy up a hill. No lie, some of it is slogging through tedious minutiae and various experimental writing styles (some more successful and less offensive than others). Wallace has a gift for purposeful tedium; it’s at its peak in The Pale King, but he gives it a nice warm-up round here. The novel is difficult and meant to be, since Wallace maintained that some of the best pleasures are the ones we have to work for, and he's not totally off base. There's something very satisfying about living, for a time, in a book that spans a thousand pages, that demands focus and perseverance, and manages to give back (almost) as much as it takes. The book is always structurally interesting, but it starts to get more complicated toward the end as various characters and plots begin to almost slide into one another. I forgot how frustrating it was to near the end and realize--again--that it wasn't going to wrap up with any kind of satisfaction; the various plots slide, but they don’t meet. I thought if I paid closer attention on a second read that I would pick up more of the plot things I’d missed on my first, but I think the problem is that those answers simply aren’t to be found in the actual text. Of course, they can point us toward various conclusions, and the novel certainly encourages us to speculate and make connections, but I don’t think the actual answers are there.

That brings me to some of my final thoughts, for now. There's no doubt that this is a hugely successful book, and I believe it accomplished exactly what Wallace meant it to do. He jokingly referred to it as a failed entertainment, much the way Jim considered his lethal Entertainment a failure, but I have the sense that Wallace, unlike Jim, failed on purpose. The book purposely pays more attention to structure and theme than it does to plot or character, yet the plot and characters are hugely compelling for what we see of them. Imagine the book it could have been if he had paid equal attention to all of them. Wallace attempted to create a book that people wouldn't want to stop reading. Reaching the end certainly encourages us to begin again, as the first chapter is actually the last in chronology, but that trick only works the first time. By my second read, I realized that starting over wouldn't help me fill in any of those blanks or answer any of my questions, and I was content to let it go. On the one hand, IJ depends upon its structure to tell the story it's telling. On the other, think of the book it could have been if it spent more time telling a story and developing its characters and less time belaboring a point. It's one of the best books I've ever read, and the tragedy is that I think it could have been even better.

#book review #infinite jest #david foster wallace #literary fiction #adult fiction #5/5 #rating: 5/5 #2020 #bookoween

32 notes · View notes

clementineesotsm · 4 years ago

Text

THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH EP 10, My Appreciation and How It Made Me Feel

KSJ theme song with this guitar is seriously a mood. This scene is so beautiful, where its reminds him of old days with the person that he refers as beautiful dream. Its a bit sad, because jte is literally a dream for him, he is not from Korea, therefore his existence here is not real. He doesnt belongs here. But he is still in denial because this dream is where his heart is

One of the charm from this series is they always brings us to what happens prior to the ending and also sometimes its a flashback. I really cannot describe the detail but it is well done. If you watch this series you will get what i mean 😬

Here in eps 10, we got to see prior Gon meeting LR. And its beautiful. Gon coming to check the time in space between 0 and 1 (the humming voice and lady noh’s voice gave me chills) , and because he misses JTE he stop by Korea to hear her voice because he doesnt have much time, but ended up meeting JTE because she is also roaming around forest because she misses Gon.

This scene is beautifully made, with the poems that fits well, the longing, the shocking face of each other seeing each other, them hugging. The camera also plays the big part to make ot more dramatic. I love how they blurred Gon face then become more and more clear when he is closer to JTE. It feels like we can see hom through JTE eyes. Saddest part is when Gon ask JTE “have you beed waiting here?” With a worried face and a red eyes kind of holds back tears 😢 Fav part is when JTE holds Gon hand while they hugging, as if she needs reassurance that he is really here. He really exist 😢 i cried though, damn

And the poet by Kim So Wol :

When the sun goes down over the white rapids, I shall wait by the gate.

Between the shadows of the birds singing at dawn, i see the world brightening up in its still calmness.

With my eyes fixated on the traveler passing by at the break of dawn, “is that you?” “Is that you?”

I read somewhere (haters basically) says that this scene is lack of feelings, and they dont feel the longing because there are no clear timeline on how long they have been separated. But if only they think logically, they will realize that JTE and Gon not seeing each other for at least 2 weeks (plus).

We can count it from KSJ. After the revelation that he is from Corea, he took his 21 days leave. The day he took leave was the time Gon about to go back to Corea. The time JTE and Gon meeting in forest is around 7/5 days before new years, so it means Gon have been away for 2 weeks. And 2 weeks is enough for you to misses someone so bad especially when he is coming from a different world and about to face danger

Move on to JY part in taking JES role. This scene is hilarious because of the sister. She knew that JY is not JES 🤣 people need to appreciate this series and him more seriously

Back to Corea its also new year. I will said it tirelessly, Gon and fantasia from another dimention is one of the best thing exist in this series. They match perfectly especially in this scene! Its majestic and have a royal vibes. The whole scene could win its own award if its up to me. Also the speech, well written. Kudos to KES

There is 1 scene in between we got to see PM asking Lady Nohs help to wins Gon heart. This short coversation between them is one of my favorite.

PM “what can crush Pyeha’s heart?”

Lady Noh “the normal question would be, what makes his heart flutter?’ Yet you are asking what can crush his heart”

Damn Lady, love you a lot!

After the speech PM walks with Gon, fav line here from Gon, and PM startled face

PM “will you also be rooting for me every step of the way?”

Gon “as i said before, i always have. Of course I hope you dont have a bad sense of direction”

If we hear it in korean, the words actually sound a bit sarcastic. Loved it.

Also this line is superb, because it shows me how Gon is good at reading people personality 🤣

Gon is coming to police station and saw Luna face finally on the report. I love Gon glances to the detective when he says she is terminally ill, as if he sense something. And yes we got the answer that he assume, the balance that the traitor keep metioning means “those with the same face are stealing the lives of their counterparts” then we see his eyes going to Luna again. Means its also possible to happens to her. Because he knew that she has motives.

He also realize that LR obelisk located in different place. Here i catch something important, Gon has never been aware that familiar faces has always been his weakness. He realized it only in eps 13 and 15. But i realized it actually on eps 5 when he meet seung ah, he greets her as if they knew each other. Also now in eps 10, he calls her directly asking to make public invitation of him going to haeundae (to provoke LR). Familiar faces makes him feel too comfortable, later we knew that it brings him danger and sadness

Now we back at the ending of eps 9 scene, Gon saw LR alone, try to confront him with all royal guard but his judgement is wrong this time, of course LR have minions and attacking the people. Gon ended up letting LR go because he has ability to hurt people and also because he is startled that LR is actually still have the same faces and also because JES got shot, damn its so tense. I need to give LMH, LJJ and the one who play Ho Pil, standing applause for their acting! Very good, i can feel Gon angry, i hate LR was very calm, and Ho Pil angry voice and expressions, COOL!

While Corea was in chaos, JY in Korea was investigating KSJ, finally he knows that KSJ mom’s doppelgänger is working at the palace, thats explain a lot of things. But JY is in Korea what can he do? He cannot inform this to Gon 🥺 but at least he join forces with JTE and KSJ to solve this mess at Korea side.

I think up to this point where viewers will have confusion, because one scene we are in Korea and next its in Corea, poeple need to pay attention to be able to follow. Thank god i can so i still pretty much following this story okay.

Gon is now talking to PM on phone where she is - as usual - crossing the line asking Gon to be honest and inform her whether its really LR or his follower. I love love Gon expression here, very subtle and detail, its like “im having a very rough day got terror attack yet this person is being annoying and not helping at all” 🤣 i love how he claps back to PM

Gon “Hence, i beseech you, PM Koo. Do not pull the gag. Do not use the word ‘honesty’ as your weapon. Please focus solely on the safety of the people”

The Royal family actually furious about the terror attack and asking Prince Buyeong to act, actually i found it very realistic when they blame the PM because she is woman. This world is flowing like that 😅 its not even relevant but people love to blame it to woman and also because they want to get rid of PM for a political reason. Jeez. Disgusting.

Gon is coming to visit Prince Buyeong, as you know their conversation always deep and meaningful. Sometimes it feels like im watching some different movies because of how high quality their scene most of the time. Both acting superb, makes me teary eye when Gon asking hows sejin’s doing? And how Gon also wants to do a good job as her.

Gon “will i do a greta job too?”

I cants, he is just so scared and insecure 🥺 he ask his uncle to stay in the palace as the second in line. Like, at this point he is ready to sacrifice anything as long as he can get LR. Most heartbreaking words was when he promise to protect himself and he is asking his uncle to also protect himself too, thats the king’s order 😭😭 i cry a river

To be continue

#the king eternal monarch #tkem #lee min ho #kim go eun #woo do hwan #jung eun chae #kim kyung nam #lee jung jin #kim eun sook #kdrama

8 notes · View notes

ythmir-writes · 5 years ago

Note

onee-sama, If you could, will you write about the midcin suitors and their swords, pretty please? :) I've been seeing plenty of amazing weapons on my dash and I thought of you hehe. Stay safe and stay healthy too!

a/n: imouto – you are asking me??? to write about swords?? Ahaha! Ahahahahaahahh – yes

do i love weapons? yes. have i been heavily influenced by growing up and seeing amazing weapons in games and anime? absolutely. did i research this? somewhat. do i have absolutely any idea how to describe swords in a fantastical way? i tried.

any discrepancies as to timeline, i ask you dearest reader to indulge. the term sword is a broad term used to refer to all bladed weapons which are longer than knives. To properly describe a sword, one must look at the historical epoch, the region, and the intended use. Its precise definition thus may appropriately vary.

With all that done, I think we can begin.

Midnight Cinderella Suitors and the Swords they chose (or think they did)

Alyn Crawford has carried many swords to battle, but he favors a double-edged pallasch, grooved and ridged on both faces. It is a practical thing, resilient and heavy in his hands, bare of any decorations save his own Captain’s crest – the snarling mouth of a long-eared dog – carved on the knuckle guard, and twin droplets of rubies at the base of the blade.

Alyn received the sword as a gift from the Wysterian King on the eve of his acceptance into the Royal Guard select. Alyn remembers there had been no moon that night. He does not remember if the King had ever looked so sorrowful.

He carries it with him wherever he goes, sheathed, polished, and sharp, as a knight’s weapon is expected to be, ready to be drawn and used at a moment’s notice. The gleam of the silver blade does not give away its age, how many battles it has triumphed through, how much blood has been cleaned from it.

Alyn has named his sword Excidium, and tries very hard not to roar alongside it during war.

Leo Crawford similarly favors the practical and resilient sword, and carries an estoc. Much like his twin’s, Leo’s sword is bare of any decoration, save for red flames engraved and crisscrossing on the dull grey blade, from base to tip, and the Crawford crest of a bird in flight drawn on the leather wrapped around the hilt.

But unlike his twin, Leo prefers to leave space for some ingenuity. At the center of the blade is a smooth and edgeless portion that allows him to grip the weapon with his other hand to deliver a more powerful blow, or a more poignant point, thrusting and piercing into armor with relative ease and the quiet simmering rage he is careful to never display.

Leo has taken care of this sword since he was twelve. A relic, he would describe it, if he was flustered; a nightmare, if he was about to be damned. He carries it with him when he takes long and winding walks, whenever he visits the Crawford estate, and on days he thinks it would rain.

Leo will never say he has named it Ignis, after the embers stretched out in the sky on the night he had dug it from their parents’ grave. Nor will he ever say that whenever he wields it, he could, ever so faintly, hear their voices whispering to him again.

Louis Howard has never been one to participate in any degree of violence but a Duke must carry a sword, if not for practical purposes then at least, something decorative. It took a long time for Louis to truly choose a sword – until it was too little, too late.

The walloon he carries with him was not chosen so much as the only thing back then nearest to him that he could grip with his one functioning hand, to try to defend the one person he loved the most. And from then on, he had turned to it over and over again.

It is a beautiful thing, with a polished iron guard that had punched holes in the shape of flowers, and a blade the color of the sky that glowed whenever Louis held it, and sang whenever it cut through air. Louis tries not to relish how the sword is like an extension of his arm now, that he has never been seen without it, and that he sometimes stares at it transfixed through the night.

Louis has named his sword Agonist. But Louis really need not struggle, need not resist. He only need carry it with him always – or risk losing a loved one again.

Giles Christophe’s affinity with swords had always been in his blood, in his name, in his soul – so when he had been unceremoniously disinherited by his family without having been bequeathed a weapon, Giles threw everything he had into making his own.

His schiavona is an intricate thing. Forged to be slightly lighter than most to suit his needs, and with a sharper double-edged blade and pointier tip to make up for what he does not have. The guard is a dizzying and complex black metal work in the shape of an unfurled wing, formed by thin strips bending and curving around the hilt and enclosing most of his hand. One might even notice the distinctly shaped cat’s-head pommel – if they were lucky enough to get a close look. But who can really say?

Giles rarely carries his sword with him as his duties as Chamberlain require only his wit as a weapon. Many people are thankful for this, because it never bode well for anyone when Giles appears wielding his stark black blade.

Giles has named his sword Vindicta. He longs for the day when he could finally carry it without shame. He has not had enough of its screaming.

Sid carries a claymore, a daunting thing, with a long, straight, and broad double-edged blade, serrated at the tip, that would have made anyone else look gangly while wielding it. The angled guard made the hilt take the shape of a cross, and it is encrusted with multiple sapphires on both ends which glinted like the All-Seeing Eyes of old.

But do not mention this as Sid has never been one for superstition. The sapphires were there as pawn pieces, he would maintain, not because he they had been the first thing that caught his attention when he won them in a card game, not because he had always been able to predict a blow coming from behind. Not because, and this he would adamantly insist, the Eyes help him see.

Sid never walks the streets without his sword and makes a point to brandish it whenever conducting his business. Sheathed, if he was feeling charitable; through a body part, if not. A dark blue weapon that seemed to coax even the most unwilling tongues to speak.

Sid has named his sword Attestation. It would be best to never ask him why he keeps telling you the sword knows when you lie.

Rayvis Harneit carries a sashka, the curved, narrow blade and guardless hilt an ideal weapon for the streets the Nightwatch patrols. It is a striking thing, the blade unnaturally white like bone, and was carved with fangs on both edges, making it look as if it were serrated. Rayvis is careful not to touch them – too many have bled even when hit with the blunt end.

The scabbard that holds the sword is equally striking, gray painted wood that ended in a wolf’s snarling mouth. It would have been less unnerving if not for the stubborn stains in the shape of a hand around it.

Rayvis carries his sword only during his patrols as it is the last thing he received from his parents before their untimely end. A memento precious and useful. He hopes it would not be the last thing he is holding when he meets his own death.

Rayvis has named his sword Venari. He can feel its hunger grow with every strike.

Byron Wagner’s sword is a katzbalger, with an owl distinctly etched on its pommel. It is a mysterious thing, with a double-edged blade so black it seemed to have been sculpted from ink. It would not have been noticeable in the dark if not for the dozens of tiny gemstones peppered into the blade that sparkled at the barest hint of moonlight. It is no exaggeration to say that whenever Byron took his blade, it looked as if he wielded the night in his hands.

He received the sword from his father the moment he learned to speak. A treasure, surely, and the only gift he had received from the mad king that did not outright give him grief.

Byron carries his sword in the same way as the Steiner kings have done before him: sheathed in an even darker scabbard carved with ancient, looping Steiner symbols for eternal rule; always with him even in his sleep; and held as close as possible to his person, as to replace his heart.

Byron has named his sword Kaalam, and hopes to make a world where he does not always have to turn to it to make people understand.

Albert Burckhardt’s zweihänder is a heavy thing. It stands up to his chin, with a double-edged blade and a large diamond shaped onyx where the hilt began. The hilt, in turn, is cruciform, brown on black and brown, and had just enough space for Albert’s two hands – not that Albert needed both to lift the giant of a sword – but everyone else’s seem to be an ill-fit, their grip not quite right, always slipping, always grasping it wrong, or unable to carry its full weight.

The sword is a family treasure, passed down the Burckhardt line to the child who was to truly serve the Steiner King. Albert remembers his mother had confessed to him that it was not Albert accepting the sword. It was him who was had been accepted. No one else could hold it without cutting themselves on the blade.

Albert carries the sword at his back with a special double leather sheath, its straps running across Albert’s chest to secure the heavy sword behind him. Sometimes, it almost feels as if it were giving him a tender embrace.

Albert has named his sword Ardent, like all the wishes he does not have the courage to say.

Nico Meier does not look as if he knows how to wield a sword, and this grossly inaccurate impression has always worked to his advantage. The rapier he keeps at his hip only added to his veneer as an attendant, looking more decorative than useful. His sword had a golden hilt and a scabbard with gold rings at the bottom, both intricately carved with falling petals. The hand guard, though only two strips of curved metal, was masterfully done and inlaid with small tourmalines.

The rest of the sword was deadly – Nico makes sure of it. He keeps the point finely polished to prick at the slightest touch, and the edges of the slender blade sharp. What looked like a strictly piercing weapon could inflict a thousand cuts. Like its master, it is a misleading thing, and the story of where he came to own it changes every time he tells it.

Nico carries his sword as he would any delicate china, lightly, playfully, and with a certain flair, able to switch from his right to his left and back again with relative ease. The duality is second nature and one must do their best to keep up, or perish.

Nico has named his sword Constante, and ironically is the only true thing he believes in in this world.

Robert Branche would always prefer holding his paintbrushes over a weapon, even to save his own life, but he does own an old schweizersabel, its knuckle guard still intact despite the wars Robert had tried to bury it in.

The sword’s blade is long and curved without compromising its sharp edge. And though it is a slightly dented thing, its re-curved quilliones scratched in every place, it has never lost a speck of its elegance. The green hilt still had its sheen as if in its prime, the knuckle guard still glinted despite several decades of neglect, and at an angle the carved runes on the blade would even seemingly shine, as if holding in some mysterious power, as if proud that despite all of Robert’s efforts, the sword remains by his side. Robert can read them. He will never translate it out loud.

It is hard for Robert to shake off old habits – the sword will never let him – so he continues to carry it wherever he might go, even for running simple errands for his home or his art. His grip would be iron-tight, keeping it firmly in its scabbard. And though it had been lifetimes since he had used it last, he knows he can never be too careful with a sword untouched by time.

Robert has never named his sword. He is afraid of its memories.

#midnight cinderella #was this how you thought i would do it imouto? ahaha #Alyn Crawford #Leo Crawford #Louis Howard #Giles Christophe #Sid #Byron Wagner #Albert Burckhardt #Nico Meier #Rayvis Harneit #Robert Branche #ythmir writes #ythmir fanfics #midcin headcanons #OHBOY IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I WROTE A HEADCANON #i got real rusty so i hope this is something you can enjoy

105 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

Text

True Penguin love; Brian May x reader *bonus chap. for SMTM*

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well you thought I would forget the second bonus chapter that I had on my masterlist for my Soulmates through music series, well you thought wrong. After finally getting the chance to sit down, I finally got an idea of what I wanted to do for the final chapter I had in mind and so this idea was born.

Now be warned it takes place during the “I’m going slightly mad” music video so 1991 is the timeline for this fic. And I hope that I don’t cause any heartbreak with the angst I have for this chap (I think you can take a guess of what I’m referring to). But there is fluff in the fic so at least I hope that fills up your hearts with flutters :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@mexifangorl

@precioustyler

_______________________________________________________

I don’t know what that guitarist has in mind but he said that it was urgent that I come to Montreux as soon as I could. And since my first three kids were practically grown up, they could watch over my last baby Em while I went to see their father. So I packed up about a week’s worth of clothes and bought my plane ticket to Montreux, Switzerland.

Within almost 2 hours I landed in the beautiful, tranquil home of Montreux. God no wonder why Fred chose to record the rest of Innuendo here, it’s so quiet, peaceful and you don’t have the annoyance of the press hounding you through your window, especially in Fred’s case.

Yes, unfortunately I know the terrible disease that Freddie is going through. Tim and I just recently lost a cousin just last summer to the disease. I had grown up with Caleb and we were practically best friends in diapers even being born 6 weeks apart, so it was hard seeing him go through it.

And at the familiar spots that I could see growing on Fred and the sudden weight lost and fatigue in his face, I knew just what was wrong with him. But of course even though I’m no longer apart of Queen, I never once spoke of Freddie’s illness to anyone. Not mum, Tim, the kids, and especially not to the press even when they hound me about any comments regarding to Freddie’s health.

Anyways back to now. I walked up to the first payphone and I called the studio I knew where the boys would be filming at. I heard it ring a couple of times before I heard a voice say.

‘Hello?’

“Hey Phoebe.”

‘(Y/n), well it’s good to hear your voice again. Are you in Montreux yet?’

“Yeah I just landed actually. Shall I ring a cab and meet you at the studio?”

‘No need, your husband already paid one. You walk further out of the airport and you should see a driver with your name written on a sign with the Queen logo.’

“Okay well, I guess I’ll see you soon. And Pheebs, can you please tell me just what Brian has in mind?”

‘Ah-ah-ah I’m sworn to secrecy by Brian himself to not reveal to you what he has planned.’

“Wo, after all we’ve been through. I even bought your wife that new tea kettle after your last one broke.”

‘And she appreciates it.’

“At least tell me it’s not something bad or illegal.”

‘No, no. All I can tell you is that you’ll love it. See you when you get here love, cheers.’ And with that the line went dead. I looked down at the phone and muttered.

“Secretive bastard.” I hung up the phone and picked up my carryon and headed to baggage claim. Once my suitcase came in, I rolled it behind me and walked towards the exit where I saw a man dressed in a suit with a chauffeur’s hat on.

And just as Peter said, he held a sign with the famed Queen logo Freddie himself designed and it had my name in beautiful cursive writing (probably Fred’s handwriting). He turned towards me and said.

“Are you (Y/n) May?”

“Yes I am. Pleasure to meet you uhh—”

“Ohh Ralph. My name is Ralph Mrs. May.”

“Pleasure to meet you Ralph. And please call me (y/n). Mrs. May makes me sound ancient.”

“Shall I take your bags for you?”

“Oh you don’t have to I can manage, but thank you for the offer.” He guided me outside where I saw a black limo parked outside. He opened the trunk and I put my bags inside. He then opened up the backseat door and I got inside and he closed the door behind me. He got into the driver seat and he took off out of the airport.

The drive was pretty tranquil but not in the awkward kind of way. There was some small talk between the two of us on our way to the studio where the guys were filming their next music video “I’m going slightly mad”. Finally after about a half hour drive, I finally arrived at the studio.

“Here we are Mrs. May, Limehouse studios. Now I have been told in advance to take your things to the villa where your husband and the rest of the band are staying at.”

“Okay, thank you for the lift Ralph.” I thanked him. I grabbed my purse and swung it over my shoulder and exited the limo. I closed the door and he waved goodbye to me and I waved back before he drove off and left me there before the grand studio.

I walked inside and showed my ID tag and when security began to recognize my face from when I was once a part of Queen, they humbly allowed me in without any ifs, ands or buts about it.

I thanked them and walked along till I came to a grand stage with a couch on it. Sitting on the arm rest was none other than grey-haired silver fox Deacy messing with a yoyo.

“And here I thought I’d get a more welcome approach from my boys.” He turned towards me and smiled.

“(Y/n).” I smiled and walked up onto the stage and hugged Deacy as tight as I could before kissing his cheek. “How was your flight?”

“Uneventful. And of course no one made a big deal about who I was, maybe I could convince Bri to move us here should he ever think about retirement.”

“That unfortunately won’t be for a while my darling queen.” We both turned and there all dolled up in a crazy wig and tux with white gloves and madded eyeshadow to give him that crazed look was none other than the legend himself.

“Freddie.” I praised. We walked up to each other and kissed each other on both cheeks and he said.

“Oh darling you are looking more radiant every time I see you.”

“Even with four kids later?”

“Especially with four kids later. Never doubt yourself my darling. You have an eternal beauty through and through.”

“Okay so I was told of Brian’s big surprise so where the hell is he?”

“He’s just around that way shooting his bit. However darling he’s asked you to wear this.” It was then Freddie held out a black sash to use as a blindfold.

“Goddamn that man with his secretive nature.”

“C’mon darling you know he means well. He doesn’t want you to be spoiled of the surprise.” I looked up at Fred and I said.

“Can’t I just at least be told what I’m about to see?”

“That’s a big no can do love.” The familiar soft voice soon spoke up. Soon enough I saw Roger coming towards me wearing a full black tux as well as his shades.

“Rog.”

“Mrs. May.” He said coyly back at me before the two of us immediately hugged each other.

“Let me guess, Bri wants you to take me to him.”

“Exactly. Now go on put the blindfold on and let’s get going before they’re done filming.” I took the sash from Freddie and put it over my eyes and someone tied the two ends together.

“I swear to god though Roger, if you make me run into something or have me trip over a chord or something, I’ll kick your arse.”

“I don’t doubt that love. After what you did to Foster’s window all those years ago, I wouldn’t dream of crossing you.” I felt him take my hand and soon I was literally being led blindly across the studio.

With my eyes now blocked, my sense of hearing was heightened. I could hear someone saying my husband’s name repeatedly, the sound of people talking over one another, and camera clicks. It was then I felt myself stop and Roger came over behind me and he whispered.

“You ready love?”

“I’ve been dying for three days now. Show me.”

“Okay, but you gotta promise you won’t shriek or squeal.” He said as I felt him loosening the knot.

“I’ll try. But I don’t know if I can keep the promise.” Finally Roger removed the blindfold and I was taken by surprise but awe at what I saw.

Brian was in a full baggy black tuxedo suit with white gloves on, but what caught my attention was that he wore a very large penguin beak mask over his face and surrounding him were three penguins that looked up at Brian like he was actually one of them.

Two of them were Humboldt penguins while the third and slightly more bigger one was an African penguin.

I held my hands over my mouth trying not to let out the biggest squeal of just how adorable my husband of 15yrs was right now. The beak actually moved up and down like he was actually ‘talking penguin’ to them.

“Oh my god!” I softly squealed.

“I’ll take my leave now before I end up getting sick from the upcoming lovey-dovey you both are about to do.” I playfully elbowed Roger in the chest to which he groaned and continued, ��Bloody hell woman!”

“Just because I’m getting older doesn’t mean my punches are now weaker.” He playfully glared at me before walking away from me. I turned back towards Brian to see him still trying to interact with the penguins at their level. God I think he’s officially taken our penguin nicknames to a whole other level. When the director called cut, as he began stroking one of the penguins, that’s when he finally saw me.

He lowered the beak down over his chin so that I could see that dazzling smile of his. I walked up towards him and I hopped myself to sit on the stage. He came down and knelt in front of me and I said.

“So this is what you’ve been hiding from me?”

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I’d say you’ve taken your title of emperor penguin to a whole new level.”

“But don’t you think I’m adorable?” he asked immediately going into the puppy dog eyes. I giggled and said as I placed my hand under the beak.

“Of course you are. The cutest penguin in the room.” He smiled and playfully turned his head so that the beak got right up in my face and he made it open up just a bit. I squealed and ducked away from the beak before scooting closer to Brian and kissed his temple. “So how is it working with our children?” I gestured towards the penguins who were now being handled by their animal trainer.

“They’re a handful much like our real ones were. But they’re still adorable. Although something was missing from our little nest.”

“And just what pray tell is that?”

“Their mum. So I talked with the director and the lads and we’ve all come to an agreement that there should be a surprise cameo in the film.” Oh Bri you cheeky thing.

“Hold it I know where you’re going with this and the answer is no. As cute as it maybe I don’t feel like I should be a part of this.”

“C’mon love. It’ll be just like the old times.”

“No, no, no I haven’t been in a Queen music video in years. What if the fans don’t like me suddenly popping back up?”

“Then they’d have to be mad to not accept you. Freddie already loved the idea, plus he thinks mated penguins should stay together. Please love, I need my empress penguin with me.” He leaned his head sideways against my shoulder trying to be all cute with me. I couldn’t help myself but lace my head on top of those now long bushy curls that he had been growing out lately and I said to him.

“Why must you be so cute?”

“Because I know you love it.”

“You know one of these days your cuteness isn’t gonna suck me into one of your evil schemes.”

“Fortunately that won’t be today, right?”

“Right.” I groaned out. He smiled and took off the beak so that he could kiss me properly. He cupped both sides of my face as he deepened the kiss before finally separating from me.

“I’m glad you’re doing this my love.”

“I just hope Rog doesn’t blackmail us for this.”

“Sorry love already got it.” Roger’s voice soon cried out from afar. I glared towards him and cried back to him.

“You do that and you die Taylor!” Brian chuckled and hugged me close.

“C’mon my love. Let’s get you fitted into your costume.” He then took me over to wardrobe where I was given a similar costume that Brian was wearing but slightly slimmer but still a bit baggy. I was given the same beak to wear over my face and I said through it.

“I still can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Oh come on love you look adorable. If we were real penguins I’d definitely fight for you.”

“Thankfully you already have me.”

“That I do.” He took my left hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb as the two of us stared at each other with warm, loving eyes.

And so it was I did end up having a cameo in the music video. Brian and I did our little penguin bit together and the three real ones acted as our children. They were so taken by us that they actually believed us to be one of them.

One of them even came up and actually wrapped itself around my arm in a penguin snuggle. I couldn’t help myself but stroke it’s feathers which actually felt quite smooth to go through even with the gloves on.

After filming our bit the crew decided that some photos needed to be taken.

So all four of my boys got on the couch and the photographer got the pictures he needed with one of the penguins down along the stage.

“(Y/n) come up here be with us.” Brian said to me.

“No, no Bri I’m just a cameo I’m not the important people in this video.”

“Oh darling I swear you’re just as modest as that husband of yours. Get your fat bottomed girl ass up here!” Freddie proclaimed.

I playfully gave him my mum face to tell him to never say that again before giving into his demand and Bri immediately had me sit between him and Deacy.

“Can he—can he come up here with us?” Freddie asked gesturing to the penguin down on the stage in front of us.

“Yeah we can put him up on the stage.” Said the director as the trainer came up and set the penguin down between him and Roger.

“And just to—just to even it out could we have the other one over there?” Soon the other penguin came up to Brian and he began to stroke her back before placing her between us. I smiled and stroked her neck and even gave her a little scratch which she seemed to enjoy.

Deacy reached over my lap so that he could stroke the female penguin when I heard something going on the other side of the couch.

“Ohh! What’s he doing?” I heard Freddie exclaim. Next thing I know, everyone’s exclaiming as Freddie and Roger quickly stand up. I look over and saw that the male penguin had taken a shit on the couch. “That’s—that’s quite a shit number right there.” To which we all laughed. “Roger what did you do?”

I shook my head playfully and said.

“Nice going Rog!” I teased.

“It’s not my fault!” So Rog and Freddie ended up standing behind the couch over Bri and Deacy and we just had the well behaved female penguin between us. But bless the little thing at one point she thought she could fly, or thought she was heading for water as she now crawled over Brian’s lap and went over to the edge of the couch and jumped right off of it.

Brian quickly brought her back and stroked her back and I reached over and stroked under her neck cooing at her.

“Aww baby girl, there wasn’t any water there. No need to hurt yourself, no, no, no.”

“She’ll be okay. I think she knows now to not jump off this couch again, isn’t that right sweetheart? Yeah?” Brian said as he kept stroking her back soothingly.

As the day went on, I got to watch in awe of Freddie’s strength as they had to do a multiple take shot of him crawling along the floor and interacting with the three other guys who were all on the couch.

Even though he was suffering very hard at this point and would have a lay down when things became too hard for him, he didn’t once complain about ‘god I can’t do this anymore. Let’s call it quits for today. I’m too tired for this shit.’ He was—the most incredibly strong person I’ve ever seen and had the honor of meeting.

“(Y/n) what do you think Brian should do with his fingers?” Freddie soon called out to me. I walked up onto the stage and stood beside him and the director and asked him.

“Why ask me specifically?”

“Because he’s your husband and I’d hate for you to hound me for not making him look good.” I playfully shoved Fred on the shoulder and said.

“So what are you thinking?”

“Well I really want him to play around with his fingers but I don’t know in which way he should do it.” I hummed and held Brian’s hand in mine which now held the long extended golden claw-like fingers. “Bri, do you think you could do something like this?” I held out my free hand and slowly fanned it up starting from my index finger to my pinkie. He followed behind me with his free hand and I said to him, “Now close them the opposite way.”

He slowly closed them from his pinkie back to his index finger but I told him.

“But immediately as soon as your left hand closes, do the same thing with your right.” And just as I told him, it looked so elegant, almost seductive like.

“Ohh that’s nice, and yes just look to each hand as you open it up. Oh yes Brian that’s nice. (Y/n) you’re a genius as always.”

“What would you guys do without me?”

“We’d be 4 lost, stubborn-headed testosterone aging queens.” Brian answered.

“Okay guys, let’s run full play back.” The director said as Freddie went back into position on the floor. Just as I was about to get out of the shot, Brian suddenly jerked me back and trapped me in his arms as I sat on his lap.

“Do you like these?” he wriggled his fingers emphasizing the claws.

“They definitely make your already long fingers longer. Think you can swipe them for the night?” I asked.

“You got something in mind?” he whispered.

“Maybe.” I whispered coyly at him.

“Ugh! I swear you two are as bad as this guy with his wife!” Roger pointed to Deacy.

“Not nearly as bad as you and Dominque.” Deacy sassed back.

“Mrs. May we need you out of the shot please.” I turned to Brian and hissed softly.

“Don’t make me get you into trouble.”

“I’m afraid you already do that love. And you must pay the price before I can let you go.” I quickly pecked his lips and he released me and I quickly got off the stage and stood behind the camera and watched them film the sequence.

It was a long, grueling day but Freddie was happy with the end result and with that the guys and I were allowed to go back to the villa. As it grew darker, the guys were pretty much asleep except for Brian and I. We were cuddled up on the king sized bed and he once again had on the golden claws that he managed to swipe from set.

“It seems like we’ve returned back to square one.” He said.

“What do you mean?”

“Working on an album in a tranquil place, no one to harass us while we work, the two of us in a room together again. Just like the summer of 1975.” I smiled and leaned my head against his chest which was exposed from the night shirt he was wearing (thank god he still leaves his shirts unbuttoned).

“Yeah. I—kinda wish we could go back to that time. When life was simple, we were young and Queen was just the five of us.”

“So you do miss performing with us?”

“From time to time yeah. But after this,” I said holding up my arm to show my braces that I wear every night for my CTS. “But I knew I couldn’t drag you guys down nor let you be worried about me. Besides I’d say you four did great on your own without me at the start of the 80’s. I mean you all were rewarded for best band of the entire 1980’s.”

“Yeah. But we still would’ve gotten the award if you were still in the band.” He said as he stroked my back with those claws of his which sent tingles all over me. I moaned softly and that’s when Brian hovered over me and he continued, “You like that?”

“God Bri how do you still affect me like a horny teenager?”

“Guess I just have that effect on you my love.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. I buried my hands into his massive mane of curls while I felt his hand go underneath my shirt and those claws gently grazed across my stomach which made it tickle.

“Bri don’t tease.” He chuckled and said.

“Sorry love I can’t help it. I just love that giggle of yours.” He then began kissing down my neck.

But as much as I wanted to be pleasured, my head just wasn’t in the right mindset, because it finally hit me of just how bad Fred had gotten since I last saw him. I tried to hold in my tears but I could feel them starting to form.

“(Y/n)? Love what’s wrong?” he hovered back over me and cupped the side of my face. I sniffled and muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no. It’s alright. What’s wrong my love, what brought this on, hmm?”

“It’s—I….” I sighed heavily and shook my head.

“C’mon love just tell me. I won’t get mad, you know that. We promised no more secrets with each other.”

“I—I know I promised I wouldn’t get all teary eyed or make a fuss about it but—we’re gonna lose him, aren’t we?” at that question he didn’t need a clarification on what I meant. “It’s just—every time I look at him I think back to Caleb. It’s only been four months since he died and it still hurts I—I can’t bear to lose Freddie too.” I wept.

Brian sat down beside me and brought me close to him and allowed me to cry into his shoulder. His hand rubbed my back while his other one stroked through my hair.

“I—I’m sorry Bri—you don’t de-deserve this r-right now…..”

“Shhh. Shhh. Think nothing of it. I know exactly what you’re going through. I—I don’t even want to think it but…..I feel that he may not have much more time. Plus with my dad feeling sick now I—I can’t bear to lose the two people I love most dearly.” He kissed the side of my head before hugging me tighter and closer to him.

“He helped us become a couple. I—I would never have gotten the courage to tell you how I really felt about you without him making that penguin metaphor.” I choked out.

“He always loved playing matchmaker. But I guess he also knew that we were meant for each other.” He leaned his head against mine as he pulled me even closer to him. “But he’s still so strong. He won’t stop working until he just can’t do it anymore. And—it would mean a lot if you stayed her a bit longer, I know Fred said that he’s wanted you to be involved with this album.”

“But I only packed clothes for a week.”

“You can share some of mine, you know I have no problem with you wearing my stuff.”

“You just want to see me drown in your things.” He chuckled and admitted.

“That’s one way of looking at it. But—please say you’ll stay and help us finish this last Queen album with Fred. I know it would mean a lot to have the true queen of Queen back.” I sniffled and wiped away my tears and choked out.

“I’ll call Louisa in the morning and see if she can take Emily an extra couple of weeks.” He nodded and kissed the top of my forehead.

“Feeling better?”

“A little. I just—I couldn’t help but think of the promise I made Freddie about not making a big do about all this, but I guess I broke that promise.”

“Well not quite. You’re with me, Fred’s not in front of you. And you’ve been so strong ever since you found out around the same time the rest of the guys and I did. Losing your cousin was traumatic enough for you, and now seeing another close friend, a dear friend going through the same terrible disease he went through, (y/n) my love you are incredibly strong. But even you must take time for yourself, and cry. And I’m always here to cry with you.” He said as he wiped the tears away.

I took notice of his tearstains and wiped them away and I asked him.

“So we’re crying partners now?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, then yes. We’re crying partners.” He brushed my hair out of my face and kissed my nose. “Why don’t we just have a cuddle for the night? I think we both need it.” I nodded. I helped him take off the claw fingers and he set them on the nightstand before wrapping his arms around me.

I pulled the covers up over us and Brian got us snug as two lovebugs in a rug. He kissed the top of my head and leaned his head against mine while I buried my face into his chest and listened to his strong, comforting heartbeat.

The two of us drawing strength from each other to get through the next few weeks through this terrible event at seeing a dear friend who helped us get together, get married and end up having our four kids together go through such pain, but still having the raw strength to push on and continue to be what he was born to be.

55 notes · View notes

butterflyinthewell · 5 years ago

Text

Godzilla’s mom! (Heisei era)

Godzilla’s mom was already quite ill when Godzilla hatched from the egg she laid, so he has no memory of her when she was healthy and energetic. She had a very slow growing brain tumor that was putting pressure on her optic nerves. It left her blind and over time it slowly paralyzed her, and she died when it crushed her brain stem against her skull. Not a nice way to go. Godzilla remembers his mother as being gentle, laying down a lot and, towards the end, so thin her bones showed.

Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if she lived to get mutated too. I have an idea in my mind of what she will look like, what she would be like and what her name would be.

I call her Okaajira.*

She would be about the same height as her mate, Gojira, so about 164 feet tall (don’t forget, Heisei Godzilla is so much bigger because of “modern” 1970s nukes) with very irregular dorsal spines(fewer than her mate, though), soot black hide** much darker than her mate’s charcoal coloring, long claws (typical for female godzillasaurs) and striking yellow eyes. All yellow, not gold with an orange rim like Shezilla.

Her eyeballs alternate between being crossed (strabismus) and twitching (nystagmus). Had she lived to mutate, she would regain some eyesight because she grows a neocortex just like Godzilla and some of the pressure is taken off her optic nerves, but it won’t undo the damage already done just like mutating didn’t heal Godzilla’s heart defect or take away his palsy.

So any improvement in sight won’t be much for her; the best she would be able to see may be light, shadow, some shapes if the contrast is high enough, and some color. Forget about depth perception, she figures that out via sound because visually she has none. She can find a full moon at night, but not see the stars. She can tell if the sky is blue or cloudy. She can see if there’s a big dark brown boulder on pale sand. She can see the flickers of sunlight sparkling on water. At night she will see the different colored lights from buildings in a city. With no light she is totally blind, and shining bright lights right into her eyes gives her a total whiteout.

The tumor pushing on her optic nerves will go into permanent remission and not metastasize because her internal radioactivity keeps it from changing. Now, if she got shrunk in the Shrinking Project? That would kill her because she won’t be radioactive enough to keep the cancer in check and it will explode in size and get all over her body in a span of days.

Mutated godzillasaurs maintain a very delicate balance. They are as fragile as they are seemingly indestructible because changing anything about how their body works can either kill them or make them stronger.

It may take kaijuologists years to figure out she is blind, because she still turns and tries to look at things out of reflex, so they will need closeup views of how her eyes cross and twitch before they realize she doesn’t use them much. It will take them longer to realize she has some visual perception, and even then they will never know exactly what the world looks like to her.

If Okaajira walks into a city for the first time, she’s going to bump into things and sniff the edges of buildings. She will touch, nibble and mouth things to feel them like blind humans use their hands to examine something. She’ll think the cars on the streets at daytime are moving water at first because of the sparkle, but realize that’s wrong as soon as she steps on them and they go crunch. She will sniff and smell everything until she finds a path to and from a power plant that doesn’t require going through too many buildings.

After a few trips she will memorize how her footsteps echo off things and know she’s close to her target by the soundscape created by her footsteps. Sometimes she will stomp her foot, slap her tail down or roar to get echoes back and figure out where she is. This is more to find gaps between buildings than anything, and it’s not perfect. Cities are noisy and sound waves get absorbed. The weather can affect this too. Fog or snow muffle a lot, but rain is helpful.

While Okaajira can forage alone quite well, she’s more likely to come with Gojira and follow him around. He would totally leave a scent trail for her to follow if she decides to forage alone, but the humans will get wise to it pretty fast and start covering it up with something unpleasant in attempt to deter her. Then she’ll start following the stink and it’s back to square one, lol.

She has been blind for a very long time, so much that she hardly remembers when she could see, so she won’t be much of a scaredy cat until the JSDF and G-force show up. The loud, sudden noises and pain are likely to scare her until she realizes they don’t injure her, then it’s game on.

And God help you if G-Force or the JSDF “corner” her. (She can think she’s trapped when a clear escape path is right next to her, but obscured by smoke, or if there’s smoke all around.) She will crash into things trying to escape. She will whip her tail out to protect her back. She will follow the noises made by all forms of vehicle and take a few beam shots at whoever shoots her. She is more likely to miss than land a hit, but the property destruction will be astronomical, so much worse than Gojira or Godzilla could do. Once you set her off she will blast her beam at any sudden noises. That includes honking car horns, screaming humans and sirens.

She would have the strongest and most destructive violet (purple) beam. Think Shin Godzilla’s beam with a little less range...yeah. You won’t see her use it too often purely because it will cause her visual whiteout, so most instances of her firing it are because she’s pissed off or scared.

Now, her personality... oh boy. Godzilla didn’t get his loud, curious and flirty nature from his daddy. Okaajira likes to talk to anybody and everybody. She likes to explore and check things out. If she hears or smells something weird, she’s going to go sniff it or go find it. Gojira might do most of the hunting and foraging, but if Okaajira comes along SHE is the one calling the shots and saying the godzillasaur equivalent of “Honey, here’s the shopping list. You be my eyes. I’ll handle the rest.”

She is a gentle soul. If somebody is yelling in pain, she’s running over to see what happened and if she can make it better. Godzilla fell down and hurt himself a lot when he was first learning to walk. She kissed the tears off his face, kissed whatever part of himself he hurt when he fell and encouraged him to keep trying. She would still do that today if she was alive.

But as sweet and gentle as Okaajira would be, crossing her is a mistake. She won’t be great at distance combat, but get in close and she will rip you apart with her teeth and claws. This girl isn’t a graceful fighter like Shezilla; she fights dirty. She won Gojira’s heart by kicking his butt and sitting on his chest to dominate him after he underestimated her strength. “If you’re such a tough guy, why did a blind girl beat you up?” Gojira both fell in love and voluntarily admitted defeat for the one and only time.

Okaajira has perfected the Mom Growl. Every mom has The Look or The Noise they make to let their kids know they dun goofed. All she has to do is growl, bare one fang and hiss and Godzilla knows she disapproves of what he’s doing. AND IT WOULD STILL WORK TODAY, TOO. 🤣

And no matter how old Godzilla gets, he is always going to greet his mom the way he did as a hatchling. He will lean over so his nose is under her chin and bump upward to nuzzle her, and she does the same back. It’s because he still thinks of himself as being smaller than her despite knowing he actually isn’t.

He loves his mommy, that’s all. 💕

➖➖➖➖

*Okaajira is taken from okaa-san, which is how Japanese people refer to mothers who aren’t theirs. It’s basically Momzilla or Motherzilla in English. The term ofukuro is for talking to your own mom.

**Godzilla’s grandson, Kage, has black hide, one eye that is yellow and one eye that is brown. He got his dark coloring and yellow eye from his great grandma! The brown eye comes from Filia, Godzilla and Gojira. (Junior’s eyes look kinda brown in some light, but they are very dark hazel.)

His overall appearance is inherited from Junior, since I headcanon that Survival timeline Junior looks like MireGoji. That’s due to being mutated by radioactive chemicals in the 2011 Fukushima nuclear disaster, which were different in composition to what mutated Gojira and Godzilla.

So Kage is a little shadow colored MireGoji-shaped goober who has heterochromia and the palsy like his grandpa. 💕

If you want to know how Filia and Junior met and got hooked up, go read my huge Legacy of Gojira post. https://butterflyinthewell.tumblr.com/post/187359259748/legacy-of-gojira

This post is just an exercise in wondering if a certain character had lived. Okaajira would change the timeline a lot by existing in it and right now I don’t have the energy to write it all up.

And I really hope tumblr doesn’t shadowban this post out of tags. I spent a week working on it ffs. 💥

#godzilla #heisei godzilla #godzilla family #okaajira #disability headcanon #headcanon

28 notes · View notes

cole-grey-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Marriage Broker

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Timeline: Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming

Character(s): Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader (platonic), Peter Parker x Male Reader

Warning(s): swearing

Request: Can you do a platonic Wanda x Avenger!Male reader where she realizes the reader is into Peter Parker and she sets them up but neither of them realize what’s she’s doing until it’s done?

A/n: yay, another request! Sorry for the absolutely long wait, and wow this is really long. But I’m so very happy that you guys like my writing. I really enjoy writing for you guys so pls keep sending me requests : D and thank you for waiting for so long. Hope you enjoy!

Wanda watches as you smile down at your phone. The corners of your eyes are crinkled, your face warm with blush. Wanda eyes you for a moment longer before she crosses the kitchen. She sits at the table, taking the seat across from you. She asks you, “What’s got you so happy?”

You look up, smiling at Wanda while not-so-subtly hiding your phone in your lap. “Good morning, bestie,” you greet her.

You and Wanda met back in 2015, during the whole Ultron business. Even though the two of you didn’t interact much at the time, after the dust had settled and cleared and Wanda had become an official member of the avengers, you came together naturally and started hanging out on a regular basis. You had plenty to bond over because of your close proximity in age and the fact that you both had only just become avengers recently. You became best friends soon after.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Wanda greets back, linking her hands on the table while staring at you suspiciously. She goes to ask you about what's making you laugh so much, but is interrupted. A ping comes from the phone in your lap.

You instantly look down at it, completely forgetting about Wanda, and you erupt with laughter. You lift your hand to cover your mouth when you can’t help but laugh. Wanda has never seen you smile or laugh so… she can’t quite find the word for it. Gushingly, maybe, as if…

Wanda gasps and blurts, “You have a crush!”

Your laugh dies as you look up at Wanda sharply. “What?”

“You have a crush,” Wanda states again and you make a face in response, obviously trying to feign confusion.

“Pfff,” you scoff, waving your hands in a dismissive manner. “What? What do you mean? Me? A crush? Noo, thats-”

Wanda ignores you and asks, “Who is it?”

“What? It’s no one, Wanda, it’s-”

“I don’t believe you,” Wanda says, her accent drawled. She quickly reaches across the table and grabs ahold of your phone. You shout and tighten your grip, trying to keep it from her.

“Y/n, just give it-”

“No, Wanda, let go-”

“No fighting in the kitchen,” Natasha orders, popping up unexpectedly and out of nowhere. It makes you jump and unfortunately for you, Wanda wins the tug-a-war and is able to rip the phone out of your hands. Wanda shouts in victory.

You pout, whining, “Nat!”

Natasha doesn’t turn around from where she’s eating blueberries she got from the fridge, her back facing you. “Don’t blame me for your butterfingers.”

Sighing, you try to get Wanda to give you back your phone but she doesn’t budge. She simply smiles and begins going through your texts. You cross your arms and continue to pout while waiting for her to be done.

It isn’t long before Wanda makes a show of gasping, causing you to blush and look down at your lap. “You really like him,” it's not a question and you can’t tell if that’s worse than if she was asking. You glare, but there’s no heat behind it and you know Wanda knows that.

Natasha, still not looking at you two and instead messing around on her phone, asks, “Who do you like?”

You don’t answer, don’t even acknowledge that she’s said anything, so Wanda tells her, “Peter Parker,” in a sing sing tone.

Natasha smirks. “Spider Jr?” she wonders coyly, even though you and Wanda know she knows who Peter is, and that she knows you both know she knows (which is confusing, but you get the point).

“Yes!” Wanda confirms happily. Groaning from embarrassment, you snatch your phone back, sliding it in your pocket so she has no way of trying to take it again. “Why don’t you ask him out?”

You debate continuing to play dumb but figure she’s already come this far, so there’s no point. You shrug instead, saying, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Wha-” Wanda stutters, “it is a big deal, Y/n, this-”

“I almost forgot,” Natasha interrupts, walking over to stand in front of the table so she can look down at you. “You’re needed for a mission briefing with Steve and Thor on the third floor. Starts in thirty minutes, so you better suit up quick. Fury wouldn’t appreciate your tardiness,” and then she sits down with her blueberries and gets back to whatever’s on her phone.

You sigh, standing while grabbing your half filled water bottle and breakfast plate. You drop off your plate in the sink, but keep your water with you.

Wanda’s eyes follow you the whole time. “Y/n,” she says, trying to argue.

“No, Wanda, crushing from afar is just better, alright?” you tell her, pausing on your way out. You shake you head, letting out a defeated sigh. “Saves me from the humiliation.”

Wanda frowns, watching you leave. She can only wonder what she can do for you. Wanda’s never been in a relationship either, so she’s not sure of all the ropes. All she knows is that she wants to help you get the guy.

Next to her, Natasha types away on her phone. The soft clicking noise grabs Wanda’s attention. Wanda is suddenly struck with an idea.

She leans closer to Natasha, smiling sweetly. “Hey, Nat?”

Natasha looks up from her phone. She smirks.

There's a reason Natasha’s skills are never doubted (may the devil have mercy on the poor soul that does doubt her) because when Natasha smirks at Wanda like that, she knows she’s already won the game.

It’s almost too easy. Wanda comes up with the best strategy while you’re away on your mission with Steve and Thor. The only hard part was waiting for those five days for you to get back so she could set her plan into action. And once you did get back, Wanda was instantly in your face about hanging out as soon as possible.

“Wanda,” you interrupt, setting down your bags. You turn to her. “I’ve only been back for five minutes. I have bruises the size of Manhattan, and I’m fucking exhausted. Let me rest.”

Wanda sighs, pretending to pout. “I know you just got back,” she tells you, “but I just… it’s just being away from you for five days made me realize we don’t hang out enough anymore.”

You sigh and flop back down on your bed. “Look, can we talk about this later? I’m really-”

“Friday,” Wanda says suddenly, “friday is a perfect day to hang out.”

“Wanda, no-”

“We can go to a deli shop. You’ve been wanting to try one for a while,” which isn’t a total lie. You have been wanting to go to a deli shop, just not the one Wanda’s referring to. Wanda’s not even able to take credit for the meeting place. Natasha had done some sleuthing for her and found out Peter goes to a specific deli shop after school every day.

“No, that’s not-”

“We’ll meet there at 3:30 sharp,” Wanda tells you, leaving before you can protest further.

All the pieces fell perfectly in order once Wanda had you on board. All Wanda had to do after that was just wait for friday to come (while simultaneously avoiding you so you couldn’t back out, but you know, you didn’t need to know that).

Wanda did just that and when friday came around, she went down to the deli half an hour early to get the rest of her plan set up. Wanda grabbed a seat in a corner where she has eyes one everything.

It wasn’t long before you arrived right on time, exactly 3:30. Wanda watches you look around for her, though she has no doubt you won’t find her. She’s dressed in a foolproof disguise: hair pulled back in a cap and glasses resting on her nose. Steve suggested it, and it always seems to work for him.

You sigh, picking a spot to the side that is out of the way to stand in while pulling out your phone.

You [3:31 PM] where are you?

Wanda pulls out her phone to answer you, waiting a few seconds wanting for it to seem believable.

Wanda [3:32 PM] ill be there soon

You [3:32 PM] i thought we were supposed to meet at 3:30 sharp

Wanda [3:33 PM] that was for you

Wanda can hear you scoff but chooses to not look in your direction.

She tells you she’s with Natasha at the moment. It’s a known fact that mentioning Natasha will always get people off your back.

Wanda [3:34 PM] just go find a seat for us

You put your phone back in your pocket and head over to a table. You barely take one step before you bump into someone. You gasp and start to apologize before stopping. Wanda smirks when she sees the curly brown hair, watching you two the whole time.

“Y/n,” Peter gasps, eyes wide.

“Peter,” you gasp back, pleasantly surprised. Peter smiles and you blush.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, before he realizes how that sounds. “I mean, I didn't mean it in that way, I just come here everyday after school and I've never seen you here before. Not that you can’t be here, I mean…” Peter stops himself, face a red, hot volcano.

You giggle, saying, “Likewise.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?”

“I was planning to meet Wanda here for a late lunch.”

“Oh,” Peter nods. “Um, where is she?”

“With Nat, apparently, but she said she’ll be here soon, so,” Peter smiles and nods while you stare at him and blush. You stutter, “Well, um, you know, you-you could join us, if you want.”

Peter looks surprised. “I-I would love, uh, really like to join you for your late lunch, if it wouldn’t be a bother.”

You smile. “What? No, of course it’s not a bother, Pete, not at all. I was just about to find a seat, actually.”

“Oh, well, I actually know the perfect seats for us,” Peter leads you over to a booth only a few tables away from where Wanda is seated. You and Peter begin talking but you’re talking too softly for Wanda to hear what you’re saying. Luckily, she can read your lips. You talk mostly about avenging, specifically the recent mission you, Steve, and Thor went on, just easy conversation.

Not that it matters anyway because a waitress is immediately in front of you two, wondering what she could get you to drink. When you two are done answering, the waitress says, “Alright, well, I’ll be right back with those drinks for the lovely couple,” while smiling a toothy grin and walking away from the chaos she left behind.

Wanda can see you and Peter’s cheeks flush dark with blood. You can’t help but smile and cover your mouth. She watches intently while wringing her hands repeatedly, hoping her plan works.

You both try to go back to regular conversation, but it’s shifted now. You cover your entire face with your hands, scrubbing up and down, trying to get the blush to go away before Peter’s hands are suddenly pulling yours away from your face.

Wanda watches, holding her breath. Peter is saying something, but he’s looking down at the table so Wanda can’t make it out, but it makes you smile and laugh. Wanda can’t remember a time when you’ve looked happier.

Peter is smiling and laughing along with you. You reach across the table, tangling your fingers in the hair on the back of Peter’s neck. You lean across the table and softly press your lips against his.

Wanda can’t contain her squeals. This, of course, causes your eyebrows scrunch. You look in Wanda’s direction. Wanda gasps, jumping back in her booth and hiding under the table by laying down on the seat hopefully before you could spot her. She waits for a reasonable amount of time before she allows herself to sneak a peak over the table, where you and Peter sitting across from her.

“Hey, Wanda,” you greet her while Peter sits next to you with a knowing smile.

“Oh,” Wanda says, sitting up straight. “I guess you were bound to find out eventually,” You and Peter nod at that. “How exactly did you know I was setting you two up?”

“The waitress kinda tipped me off,” you tell her. “Her thinking we’re a couple right after you busted me for having a crush on Pete? Please.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I had no idea,” Peter says. You snort and lean a little closer to him. “I'm grateful, though.”

You smile at him, blush, and then turn to Wanda. “I am also very grateful for your help.”

“Well, that's a relief,” she says, then, “now, pay up.”

“Pay up? What are we paying for?” you ask her, sharing a confused look with Peter.

“You didn’t think I was setting you up for free, did you?”

You scoff, mouth hanging wide open. “We didn’t know you were setting us up in the first place!”

“All the more reason to pay me finely for my services,” Wanda holds out her hands. “Fifty each, please.”

“Fifty?” you question, still shocked. “Why do you need a hundred dollars for this?”

“Oh, I don't. I only need fifty, but I need the other fifty for Nat because she helped.”

You and Peter exchange looks and begin pulling out your wallets, causing Wanda to smile in victory. “Fine,” you say, slapping the fifty in her hand, “but you're paying for lunch.”

(NOT MY GIFS)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

#wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda maximoff x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #reader insert #marvel cinematic universe

323 notes · View notes