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coffee-master · 8 days ago

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[Relative falls] LOVE TRAINGLE AU!

Aka: Toxic hetero, doomed hetero and ENDGAME YURI!

And it goes from: Dipcifica -> Dipper x Oracle -> MabiFica

[Yes the titel couldn't be longer-] [ Also It's not actually a love traingle, but I didn't have idea for other name]

Basically in Relative falls this ship is OUR:

• Dipcifica = Fiddauthor [ now doomed/unrequited hetero]

• Dipper x Oracle = BillFord [now toxic hetero]

• MabiFica = Fiddlestan [now Endgame yuri]

So how it goes from: Dipcifica -> Dipper x Oracle -> MabiFica

And since I have all of your attention, I need to admit that I'm pretty dissapionted in the fandom, since there is almost no content for this idea.

BEFORE YOU GO, HEAR ME OUT! I CAN EXPLAIN THIS MESS!!!

Let's start from the not necessary beginning..

Act One: Dipcifica in College

Everything started back in college. Manson had to go to the cheeper college and Mabel was chicked out of the house, after (accidentally) destroying his project.

Manson and Pacifica both are student at the university and go on the most lecture, so they eventually become very good friends.

How did she end up there and why she is cheap college, despite having money?

Pacifica still is the rich girl and belongs to the Northwest family, but she wanted to become more than that.

Pacifica is very passionate and inteligent person, who wants to become her own person and not just another Noble title. She wanted to find herself nad feel the freedom of choice.

So despite her family's protest, she went to the university to improve herself and get a higher education. Meanwhile her Noble family members were pretty dissapionted, since they wanted her only to focus on family business, good look, savoir vivre and ect..

Anyway, her family thought of this as a 'phase'. So they let her go to the college, but only if she did for the minimum of the money. [They thought that this condition would discourage her, but in the end they were wrong]

But seeing her so determined in the end they gave her a chance to prove herself. (Only until she was even able to convince tham that completing her studies would give them also a profit)

So finally they made a deal. They would give Pacifica the bare minimum of the money for the cheapest studies and after completing it she would double the price. If she manages to do that, she would freely be able to do what she wanted, no pressure or expecteation from the family.

So, Manson and Pacifica met in the college and they both find the other one interesting. They were spending most of the time with each other, until their feelings bloosomed into a crush.

Both of them were often studing together and Manson by being himself (so an akward teen nerd around women) was found cute by Pacifica.

He had this nerdy charm and she though it was adorable. Even though at first it was weird for her that Pines was so clumsy and nervous around women. But it the end the man quickly could become himself once again, as soon as started talking about lectures and math projects ect..

Soon Manson felt comfortable around Pacifica and didn't feel so nervous, when they were asighed to do a project together. Being in his element and chilled out.

Beside the first 'nerd charm' Pacifica started also admiring Manson for being so passionated about paranormal suff and determinated to do his best (study aren't easy, you know?).

Meanwhile Manson was pretty impressed by Pacifica. The fact that she could stand up for herself and be her own person.

So basically their relatioship went from:

Manson being nervous around women -> Hey, we actually have something in common -> Best buddies, who support each other -> I admire them -> I think I like them

In the second semester on their studies, both started really crushing on each other. Neither of them said anything but the signals were obvious for anyone to notice.

They prepared lunch for other one, studies together (Pacifica reminded Manson not to eat his pen during lectures), Make notes for another one, sometimes unintentionally they would hold hands and from time to time obviously blush around each other.

They were pretty much in love. The type:

Fall first(Manson) + Fall even harder(Pacifica)

So what happend?

During their studies they didn't date? BUT WHY YOU ASK?

Both wanted to focus first on their studies, both for diffrent reasons and motivations.

Pacifica wanted to focus first on studies, because she saw this as an opportunity to become something more than just a 'pretty face'. She wanted to show her family that she could achive something WITHOUT their money, she wanted to impress them by being HERSELF. She saw her studies as a chance and she COULDN'T FAIL. That was her first goal. She needed to be sure, that she'll pass.

Meanwhile Manson saw those studies as something he had to work harder for. After his sister destroyed his only chance for better collage, he tried to focus on studies. He felt like he needed to work harder than ever. He was scared of failing. (he also used studies as a copy mechaninsm, since he had a hard time being in separation with his sister, but he wouldn't admit it)

Manson was basically a workholic and Pacifica thought that they could work something with their relationship together after their graduation.

BUT AS WE KNOW.. LIFE IS MESSY..

Everything was working out well.. They relationship grew stronger and greats were better each year. They were basically unstoppable!!!

Until one day..

Everything was going well, until one day the Northwest family decided did not keep their word and break their deal.

One day a better 'opportunity' came to them. An arrange marriage for Pacifica between two nobel famielies to increase their wealth. The Northwest family didn't waist any second and without Pacifical's knowlage they immiediatelly come to the agreement.

Later (to be exact when she was about to enter her last year of studies) she found out about this whole plan.

Obviously she rapidly confronted her family, demanding explanations, she was ready to fight for her life. But she had to face the brutal reality and the fact that she had no control.

She demanted justice.

Instead Northwests only said that they took her funds for college and if she wouldn't agree to their conditions then she will be cut off from the will and the whole family. Moreover due to her family influence around the world, they wouldn't let go of her easily.

Basically she was helpless.

And like that her whole world went crushing..

In the end (sadly) Pacifica had to let go of finishing her education and went back to her family, where she married the partner introduced to her by her grandparents.

Manson and Pacifica after that lost contact for a long time for a few reasons:

Firstly, because Pacifica didn't have any time due to the preparation between to families. Secondly, her family made it hard, since they didn't want her to think about the "past live" (the college). Lastly, it hurt both of them equally to watch and do nothing in this situation. Even though they had feelings for each other they never talked out loud about their relationship.

After Pacifica came back to the Gravity Falls Manson heartbroken stayed and finished his studies. During this time Manson became even more isolated from other people than even and focused all of his energy for learning (unhealthy coping mechanism)

Manson was a little lonelier, but he did it.

Act Two: Oracle & Manson

After getting his Ph's Manson decides to use the money to do reaserches. He decided to fullfill his dream from childhood (now alone) about exploring the unknow and anomialies.

At least now he can fullfill the part of that dream-

After making some reaserch he noticed that the highest percentage of anomalies occurs in Gravity Falls. Manson was surprised that it turned out to be the place, where Pacifica lives.

As Manson moves out there he doesn't try to contact Pacifica, since a lot of time has already passed and he knew that now she was married and had her own life.

So Manson build chack near the forest and didn't waist any time for the reaserch.

He took big pleasure in exploring the forest, while capturing and taking notes of each anomally.

Everything was going well, until one day he as Manson was exploring a cave, he run into a painting of a divine figure on his way. There was a message written under with a warning, which he decided to ignore.

As a young man full of passion for adventures and lack of experience, he ignored it and read the rest out loud.

At first nothing unusual happened, until he went to sleep.

Then he met her.

Oracle.

Since that moment everything seemed diffrent for Manson.

"Who are you? What are you?" Manson asked confused, as the surroundings around them was changing.

The gigant being of a woman looked at him, with seven big and curious eyes of hers, only focused on him.

The creature was so big, that Manson was sure, that he could easily stay up on one of her hands.

Suddenly a big smile appeared on her face and the being creature has shrunk. It's true that the woman was still taller than him, but at least in human size.

"My name is Oracle, Manson." The being named Oracle presented herself, with a genlet but elegant smile. "But you call me a Muse."

And since that everything has changed both for of them.

Oracle was a genius, an elegant, intelligent and charming woman, with whom Manson didn't feel like an outcast. She was everything beyond a perfection. Devine.

Each chees play or small talk with him seemed, as if it was planned with special details, without leaving anything out. A woman full of passion and plans for big world or even universe. It was fascinating.

Manson though that his Muse was basically a godness.

We could say, this man was head over heels for this woman..

While Oracle pretty much enjoyed this fact and attention (and maybe a little too much)

***

"You did it again." Oracle said with a pleased. "Outstanding." She added as she send him a geniuen smile.

Seeing this Manson, couldn't help himself, but turn his head away from the bigger form of his Muse. He smiled akwardly in light embarassment, as he started scratching his neck in nervousness.

"Obviously, I wouldn't be able do it without You." The man said, finally looking meeting her much bigger eyes.

For a moment Oracle didn't say anything, but soon Manson felt as gravity stoped working again and he started floating, against his will, until he faced her directly.

"Oh, don't be like this." She started, looking at him carefully. "Give yourself some credit." Oracle smiled widely, as she gently ran her finger through his hair.

He smiled once more.

***

They were playing chess, Manson silently considered his next move. Playing any game with Oracle seemed like both an entertainment and exercise for his brain.

It was never easly and he loved it.

Finally, after some time of figuring out, Manson leaned over the board and moved the pawn.

"The big dipper?" To his surprise, Oracle asked instead of making another confident move of her on the board.

The man confused, rapidly looked at his opponent, just to see, how she was observing his birth mark on forehead. Just then the realisation hit Pines and without thinking, he started straighten his bangs to cover it.

"Oh, my birth mark..?" He asked nervously, feeling bad memories of bulling for it were immiediatelly comming back to him. "Don't you already know about it?" He asked stupidly, since he was aware, that Oracle's eyes could see anything.

"Yes." She answered calmly, now focused on the board, taking her next move. "But that's not what took my attention." She adtmited calmly.

"No..?" Manson asked surprised.

Then unexpectedly the woman leaned over the board and gently grabbed his face with her hands.

The man blushed.

"The question is why do you decide to hide it.." After his Muse said that, she then gently fixed his hair that so his mark would be visible. "Now that's better." She smiled and took her hands away.

"You think so?" Manson asked unsurely.

"I know it." She said and created a mirror out of nowhere.

Then she showed him his reflection. Firstly Manson though it was weird to look at himself and see his mark not being hidden by the fringe.

But he couldn't say that he looked bad.

"I love starts and their constellations." The woman admited. "Besides it looks good on you, don't you think Dipper?"

That was the first time, when she used his new 'nickname'.

***

It was an outstanding night.

His Muse offered them a night with a drink to celebrate the improvement of their project. The main argument was that Manson couldn't actually get drunk in the dream space, so there would be non effect on him when he wakes up.

It started inconectly, only few drinks at first..

Later, the fact that there was no limit began to be abused and more drinks landed on the table. With each glass he drank, Manson seemed to get more and more relaxed, while Oracle seemed to warm up even more.

But surely, neither of them predicted that this would turn into a drunk karaoke night.

Manson and Oracle were dancing energetically together. Both half drunk, each holding another glass of shot, while singing to Icelandic pop song.

He was leading the dance for now, as they would take turns.

"Spinning around- like a disco ball~" Dipper sung, as spun his dance partner around, while spilling some alcohol from their glasses.

"Who's the honey, who's got it all?~" The woman leaned to him and continued the next part with a wide smile on her face.

"Disco girl!" They yelled togehter, finally letting go of their glasses. "Commin' throughh~!" They made another spin togehter.

"That girl is you!" He shouted loudly, with a laugh.

When was the last time he sung this song out loud? He couldn't even remember- He was so happy.

He looked at his Muse and just as took closer their joined hands together, he kissed her slightly on her hand.

The music suddenly stoped.

Oracle was looking at him lightly confused.

What the hell did he do..?! Just then the man realised.

Meanwhile the woman in front of him only stood silently patiently wating for his explanation, as he started to panic even more, because what the hell did he just do-?!

Without him noticing Oracle only rolled her eyes at his reaction. Then the godness took his face in her hands and unexpecetedly kissed him on the cheek.

Then one thing let to the other.. He couldn't even remember some things after he woke up.

***

To sum up, they relationship was pretty much complicated, but reciprocated. Manson was very much in love with Oracle, while she didn't seem at first..

Let's just say at first she thought of Dipper as a loyal being. Nothing more..

She loved the attention he gave her and devinitelly the complimates, but later she wasn't even aware that she found this akward man was pretty charming.

At first Oracle tried not to question her grown attachment to Manson, or even tried to avoid it. Sometimes when it was clearly visible even to her, then she tried to excuse it for the sake of an act.

But finally only realised that she actually loved him after she lost him.

Act Three: Lab Partner + Oracle's betrayal

In the end Manson decides to call Pacifica for help with the portal. He wanted to at least try.. since she lived there.

Pacifica on the other hand was already married to the man her family once introduced her to.

They've been married for a couple years, and even had a son togehter (Preston Nothwest). Though neither of them ever had any feelings for each other.

It was only arranged mariage, only made for the family business.

Still Pacifica and her husband treat each other with civil and respect. Mostly focusing on rising their son well.

Basically Pacifica isn't living her dream life. She was forced to let go of most of her dreams and hopes in order to fullfill her duty as the Northwest. She was stuck in a loveless marriege and the only light of happiness was her son.

During this time she had lots of regrets.. and often though how life would have go if she made diffrent decisiouns in her life.

Maybe there could be other way, where she could finish her dream. Maybe her family were just bluffing? Maybe they wouldn't threaten her.

But those times were over. Pacifica was pretty aware that overthinking about her past choices wouldn't help her too much and probably only make her worse than ever.

Still the woman couldn't help, but think, what if..?

During this time, Pacifica also focused on raising her son. Preston 'was the apple of her eye'. She loved her son dearly and wanted what's the best for him.

So she wanted to educate him well and make a strong bond with him and it turned out quite well.

And everything goes like this, until one day, a cantrain phone rang. The service informed Ms. Northwest that someone with a name Pines wanted to contact her.

After hearing this Pacifica didn't overthink this and rapidly went to her phone and tried to call him back.

She didn't think too much about her actions and how it would affect her. Pacifica surprised even herself.

After going no contact with Manson, she wasn't even aware how desperate she was to actually get in touch with him once again.

So she called back.

The first seconds were pretty akward for both of them, since they hadn't talked in years. But soon they found the common ground together and started talking like long time friends.

They started catching up about the news from the both of sides and Pacifica finally asked him:

"So.. I've heard you're doing some research in Gravity Falls.." The blonde started curiously with a smile on her face. "How's it going?" She finally asked.

"About that.." Manson started.

Pacifica could hear that the man clearly was thinking of how to explain his news to her. The Northwest could even feel that her old friend was probably scrathing his neck at this very moment.

"I'm very close in finishing something big! Like really big Pacifica!" Manson said clearly excited for this big event in his life.

The woman couldn't help herself, but feel a little jealous of how diffrent their life plans were doing.. Manson fillfulling his dreams and moving on, while she was stuck in this manssion. Just as always it was planned.

"This is going to change everyone's life!" The man announced happily and Pacifica smiled.

At least for one of them life was going well.

"And that's why I'm actually calling you." The man suddenly admited, while taking her aback. "Would you like to be a part of this project?" Manson asked and she froze- "With your knowlage and-" Manson kept talking, but she couldn't listen.

She wasn't able to.

So there was still a slight chance for a change.

Maybe to do something usefull.

To be more.

"I know he hadn't talk in years, but if you could just consider-" Manson continued, but she didn't let him finish.

"Yes." The blonde replied withour hesitation.

"Wait- really?! I mean-" The man on the other side of the phone seemed confused by her quick answer.

After that conversation Pacifica quickly prepared her new schedule, so it wouldn't discurb her diuties as a Northwest and immiediatelly got to work.

Since Manson's whole project was pretty much a secret, she let it be a secret just between the two of them.

She once decided to trust Northwest and it didn't end up well. So she decided not to do this mistake once again.

Once she and Manson met again, she couldn't help herself but greet him with a hug. It was so long since she was with a 'normal' or 'unofficial' enviroment.

She went to his shack and Manson started explaining the whole project, while Pacifica couldn't deny that she was impressed by the whole idea and details.

Although the entire project will definitely take a lot of time, the effects will be worth it.

Manson was not idle during this whole time. That fact only motivated Pacifica to do more.

So without thinking they both quickly got to work!

Everything seemed well at first.

The whole work was time consuming, but with their company, they could do anything.

Pacifica even offered some financial support the project. Manson obviously denied, since it wasn't in his style to just take money. The blonde had a hard time to convince the other man to just take the money, so they could speed up their work.

They had a great time together. From time to time fun, other times they would disguss other project and reminisce about old times.

In this time, while spending so much time with Manson Pacifica found herself falling for the man, she was once crushing in the college.

It was clearly stupid, unprofessial and especially unethical.

She had a spouse.

It was more of an arrangment than a marrige, but she still had a spouse and a son.

By agreeing to join this project, she hadn't expected that feelings of youthful love would suddenly return.

In the end Pacifica didn't do anything about it. Because what was there to do about it? The woman could only enjoy the company of the man she once fell in love and that was all.

But still deep down, the blonde hoped that she wasn't the only one who was still in love. That thought, that hope was blooming in the deepest corners of her mind..

But the reality wouldn't allow her to live a 'dream'.

The obvious behaviour of her lab partner was telling enough.

You used to smile at my sight and you still do. You still do nice gestures and still geniuently are happy at my sight. But this isn't the same. And I feel like your the smile, The one you once gave me is now saved for someone else. And I jusr feel humiliated..

He has already moved on.

As time was passing by, Pacifica started to spend less time at home. Much Less. Sometimes her husband would bring up the subject of her absence, but unnecessary dwell on this.

But her son experenced the saparation way worse. Often clinging to her, when she came back and pleading her to stay, when she was about to go.

Pacifica would then tell him that she came closer to making something great. Something that her son would be proud of her for. She would often tell him a storytime for bed and then say: "As soon as I finish.. then we can spend as much time as you want. Just you and me." The blone would then smile and lightly flick his nose, just for him to chuckle.

Pacifica wanted to still keep going with the project, but she quickly noticed their lifestyle started being unhealthy, especially Manson.

Pacifica was spedning less time with her family and barely had any time for herself, during this work. Meanwhile Manson was keeping isolating himself from the while humanity.

"When was the last time you when outside?" The Northwest asked clearly worried.

"I-" The brunet wanted to answer, but stopped realising he couldn't remember. "You know I don't need to-"

"That was not what I was asking about." Pacifica said adamantly, as she crossed her arms.

"Pacifica- It's not-" The man started tiredly, as clearly wanted to avoid this conversation and simply come back to his calculations.

"Manson." She said firmly, earning his attention. "I'm being serious, this is unhealthy and sick! I'm worried about you."

"I.." Her lab partner seemed as he wasn't sure what to say.

"Let's take a break, ok?" She said calmly to which he slowly nodded.

Then the day of the test came

The day Pacifica fell into the portal.

The day her mind was B̶̡̡̡̢̰̥͕͍̲͓̯̏͒̀̄̎̽R̸̡̛̪̘̪͉̯͚̯̝̱̲̮͗̿̓̈́̍͋̆̅̌͑̋͊̈́͝O̷̹̐̾̀͌̀̓͌̃̄̈́͌̑̓̈́̓͑͘K̶̢̨̞̠̟͍͓̫̰̰̱͎̲̗̤̒͐́̕͜͠Ę̷̢̯̣̮͇̟̱͕̺̦͉̻͖͍̒͛͆͋̏͌̂̐̿̒ͅN̷̢̺̩̥͖̠̭͔̟̎̃

And the true finally came to the light.

Betrayal.

Act Four: The Nightmare

Everything felt as if he was taken fresh out of water. Slightly dizzy and disoriented about his surrounding. But after seeing the familiar place, the man quicky calmed down.

He must have fallen asleep, during his break, which was slightly odd, since he didn't recall taking one.

As if something was missing..

But soon a familiar face shoved up, easly distracting his mind from any worries.

"My Muse!" Manson said excited after noticing her presence in the void and rapidly ran to the figure.

"Dipper." She announced and smiled to him kindly, softer that usually, which only melted his heart more.

Manson smiled widely at her sight, as he finally faced the taller woman.

"I haven't seen you in a while my Muse, where have you been?" The man asked both curiously and worried, since he knew that Oracle, wouldn't miss any oportunity for improvement in their work.

"Oh, nothing to worry about." Oracle said calmly to assure him. "I just had to take care of a small trifle." She admited with a chuckle. "Althought I need to say, that I didn't come here without a reason.."

"What is it then?" He asked immiediately.

"I just want to ask you one little question." His leaned closer to him.

"Tell me.." She started placing her hand on his cheek.

Her fingertips gently began to stroke his cheek in a gesture.

"Did you miss me?" Oracle asked sweetly, her eyes never loosing his sight.

Manson was honestly taken aback by the question.

"Always." He looked her into eyes and said confidently, while placing his hand on hers and squizing it back.

"Good." Then as if in a split of a second, Oracle snapped her fingers and 'spell was broken', while his world went crushing-

In the split of a second the rest of his missing memories came back with an impact-

The real reason behind portal- Pacifica , The betrayal, his objection, attempt to dismantle the portal, EVERYTHING-

Everything came back with disdain, a sickening feeling in his stomach, and a pain that surprisingly wasn't caused by his bleeding eye..

"It's nice to remember.." The demon in front of him said unbothered, still not letting go of his cheek. "Especially the good things, don't you think?" She smiled inconnectly.

Then she gently wiped away his flowing blood with her hand.

"You.." Manson started angrily.

"Appreciate it, as it lastet Dipper." Oracle said sweetly, with a smug.

Just a second ago he was pralised, and once he regained the sensation in his body again, he rapidly broke away from her embrace, keeping an appropriate distance between them

The vision in his right eye seemed to become even more blury and the pain seemed more real, until eyelid finally dropped.

It still bleeded..

"I told you not to underestimate me Manson." The demon across from him said coldly.

It seemed as if anger was building inside her, even though outside she seemed to be stoic.

"We made a deal." The demon continued her speach. "You can't simply get back from it." She said with a maniac smile from eye to eye. "You have no rights and you are My property."

"UNDER MY DEAD BODY I'LL LET ANYONE FINISH THIS PORTAL!" Manson yelled at the monster, completly ignoring his pain.

Right now only anger was speaking through him.

She was making a fool of him again, playing with his mind.. He had enough of this.

For a moment Oracle was quiet, looking at him in silence. But Pines knew that it

"I see that you still don't understand your position." The woman said emotionaless, as the whole place became darker. "Death is the least I could do to you."

Then Pines felt as he was attacked by the invisible threat. Both his hands and legs were rapidly pulled by some sort of ropes.

Before the human could even react, he soon realised that he was trapped in a gigant spider web, just like some stupid fly.

Meanwhile the demon lady simply sat on the net right next to him, as if trying to humiliate him.

"Your mind is like a spider web to me, where each thread is a memory." Oracle said as she playfully pulled on one of the threads. "Every thread I can cut, replace or even simply destroy the whole web."

She turned her head towards him and smiled and after that she grabbed his Chin, so he wouldn't avoid the eye contact.

"Face it Dipper, you are in no control here." Oracle announced calmly.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" He yelled at the top of his lungs and jerked his head away as far as possible, until he couldn't feel her fingers anymore on his face.

He was tired of all the lies and manipulation. Being treathed like some stupid pet and being mocked.

"What should I call you then?" On the other side Oracle still seemed surprisingly calm, as if it didn't bother her at all.

"Use my name." He said disgusted. "Use my fricking name!" The man yelled in irritation at her stupid question.

"What is your name?" The demon asked him calmly.

"I'm-!" He was about to shout at her once more, but them nothing came out of it.

B̶̮̣͚̜̑l̷̛̟̩̀͜á̷̢͕̠̺͂̎̄n̸̠͋k̷̻͖̜̎.̸̙̰͙͔̂͐̓.

It was blank̸̠̈́.̶͖͘

H̸̉ͅě̸͓ ̶̻̉c̶͝ͅö̴͔ų̵̈́ĺ̶͚d̴̺̈́n̶͎̈'̵̗̓ț̵̒ ̸̤̏r̴̩͠e̴̻̿m̴̎͜e̴̟͒m̴̛̱b̴͖̀e̸͈͘r̸̨̂ ̵̛̹h̵̨̐i̷̟͝ṡ̸̺ ̸̗̔n̵͙̅ä̶̲m̴̦̓e̷̤̍.̷̌

"Oh? What's wrong Dipper?" She asked once more. "Do you feel like something is missing?" Oracle asked and a loud lunatic laugh came out of her.

But he didn't listen.

He tried to find his answer, but as much as he wanted, he couldn't remember his own name.

It was terrifing-

"Do you finally understand?" The woman asked more seriously. "I have every access to You. Every part of your body, every memory-"

Everything.

"Tell me, do you have any siblings?" The beast unexpectedly asked.

I have a sister.. He thought.

"Just one, two? Maybe there were always three of you or you have always been an only child this whole time??" The demon questioned him even more.

I have-

He didn't kn̷̝̼̐̽ó̷͔w̶̻̓.̷̘̺̎̊

He couldn't remember-

"I can break each bone in your body while you sleep, erase memories or put fake ones. I know every corner of your mind and each person you once cared for.. Or even erase your mind until there's nothing left of it."

The web suddenly broke and Dipper hit the ground hard.

Once he got up he couldn't see her anymore. The man immediately started looking around for her sight, but there was nothing beside the cold darkness.

"I can see your every more." Suddenly a whisper behind his back told him and chills ran through him.

The man rapidly turned towards the sound, but there was nothing there.

"My eyes are always on you." The voice quickly added.

Then out of nowhere, Dipper felt pain shooting through his entire body. As he looked down at his hands, he saw eyes appear all over his body. Her eyes.

No-

N̵̰̣̽̇̍̏̔̈́̄̌̇̇̉͊͝o̵̖̝̫̺͊̂̃̎͒Ṅ̸̠̞͍͓̣͙̼͈̟͍̱̅̔O̵̡͖̤̩̝̗̠̱̠͚͑̿͛̕͝N̵̛̛͈̬̮͈̯̭̞̔̄͒̀́̓̏̽̀̈́Ỏ̵̡̮̮̲̖͝N̷̡̞̰̥̥̮͚̂ͅỎ̸̢̡̟͎̝̙̳͔̤̼͈͇̮̀͆̉͛͋͑-̴̂͗��͚̲̣̞̩̠͚̣̳͂

In panic, the man tried to get rid of them. He tried to wipe them off and scratch them until blood appeared on his hands, but it didn't help.

Nothing he did helped.

He couldn't get rid of them-

Then a gigant figure appeared in front of him.

"You dared to challenge me?" She said with a smirk on her face, as if it was some sort of a joke. "I'm going to eat you alive Dipper."

The monster said with a mocking tone, as she was looking at him down. Oracle then reached her hand and quickly grabbed his him.

She took him and all he could see was her gigant face and big piercing eyes.

"I can become your worst nightmare and we both don't want it, do we?" She asked rhetorically. "So be a good boy and finish the Portal. NOW." Then she opened her mouth and swallowed him whole-

Manson rapidly woke up on the floor.

His heart was beating like crazy. Cold sweat ran down his body and his hands were shaking. The man tried to catch his breath, as if there was not enough oxygen in the room.

What..

Suddnely as he looked on the floor, he could notice a few drops of blood.

His right eye was bleeding.

Act Five: Mabel & Pacifica

After that icident Manson send a postcard to Mabel to ask for help.

Unfortunatelly this visit didn't go well and by the end Manson was accidentally trapped in the portal for the next 30 years.

Mabel was devastated that just after ten years of separation she lost her brother again. During the first weeks Mabel tried at all cost to repair the portal, but couldn't do much without the other two journals.

When the food run out and Mabel was forced to go to the town for food.

In one of the shops the town folks thought that Mabel was the secret scientist in the woods. She was obviously surprised, but went along with it, because she needed money.

(Turns out during the time when Oracle possessed Manson's body, she not only went to bars to parties. She also liked to dress up... Like as she liked. So dresses, make up, earrings and other accessories. To sum up, very feminine. Due to this 'phenomen' lots of towns people assumed that the Mad scientist in the woods must be either a crossdresser or trans. So covering up for her brother was way easrier for Mabel.)

Later Mabel opened up the Mystery Shack in order to earn the money for living and for reparation on the portal.

During this whole Mabel tried to fix the portal and look for the journals. (There was even a short periot of time when she was dating a merman, when she was looking for the books near the water, but they soon broke up).

In the meantime Pacifica wasn't doing great..

Pacifica Northwest started getting into paranoia after seeing the things from the portal. After her argue with Manson and calling him delusional, she rapidly wnet with a Bang.

"Forget" - Forget about Manson, Forget about project, Forget you could change anything-

Forget about this and come back to the mansion.

Come back to being Northwest.

As she arrived at home all of the mmeories and creatures that she saw were hounthing her-

"Forget" - Forget what you saw, Forget those creatures, Forget, Forget, FORGET

Just Forget

Pacifica wasn't able to forget about all of those thinks. It was giving her nightmares. It was eating her alive.

She couldn't sleep peacefully. She couldn't work as she used to. She couldn't stop shaking.

"It would have been easier, if I just forgot about this project." Pacifica once thought and then she got the idea.

One night she couldn't sleep so bad that she just stood up from the bed and went to the basement and started working.. Working on one of her projects, that she started during portal with manson.

Memory Gun.

She just needed to finish last touches- And she would be free could try it.

After first attempt, everything seemed to be fine. She couldn't remember the nightmare and was so relived. She was free.

Her invention worked.

But over time Pacifica started getting addicted to the gadget..

Every time she reminded herself of the project - Gun.

Every scary creature from Gravity Falls - Gun.

When she reminded herself of how much the waste time she wasted - Gun.

Reminded of the fact that she has never finished her studies - Gun.

When she thought she achieved nothing in her life - Gun.

Every time she felt miserable - Gun.

Every little mistake she has made on gala - Gun.

When she forgot which spoon was for the salad and which was for the dessert - Gun.

Every time she forgot her husbands name - Gun.

When she forgot her son's birthday- Gun. GUN GUN GUN GUN!

At the end Pacifica was so affected by the memory gun, that she became extreme paranoid and forgetfull.

Everyone in the mension started to suspect that something was wrong with miss Northwest, but nobody said anything or do anything. They just watched as the lady was slowly falling in the pit of Madness.

Everyone was only complaining about her forgetfullness or giving her side eye, if for example missprounoncing her hursand's name.

Nobody did anything to help her.

But everything was ruined, when Pacifica forgot her son's birthday. She and her husband started arguing pretty bad, mostly him yealling at her for being such a bad mother and wife.

"The hell is wrong with you Pacifica?!" "How could you forgot his birthday!?" "What kind of mother you are!?" "What are you doing!?!"

Meanwhile Preston terrified watched it closely, feeling half guilty that he asked his mother for birthday present.. and scary how much over time his mother has changed.

At the same time Pacifica had a mentall breakdown for forgetting about her own son, so she wasn't even able to defend herself and just let her husband yell at her, as she started crying.

After that day the Northwest family decided that Pacifica was mentally unstable and called the psychiatrists to take her away. (Her son was forced to watch as his mother was taked to the mental hospital.)

The Northwests after seeing Pacifica's break down, they thought that she was mentally ill and didn't want to do anything with her anymore. They basically erased her existance from the family three and other medias.

Pacifica's husband made a divorce under certain conditions and took full custody of their son. [Preston has both mommy & daddy issues and if full of Trauma especially after this incident.]

Pacifica spend few years in the mental hospital, where doctors had troubles in diagnosing her. However, she was released under certain condition, where she was forced to sign papers renouncing any relationship to the Northwest family and the estatectros.

So she end up at the streets/garbage dump and became the "crazy old woman Pacifica".

So Mabel and Pacifica were mostly going with their lives not knowing about the others presence for few years UNTIL they finally met (and of course by accident).

One day while taking the trash out Mabel found Pacifica in her trash can. She was clearly sueprised, by seeing a homeless woman in a trash, but Mabel being a good person she is, took Pacifica in.

Mabel invited her, gave her food and washed her a little bit, so she wouldn't be a mess. Pacifica already was a little bit crazy going with her mental state, but Mabel wasn't too bothered by this.

Pacifica was obviously happy by her 'generousness', but in the end the blonde still was talking nonsene.

Mabel was nice ang gentel person, who didn't seem to mind her appreance or at least chase her away, so Pacifica feel much comforbale around her.

Moreover the blonde felt much safer around her, since Mabel reminded her of something-someone-

After that night, Pacifica started comming to Mabel often. From time to time the homeless woman would drop by near Mabel's garbage. The blonde would try to steal something from trash and Mabel would istead invite her home for pie.

As time went on, it became a ritual between them.

Pacifica is near the trash and Mabel invites her over.

At some point Pacifica would stop looking through trash and just stay by it and waiting for Mabel. In the meantime Mabel would teach Pacifica baking. The blonde would arrive so often, when Mabel was baking that she became even curious.

With each visit Pacifica would start to look better. Cleaner, healthier and more sane.

Mabel was fixing Pacifica's hair with a hairbrush, as the woman was eating some of her food.

"You know? For someone who lives with raccoons, you're very pretty.." Mabel said with a gentel smile. "Just like a supermodel." She added with a chuckle.

"Really?" The blonde suddenly glanced at her.

"Yeah girl, you just a little bit of makeover, perfumes and clothes and you'll be like a duchess!" The brunette said with excitement and run for some things.

Mabel couldn't help herself, but do a makeover on this girl. The last time she did something like this it was on.. Manson. When they were still kids and stole some of their mom's cosmetics..

At the memories the brunette had to smile harder, so Pacifica wouldn't notice how depressed she looked after thinking over her past.

Mabel quickly came back and she had to admit, that she didn't need to work too hard. Pacifica was naturally beautifull woman. Good body shape, Pretty darker blond hair and with good posture the results were amazing.

At the end Mabel added a little make up, because why not??

And the result were actually amazing..

For few minutes Mabel couldn't look away from this masterpiece.

"You look amazing.." The brunette said accidentally out loud, but with a big smile.

"Really?" The blonde only asked confused.

"The prettiest girl in the world." At her question Mabel answered her trufully with the biggest smile on her face and immiediatelly gave her the mirror.

Once Pacifica looked at her reflection her pupils enlarged,

"HOLY-MOLLY-!" The blonde couldn't hide her suprise. "Just like a rat at the openings of the sewers.." The woman added quietly, still confused at how she looked.

"Pff what-?" Pines held back and chuckled lightly at her 'metaphor', which supposed to meant something possitive.

After that moment Pacifica started to get helpfull around the shack. The blonde started backing pies and fixing things for Mabel to her surprise.

Pacifica often felt like she had to be usefull in order to pay Mabel back in some way for her help. Other fact was that Pacifica also felt that if she won't be usefull for Mabel then at some point the brunette won't want her around.

Pacifica of course never said those words out loud, but at some moments Mabel was able to notice the signals (and some paranoia attacks) and reassured her that she will always be around.

Mabel was also very shocked at Pacifica's abilities. Pacifica wasn't some crazy woman, she was actually very intellingent, elegant (in her own way), smart and creative.

Pacifica was just very unstable mentally.

Pacifica was very special.

At some point both of the girls started falling for each other. Mabel was charmed by her talent, beauty and honest (but slightly crazy) personality. She felt needed around her. And Pacifica was in love in the fact how cute, creative, special and good Mabel was. She felt secure around her.

Mabifica basically looks here like:

Person A & B: *please fix me..*

Person A & B: *I want to help you, I wanna be usefull*

There were also some problems like Pacificas unknow past and lost of her memory, while Mabel was hiding her own secrets from everyone about her twin brother and the portal.

But they made it work.

At some point both of them were aware of their feelings.

Both of the women were sitting outside of the Mystery shack, looking at the stars outside. Mabel was sitting on the ground, while Pacifica was lying on her thights.

The brunette was lightly playing with the other woman's hair, while making some braids and adding to them little flowers.

"Beautifull night, isn't it?" Mabel suddenly asked, while adding another shiny thing into her hair.

"Yeah." Pacifica replied, clearly relaxed by her presence, still not moving even by an inch.

"What are you thinking about?" Thinking what going on inside this pretty head of her.

"Stars." She replied shortly, which was unusuall for her.

The blonde never gave her short answeres. A bit confusing? Sure. But never short.

Mabel guessed that the woman lying on the ground must have heavily thinking of something, or at least trying to. The brunette was about say something more, but Pacifica suddenly continued.

"I remember this one." The blonde then pointed at the sky.

Pines looked at the direction she pointed and rapidly felt worried.

"Constelation?" She asked unsurely.

"Yeah, The big dipper." Pacifica added. "I remember it from something.." She finished.

At that moment Mabel was overcome with sadness, thinking about his lost brother in the portal. Reminding herself about lonely nights in her cold car, where she used to look at the stars and each time she saw the big dipper, she thought about her brother.

Always the same.

"And there is the little dipper.." Suddenly the blonde added sadly, taking Mabel to the reality from her thoughts. "Do you think he is enough?" Pacifica asked.

The question was unexpected, but Mabel didn't need to think of the answer.

"For me you are enough." Then Mabel smiled slightly and leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead.

Their eyes suddenly met and Mabel immiediatelly was falling apart mentally.

Did she really do it?! Was it too fast?! Did she read everything wrong??

Meanwhile the blonde rapidly stood up in front of her with half braced hair. She came to her closely, but her eyes were still.

"I'm sorry if I mis-" The blonde in front of her suddenly grabbed her and kissed her on mouth.

It may have lasted only a second, but it blew Mabel's mind anyway.

"And I love shooting stars." The blonde said as she broke away from her. A light a blush and smile on her, while she adjusted her headgear with the obvious symbol.

Mabel smilled dumbly and quickly both of them leaned closer to each other, as they kissed once again.

This time it was longer, full of passion. Pacifica was holding her hair with one hand and Mabel was about to capture her face, when they suddenly stoped.

"Oh my god!" The blonde abruptly broke away from her and screame. "What am I gonna tell my husband!?" Pacifica shouted

clutching her head in fear.

At her reaction Mabel chuckled once more.

"I don't think your Raccoon husband will mind at all.." She said with a smile, eyes full of love not once taking her eyes from Pacifica.

"Really?" The blonde asked seriously, still lightly in fear.

"Really.." The Pines said with a gentel smile and held her hand gently.

Pacifica squeezed her hand back.

+Bonus incorrect quotes (because I had ideas):

Kid Mabel & Manson excited: PINES! PINES! PINES!

Manson: And when grow up, we will seal around the world!

Mabel: Treasures!

Manson:Anomalies and Monsters!!!

Mabel: And hot vampire boyfriend!

Manson: YE- What..?

Pacifica: *came back home after she had to drop her studies*

Northwest Family: Oh, finally! We had enough of that your silly game of yours! Did you have fun? Did you get everything out of your sistem?

Pacifica: I-

Northwest Family: Good, good, welcome home Pacifica.

Manson & Oracle: *drink alcohol in the mindspace*

[DRINKS LATER]

Manson: *Starts flirting to Oracle in the most clinge and cringe way possible*

Manson convidently thinking: *Nailed it!*

Oracle thinking: *Oh Axalot this was so bad- And surprisingly it worked..*

Manson: So you will take care of my body?

Oracle: Of course, Dipper. Do not worry your overworked head of yours. *flicks him gently on the nose*

Oracle: I'm going to take care of your notes, while you rest.

Manson: Thank you. *smiles*

Oracle: You wouldn't mind, if I also went outside for a little bit? I was a while, since I was outside..

Manson geniuently happy: Of course! Enjoy as much as you want!

[...]

Oracle: *possesses Manson's body*

Oracle in Manson's Body: Oh that's nice! *chuckles*

Oracle in Manson's Body: *immiediately goes to the mirror and starts looking at themself*

Oracle in Manson's Body: Hmmm.. it's really nice.. Buuut I would change the clothes *smiles*

[FEW HOURS LATER]

Oracle in Manson's Body: *leaves the bar with a slightly torn dress, a dart stuck in theur shoulder and a tattoo "Flirty Gal��" on the back*

[LATER]

Manson thinking: *Why did the mailman though I was a crossdresser?*

Mabel goes to the kitchen: Pacifica are you-

Pacifica hold a piece of fresh backed pie: I made a pie for you.

Mabel: *is very touched by her gesture, since she hasn't got a gift in years*

Pacifica: *wanted to thank Mabel and bake a pie by herself, but is now nervous, if Mabel will be mad for using the kitchen without her knowlage*

Mabel: *puts a colorful sticker on her apron with the inscription: "YOU'RE AMAZING"*

Pacifica: *looks at Mabel confused*

Mabel: Sorry, it must be too silly for y-

Pacifica: *rapidly grabs Mabel's face*

Pacifica: I love it. Please never change.

Mabel is so much in love with her right now: ....

Mabel surprised and confused: Did you just fix the vending machine?

Pacifica shrugs: N'thing too serious.. Just connect some cables and exchange-

Mabel excited: Damn girl! *goes and hugs Pacifica*

Mabel hugs: Amazing! You're a genius!

Pacifica: *starts blushing because of compliments and hug*

[BEFORE: "BREAKUP"]

Oracle: Dipper.

Manson: My Muse.

[AFTER: "BREAKUP"]

Oracle: What's wrong Manson?

Manson: Oracle.

Mabel: Finally I've got them all.

Mabel: *reads the journal number 3, which was mostly like a dairy to Manson*

Mabel: ...

Mabel: My brother was so bitchless that he had to summon a demon to get a gf..

Oracle: Why did the old man do this? *makes a pose*

Manson: Um, This..??

Oracle: *turns Manson into golden statue*

Oracle: Because I need a nail file!

10.

Mabel: So how're doing DIPPER? *nudges him in the elbow*

Manson: Wha- What did you just called me!?

Mabel: HA! I KNEW IT! YOU FUCKED THE SPIDER DEMON!

Manson: Just because she had seven eyes, it doesn't mean she's a Spider.

Mabel: Don't change the subject DIPPER!

Manson: Don't call me that!

Mabel: And why DIPPER HMM?? You don't like the nickmane SHE gave you???

Manson: IT'S NOT LIKE THAT-!

ANYHOW- I'M HAPPY IF YOU SURVIVED TO THIS MOMENT!

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS IDEA!

If someone is interested in this idea, then I would be glad.. if you want more similar ideas, then be honest.

#trashpost #gravity falls #gravityfalls #dipper #mabel #pacifica #pacifica northwest #relative falls #relative falls au #oracle #dipper x pacifica #dipper x oracle #mabel x pacifica #mabel pines #dipper pines #manson pines #manson x oracle #free ideas to use

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idkjustletmescroll · 4 months ago

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Some incoherent ranting/rambling i guess

I really don't understand some people's obsession with fictional characters doing shitty things just conveniently...NOT KNOWING that they're bad?? Idk if that makes ANY sense at all it's 3 in the goddamn morning but let me explain--

I was doom scrolling, as one does, when I came across a tiktok of a marvel fan explaining why actually wanda maximoff had no idea what she was doing with the hex, which, sure, holds true for the BEGINNING of wandavision. But we're shown pretty clearly during the rest of the show that she knows what she's done, how it's affecting the townspeople, and that it's not real...she just needs it to be real. She can't cope with her ACTUAL reality. Her family is gone, and the ones that remain are busy dealing with their own traumas and families (i.e. clint, who I still argue WOULD have tried to find her and help her post-endgame, even if he desperately needed some downtime with his family--but moving on). I'm a wanda maximoff stan, she's my girl, my favourite, my one and only, but she's not a complete idiot. She knew what she was doing. I don't care that she did an objectively bad thing, I care about why she did it and kept on doing it--which is so much more interesting to me, anyways.

Alicent Hightower in HOTD? According to the writers, had no clue that, actually, years of talking about how aegon should be the heir to the throne would result in people ACTUALLY SCHEMING to get him on the throne, even though she seems to be heading the effort the entire time? Listen, the HOTD fandom is something else, and the way they talk about alicent genuinely scares me, but alicent being worried for her kids' safety, reluctantly cutting off all affection for Rhaenyra because she's genuinely terrified for her kids' lives, even just the spite of wanting her years of suffering and humiliation to mean something; alicent being both a ringleader and a pawn in a man's game, because ultimately she's resigned to the fact that the closest she can get to winning in this system (under this wheel, if you will), is finding the best man to propel to victory/be a pawn for because she as a woman will ultimately never be the victor herself--is SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING than "okay, yeah, she spent years declaring how unfit her ex-bff/stepdaughter is to rule, but she didn't know people would actually take that seriously...she just wants rhaenyra to be OKAY, yall..." (I have a lot of feelings about how the show wrote alicent, okay?)

And arcane is one of my favourite shows of all time, and I've been lucky enough to MOSTLY stay on the good side of the fandom, which, from my end, is usually pretty amazing with an appreciation for nuanced media. But it genuinely makes my blood boil when I see people claim that Vi "could have gone back for jinx on the bridge" (ep. 7), when the moment they're referencing is vi supporting an injured Caitlyn, who almost died by jinx's bombs, RIGHT AFTER JINX SHOT AT THEM BOTH, AND RIGHT AFTER EKKO TOLD VI TO GO. "She left her sister to get beat up--" everything in vi's face in that scene speaks to her reluctance. She's holding up a girl she's growing closer to, who could actually be grievously injured, and she knows, at this point, that jinx is irrational--jinx just shot at her. Like...we knew that vi wasn't going to die, but she could've really easily. Ekko says he'll handle it. There's another bomb. Vi goes back to look for jinx AS SOON as Caitlyn's sitting down somewhere relatively safe (at which point, you know, she sees jinx being picked up by silco and his sidekicks). The point is, people act, with scenes like this one, like jinx was chucking paint bombs, not shooting fucking bullets en masse. I love all the arcane characters; jinx is such an interesting one, and her hallucinations and delusions do tend to make us wonder how much responsibility we can rightfully place on her shoulders. But people are really out here acting like she didn't...almost kill vi and cait there? We, from jinx's perspective, know that she saw Caitlyn as the literal devil; from vi and cait's povs, she just kind of walked up and tried to kill them. Am I making my point yet?

Speaking of arcane, i hope in season 2 we get scenes of characters from piltover who are really rooting for the oppression of the undercity. Not because of what jinx did, not because of the war, not because they "just don't know" how bad it is...because they make a profit off of it, and for that they are perfectly content letting people become dependent on drugs and make their livings from dangerous work in factories and mines. The whole point of "the city of progress" is that it became what it was off the backs of the undercity. We get a lot of characters in season 1 REALIZING the conditions down there, but I want them realizing in season 2 that not everybody was sheltered, they were just making a profit. (I kind of want to see Heimerdinger called out, too. Like, yeah, he's fluffy and cute and stuff, but if he's the founder of piltover, he's also been there since the beginning of the undercity, and didn't care because immortality yada yada. Have I envisioned scenes of ekko calling vi a sellout and she's just like "bitch and who the fuck are you working with?" and everybody's miserable? Yes. Yes I have. And don't come for me, ekko is the mvp of this show. Let a girl dream).

Even people like Tony Stark...people be acting like he's not actually an asshole a lot of the time. Or that he didn't know what weapons did before he stopped distributing them. I like tony, he's entertaining. But I'm not going to act like I need him to be a saint who didn't know shit about the world or basic courtesies to like him.

Idk if fandoms are just weird like that, but you can like your fave even if they do shitty things. They don't always have to be helpless, or just too stupid to realize what's going on. I don't understand why so many people are opposed to being entertained by people who do shitty things. Where's the appreciation for the drama? The messiness? The chaos?

#hotd #alicent hightower #arcane #house of the dragon #little rant #fandom shit #fandom things #fandom culture #wanda maximoff #marvel #tony stark #ekko #vi arcane #jinx arcane #heimerdinger #arcane piltover #arcane zaun #wandavision

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daifukumochiin · 2 months ago

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Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for @peachy-hina, since December)

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 2: Bows

go to Chapter List>

Dear Mother and Sister, farewell!

Your Nanna may go to her Balder. Our lives were so closely interwoven

That even in death we are mated–

—Cornelia Steketee Hulst, Balder's Death

It was Hanabi‘s thirteenth birthday at the Byakugan Estate. Hinata, sixteen, dressed in a modest but stylish Buon Giorno Armani ensemble, watched her sister return to the stage donning her third ball gown for the evening as the servants wheeled in a trolley carrying a three-tier cake adorned with fresh flowers and pink diamonds. The sisters had invited their friends, and their parents had invited business partners' relatives. They all sang the "Happy Birthday" song. As soon as the final notes lingered, the lights were dimmed, giving eminence to the pink cake’s warmly glowing candles. Hanabi leaned forward and blew them out. There was applause. A server passed by with peach-scented flutes. Hinata stepped a foot forward to hug Hanabi. But just before then, it happened.

It wasn’t gradual, no. Mercilessly and brutally, memories swooped up from within her with a skull-splitting ache. She howled at the pain, at images of resplendent faraway places she had never seen in her present life which had only known lofty opulence, of persons dear and yet unknown in the now, of home called Breidablik, of Hodor’s terrified face with a bow in hand who, being blind, could only imagine that something had gone horribly wrong; of Loki’s grin just before he disappeared in a mist. And herself, Nanna, with dearest Baldur, an arrow stuck to his chest, laying bloodied in her arms, the light in his eyes, in the strands of his hair fizzing out, the early morning glow of his complexion fading.

The cry that tore her throat was raw. The ugly force of it doubled her over, and she crumpled to the floor, clutching her chest tight as she strove breath over the sharp, frosted pieces of what shattered there. She wasn’t amid Aesir anymore—albeit her present parents and their friends were still powerful people over here in lowly Midgard—and when she came to look at her hands, they were clean, her nails coated in Funny Bunny just for her human sister’s birthday. Her wailing reverberated through the halls, but it could never fill the sunk hole that caved in from the surface formerly paved and appearing solidly passable by her forgetfulness, absorbed by the affairs of her human life.

The day after the incident, news outlets buzzed with stories about the first Byakugan Princess causing a scene at her sister’s birthday party. Online speculation ran wild—some suggesting that, because she didn’t usually stand out, she’d gone to extremes for attention, bratty and inelegant. Doctors and experts weighed in with a barrage of diagnoses: schizotypal personality disorder, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, delusional disorder… mainly, that she had a sickness of the mind. Her mother had ordered for her library to be cleared up of all the fiction books fearing the fairytales had instigated this somewhat. But they all missed that hers was a sickness of the heart, a matter striking at the very depths of her soul.

There couldn’t be anything lonelier: she had come back to life, only to forget about Baldur for a long, long time; she finally remembered him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Struck with a malaise that doesn’t even know where to begin searching, Hinata, once Nanna, had never known the comfort of sleep again. Because even in dreams, Baldur wasn't there.

go to Chapter List>

#day 27 #lights bows and mistletoes #sasuhinamonth2024 #sasuhina

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slothquisitor · 11 months ago

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The Trouble With Home

The Netherbrain is defeated, but Astarion struggles with adjusting to this new life. Post-Campaign, so therefore major endgame spoilers. Astarion x Liv, 6.2k, home related angst.

Also on AO3.

Astarion doesn’t need to be able to see his reflection to know that restlessness isn’t a look he’s wearing well these days. He sits at a book-laden desk in the room that he is beginning to despise and watches the sliver of sunlight that peeks beneath the curtains mockingly dance across the wooden floorboards. The evening hours right before sunset are the worst part of his day now that the Netherbrain has been defeated. He feels like a specter, a ghost of the person he became these last few months. Cazador is gone, but trapped in this room during the daylight hours, it’s hard to believe he isn’t back in that palace, that Cazador isn’t going to appear in the doorway and order him out into the city as soon as night falls.

The first few days after the Netherbrain’s defeat were a sort of hazy bliss. Neither he nor Liv had realized just how exhausted they were until they could finally rest. They’d scarcely left the room, enjoying the novelty of privacy and no demands on their time. They had oscillated between sleep and rest and the simple luxury of each other’s undivided attention. He had made love to her in the morning, languid and unhurried. He had loved the moments after best, basking in the afterglow, skin to skin. Safe. Loved. Seen.

But of course, it couldn’t last because neither of them were built for lives lived in a single room. On the third afternoon, she had risen and dressed, kissed him goodbye, and gone to meet Gale and Rolan at Ramazith’s tower to begin researching vampiric curses and infernal machinery. As ever, Liv has filled her fears of purposelessness with other people’s problems like stones in her pockets. In his selfishness, he hasn’t stopped her.

Halsin had been the first to go, leading refugees and orphans away from the city back toward the lands surrounding Moonrise. The druid that hadn’t wanted to be a leader once more thrust into leadership. Shadowheart had been the next, leaving under cover of night, her parents in tow. Their newfound notoriety in the aftermath of their victory had worried her, and made her afraid to lose what she had just so recently found. Jaheira and Minsc are still around, of course, overseeing repairs and the rebuilding. They stop by the Elfsong in the late evenings to check in, filled to the brim with stories about how the rebuilding is going or isn’t in this city they love.

The sudden and unexpected monotony of Astarion’s days weigh on him, and the irony isn’t lost on him. During their long days on the road, he would often complain about the dirt or the bugs, but now, despite relative comfort and safety, he misses those days. He misses them most in the final hour before sunset when the ability to leave his room is so close he can taste it, but he is instead forced to watch the way the light burns orange and red before finally, finally shifting blue.

Tonight, he leaves before the sun is entirely set. It means he has to keep to darker streets, following the shadows, but he doesn’t mind. He pulls in breaths he doesn’t need, inflating his chest with the promise of the city. He takes a winding route toward the upper city, walking the streets he used to stalk, jumping at the sound of too loud laughter, and music that spills perfunctorily out of taverns and restaurants. He is different, changed, no longer chained, but in the darkness it is hard to remember, not to look at the life and people of this city and not immediately catalog them as prey.

At first, it had been easy to pull himself back from the brink. The city itself was in shambles, and the destruction served as a reminder of the battles fought, and the scars earned. But he is surprised by how quickly it fades, how fast the ruin is patched and dressed. At first, he hopes it is a chance for things to be different, to be changed, but it is not. Instead, so much of the city is brought back nearly exactly as it was. Alone in the moonlight, he worries he is the only one who misses the ruination of it all, of the way the broken building stood as a testament that he had done something that had mattered.

A slight breeze snakes through the streets, and a headline on a discarded copy of The Baldur’s Mouth Gazette catches his eye. He bends to pick up the dirty scrap of newsprint, reading the headline inked bold and accusing, FAMILY OF BALDUR’S GATE HERO ARRESTED. The article itself is sensationalized trash, full of pearl-clutching supposition. But he doesn’t doubt the core of it: Liv’s parents and sister have been arrested. Has she seen this? He folds the paper and hurries on toward Ramazith’s tower.

When he arrives at the tower's base, he is met by a teenage dwarf, his beard patchy, nonexistent in places. He looks like he’s waiting around for something, but Astarion would prefer to skip the interaction. Perhaps if he ignores the boy, he won’t have to talk to him.

“Oh good, I’ve been waiting outside this tower for hours,” the boy says as he approaches, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Waiting for what exactly?” he asks.

“Your lady friend to emerge. Was told you’d do in a pinch though.” The boy produces a letter and holds it out.

Astarion goes to reach for it, but the boy tugs it back. He holds out his other hand, clearly indicating he’s waiting for payment. He’d be impressed with the boy’s entrepreneurial spirit if it didn’t come at the cost of his own coin. Astarion sighs. “Who’s it from? Then I’ll decide if it’s worth paying for.”

The boy grins. “You’ve got mighty powerful friends in the Guild.”

While the boy speaks, Astarion peeks at the writing on the letter. He doesn’t recognize the script, but it’s neat and looping. It’s probably from Percy. He pulls out a gold piece and hands it to the boy, who relinquishes the letter happily.

“Pleasure doing business,” he grins.

Astarion pockets the letter. “Next time Percy needs to get in touch, tell him to come himself.”

The boy laughs as he walks away. “All due respect, but I won’t be telling him anything of the sort.”

With the boy gone, Astarion is alone at the base of the tower. It’s always a little tricky to get inside since the door likes to move when approached. With the new wizard in residence settling into the place, the magical quirks have been frequent and frustrating. He approaches the door and whispers the password, hoping that it will simply work and he won’t spend the next ten minutes chasing the door around the outside of the tower before it decides to let him inside.

Thankfully, it works the first time, and he enters the tower. The bottom level is empty, as it usually is, but he can hear the echoing voices of Rolan, Gale, and Liv as he makes his way up the stairs.

“Dammon seemed to think that the biggest problem was the ra-gnax alloy casement and not the demono-valves though,” Liv explains.

“But according to the notes that Helsik procured, it hasn’t been tried or tested anywhere but in Avernus. Still might not fix the problem,” Rolan replies.

“I still think a regeneration spell might be the best bet. If we can simply generate her original heart, we’d bypass the concerns about whether it could withstand this plane,” Gale says.

As Astarion crests the stairs, he finds the three wizards at their respective study stations. Liv is perched atop her desk, a book open on her lap. Rolan lounges in a tufted chair, while Gale paces back and forth. Astarion doesn’t find himself that interested in this particular conversation. He’s already heard it, or at least some version of it the last few days. Gale keeps looking into divine solutions for Karlach, Liv pesters Dammon for information, and Rolan insists that they need an actual infernal mechanic from Avernus. He has no doubt they’ll find a solution eventually, but he has no desire to be part of the workshopping of it all.

Liv smiles when she sees him. “We’re still working on the heart problem.”

“So I gathered. I ran into a visitor on my way in. He had a letter for you,” Astarion says walking over to Liv.

“A letter?” Liv asks, hopping lightly off the table.

“I suspect it has something to do with this,” Astarion replies, handing off both the letter and the copy of the gazette he’d found.

Liv takes both, looking over the gazette page first before tearing into the letter. The other two wizards continue their conversation, wandering over to the far side of the tower, granting Liv a measure of privacy. Liv looks simultaneously elated and somehow troubled too.

“They were arrested,” she whispers in disbelief, looking up at him. “I…I can’t believe it.”

Astarion just runs a hand along her back in what he hopes is a comfort. “What does the letter from Percy say?”

“Percy needs to meet,” she explains handing the letter off to him. “Tomorrow night at my parents’ estate.”

“Why?” he asks, truly unable to restrain his distaste for the idea. The letter itself is short, just three lines. It takes no time at all to skim it. Apparently, as part of the arrest, their assets were seized and handed over wholesale to Percy. “Well, no wonder he wanted that ledger. He’s done very well for himself in the wake of it.”

Percy might have shown up for Liv in the end, but her family’s ruin wasn’t his only goal, clearly. He knows that Liv is clever enough to see it, but he’s not sure if she’ll care. She’s too desperate for this connection, quick to believe the best of her brother. “I don’t care that he profited from it. I expected as much.”

But what about her? What about what she deserves? “Do you want to go?”

She bites her lip, looking as if she needs to decide something, but then she looks up at him. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

***

Like so many things in Baldur’s Gate, the Netherbrain’s destruction fell unfairly and without pattern or reason on the streets of the upper city. Some streets had been completely demolished while others looked pristine and untouched. Liv didn’t know what condition she’d find her parents’ estate in, and she hadn’t really cared. Even now, she’s not sure if she wants to find the place in shambles or as beautiful and perfect as it ever was.

The streets are familiar here, wide, even cobblestones, houses hidden back from the street by gates and tree-cover. It was beautiful to her once, it felt like safety, like home. But these large houses, these wide lawns, they come with prices. She didn’t know that then, but she does now, and she cannot look at them with anything except a sense of horror at the utter excess.

“I used to walk these streets. I loved these houses,” Astarion says, stretching to peek around the wrought iron bars hiding one of the estates. “I wasn’t picking up victims, of course, but Cazador had never dictated my routes, so sometimes it was nice to walk these streets. They’re so clean!”

Astarion is in good spirits tonight, and she doesn’t want to quash it. He’s been putting on a brave face, but she knows the shift in freedom, and the loss of days weighs on him. It makes him irritable, and a little bit mean. Their lodgings are largely to blame. The room is small and cramped and he is trapped there while the sun shines. But there really aren’t many other places in the city for them right now, too many people are displaced. They’re lucky to have the gold and gratitude for their heroic victory to get them a room at all. But she knows that they need a new solution, soon.

“Amazing what money can buy,” she replies simply.

“And which one is yours?” Astarion gestures around them, arm outstretched in a flamboyant gesture.

It was never hers. Not really, but she doesn’t say that. Instead, she sighs and points ahead of them at the darkened gate and park ahead of them. “That one.”

It’s impossible to see the house from the street. Through the gate is a large stretch of trees and wilderness that makes the estate feel less like it’s in a city and more like it’s out in some countryside somewhere. The gate is open, and the gravel path is long and winding. Astarion fills the quiet with chatter, unprompted. He’s clearly sensed her own disquiet, is doing his best to distract her. But then the house comes into view, and they both pause.

“Wow. I knew your family was wealthy, but they are wealthy ,” Astarion says with a hint of awe in his voice. “They’ve all been arrested, yes? Percy isn’t setting you up for the worst family reunion ever, right?”

“Definitely arrested. I think this is all Percy’s now,” Liv replies. She had worried briefly that going back home might mean seeing her parents and sister again, but they’re locked away at Wyrm’s Rock for now.

Besides, she trusts Percy. He had shown up when it mattered. He still feels like a stranger, someone she doesn’t quite know yet, but he is her brother. And he’s the last bit of family she has left here, and now that the world is saved, perhaps they’ll finally figure out how to be family. For now, it’s still stilted and a little bit awkward despite their best attempts otherwise.

“Maybe he’d let us move in,” Astarion says hopefully. “I think I could hate late afternoons less in a gigantic estate.”

She wants to say yes, to give him something new, something better. To do whatever it might take to make him smile, but it’s taken a lot to even return to this place. She’s not sure she could live in it again, parents gone or not. But she doesn’t say that. “Maybe,” she says instead.

The only lights on in the entire place are on the first floor, and the front door is open, a bright square of yellow light in the darkness. Liv steels herself before she walks inside, and tells herself it is different. This is not going backward but is instead a part of moving forward. The foyer is open, and the marble floors are still polished to a high shine. The stairs curve around and lead to the darkened upstairs, to the libraries and the studies, and the bedrooms.

Astarion remains at the threshold, and clears his throat, sheepishly. “Uh, darling…”

It takes her an embarrassingly long moment to realize what the problem is. “Shit. Come on in.”

He crosses the threshold then, letting out a low whistle. “Imagine greeting guests in this foyer.”

She doesn’t need to imagine it. She’s lived it. “Percy?” she calls, heading through the gallery, deeper into the house. Astarion trails behind, eyes scanning the place, taking in every painting and sculpture and molding with a look of wonder.

“Dining room!” Percy calls back.

“How did you find anyone in this place?” Astarion asks, lengthening his strides to catch up to her.

“The servants could usually tell you where someone had gone,” Liv replies. It had been an awful lot of work not to be found. Secrets had been hard to keep in this house.

The dining room itself is the most haphazard she has ever seen. The table is covered with papers and books and Percy stands at a chair like he’s been using this room for an office. He’s still dressed impeccably as always, but he’s undone the first few buttons of his tunic, and his dark hair is mussed as if he’s been running a hand through it.

But he smiles when he sees her, and it’s still off-putting. “Glad you could make it.”

“You do know that there are several studies and an actual office you could be using, right?” Liv says.

Percy shrugs. “Yeah, but I like the light in here during the day. And I like to think that using the dining room like this would piss our parents off.”

It absolutely would. It still surprises her to see his rebellion.

“So, you actually did it. I assume the arrest is thanks to you,” Astarion says by way of greeting.

“And Liv too. Wouldn’t have happened without that ledger you found. There were many, many arrests this week. Theirs is just the most newsworthy,” Percy says, he’s got several papers in his hand, and the words are tossed casually across the room as if they’re the least of his worries right now.

She sighs as she runs a hand over the back of one of the expensive dining chairs. “I saw the charges. You know they won’t stick.”

Percy grins. “I haven’t spent the last ten years cultivating connections across the city and the Guild for nothing. I have it on good authority they’ll be banished at the very least.”

It feels impossible. And like too little too late anyway. “Well, congratulations then.” This all feels empty to her, but she hopes it doesn’t for him.

Percy's next words are careful and tentative. “I didn’t just call you here to bask in victory. The house…it’s yours if you want it.”

She freezes. “What?”

“Really?” Astarion says gleefully, voice keyed high in excitement. “Your parents might have been awful, but they really do have incredible taste, don’t they?”

Her reaction is visceral and she cannot stop the ferocity of it, she is practically yelling. “No, absolutely not. I don’t want it.”

Her reaction has pulled Astarion back, his brow furrows. “Are you alright, my dear?”

Percy straightens, setting papers down and giving her his full attention. “I certainly don’t want it, but this could all be yours, Liv. Imagine how pissed off they’d be knowing you’re living here.”

She stares at her brother for a moment. “Are you giving it to me because you want me to have it or to spite them?”

He shrugs. “Why can’t it be a little bit of both?”

It couldn’t ever be simple, could it? “My answer is no. I don’t want it. Sell it, live in it, burn it to the ground. I don’t care.”

“Let’s not be hasty, darling. Really consider this,” Astarion says, stepping in front of her, eyes searching hers. He clearly doesn’t understand her unwillingness.

She doesn’t need to consider this. “I don’t want anything of theirs,” she whispers as she looks up at him. He studies her for a moment, and he must see something in her eyes he understands, even if it disappoints him.

“I think you and your brother need to talk. I’m going to take a walk.”

He leaves her alone in the dining room with her brother, who stares at her with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Come on, Liv. Don’t be ridiculous. After everything they did to you, to us , don’t you want to take something back?”

She is surprised at how much she truly doesn’t. “No. I simply want to move on.”

“And live above a fucking tavern forever?”

“We’re not staying in Baldur’s Gate forever. It’s just for now.” And it is, just for now. Until they have a better lead for elsewhere. Until she has everything she needs to leave. She’s close.

“It was maybe too much to hope you’d stay here, wasn’t it?” Percy says.

“You want me to stay?” Liv asks, surprised.

He shrugs. “You’re my sister; of course, I want you to stay. But I also want you to have whatever you want, whatever makes you happy.”

“I promise to visit, to stay in touch.”

His answering smile is a little rueful. “I’d like that.”

“So the house is yours.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. If you don’t want it, I’m going to sell it. We’ll split the money.”

“I really don’t want-”

“I understand not wanting the house, but take the money, Liv. Consider it reparations or whatever you need to sleep at night. Let it fund this fantastic life of yours. Besides, Astarion seems like he has expensive taste, you’ll need the gold.”

She laughs at that. It’s a compromise, and it would be nice to not have to immediately find work or ways of earning money on their travels, but there’s one other person owed too. “And Roland?”

“He said he wants you to have his share.”

This doesn’t make sense. “You talked with him?”

“I made sure he heard the news, told him my plan with the house, and he gave his input,” Percy replied.

“And I could barely get him to return my letters…”

Percy walks around from the table over to the windows, hands clasped behind his back. “We all broke after Brelia’s death. Roland just did his breaking farther away. He’s better at replying to sending spells, but maybe your travels could take you to Candlekeep? I think he’d be glad of the visit.”

“You think so?” she asks, hating how small her voice sounds. How eager. To have lost so much, but gained some back feels a little bit like jumping off a cliff.

Percy smiles then. “I do. Will you take a walk with me in the gardens?”

“Sure.”

The windows of the dining room are large enough to double as doors, and on hot summer nights had stood open and inviting. She had escaped many a party out here, to these gardens filled with rows deep with pungent roses, trees, and elegantly shaped hedges. The gardens had seemed endless because her whole world had been this estate. But it’s not anymore, and she’s struck by the smallness of it, at how close the city presses in on it all.

“I asked you in the Guild Hall if you remembered an afternoon out here, with flowers. You really don’t remember it, do you?” Percy asks, hands buried in his pockets.

She racks her memory, searching for whatever he might mean. “How old was I?”

He sighs. “Ten or eleven, maybe? Young. I found you out here, and taught you how to pull up flowers with your magic.”

With that, the memory slots into place. She’d been hiding out here, only to be found by him. Percy never had time for her, was too busy, too important. She had been afraid when he found her crying amongst the dead flowerbeds, still not blooming even though it felt like spring. But he hadn’t said a single mean thing instead he’d invited her to do magic with him. They had walked the flowerbeds together, pulling up flowers with their magic. Once finished, the gardens had been a riot of color and life. It had been perfect until he had said something cutting, something about her magic and the afternoon had tipped sideways. Of course, he wasn’t spending time with her, it had all been some sort of test. Two days later, a late spring sleet storm had hit the city, crushing the flowers in the beds. A fitting end.

“I remember,” she says. “Why…why are you bringing it up now?”

Percy won’t look at her, instead keeps his gaze fixed on the darkened horizon. “I know that I ruined it, and I know I hurt you, but it’s one of my favorite memories of this place.”

She stares at him, uncomprehending. “It is?”

“You were so sad when I found you, and all I wanted was to make you smile the way Brelia and Roland could. It was a really lovely afternoon…until I ruined it. I realized that if anyone had seen if you believed it had happened without agenda…that would ruin my goals. So I’d told you that your magic was weak, and I walked away.”

“It had been nice, for a moment,” Liv replied. When she had believed it was because he wanted to spend time with her. When they had felt like siblings instead of rivals.

“You were never weak. I hope you know that. I never doubted that you would come out triumphant against the Absolute.”

And as he says the words, she realizes that since meeting him again, he hadn’t ever questioned her abilities. Not once. Percy is many complicated things, but perhaps he simply wants a sister as much as she has always wanted a brother.

“You know, these garden beds are looking a bit neglected,” she says, trying to offer forgiveness and a path forward for them both.

And so they pull up flowers together, rewriting an old memory into something better, sweeter, less tainted by the ghosts of the past.

***

The Vires Estate is massive, stoic, and filled with signs of so much casual wealth that it is hard to reconcile the Liv Astarion knows with one that could have ever been comfortable here. He wanders the rooms aimlessly, wondering about the places that might have been her favorites, the memories here. He’d be lying if he said a part of him didn’t want this.

But he cannot shake the look in Liv’s eyes, the haunted fear. She had said she didn’t want anything that belonged to her parents, but what she really meant was that the weight of this place was too suffocating, and she cannot come back. He considered for a mere moment what it might be like to be given Szarr Palace, and his own reaction was an instinctively violent thing. He understood her sentiment in a moment. So, he’s sure this is the last they’ll ever see of this place, and yet he can’t quite resist walking the halls, committing the floorplan to memory, as if learning this place might also give him some more insight into the woman he loves.

He stops when he finds the only room that could be hers. It is filled with books, stacks of them litter every surface and the bookshelves themselves are bursting with them. The room is neat as a pin though, the bed crisply made as the whole room was holding its breath, awaiting her return. The art on the walls differs from everything else in the house, these paintings aren’t solemn or fashionable, instead, they are filled with color, with unfamiliar landscapes. He wonders if she had hung them here as a promise to herself, of distant places, of adventures she might one day have.

He’s sure he had a home once, though he cannot remember it. Cazador called his palace their home in the same way he wielded the words like family and siblings. When he thinks of home, it is that place that he conjures in his mind. The memories come unbidden, sharp things that feel like kneeling for hours scrubbing stone floors of his own blood. The concept of home is just another thing he’s lost to Cazador’s violence. He’s surprised by how badly he wants to wrench the word back, to reforge it and own something of his own.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here, of all places.”

Liv’s voice startles him, but he tries to disguise it as he turns. She is leaning in the doorway, watching him wander the room that was hers. “So I did guess right?”

“You did.” She doesn’t move from the doorway.

It occurs to him then that she never wanted to come back to this house at all, but that he did it anyway. He’s just not sure why. “Do we need to leave?”

She sighs, finally stepping into the room. She keeps her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if touching anything might make the place grow teeth, and sink themselves into her. “No, it’s alright.”

“You never wanted to come back here, did you?”

She pauses in her wandering, finally meeting his gaze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why are we here then?”

She shrugs. “Because Percy asked…and because I…I don’t want this place to have any hold on me. I thought that by coming back…coming with you…it would feel different.” She is so rarely searching for words that he knows she is thinking this through even as she tells him these things. It’s an intimacy, he knows, to hear anything from her that’s not already polished, set.

“Does it?”

“Not as much as I hoped,” she says, tears gathering in her eyes. She furiously brushes them away. “I’m sorry I don’t want it. I know you do, but I couldn’t live here again for anything.”

He steps close and reaches for her hands. “You don’t ever apologize for that. I think I’d look very good living in a mansion, but that’s not worth your discomfort.”

She laughs, though an errant tear slips down her cheek. He reaches up to brush it away. She leans into the touch. “Thank you for understanding.”

“That said, I am going mad in that room at the Elfsong. I don’t care where we go, but I can’t continue to spend the daylight hours in that tiny little room much longer.” She has offered him so many truths tonight, and this is his. It turns out that there is a limit to his endurance, and he has reached it.

Her eyes close and she bows her head. “I know. I am so sorry. Can you give me a day? Just a day?”

He lifts her chin. “It isn’t your fault. You’ve told me what you need, and I’m simply telling you what I need.”

“I promise I have a plan,” she says, words soft.

“You always do.”

“I think we should leave Baldur’s Gate.”

“But your research-”

She shakes her head. “Keeps hitting dead ends here. Rolan will keep looking if I ask. Let’s cast a wider net, you and I. I keep waiting for something, some sign or lead to tell me where to go next…and I think we’ve been waiting around long enough. We should just go.”

He cannot contain his surprise. “Where?”

“Pick a place on a map. Preferably somewhere with libraries,” she says.

“Just like that?” It is so unlike her, rushing forward at the future without everything thought out and accounted for. It feels like a gift.

She nods. “Just like that.”

“Let’s go have an adventure,” he whispers as he kisses her. There is an end date on his imprisonment, and that is good enough for him. Good enough for now.

“You’ve got some planning to do,” she grins as she pulls away, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

There’s some thrill in it, in the freedom to go anywhere to be anything. But leaving the decision up to him does mean he has some work to do. He melodramatically throws back his head. “Ugh, must I?”

She kisses the tip of his nose. “Yes. Are you finished here?”

He glances around the room one last time. He had meant perhaps to pocket something of hers, to later present her something of sentimental value…but there’s nothing here that matters. Nothing that feels like hers. “Are you?”

“I think so.”

He links their hands, and together they walk out of the room. “Do we have any other plans for tonight?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

He smiles and glances sideways at her. “How do you feel about committing arson?”

***

The following afternoon, Liv wakes to Astarion reading by candlelight, still in bed beside her. She’s rarely seen him this focused on anything, but he’s jotting down notes while he references several books on different places within Faerûn. So leaves him to it, heading downstairs to join Gale for what is their breakfast, though it is late afternoon.

Gale sits alone at a table reading through a copy of the Gazette , but a place is set for her, coffee and toast waiting.

“Good morning,” she says brightly as she sits down.

Gale’s answering smile is an indulgent one. “Afternoon.” This has become somewhat of an inside joke between them with the new hours they keep.

“You’ll be pleased to know that you made the front page again,” Gale says, sliding the newspaper across the table to her.

The big headline is about Szarr Palace going up in flames the night before. She skims the article, twice. There’s no mention of her or Astarion. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she says around a sip of coffee.

“Oh come now. There are only three or four mages in Baldur’s Gate capable of setting a ward to keep the fire from spreading, and two of them are sitting at this table.”

She shrugs. “And the third and fourth?”

Gale sighs, putting the paper away. “I wouldn’t have minded an invite, you know.”

“Sorry, it wasn’t exactly a planned excursion,” she replies.

He nods. “A spur-of-the-moment decision to cause chaos? You don’t say. Astarion is a terrible influence.” Gale’s tone is light, teasing.

“If you have a home you’d like to burn down, I’d like to kindly offer our services,” she says.

“I quite like my tower, and I’d like to keep it wholly unburnt.”

She laughs.

“Speaking of my tower…I did have something to discuss with you,” Gale’s tone shifts into something more solemn.

She knows what’s coming. Gale has a home, a family, a tressym. He wasn’t going to stay in Baldur’s Gate forever. “Oh?”

“I rather think it’s time I return home. To Waterdeep. I haven’t given up our search, I promise, but I have more contacts in Waterdeep, and access to my own library. I think I’ll be much more effective there.” His words are gentle and practiced. She realizes he’s been working up to this for a while.

“It’s alright. You need to go home. I get it.”

He looks relieved but then leans eagerly across the table. “But I was thinking: my tower has plenty of room. You and Astarion could come with me. It’s far more comfortable than here. We could enchant the windows so that Astarion can move about freely during the day, and Waterdeep has a fantastic nightlife.”

She reaches for his hand and covers it with her own. “That is a very, very, generous offer, Gale, but I think Astarion and I need some time, and I think he needs more of an adventure than more wizard towers and research.”

He looks disappointed but not surprised. “I had a feeling that would be your answer. In truth, your coming with me would eliminate some of the awkwardness of my return…the explanations to give…the relationships I let drop when I was afflicted with the orb. I should face those things myself, without your company as a crutch.”

“I promise we’ll visit, but you should go. I’m sure after you explain, everyone will understand.”

He nods, holding tightly to her hand. “I do, but I admit I’m a bit afraid to go back to it. These past months have been some of the best of my life. Even when things were at their bleakest, I was still happier than I’ve been in such a long time.”

She knows the feeling. “This is just the next adventure. It’s going to be even better than the last.” It is what she has been telling herself when she finds herself missing her friends, their adventures, the family they’d built.

“You might be my very best friend in the world,” Gale says, eyes shining suspiciously.

She squeezes his hand and tells herself she won’t cry too. “And you’re mine.”

And they sit together in this moment, the late afternoon sun streaming into the tavern, their hodgepodge of breakfast sitting mostly forgotten between them. Liv has said goodbye to all her friends, but this is the one she feels the most. Perhaps because she and Gale are so alike, they were fast friends immediately. Perhaps because he has stayed the longest, so loyal and kind and committed to her new causes just as much as he had been the last. But it is time for him to go just like it is time for her and Astarion to leave the city. They have both been holding onto each other, to research, to whatever excuses they can find to stay. But it’s time.

“I got you something,” Gale says, reaching into his bag. He produces a small, intricately carved door, made of ivory. The door itself is no larger than a book, but it is covered in vines and flowers that look so life-like, that she can’t help but run her fingers over them. It’s beautiful. “It should be the last component you need.”

And it is. “Thank you, for everything.” Gale will go home, and she will leave the city, and everything will be different. But perhaps it will also be better.

#astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bright lost things #astarion x liv #what I had a totally normal holiday and definitely don't have lots of complicated feelings about homes and returning to them...#why do you ask #slothquisitorwrites

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with-blood-and-fire · 2 years ago

Text

Fic: Even Monsters Need a Gentle Touch Chapter 1

😊I have had the pleasure of only just being dragged onto the bottom!Aemond train. And I will not be getting off anytime soon. ❤You can pull bottom!Aemond from my cold dead hands. I am so excited to start writing fics for HotD. I hope you guys enjoy the first couple chapters of this one. It's gonna be a long-un.😀

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Title: Even Monsters Need a Gentle Touch

Summary:

Aemond is used to people steering away from him, avoiding eye contact and whispering about him behind his back. He pretends not to notice and not to care. But in truth, his heart aches at the thought that no one can love him with the scar on his face.

Luckily, someone comes along who will fix everything. Someone who will love him despite his scar. At least so Aemond thinks. Things go downhill and after a traumatic event, Alicent sends Aemond to negotiate with Rhaenyra at Dragonstone.

Unfortunately, Aemond is taken prisoner almost immediately by the Princess and her husband and is forced to reside in the castle with them. Thought it is a tough start to his new life, eventually Aemond finds that love and care is not so hard to come across after all.

Chapter: 1

Pairing: Endgame Aemond/Jacaerys, but starts out Aemond/OMC

Rating: Will eventually be NC-17, but starts out relatively tame

Warning: None for this first chapter, but I've linked the Ao3 story link so you can all view the story tags for what there will eventually be.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43665726/chapters/109800333

Monster. One-eyed beast. The disgraced and disfigured second son.

Aemond was not oblivious to the names he had been given. They echoed throughout the keep on a daily basis. He heard them whether he wanted to or not. He knew. Even if the ones who spoke the words attempted to keep their whispers quiet.

And it was not as if he could blame them, no matter how much each name made his heart squeeze painfully or raised his ire. But he would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him upset or angered. He was better than that. He would not let them know that he too, in the darkest of nights, thought the same of himself.

But no. He was the son of the late King Viserys. He was a prince and he conducted himself as such. As opposed to his older brother’s drunken and vile attitude and persona, he held himself as one of the Targaryen bloodline should. He was stern and imposing. But calm and kind when necessary, all the same.

The names meant nothing if he did not react to them. The servant’s fear meant nothing if he pretended he didn’t know why they wouldn’t look at his face when they spoke to him. He was a fierce soldier and a scholar. He would not react.

Lost in his thoughts, he begins to descend the grand staircase of the keep, this day too ignoring the cautious looks and the words that were murmured as he passed.

The slow and rhythmic clack, clack of his leather boots upon stone echo through the halls of the Red Keep. The sound was not an unusual one at this time of day. In fact the sound often heralded the moment Aemond and Ser Criston Cole left for the training yard, in preparation to spend several hours with sword and mace.

He reached the bottom of the stairs noting Ser Criston waiting for him there. The only greeting he gives is a nod, lips pursed in his perpetual frown.

“My prince.” Ser Criston bows to him, making him roll his one eye.

When Ser Criston returns to his standing position, Aemond audibly sighs. Now a man of twenty and one, he was tall and strong. Though Criston Cole still stood several fingers above him. Unlike Aegon, who had grown to be a short but broad man, Aemond had grown tall and willowy. He was lithe and graceful, with sinewy muscles hidden under his pale skin. Like his sister, he had left his hair long, trailing down his back in straight strands. His features they compared to his sister or his mother. Some had even called him pretty. Before he had lost his eye of course. After that the only mention of his features or characteristics were how strong he was, or how smart. Nothing about his looks, unless it was behind his back.

“My prince?”

Aemond snaps his one eye to the knight who was looking at him with concern.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you were ready?”

“Forgive me Ser Criston. My mind was….elsewhere.” He mutters.

The knight raises an eyebrow and his concerned gaze lingers.

“Are you well, my prince?”

“Fine.” Aemond grumbles as he begins to stalk towards the doors of the keep.

“If you insist.” Ser Criston says, though it is obvious he is not convinced.

Once in the training yard, knight and prince find a corner to themselves. Around them, squires and knights practiced skills of defense and offense, but all came to a halt when Ser Criston and Aemond took their place and prepared to fight.

Ser Criston is the first to attack, swinging his mace in a high arc over his head, aiming for Aemond’s left shoulder. Aemond is quick though, his lithe body making it easy to dodge the attack. In response, Aemond’s sword swings low, aiming for Ser Criston’s knees. Even with the mace, the knight is quick and steps back just in time.

“That was a close one, my prince. Again!”

Their dance continues for many hours, neither giving in or gaining the upper hand. The whole yard continues to watch in awe at the skill displayed by the two. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Targaryen prince. Both had proven time and time again their skill. But Ser Criston still demanded Aemond ‘train’ each day.

Towards the end of their dance, Aemond catches sight of his mother staring solelmnly at him from the doorway into the castle.

Alicent wore black still, in mourning for his late father. Aegon had already been crowned King months ago, but still his mother mourned. It was bordering on ridiculous, if you asked him. Father was gone. And what of it? It is not as if the late King truly had any love to spare for Aemond’s lady mother. He had no love to spare any of them. It had all been used up by Rhaenyra and her brood.

It does not matter. I did not need his love. Nor do I now He tries to convince himself as he had many times before.

Aemond was jealous of Alicent. At least at times it had seemed as if Viserys cared for her. He was not jealous of their relationship, gods no. He would never want a relationship with no love. But if only someone would look at him as if he was anything other than a prince or monster. If only they cared enough to at least smile at him.

His thoughts, though upsetting and angered, give him the energy to fight harder, sending his sword swinging this way and that, forcing Ser Criston back till he hits the stone wall of the yard, Aemond’s sword at his neck.

“Aemond!” Alicent’s voice rings out across the training yard.

With a weary sigh and a roll of his one eye, Aemond steps back and re-sheathes his sword.

“You fought well my prince.” Ser Criston recovers and leaves his position at the wall.

“Hmmm.” Aemond hums, avoiding eye contact with Ser Criston and his mother as she approached.

“Ser Criston. You are dismissed.” Alicent nods at Ser Criston. With a flourished bow, the knight retreats, taking his mace with him.

“Mother.” Aemond nods, still refusing to look her in the eye.

“My son. I see your training is going well. Was it necessary to be so aggressive towards Ser Criston?”

“You are the one who wishes me to continue my training. This isn’t a child’s playpen. We fight here mother. I am not a babe.”

Alicent sighs, but does not press further. She must know it would be a losing battle. Instead, she steps aside and motions someone forward. A young man, perhaps one not much older than Aemond himself steps forward and bows before him. The man is dressed in the garb of a knight, in the armor of one of the kingsguard. When he stands again, Aemond takes in his features. He is tall, taller than him. And he had curly blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. A kind smile was on his tanned face and he was looking Aemond directly in his eye, something few dared to do.

“Aemond, my son. May I introduce you to Ser Ellion Lannister. The nephew of our very own Tyland Lannister.”

“My prince. It is a pleasure to meet you.” The knight bows again and his smile widens when he stands once more.

“A pleasure indeed.” Aemond responds automatically as his mother glares, ensuring nothing less than politeness from him.

“Aemond, Ser Ellion is a new knight of the Kingsguard. He will be protecting you from now on.”

Aemond snorts at that, terrifying smirk appearing on his face.

“Protecting me? What is it you mean?”

“Ser Ellion is tasked with protecting you personally, following you to ensure your safety.”

“Following me?” Aemond huffs out an amused laughs. “You must be joking.”

“I am not, my son. I am completely serious.”

“Tell me mother, why would I need such a thing? If I can protect myself easily enough, how is a guard going to help me?”

Aemond was right. He had to be. How could a knight he could break with his pinky finger serve as any use to him? He was a prince, a knight in his own right.

“It is necessary. Tensions grow higher each passing day in the council room. Your step sister is planning something. I am sure of it. I will not leave my son unguarded in case something happens.”

“I can protect myself.” Aemond protests.

“Then having Ser Ellion around will be all the better. You will have double the strength and protection.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Alicent glares at him. “You will listen and you will obey. This is for your own good. Now if you two will excuse me, I will be taking my lunch with Healeana.”

Alicent gives Aemond no time to protest again before turning heel and retreating from the training yard. He watches her go with narrow eye. He was a grown man. More than capable of carrying his own sword and protecting himself against any attacks from enemies. How could she not see it? Aemond is still glowering and ruminating in his angry thoughts when a kind voice cuts in.

“Prince Aemond?”

Aemond swivels to face Ser Ellion. The disarming smile upon the knight’s face only gives him pause for a second before he crosses his arms and looks up at the knight with his one eye.

“I care not for what my mother has said. I do not need you here. And I certainly do not need your protection. I am fine on my own.” He does his best to glare at the knight, but the man does not wither, only keeping the ridiculous smile upon his lips.

“I understand, my prince. But I am to follow the Queen mother’s word.”

“Whatever. I am going back to my chambers, alone.”

“I will escort you there!” The knight exclaims, dipping his head as the prince stalks past.

“Do not follow me.”

Ser Ellion does not listen and follows behind Aemond at a respectful distance, though he struggles to keep up with the quick strides of the prince.

Aemond seethes as he returns to the Red Keep, striding up the stairs two at a time. His anger must have been palpable, as servants, lords and ladies all alike cower and part like the sea as he all but runs up the staircase. Try as he might to lose him, the knight follows still, only just keeping up with him.

When Aemond finally reaches the door of his chamber, he turns to stare daggers at the knight, who stood there innocently with his perfect blonde hair and kind smile.

“Leave me! I do not wish to see your face again.” Aemond exclaims, shutting the door in the knight’s face.

“My prince.” Is all he hears from the other side before quiet footsteps fade from hearing.

Aemond shouts in anger before stalking over to the table in the middle of his chambers and seting his sword down upon it. He strides over to his dresser then and chances a glance up at the mirror on top. The leather eye patch stood out against his pale skin. With a violent surge of anger, he rips the thing off, staring at his sapphire eye and the terrible scar crossing it. The skin around his eyelid and undereye was cracked and red, making the feature even more horrifying to look at. He would need to get more moisturizing oil from the maester before the end of the day.

Fuck mother. Fuck father. Fuck Aegon and fuck Ser Ellion. He kicks the leg of the table in anger, wincing as pain shoots up from his toes. Why could no one just leave him be?

A quiet knock on his chamber door, interrupts his angered thoughts and he stalks to the door to rip it open. On the other side stands Helaena, a sad smile upon her face.

“Helaena….” He whispers.

“The laughter is poison.”

Aemond sighs, giving his dear sister a smile and inviting her in. He would ask about the cryptic sentence later. But first he’d much rather read in comfortable silence with her there. It was only her presence that calmed him. She was the only one he wished to spend time with these days. If only she wouldn’t scare him with her cryptic prophesies.

#aemond #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #alicent #ser criston cole #ser crispy cream #helaena targaryen #aemond fic #house of the dragon fic #bottom aemond #bottom aemond fic #aemond x jacaerys #aemond x omc

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microwaving-my-ocs · 2 years ago

Text

Character Profiles (2023 Feb 7)

Sam(antha)

Sammie's older sister by a couple of years

used to be annoyed by his clinginess, but upon their entrance to the hostile ducal household, became more consciously protective and open with her affection

was meant to become a spy at an all-female organisation, but switched places with her sickly younger brother and entered the army to give him a better chance at survival

was given a strong magic charm by the old granny so she wouldn't be violated, but it made her kind of unpopular and she'd get beaten up instead

prodigy at the sword

a terror on the battlefield and made a name for herself at a relatively young age

died in battle (assassinated)

ribcage deformities from improper chest binding

no one ever truly knows how she really felt about her life and how she felt marching to her death.

Sam(uel)

nickname: Sammie (Sam took the cooler and more mature nickbame first and refused to give it up)

partial to feminine attire and hobbies since young (think Shu). would play dolls with Sam

charismatic and great at making ppl feel comfy with him.

switched from being a crossdressing spy to a businessman in his own name (no surname) bc it was just very tedious to keep crossdressing. his business is secondary, though. mostly he endears himself to others by doing good deeds / getting win-wins (and reporting the intel he got from their interactions)

always looked up to and idolised Sam, so he irrationally believed that she must be fine in the army as she claimed

when he grew older and could no longer deceive himself, he vowed to quickly get her out

wants to give Sam whatever happiness and positive feelings that she had sacrificed so much for to give to him

his sister's death seriously destabilised him. did not necessarily believe the best in people, but had always wanted a win-win situation. stopped having the energy and will to keep doing so

he came out of Sam's death slightly wrong. a little too focused on becoming her, very focused on keeping her memory alive. very cognizant of the loss and the danger that he is in. jumpy, wary and on the defensive, unlike his confident past self.

Granny

luckily for him, most of his support system is still intact and know his identity. he acts and thinks like his old self around them, but he often is in his Sam persona trying to get things done. he feels more and more alienated from his old self.

beginnings of a crush on Bestie before they went their separate ways and he went to the army. then shit hit the fan and he hasn't quite had the headspace for his feelings since

leader of one of the houses in the spy network

was a lot more heartless as a young adult, but now she just wants to chill and raise these children well

knows she might get punished for helping the sams switch, but she's gonna die soon anw of old age so she doesn't care

saw herself in samantha. failed to save someone when she was younger and it haunted her ever since. (idk what abt sammie tho.... sammie will hv to live w that regret now. in fact its a miracle samantha lasted that long)

she tries to check in on samantha, which is how and why a stronger intelligence link between her hse and the army was formed. the sams send letters thru it sometimes.

Bestie

endgame

met Sammie after he has already acclimatised to crossdressing

her moral compass mostly works like this: this will make sammie happy -> do it. this will trouble sammie -> don't do it.

initially fell for him before she learned that he was, in fact, crossdressing.

has not confessed yet. having her love requited was never a big deal for her bc they had a v secure r/s

very secure in her friendship with Sammie. She won't ever sacrifice herself unless it's necessary to prevent an even greater sadness to Sammie. she won't let MC sacrifice herself either.

left the orphanage to receive training at the magic tower. when she reunited w Sammie, it was to deliver news of his little sister. personally witnessed the drastic change from normal sammie to overwhelmed sammie. she never wants to see that happen again.

she's a little yandere because sammie is so good at making you feel seen, but they've both been actively working on establishing & keeping to boundaries. it's just that prioritising sammie's happiness still tends to be what brings her the most happiness

will eliminate anyone and anything that makes him sad. this means she will not go after MC even though she sometimes feel jealous, bc Sammie wants MC by his side. does not begrudge this bc she wholeheartedly wants Sammie to be as happy as possible

later became friends with MC personally

from the magic tower. discovers the brainwashing.

marriage of convenience w Sammie.

a little fucked up by how her family treated her. internalised the idea that she should sacrifice her happiness for others' sakes in order to be acknowledged/be moral.

she very badly wanted to be the pinnacle of morality bc she wanted to be a gd spouse for the ex.

mistakenly believes that she should sacrifice herself so that Bestie and Sammie can get together. Bestie saves her bc she knows Sammie wouldn't want her to sacrifice herself. Bestie has seen how much Sammie hated that his sister chose to sacrifice herself without considering his feelings. Bestie knows better.

"why are you saving me? our marriage has alr more or less done its job giving him legitimacy. if i'm gone, you can marry him no qns asked." bestie pausing to give her an incredulous look. gg i mean yeah theres the whole marriage of convenience thing, but more than that, he alr sees you as one of his ppl. he'll be crushed if you die for him. / and besides, she doesnt need him to dote on her like a lover to continue wanting the best for him. it may be necc for others, but its always been this way for her. this is how she honours her feelings for him, and has been for years.

eventually gets back tgt w her ex after he was freed from brainwashing

family's superpower is the instictually know right from wrong. naturally, this lands them into a hereditary clerical role (leaders of the national religion)

born with the strongest of this superpower in many generations

so when he announced that his powers told him he was meant to wed MC, no one argued and they were engaged p young. they spent a lot of time tgt and fell in love and built a very strong and trusting r/s

no longer trusts his own judgement OR power after waking up from the brainwashing. yknow the feeling when ur entire worldview gets destabilised? yeah

(Half-)Sister

main antagonist

mom had an affair w a siren and that's where she got her brainwashing powers

was born with a frail body. family was so focused on her health that they accidentally neglected MC. neither of them knew any better and thought it was the natural way of things.

passively used the brainwashing ability without knowing from the moment it manifested when she was a toddler. which means that everyone who spent a lot of time w her was infatuated with her and listened to her every whim. this fucks her up bc she has no concept of boundaries now. sees it as her right to take and take and for others to bend over backwards to fulfil her requests, even at their own detriment. grows up w the mentality of a toddler bc no one has ever scolded her

idk possibly the biological dad comes in and decides to use her to gain political power. he has natural immunity to the charm. possibly the first person to ever school her. maybe she gets development here.

terrible maturity levels bc she has very very rarely ever been told no. the few ppl who have were also immediately punished, so surely it was THEY who were wrong, right?

#character profile #main #pin #save #pls let me pin more than 1 post....

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overfedvenison · 9 months ago

Text

The sandbox is open, and the game has a surprising amount of choices even from just the more linear path I was on. This section let me explore Celadon, return to previous locations, fight at an optional dojo, battle in gyms, etc.

I elected to take DUX to the Fighting Dojo. It took a little doing, but I had him effectively solo the area - right up until the master, who was able to beat him before he was able to set up. Zaftig had to step in and win. If I want to use DUX further, I think I will need Pilot's SPORE attack to help him set up. The enemies he faces are catching up, and his Iai Cut is beginning to fall off. I could improve him further, if I really desired - he will get SLASH soon... I'll have to make some decisions team-wise, it may be fun to take him to the endgame.

In any case got a Hitmonchan for it, who I named Roulette.

Hitmonchan is actually a little infamously terrible in this game. His issues are thus:

Is a fighting type who does not learn fighting moves. The only 'real' fighting move he has is Submission, via TM, and that is inaccurate.

The moves he does have are weak. Comet Punch is not good (and is normal) and his trademark elemental punches are aligned to his terrible Special stat - that is baffling

He has a VERY shallow move pool outside of these, with most of his TMs being very basic normal moves

Fighting itself is not the best typing in this game, especially given how powerful psychics are. However, it feels like psychics are quite rare in single player so this is less important here - few enemies hit me.

He's a little slow, on top of this

My thinking is that I can give him Ice Punch, which despite being weak when going off his terrible special will still have a 1/10 chance of freezing an enemy. Which, is not bad. I gave him Submission - a purchasable TM - and am thinking teaching him Mimic or Metronome later. Should be... Something, but I wanted him because he's awkward and limited in utility and not because he is good.

Doduo on the other hand, I caught and raised up in the Rocket Game Corner dungeon:

Dodrio is a VERY fast and strong Pokemon. It's move pool is a little shallow... But it is a Normal/Flying type which can learn Body Slam and Hyper Beam. Body Slam is a great move - 85 base power with no downside, and a 1/3rd chance of inflicting Paralysis. Better Than None here? Can ram enemies with it and gain an attack boost due to it's Normal typing. Hyper Beam is a ways off, of course. But it instead has a 150 base power, and is also normal and thus scales off Dodrio's high attack and typing. Hyper Beam is an attack which also has a special property in Gen 1, supposedly - if you defeat a pokemon with it, you don't need to recharge. So, this guy is a strong contender for using it Then I have a fly move, Drill Peck, for coverage... Curiously, this thing also learns Reflect. Agility makes more sense, but probably won't be needed, haha. In theory, this will thus just be a brick you throw at opponents and make them deal with. Should be good, and solid right up until the end. And I already used my valuable Body Slam TM on him, haha.

While I'm discussing Pokemon, Arbok is absolutely cruel.

It's a fast pokemon with Wrap and Glare. The latter paralyzes an enemy through fright; the former prevents an enemy action for 2-5 turns as it slowly chokes the air out of them. Because of Arbok's high speed, it's possible to out-speed a lot of opponents with that Wrap and prevent them from doing anything - IF you can hit with that relatively inaccurate move

Arbok is actually great for capturing pokemon, as such.

And, my traded pokemon, Pilot:

Pilot is real strong. Parasect is a pokemon defined by a single move - SPORE. This is almost a secret move - it is a 100% accurate sleep. This is similar to back when I was talking about Raticate; it has one thing it is amazing at which propels a pokemon with fairly mediocre stats to greatness. I also taught it DIG for the sake of having a decent utility move which is fairly powerful especially when you get it. Pilot guided me well earlier. This is a game which definitely encourages you to experiment with TMs... Be thoughtful, but decisive. By Celadon, you have all the tools to pick a Pokemon from the wild and customize it to be fairly effective, and this is a pretty cool feature (especially now that the sandbox is more or less open and you can do a lot of stuff)

The remaining dungeons - Game Corner and Pokemon Tower - passed fairly uneventfully; I used them to train up Better Than None. But it's interesting how they are playing Team Rocket. I remembered them vaguely as these Gangster types, but they come off now as more of a weird... Uprising, of sorts, with recruiters targeting talented trainers and uniformed mooks actively taking over sections of town. They are not some distant mafia threatening and acting behind the scenes and exclusively in places just outside the view of the public as I recall them - The police cut off access to the entirety of Saffron because of these guys openly taking it over, and you see their presence all over. ...What's the deal, I wonder? I doubt much will be revealed that I don't already know, but them being so brazen and having their fingers in so much is interesting.

They are also like, occasionally hilariously on-the-nose at times. A few of them are explicitly like "Hell yeah! I love evil!"

...Anyways, you fight Giovanni at the end of the Game Corner and like... Man, Go For The Eyes' water gun is still putting in work - he was made quick work of! He takes it like a champ and gives you the Silph Scope, going "A child like you can never understand my vision" or whatever. With it and Pokemon Tower clear, I got the Pokeflute - and with it, passage south.

Pokemon Red -

West of Lavender Town, there's a patch of grass you need cut to get into and it has like

Three version-exclusive Pokemon and Pidgey as encounters

Huh, weird.

...I hunted down a Growlithe. Growlithe is like opposite Abra - rather than teleport away, it Roars and intimidates your pokemon away. Catching him was a puzzle, and I ended up putting him to sleep with Spore - thanks, Pilot the Parasect.

I named it Flamnwoofr, short for Flammenwoofer. I'll probably trade him for something.

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cinaja · 4 years ago

Text

Before the Wall part 39

Masterlist

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“Stop running like this,” Andromache says, even though she easily keeps pace with him.

Jurian doesn’t slow down. He can’t believe Andromache took the time to have a calm breakfast with him while Miryam might be dying. He needs to see her immediately, needs to know that she will be alright. Guilt and worry twist his guts and he already regrets eating anything for breakfast.

He storms up to the main entrance of Drakon’s camp, only stopping when the guards don’t move to allow him through.

“Where is she?” Jurian asks.

The guards exchange glances. “General – “ One of them begins, but Jurian cuts him off.

“I want to see Miryam. Now.”

The guards exchange another glance, and Andromache puts a hand on his arm, shaking her head. The look she gives him clearly says stop, but Jurian ignores her. He hates that Miryam is here, in this camp, and not with him. Hates that it was Drakon who was there to help her when she needed it. It should have been him. Why wasn’t he there? Did he truly think Amarantha was more important?

To make it worse, the ambush wasn’t even a success. Quite the contrary. He lost all these soldiers, and then, he nearly lost Miryam. And he spent the night drinking himself into oblivion instead of checking up on Miryam. He didn’t even consider that something might have happened.

“Come along, please,” one of the soldiers tells him and starts walking back into the camp.

Andromache links her arm with Jurian’s as they follow him and leans in to whisper, “Stop being rude to the soldiers. They aren’t to blame for what happened.”

Jurian scowls, but he can’t disagree. It’s hardly the soldiers’ fault that he has quarrel with their Prince, and being rude to people whose rank is so much lower than his that they can’t even be rude back is low. He silently promises himself to stop it.

The soldier who is leading them stops in front of a tent towards the centre of the camp. It isn’t the biggest one around, but still finely made and clearly meant for an important person. Guards are posted at the entrance.

“We need to announce you,” one of them says, but Jurian doesn’t have any patience for that.

He needs to go in there now, or he will lose courage. But when he steps forward, the guards lower their spears. Jurian blinks at them. They are truly pointing their weapons at him.

“I’m sorry, General, Majesty.” The soldier looks nervously between them. “We have strict orders not to let anyone enter.”

Jurian wants to ignore the order and push past them – see if they dare to hold him back – but Andromache grips his arm. A moment later, Jurian gets a grip on himself. He can’t start a fight, of course not. What was he thinking?

So he patiently waits for one of the soldiers to announce them to the people inside the camp. It takes only just over a minute, then the soldiers step aside and the door opens. Jurian stands frozen in place. Now that he can go inside, he is suddenly afraid. What if Miryam hasn’t recovered? What if she’s still in the state Andromache described to him, or, worse, dying? Will she blame him for not having been there for her?

Andromache gives him a shove that makes him stumble towards the door. He catches himself, straightens and walks into the tent.

His eyes go straight to Miryam. She is lying in bed, blanket drawn up to her chest, head plopped up by two pillows. She looks tiny in the too-big bed, and tiny and scarily fragile. She looks like she’s dying, Jurian thinks, then quickly brushes the thought away, but it is true. He’s seen her tired and sick and unwell, but not once has she looked this drained.

Jurian opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He can only stare at her.

Andromache pushes past him and sits down on the edge of Miryam’s bed. Only then does Jurian notice Drakon, who is sitting on the sole chair in the tent, fiddling around with his sword. Drakon nods at him and Jurian quickly looks away, returning his attention to Miryam and Andromache.

“You look terrible,” Andromache says, “But you are, you know, here?”

Miryam nods. “There have been no further problems since I woke up.”

She looks over to Jurian. He should say something. Now.

Drakon clears his throat and gets up. “Let’s go outside for a moment,” he says to Andromache. He’s playing around with his sword again as he leads Andromache out of the tent, leaving Jurian alone with Miryam.

He remains standing by the entrance, awkwardly stepping from one foot to the other. Miryam pushes herself into a sitting position and draws her knees up to her chest, still watching him in silence. Clearly, she expects him to say something. Damnit, he needs to say something. But what? His mind is completely blank, he can’t come up with a single thing to say.

“Don’t you want to sit down?” Miryam finally asks, breaking the silence.

Jurian nods and stiffly sits down on the chair Drakon occupied until a moment ago. He feels like he somehow failed by waiting for Miryam to take the first step. But now, he has to say something, before things get any worse.

“How are you?” He asks. The question is so inadequate that he has to wince.

Miryam shrugs. “I’ve got a headache. And I can’t get up. But I think it’s getting a bit better already.”

“That’s good news,” Jurian says, but can’t help the doubt creeping through him.

Andromache told him what happened, offering details that made Jurian’s stomach churn and he knows that Miryam is likely downplaying it now to make him feel better. He hates that she almost died and still tries to protect him from it. And he hates that he wasn’t there when it happened.

“I should have been there,” he says. Shame shoots through him like a burning knife. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Miryam says, “It’s not like you could have changed anything.”

She’s so distant. Jurian knows that he messed up, knows that it’s on him to do something to fix this, but words escape him. He is caught between shame and sheer terror at the thought that he almost lost her, unable to find the words to make everything better. Maybe he can let actions speak? He walks over to Miryam and carefully wraps his arms around her.

He doesn’t know what he was hoping for in the hug. Maybe comfort, or some long-lost sense of mutual understanding. But whatever it was, he doesn’t find it. Miryam feels so fragile in his arms that he doesn’t even dare hold her too tightly and when they let go of each other, Jurian feels like he only succeeded in making things more awkward. Miryam looks down at her hands, avoiding his gaze.

Jurian so badly wants to be able to offer her words of comfort, but all that comes out is, “I don’t know what’s happening to us.”

They are drifting further and further apart and it has never been more apparent then now. Miryam almost died and he is just standing here, unable to even say anything to comfort her.

Miryam takes his hands as if she, too, senses the rift between them and is somehow trying to bridge it. Wordlessly, she squeezes his hands. Jurian squeezes back, hoping that she will find reassuring words for him, only to realize that he is the one who should do the reassuring.

“But we’ll be fine,” he says. “I’m this close to defeating Amarantha and then, I can get rid of Clythia, too. This Is almost over. And once they are dead, everything will go back to normal, you’ll see. We will be fine.”

Miryam turns her head away. “Of course,” she says.

She doesn’t sound happy, but she will see. Once Amarantha and Clythia are dead, the tide will turn. Everything will be well again. He just knows it.

“Then let’s go back to our camp,” he says. He doesn’t like staying in Drakon’s camp. Why did they even bring Miryam here in the first place? She should have stayed. Then he would have heard about what happened sooner, too, and would never have gotten drunk.

But Miryam shakes her head. “I need to stay here for a bit longer,” she says. “The healers are trying out a treatment.”

Jurian makes a face. “We have healers, too,” he says and thinks of Clythia saying that Drakon will get Miryam killed. He badly wants to tell her about his concerns, but the last time he mentioned the prophecy to Miryam, that didn’t go over well, so he keeps silent.

“They aren’t trained in dealing with magical illnesses,” Miryam explains and Jurian nods, because that’s all he can really do.

After that, conversation comes to a halt. Jurian allows the silence between them to stretch on until it becomes far too awkward. For want of other ideas, he starts telling Miryam about the ambush, how Amarantha seems to have anticipated it and how he lost well over a hundred soldiers.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Miryam says. “From how it sounds, you couldn’t have done anything and I don’t see how you could have seen it coming either.”

It doesn’t entirely ease the guilt, but at least Jurian feels a little better.

They sit around in silence again for a while, until Miryam says, “We probably should tell the others that they can come back in.”

Jurian jumps to his feet. “I’ll tell Andromache she can come inside,” he says. “And maybe I should wait outside while you talk? To give you some privacy.”

It’s a coward’s suggestion. The truth is that he can’t look at Miryam without feeling a stab of guilt. He should have been there. Somehow, he should have prevented what happened. He thinks Miryam notices, can almost feel her disappointment, but she doesn’t stop him as he rushes out of the tent.

Jurian steps out of the tent, only to nearly run into Drakon, who is sitting on an upturned barrel outside. Jurian suppresses a groan. The last thing he wants right now is to talk to the Prince.

“You want to go inside now?” He asks Andromache, who nods and walks into the tent. Jurian remains standing, arms crossed and pointedly not looking at Drakon.

Unfortunately, Drakon ignores Jurian’s obvious signals. “How are you?” He asks.

“Not interested in talking to you,” Jurian replies and hopes that this will be enough to put an end to this conversation before it can truly begin.

Drakon is fingering around with his weapons belt again. He touches the sword, then quickly withdraws his hand and looks up again.

“Aren’t we even able to have a civil conversation, now?” He asks. “We were best friends once.”

Jurian has a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue – And whose fault is it that we aren’t friends anymore?, comes to mind – but he forces himself to remain silent. Miryam hates when he is mean to Drakon.

“Just leave me alone,” Jurian says. And stay away from Miryam, while you are at it. He turns away, not particularly caring that Drakon looks hurt.

----

Andromache sits down on the bed next to Miryam. “How are you?” She asks.

Miryam shrugs. “Better than yesterday,” she says with a wry smile. It’s too early to tell if Ghost will be able to help her. They’ve only been talking for half an hour when Jurian arrived, forcing Ghost to go back into the sword (if that is where he goes when he isn’t visible). “Thanks for looking after me when… you know.” Her memories of what happened aren’t exactly clear, but from what she remembers, trying to help her can’t have been pleasant.

“Just get better again,” Andromache says, “That would be thanks enough.”

How Miryam would like to be able to fulfil that request. She just isn’t sure if it will be possible. She’s so tired.

“I’m not sure if Jurian told you,” Andromache says, “but there was some kind of trouble during his ambush. He only heard about what had happened this morning, so that’s why he wasn’t here earlier.”

Miryam nods. She doesn’t know how else to react, how to put her feelings into words. She doesn’t know why she is so disappointed, or what it is she expected from Jurian. Rationally, she knows that him being there during the spell and afterwards would not have changed anything. Just like she knows that it is out of his power to fix her problems for her. She can’t even expect him to understand, not when he never experienced anything similar and she isn’t capable of explaining it to him.

All this, she knows. And still, the disappointment is crushing.

Because stupidly, irrationally, she had hoped that Jurian would be able to ease her pain, soothe her fears. She had wanted to have him there with her and she wanted that alone to be enough to make everything more bearable. But it didn’t. When he told her it would be okay, she didn’t believe a word, and when they hugged, it didn’t make her feel save. It was just awkward. The entire time, she was waiting for him to say or do something that would comfort her, but he never did, and in the end, she had to be the one to comfort him.

“Is there anything left at all between the two of you?” Andromache asks softly.

Miryam squeezes her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay and takes a deep breath. How she wishes there was nothing left. Then it might be easier. But there is so much still between them. Over six years together, countless obstacles they faced and overcame, all the times they saved each other. Countless shared moments, whispered reassurances and quiet hours. A common cause, a mutual understanding. So much love and anger and disappointment that Miryam sometimes feels like she might choke on it.

Andromache puts an arm around her shoulders and now, Miryam does cry. She cries for Jurian, and for herself – for the children they were when they first met, and the people war and suffering and loss has made them into. When did the gap between them become so wide, so impossible to overcome?

She bites her lower lip so hard she almost draws blood and forces the tears to stop. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers. “It’s simply too much, I can’t…” She shakes her head. “I just can’t.”

“You know you’re always welcome in Telique,” Andromache says.

Miryam knows she should thank her, but thinking of Telique just makes the tears return. The Alliance. Another thing she can’t do.

Andromache seems to sense her thoughts, because she says, “No one could blame you if you said you want out, you know? You’ve done more than anyone could possibly have demanded already for this war. You could always step down as head of the Alliance.”

The idea is appealing, so very, very appealing. Let someone else lead, hand the weight over. She never wanted this, anyways. But Miryam shakes her head.

“And who would replace me?”

“If you truly can’t do this anymore, we’d find someone,” Andromache says, but she sounds doubtful.

Miryam simply shakes her head. The Fae, eternally arrogant and valuing their rules above all else, would never follow a human. Nor would any of them be willing to give the honour of leading the Alliance to another Fae – not that the humans would ever accept a Fae leading a war that is about their freedom. Not to mention that Miryam can count the amount of Fae nobles who genuinely care about human freedom on one hand.

“There’s no one else,” she says. “It has to be me.” So she better find a way to stay alive.

The following days pass in a haze. Miryam remains in Drakon’s camp, slowly recovering from the wall spell. Jurian visits twice and Drakon comes by as often as his duties as Prince will allow, but most of the time, Miryam sits with Ghost in her tent, trying to get a grip on her powers.

The first day is mostly useless. Ghost makes Miryam describe every little detail of her powers, but when he asks her to call it, it won’t come and so he spends most of the time trying to explain magical concepts to her. But she is too tired, still too much in pain, to truly understand what he is saying, and more then once, she simply lacks the basic knowledge necessary to follow his explanations.

“Are you partially human as well?” Miryam asks at one point. He certainly looks more human than Fae, even more human than Miryam does.

But Ghost shakes his head. “I can choose my form at will.”

Ignoring the stab of disappointment, Miryam asks, “Then why would you choose a human form?”

“I generally prefer humans to Fae.”

The sentiment is unusual enough that Miryam wants to keep asking, but Ghost returns to his explanations without giving her the chance.

The second day goes better. The pain has mostly receded by then, and when Miryam tries to summon her power, it answers her. From there, the real work begins. Ghost makes her complete tasks, smaller ones at first, but they quickly get harder. Miryam doesn’t understand the purpose, but Ghost seems to draw conclusions from what she is doing. Even though he is rarely satisfied.

“Don’t pull on it that hard,” he tells her, annoyed. “By all the worlds, please stop trying to force the strings like this. It’s painful to watch.”

“How else am I to get them to move?”

“Gently. With feeling.” Ghost snorts. “You have an inherent connection to the world – the universe, even. And you bash your power against the Strings like you’re trying to hammer them into position. You aren’t a smith hammering around on a slab of metal, you are working with the fabric of this world.”

The talk of a connection to the universe sounds a bit too much like what she read in her first spellbook for her liking. The witches are oh so special, gifted by the Mother, the only ones with a connection to the universe. Which, in their mind, gives them the right to do anything they want. It doesn’t exactly make Miryam inclined to put much faith in the approach.

She sighs and tries again. Midway through the spell, Ghost appears right in front of her, startling her into letting go of her power.

“Stop it,” he snaps. “You don’t even use your power correctly. From the way you act, you’d think it was some wild beast that you need to beat into submission if you don’t want it to swallow you whole.”

Miryam doesn’t have a reply to that. Her power is wild and scary and dangerous, she’s never known it as anything else. But Ghost wants her to see it as a friend. He wants her to let it flow freely, to gently move the strings into position instead of forcing them. He talks of connections, of rules she never heard of.

He sees her power as something beautiful. She only ever sees it as terrible. When she calls it and is standing next to Ravenia’s throne again, watching Artax draw that circle around the human Sacrifices. She sees him smirking at her terror. And that makes it extremely difficult to see the power as a friend.

But Ghost is persistent. He starts small, explaining again and again how he wants her to use her powers, correcting her technique with a surprising patience. On the third day, the shadows return. Miryam spends two hours curled up under her blanket, pillow over her head, waiting for them to disappear. When she returns from under the blanket, Ghost simply tells her that she probably ought to start using a certain amount of power daily to keep it from building up. Then, he goes back to his explanations.

On the fifth day, he decides to have Miryam let her power flow through her freely. He explains she is supposed to feel a connection to it, learn to let go.

Miryam fails catastrophically. She can’t seem to go three seconds without clamping down on her power. No matter how much Ghost assures her that she will be fine, no matter how often he tells her that she really should be able to do this, as soon as she feels that her power is unchecked, she shuts down.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Ghost says softly, more to himself than to Miryam.

She frowns at him. “Well, if that isn’t reassuring…” The truth is, she is tired. Tired of this task, tired of being told to be nicer to the power that is currently killing her. She had hoped he would tell her a few simple tricks and everything would be fine.

Ghost turns around to her. “You should be able to do this. Easily. So far, you’ve managed to do what’s the equivalent of draining a lake with your bare hands. I give you a bucket, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed?”

Miryam frowns down at her hands. “I’m tired,” she says, “Maybe tomorrow – “

“Your problem isn’t that you’re tired, it’s that you are scared,” Ghost cuts her off. “Which in itself is hardly extraordinary for you mortals. You get scared of your own power, it senses that fear and tries to protect you, which only scares you more, so you lose control. But you – “ He glares at Miryam. “You are far too advanced for that. You should know by now that your power won’t harm you if you follow a basic set of rules.”

Her power does harm her, though. It hurts her and drives her insane and at one point, it will kill her. But somehow, she knows that this isn’t the root of her problems, not really. She isn’t so scared of her power hurting her that she accidentally causes it to do just that, it hurts her because she can’t control it.

“Maybe it’s because I’m half human,” she says. “Maybe I’m just not made for that kind of power.”

“An interesting thought.” Ghost watches her with an intensity that makes her fidget. It’s like he’s trying to see straight through her. “I do believe that your being human influences your abilities in some ways – both positive and negative – but I doubt it is the reason for your current problems.”

Miryam shakes her head and draws her knees up to her chest. She should probably be relieved. If the problem was her being human, that would have been as good as a death sentence since she can’t very well change species.

“Did you know that emotion has a tendency to influence power?” Ghost asks. “Especially fear, anger and other negative emotions. You wouldn’t have any of those, would you? Particularly in relation to your powers.”

Miryam stares at him. She can’t believe that an allegedly millennia-old ghost is trying to talk to her about her feelings. “I’m not having trouble with my emotions,” she says, “I’m perfectly in control of those. It’s my power that’s being a problem.”

Ghost reappears sitting on her bed. (Or rather pretending to be sitting, since he doesn’t actually have a body.) “Tell me about your childhood,” he says.

Miryam freezes. “Why are you asking about that?” Her voice sounds flat in her own ears.

“You were born a slave. You hate witches. And somehow, you have trouble with your power.” He cocks his head to the side. “The math isn’t exactly hard to do. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No.”

Her power whispers to life, making the strings move around even more quickly. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself and imagines the power dying down, whirlwind turning to soft breeze, but it won’t help. She thinks she sees a shadow moving at the edge of her vision.

“Thank you,” Ghost says sarcastically, “For proving me right.”

Miryam jumps to her feet. Her head begins to spin at the sudden movement and she has to grab the edge of the bed for support. She needs to get out of here, away from this conversation and the memories it stirs.

“I need some fresh air,” she says. “You’ll excuse me.”

“You’re still proving me right!” Ghost calls after her as she stalks out of the tent.

And damn him, maybe she is. But she can’t get herself to stop walking, to turn around and talk to him. She can’t face this. She can’t. She locked that part of herself away, and if she opens that door, allows the memories out… It’s simply too much. Too much for her to ever deal with. If this is what it takes to control her power, then she might as well start arranging her own funeral.

She wanders through the camp aimlessly, watching the soldiers go about their work. Two of them are sparring in the ring, and a huge group of spectators has formed around them. Miryam lingers for a moment to watch, then continues on. Two younger boys, probably working in the kitchen, run past her, laughing breathlessly. Miryam feels strangely detached from the scene, like she is watching from far away.

Eventually, she reaches the edge of the camp. The guards stare at her and whisper among themselves, but they don’t stop her as she walks past them. She doesn’t go far, just far enough to get out of sight from the camp. Then, she sits down on a tree stump and stares down into the grass. A sparrow lands on her knee. Smiling softly, she holds out a hand and allows it to hop on.

“Want to trade places?” She asks. The sparrow cocks its head to the side, watching her out of dark eyes. She shakes her head. “No, why would you. Your life is probably better than mine.” She gently runs a finger over its head. “You can fly around freely. No wars, no slavery or magical powers to worry about.”

The bird rocks its head as if to say that it agrees. Although it is likely that she is reading too much into the motion.

Leaves crunch behind her. Miryam doesn’t have to look up to know who it is. On her hand, the sparrow rustles its feathers and makes a small, chirping sound. Without a word, Drakon sits down in the grass facing her.

Miryam sighs. “Go,” she whispers to the sparrow. It spreads its wings and takes off. Miryam looks after it as it flies away.

“When I was a child,” she says softly, thinking that she can’t quite remember when she last considered herself a child, “I sometimes dreamt I would grow wings and fly away.” She shakes her head. “I thought if only I flew high enough, I could leave it all behind below me. I wanted to fly higher than anyone before me, right up to the sun, where no one has ever heard of the Black Land. I thought that would be true freedom.”

She stares down at her hands. Her sleeves cover the scars at her wrists and the brand on her left forearm, but she can imagine them there, forever marking her as property.

“I fled through the entire Continent,” she says, “Ran and ran, but still, I could never get away.” She traces the outline of the brand with her finger. “I only ever wanted to be free,” she says, “But I can’t manage to leave it behind. I’m still there, every day, every second. I tried to lock that part of myself away, but…” She rubs her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I do, or how far I run. I can’t ever escape, not truly.”

She is eternally caught in the same moments, unable to escape. And the girl she once was, the girl who survived Ravenia’s court for three years, might have been able to deal with it. She might have endured the endless cruelties and seen her scars as lessons learned. But the woman Miryam has grown into, the woman she chose to be, cannot. Because Miryam – the person she made herself into all these years ago – believes in kindness. She dreams of a better world and fights to make it real. But the girl she was didn’t dream or believe in kindness. The things she had seen and survived, the things that lurk in Miryam’s memories, had taught her that kindness was an illusion and the only dreams that ever came real were nightmares.

Something wet drips on her hand and with a start, Miryam realizes that she is crying. She doesn’t even know when she started, but suddenly, the tears won’t stop. Her entire body is shaking.

“Are you okay with being touched?” Drakon asks softly. He is still sitting on the grass, completely still like he doesn’t dare to move.

Miryam nods shakily. She can’t manage to stop sobbing long enough to get a coherent reply out. She doesn’t notice Drakon getting to his feet, but then he is there, wrapping his arms around her. She clings to his coat and presses her face into his chest.

She cries and cries, until Drakon’s jacket is wet against her cheek and she has to stop because there seem to be no tears left. She realizes that somehow, she ended up almost lying on top of Drakon. She blushes and tries to get up, but she’s still shaky and nearly steps on Drakon’s wing in the process.

“Sorry,” she mutters, blush deepening and finally manages to get herself into an upright position.

They sit side by side in the grass, Drakon’s left wing wrapped around Miryam’s back, her head leaning against his shoulder.

“Ghost told me,” Drakon says, “About what he said to you.”

Miryam suspiciously eyes the sword at Drakon’s side, but Ghost is nowhere to be seen. She hopes he isn’t lurking about while invisible, listening to their conversation.

“We’ll figure something out,” Drakon says.

Miryam looks away. “Sure,” she mutters.

Once, just this once, she had hoped things would be easy. That Ghost would teach her a few simple magic tricks, she would spend a while practicing, and then, everything would be alright. But of course, nothing is ever that easy. She should have known.

“Miryam,” Drakon says slowly, “Please tell me that you are going to try to solve this. If you just push it away again, that’s it. There won’t be another try for you, you know this.”

Miryam doesn’t reply. She doesn’t see a point in trying. She won’t be able to do it. It’s just too much, she can’t face this. Not now, not ever. But how could Drakon ever understand this?

“I know you’re scared – “ Drakon begins, but Miryam cuts him off.

“So what if I am?” She asks. “You think I’m just pushing all of this away for fun? I can’t face this. Because if I give these memories just one inch of room, they will swallow me whole. There’s only so much a person can endure, and this is too fucking much!” She snorts. “Maybe I should just ask Rhysand to remove all my memories of what happened.”

Drakon goes entirely still. “You don’t mean that,” he says in a too-quiet voice.

Miryam crosses her arms, but she really doesn’t mean it. Removing memories at this scale is impossible without doing irreparable damage to the person who gives up the memories. Whatever she is going through now, it will be nothing compared to what cutting out years of her life would do to her.

She’s just desperate and coming up with crazy ideas to hide the fact that she doesn’t know what to do.

“It’s just too much,” she whispers. “It’s all falling apart, and there are a million things… I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Drakon reaches for her hand. “You don’t have to get through this alone,” he says, “There are lots of people who love you and who are willing to help if only you’ll let them.” He squeezes her hand. “And you don’t have to do it all at once, either. No one expects you to somehow face all your trauma at once and then magically be okay – I don’t think that’s even possible. It’s going to be a slow process, and I’m not saying that it will be easy, but I do think that you can do it if you allow people to help you and start being a little kinder with yourself.”

Miryam bites her lower lip. “I only have a month, though.”

“I’m sure the tricks Ghost taught you will buy you some additional time,” Drakon says, “And in theory, handling your power should get easier the better you get at dealing with the other things.”

Miryam nods, even though she isn’t sure if this will be enough. None of this will remove the all-around stress of the war, the countless responsibilities she is trying to juggle. No matter how hard she tries to face her past, she doubts she will succeed while she is wearing herself down trying to fulfil all these duties.

But now that her feelings have calmed down a little, she knows that she still has to try. If only because there is no one else to replace her in the Alliance. And if she is out of the equation, who will be left to save her people?

“I’ll try,” she says, “but – “

With a soft pop, Ghost appears right in front of them, startling both Miryam and Drakon, who immediately reaches for the sword. Miryam wraps her arms around herself, hoping that Ghost didn’t listen to their conversation.

“Sorry to interrupt your moment,” Ghost says. “But there’s something going on with the strings that might concern you.”

Miryam looks up, frowning as she surveys the strings. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but between Ghost and the sword, it is hard to tell. Half a thought has additional, smaller strings appear, but still, their movement doesn’t seem extraordinary.

“I don’t see anything,” she says, frowning.

“There,” Ghost says, pointing. “It’s an anti-winnowing ward, can’t you see? Although I have to admit that whoever is setting it is very clever about it.”

Now, Miryam does notice some of the strings moving far too deliberately for it to be natural. Whoever is causing this is a witch. And one of the better ones, if Miryam isn’t mistaken. Her mind immediately goes to Artax.

Her power has gotten far better, but if she has to go up against another witch now, the outcome will be clear. She won’t win a fight today.

Drakon is already on his feet. “Can I still winnow?” He asks, panic colouring his voice.

“Yes,” Ghost says, “For about one more minute.”

Drakon whirls around to Miryam. “Please go back to the camp and warn Sinna. I need to – “ His hand shoots to the sword at his side. He looks back to the camp. “If it is Ravenia I have to – “

“I know,” Miryam cuts him off. “Go!”

Ghost disappears and reappears standing in front of Miryam. “Emotions fuel magic and yours are currently tearing you apart,” he says, “Find a way to live with them, or all the magical training in the world won’t be able to help you.”

With a start, Miryam realizes that they likely won’t see each other again. If it is truly Ravenia behind those wards, and if she is after the sword, then Drakon probably won’t be able to bring it again. (Looking at the power it exhibits, he shouldn’t have brought it at all.)

“Thank you,” Miryam says. She wants to say more, but Drakon winnows before she gets the chance.

Above, the strings suddenly begin to move around quickly. The commotion makes Miryam dizzy. Her own power rises, as if to answer the general frenzy, but before she has the chance, the strings fall back into place, forming a net over the camp. Even at the height of her power, Miryam doubts she could have stopped those wards. It’s Artax’s work, she is sure of it.

She jumps to her feet and runs back towards the camp.

----

Drakon leans his back against the cave wall, trying to calm his breathing. “That,” he says, “was close.”

Too damn close. He can’t believe he was this callous with taking the sword away from Cretea. He knew that Ravenia was after the sword, knew that she would stop at nothing to get it. Why didn’t he spent more time considering this? He should have taken more precautions, brought both Miryam and the sword to Erithia where it would have been safer.

“But everything turned out just fine,” Ghost says, “You got the sword out in time, and I’m back where I belong.”

There is a bitterness in his voice and Drakon realizes the tremendous unfairness of this situation. It was Ghost who helped them, and as thanks, he gets locked up back in his cave. It must be terribly lonely and boring, eternally trapped in the same place.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking over at the sword that’s back in its usual place in the centre of the cave.

He could take it up and free Ghost. But he can’t, really. It’s not just about whether or not to trust Ghost – although there’s still part of Drakon that worries all of this might have been some big manipulation. The bigger problems are the general issues of using the sword. Ghost may assure him that he will survive, but Drakon highly doubts that he will survive unscathed. For all he knows, the sword might Besides, he is explicitly forbidden from using the sword or freeing Ghost, by both his family’s millennia old traditions and the will of a goddess.

No, he can’t free Ghost.

“Thank you,” Drakon says, “Truly.” Hesitates. “I’ll talk to Miryam. When she has control of her power again, that is. Maybe she knows a way to alter the spell that binds you so that you can at least leave move around freely on Cretea.”

Ghost remains completely motionless for a moment. “I doubt that will work,” he finally says, “But I am still grateful for your attempt.” He disappears without giving Drakon the chance to reply.

Drakon hurries on his way out of the cave and winnows as soon as possible. Miraculously, his camp is still undisturbed when he returns. An annoyed Sinna informs him that their patrols caught sight of a battalion of Black Land Soldiers only a mile south of their camp, but almost as soon as the wards were up, they vanished.

“I have no idea what they are planning,” she finishes, frowning deeply.

“Their plan failed already,” Drakon says, “I assume they left.”

“Miryam told me the same thing,” Sinna mutters. Then, she arches an eyebrow at Drakon and shakes her head. “She’s with the healers, since I assume that was to be your next question.”

Drakon smiles. “Thank you.” He says to walk off, but Sinna takes him by the arm.

“I know you love her,” she says, “and I won’t tell you not to. But please, Drakon, be careful how much closer you come to her.”

Drakon frowns at her. “What do you mean?”

“Should we win, there will surely be some kind of power struggle in the Alliance. And if that happens, being its leader will be a very unfortunate position to be in, especially for a young human woman with no army or lands of her own.”

Drakon slowly shakes his head. He doesn’t understand why the Alliance members would be stupid enough to get into a fight with each other, or what role Miryam, who has absolutely no ambitions to gain power, should take in such a struggle. But he does understand that Miryam might be in danger from yet another side, which is simply unfair. Doesn’t she have enough to deal with already?

“Thank you for the warning,” he manages.

He finds Miryam in the healers’ tent. She has her back turned to him and is talking to the camp’s head healer, excitedly pointing to some of the medications standing on display on one of the shelves. For once, she looks almost happy. Drakon watches for a moment, then turns around and leaves quietly, not wanting to disturb her. They can talk later.

----

Miryam knows what has to come next. Maybe she has known for a while, deep down, even though she wasn’t brave enough to admit it.

The truth is this: Miryam can’t do it. Her power tearing her to shreds, nightmares chasing her from her sleep, a past she never learned to deal with. The entire Alliance her responsibility, the weight of millions of lives dragging her down. And Jurian, eternally caught in a downward spiral she doesn’t know how to stop, pulling her down with him. It is simply too much. She can’t carry all this weight, she simply isn’t strong enough.

If she doesn’t want to shatter into a million pieces, or die choking on her own power, part of the weight needs to go.

She could still help Jurian. Save him from himself somehow. But she can’t save him and run this Alliance, help them win this war. If she keeps trying, she will break and she will die and then, she will be no use to anyone. So it’s either Jurian or the Alliance. Her people or the man she loves. It’s the cruellest choice.

It’s no choice at all.

Still, Miryam can barely keep her nervousness at bay when she walks into their camp. Soon, it will be just Jurian’s camp, she realizes. The soldiers greet her happily, some ask where she was, and she feels a stab of shame at the thought that she is about to abandon them.

How will things work if Jurian has to run the camp alone? These days, large parts of the day-to-day work in the camp fall to Miryam, Jurian mainly focusing on the military aspect. And what will happen when he once again wants to ignore orders to chase after Amarantha and she isn’t there to stop him? The easiest solution would be for her to stay in the camp, but if she breaks up with him and still stays, nothing would really change.

If Miryam were just a little more responsible, a little braver, she would petition with the council to have Jurian replaced as camp leader. After all, that was the decision she made after the disaster between Jurian and Drakon – Jurian would keep his position, and she would make sure that nothing bad happened. Now that she cannot do that anymore, she should have him replaced. But she knows that she will never be able to do that to him. She can’t leave him and then go behind his back to get him stripped of his position, it would be far too cruel.

Jurian isn’t in his tent, and for a moment, Miryam is almost glad of it. It at least offers her a small reprieve before the inevitable confrontation. She takes her time searching for him, pausing to chat with soldiers several times. It helps that Jurian makes it hard to find him. He isn’t in the sparring ring, nor talking with his captains and one of them assures her that he is not out on a patrol, either. Finally, Miryam finds him in the stables, brushing his stallion’s fur.

She pauses in the door, simply watching him for a moment. He looks so tired, face tense. Looking at him, no one would ever believe that he is not even thirty yet. Miryam desperately, hopelessly wants to turn back the time to the beginning of the war. They weren’t fine back then either, but at least they were happy.

“Hello,” she says softly.

Jurian spins around to her, hand immediately going to his sword. When he recognizes her, he relaxes a bit and gives her a tense smile. “You’re back.”

Back for a moment. Back only to leave again, but this time permanently. Cauldron damn her, she doesn’t want to do this.

“Did everything go well while I was gone?” She asks. A coward’s attempt to delay what she has come here to say.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to figure out new ambush strategies – the last one was a mistake, but that won’t happen again. The next time, I’ll be prepared.”

Miryam nods. She pulls the stable door close behind her and sits down on a ball of hay. “We need to talk,” she says.

Jurian frowns and lowers his brush. “Sounds serious.”

“It is,” Miryam says. She tugs a strand of hair behind her hair, desperately wishing to be anywhere but here. “I don’t think…” She breaks off, then starts again. “I can’t go on like this, Jur.”

His frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I just…” She makes a vague hand gesture. “Do you feel like things between us have been going particularly well lately?”

“Are you still angry that I wasn’t there for the spell?” Jurian asks. “Look, I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again, and –“

“It’s not about the spell,” Miryam interrupts. “It’s about us. Or me, rather. I just…” She shakes her head, can’t get herself to say the words. “I think it would be best if I went to stay in Telique for the time being,” she whispers.

“Does the council require this?” Jurian asks.

“No. But I think it would be for the best – for me – to leave.”

Now, Jurian does turn around to her, eyes narrowed. “Leave the camp?” He asks softly. “Or leave me?”

Miryam lowers her head. “Both,” she whispers.

Jurian stares at her for a few heartbeats, face hard. “Then you ought to go pack,” he finally says and returns to brushing his horse’s fur.

On her hay ball, Miryam freezes. She didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect – from tears over bargaining to anger, all seemed possible. But she would never have expected such a cold dismissal. He might as well have slapped her.

Slowly, Miryam gets to her feet. Tears sting in her eyes, but she forces them down. She refuses to cry. Back straight, she walks out of the stable and quietly closes the door behind herself.

----

Slowly, mechanically, Jurian keeps brushing the horse’s auburn fur. Miryam has left, and he is now alone in the stable. She’s probably packing her things. Maybe she’s already done. Maybe she left already, off to Telique, leaving him behind.

She just left. And he didn’t say anything to stop her. Maybe he should have. He could have begged her to stay, asked for an explanation, offered to change. But if she wanted to talk, she could have said so. Instead, she just chose to leave.

He doesn’t understand. If she had a problem, why didn’t she just say something? Or did she? He tries to remember, but can’t quite manage. Looking back, there might have been a few instances, but… Well, damnit, she should have been clearer. He isn’t a seer or a daemati! How can she expect him to just know what is going on with her at all times?

But maybe he would have seen, if only he had paid less attention to Amarantha and more to her. Amarantha, always Amarantha. She ruins everything. And Miryam… can’t she see what he is trying to do? That he must keep meeting with Clythia, must destroy both her and Amarantha? Only then will things become right again.

Miryam just doesn’t understand. She never did. From the very beginning, she disliked his plan for using Clythia. Time and again, she tried to keep him from fighting against Amarantha. Without her keeping him back, he might have defeated Amarantha already. But Miryam just couldn’t understand, could she?

And still, he loves her.

He’ll make this right. Let her go to Telique for now. While she is gone, he will deal with Amarantha and Clythia. And then, everything will be alright again. She will see.

----

The sunset finds Miryam sitting on a stone outside Drakon’s camp. She lets her feet dangle in the air and watches as the setting sun colours the sky first orange, then red and finally dark violet. The full moon is already in the sky, casting a pale light down on the earth.

The temperatures drop quickly and Miryam shivers in her thin linen clothes. She should probably get up and get back to the camp, but she doesn’t want to move. For the moment, she is content to sit out here and simply watch the sky.

It must be close to midnight when Drakon sits down next to her.

“I brought you a cloak,” he says and hands her a grey wool cloak. Miryam gratefully wraps it around herself, immediately warm.

“Thank you,” she says. “Not just for the cloak. For everything.” Drakon makes to reply, but Miryam quickly adds, “And I haven’t apologized yet, for lying about what was happening with me.”

“I understand why you did it,” Drakon says, which is not quite the same as it’s okay.

“It was still shitty.” More than that.

“Then can we agree that we don’t lie to each other?” Drakon asks. “It doesn’t mean we have to tell each other everything. But I don’t want to always have to second-guess whatever you tell me, trying to figure out if it was true.”

Miryam winces. Her lies always felt harmless, but maybe they weren’t. No lie is ever truly harmless, and “I’m fine” may just be more of a problem than most. Maybe if she’d ever told Jurian the truth, things between them might have gone differently.

“No more lies,” she says softly. “I promise.” She tilts her head backwards and looks up at the moon. “I broke up with Jurian today.”

“Oh,” Drakon says. He sounds a little helpless. “Are you… I mean…”

Miryam is about to tell him that she’s fine, but then, she remembers their agreement not to lie at each other. “It feels like I’m abandoning him,” she says instead. “But I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Drakon nods, and doesn’t comment further. Miryam is glad – she doesn’t want to be reassured right now. Instead, he asks, “So where are you going now.”

“Telique, for the moment,” she says, thinking of Andromache’s offer. “From there…” She shrugs. “I’ll see.”

----

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @sjm-things

#part 2 of Everyone Dealing With Their Problems #some better other worse #we're moving in towards the end!#well #it's still a long way to go #but the endgame begins relatively soon #miryam #drakon #jurian #amdromache #before the wall

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waka-chan-out · 3 years ago

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marathon wrote 1.5k words of this atsumu angst. just thought of a GREAT closing line. i’m ready to hurt y’all’s feelings.

#idk when it’ll be posted but probs sometime relatively soon #but fr #if atsumu is your comfort character n you don’t like angst pls do not read it #he’s such a dick #he gets what’s coming to him but still #he is….not nice #i also mentioned sakusa at the beginning which i think i need to switch out bc it makes it look like him n the reader are endgame #when it’s actually aran #although even that is more of a plot convenience thing #idk. please enjoy. atsumu breaks aran’s nose.#it’s a mess #but a good angsty mess #at least i hope so #meg’s thoughts

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imtooscaredforthis · 3 years ago

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Truce

Based on true events from when a Ghostface tricked me by being nice to me just so he could hook me </3. Ghostfaces these days, you can never trust em tsk tsk

You swore under your breath as you watched the masked murderer carry Bill over to the hook, hoisting him up onto it. As soon as it pierced through his shoulder, he let out one last yelp, before being interrupted by The Entity, claws twirling down and swallowing him up into the darkness.

You always hate being the last survivor left. There was so much pressure on you to escape, and if you didn’t all your teammates sacrifices would’ve been in vain.

You jogged the edge of the arena, your eyes scanning over the terrain, searching for the trap door, listening for that low humming sound.

Ghostface is fast, smart, and perceptive. So, you know you don’t have as much time as you would with most killers.

It only takes a matter of time before you hear the hatch shut, the bell signaling the begin of the endgame collapse chiming loudly. Shit.

Okay, now you have to come up with a new plan. Wait until he’s not around and pull down the lever to the exit gate, and if he comes back, hide or run like hell.

Anxiously, you crept over to the the lever, looking over your shoulder to make sure you’re alone, and slowly pulling it down.

Two of the lights are flashing, and the gate’s halfway open when you feel the hairs on your neck stand up, and a shiver going down your spine. Quickly, you go to hide, peeking from the bush when you find him walking over to the gate.

After making sure he finally left, you went back to the gate, and just before the third light went on, you felt those eyes on you, and you were exposed.

You took off into a sprint, throwing down a pallet behind you, trying to build a barrier between you and the killer. He chased after you, making you vault over the pallet.

You stood on the opposite side of the pallet, staring at him, and waiting for him to make his next move as he paused. What he did next surprised you.

He talked, like actually talked. You were relatively knew, so you hadn’t heard a killer speak, but you did hear from the other survivors that they could talk.

“Mm, you don’t have much time do you? I’m feeling nice, so I might even spare you.” His voice was much different then you expected. Lower and gravelly, with a hint of sadism behind it.

“How about this? You take a picture with me, and I’ll let you go.” He offered, gesturing to the closed exit gate.

“I-I can’t trust you.” You stuttered nervously, unsure of what to do. Your gut is telling you to run, but you hesitate. “You can’t, but what choice do you have? You could run away, and I’ll definitely catch and kill you, or you can take one little picture with me, and escape to your friends.”

He did have a point, and there wasn’t much else you could do, but you had a bad feeling about this. The bell rung once again, the ground starting to tremble even more this time.

“You don’t have much time, honey. Your clock is starting to run out. Tick, tock, tick-”

“Okay, fine. I’ll do it. Just one picture.” Seeming satisfied with your answer, Ghostface broke the pallet between you two, walking over to you. He threw an arm around you, holding up a peace sign with his armed hand, while he held up the camera in the other. “Say cheese.”

You made an attempt to smile, staring at the camera, and feeling your eyes struggled to adjust from the sudden flash. He pulled away from you, looking at the picture. “Aw, you blinked, let’s take another.”

Before you could protest, he held up his camera, this time jamming his knife into your side, twisting it so it cut deep, causing you to let out a shriek of pain. You collapsed to the ground, feeling the blood begin to pour from your side, and a searing pain in your gut.

“Awww that’s a shame. Looks like you’re not going to make it. It’s a nice picture though. I’ll have to keep it as a souvenir to our new friendship.” He crouched in front of you, showing you the picture as your vision began to blur, and the timer slowly ran out. “Until next time, sweetheart.”

#dead by deadlight #dbd #dbd killer #dbd x reader #dbd jed olsen #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #dbd danny johnson #danny johnson dbd #danny johnson x reader #dbd danny #danny johnson #dbd ghostface #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #killer x reader #killer x you #dbd survivor

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swan-of-sunrise · 2 years ago

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My Current WIP’s!

Hi there! Now that I’ve finished my latest Spellbinding interlude, I thought that I should give you guys a little sneak peek at what stories I’ve been working on and what you can expect me to upload in the future 💖

1. Stumblin’ In (Book VI: Endgame): I’m halfway finished with the first chapter, so expect to be seeing Steve and Booksmart again very soon (Hopefully you guys have recovered from that Infinity War ending, 'cause there's a lot more angst coming your way 😈).

2. Spellbinding: I’ve begun writing Loki and the Cosmic Sorceress’ wedding and an interlude that I thought would be relatively short is already at one thousand words and our bride and groom haven’t even walked down the aisle yet lol it’ll be a fantastic wedding, though!

3. Tales from the SSR/Specs and the Flyboy: The next one-shot in this ongoing series is gonna be great, it's a sting operation that'll have our favorite SSR agents going undercover to take down the crime organization that was buying weapons from the Secret Empire; I've already begun outlining it and I can’t wait to begin writing it!

4. What The World Needs Now...: Okay, the response I've gotten for my Charles Xavier X Reader one-shot is INSANE, I had no idea that there were so many Professor X fans out there! I've started brainstorming different ideas for a Part 2 but haven't settled on anything definitive yet, so just keep an eye out for that!

Along with these three ongoing series and my little X-Men story, I've begun working on three different one-shots: A Cobb Vanth X Reader, a Kate Bishop X Reader and a Matt Murdock X Reader, all three of which I'm excited to work on for different reasons. Cobb Vanth is such a charming character and I'm looking forward to writing something inspired by classic Western films because the genre fits him so well, I've never written a wlw one-shot before but I'm excited to give it a shot and to have Kate Bishop be the first of many ladies I end up writing for in the future, and I've just begun watching Netflix's Daredevil (I know, I'm very late to the party lol) and I'm already in love with Matt Murdock. All three are in various stages of progress so there's no telling when they'll be out, but I promise that they'll be out eventually 😊

So yeah, that's pretty much it. Which stories or one-shots are you guys looking forward to? Let me know and don't forget to give my fanfiction masterlist a like, I always update it after posting a new work! (Sorry that this isn't a true sneak peek @mostclevermiss but I hope that you like it regardless!)

#stumblin' in #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #spellbinding #loki x reader #tales from the ssr #specs and the flyboy #jack thompson x reader #taking care of business #din djarin x reader #cobb vanth x reader #kate bishop x reader #matt murdock x reader #charles xavier x reader #strategic scientific reserve #marvel cinematic universe

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221bshrlocked · 3 years ago

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Get on my Lap

December Writing Challenge 2021

Day 9 - Sledding || biting wind, cold noses, and laughter.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Soft Steve.

Words: 1425

A/N: Oh god how I've missed him. Also, this blog doesn't believe in Infinity War and Endgame. As far as I'm concerned, the Avengers still all live in the tower.

It shouldn’t have been such a terrifying concept but as you looked down the relatively small hill and saw how quickly everyone else was sliding down the snow, you realized that this was much worse than you initially thought. You can vaguely hear Peter screaming at the top of his lungs because of how hard Sam pushed him down and you’re not sure if his mixed screams and laughter are making you feel better or worse. When you look down and see how badly your hands are shaking, you realize that this might not be the best thing to do right now. Before you can think about it any more, you let go of the sled in your hands and walk away from everyone.

As you rest against one of the large trees and look across the field, you smile when you notice Bucky and Sam throwing snowballs at Peter and Natasha. She seems calmer than usual but as soon as she leans down and makes her own snowballs, you laugh at how quickly Sam and Bucky run away from her. It’s all you need to see for your anxiety to calm a little, but as the cold New York wind picks up again, you quickly zip up your parka and try to fix your scarf so it covers your nose as well.

“You alright there sweetheart?” Steve’s concerned voice snaps you out of your haze and you nod quickly just as you turn away from him, knowing that one look into your eyes will let him know that you’re lying.

“Talk to me,” his soft tone makes you wish he wasn’t able to read people so easily and as soon as you turn around and look at him, you find his baby blue eyes much brighter than you remember. The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat but you have to remind yourself that he was just a friend and that he was probably never going to be anything more. You smile when he steps around you and shoves your shoulder with his own to try and get you to talk with him.

“This is going to sound stupid, but apparently, I have a few of sledding. And before you say anything, I realized said fear approximately five minutes ago.” You avoid looking at him and instead shift your attention to Nat as she smacks Sam right in the face with one of his snowballs.

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Steve says but you shake your head at him so he doesn’t say anything else.

“Come one Steve, you and I both know how pathetic it is. I’m an Avenger for fuck’s sake, this is the easiest thing I’ll do all week.” You finally meet his gaze and find him raising a curious eyebrow at your choice in words. “Sorry, I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar when we get back.” You pout as you kick the snow beneath your feet.

“I’m afraid of the ferris wheel. I- I don’t like how high they go, or how often the car swings back and forth even if you’re just sitting there and not moving a muscle. It’s so easy for things to go wrong.” He shrugs his shoulders when he sees the shock on your face.

“I- I didn’t know.” You whisper as he mirrors your actions and kicks a rock far away from him.

“Come on, I have an idea,” Steve doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he takes your hands and moves back to the rest of the group. You shouldn’t be surprised by how warm his hands are, considering the serum and everything but you still shiver when you feel your own skin begin to heat up.

“Steve, I really don’t think pushing me down is going to help.” You try to distract him, afraid of how you might react if he goes ahead with whatever he has in mind for you.

“I’d never do that to you doll,” the pet name makes you gasp and you avoid looking at him as he lets go of your hand and grabs his own sled. He gets on it quickly and holds his hand out for you.

“What?” You stare at his hand and try to figure out what he’s trying to do.

“Get on my lap.” Your eyes widen in embarrassment at the declaration and you look around to make sure he wasn’t pranking you or something.

“You’re joking.” You try to chuckle but when Steve tilts his head and shakes his head, you realize that he might actually be serious.

“Go on sweetheart, get on my lap. I promise to protect you if anything happens.” He smiles brightly at you and you suddenly feel your face heat up at the soft gesture. Well, your nose is still fucking cold but you ignore how uncomfortable it is.

“Steve I-”

“Do you trust me?” His question makes you frown and you look at him with anger.

“Of course I trust you, what kind of dumbass question is that?” You forget your fear of his idea for a moment and it’s all Steve needs to lean forward and pull you down until you fall into his lap.

“Then this shouldn’t be a problem.” Steve whispers to you as he fixes your leg and forces you to wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t budge.

“You ready doll?” The question is a little more intimate than you care to admit but you nod nonetheless and shut your eyes just as he begins to move the sled down the hill. There is a moment of absolute silence as you prepare for the wind to hit your face and as soon as you feel the sled moving down the hill, you unintentionally open your eyes to see what you were ultimately going to crash into.

Instead, you find that the motion isn’t as bad as you originally thought it would be and before you know it, the two of you have reached the bottom of the hill.

“See, was that so bad sweetheart?” Steve asks and it takes every ounce of self control in your body to not lean forward and kiss him. You get the sense that Steve might be feeling the exact same thing though when you see him eyeing your lips and licking his bottom one. Before you can think twice of it, you press your cold lips to his cheek and stay there for a few more moments before you pull away.

“T-thank you,” you shy away from his gaze and shift your attention to the hand he has around your waist, silently thanking the heavens that you can blame your elevated heart rate on the cold temperature and the adrenaline rush and not anything else.

“You’re welcome, but I think we should go again until you can do it by yourself.” He clears his throat but continues to look at you.

“M-maybe I don’t want to go by myself…”

You let the words sink in, hoping that he would understand what you’re trying to say without you actually letting him know of your feelings. When he slips his hand underneath your chin to tilt it up, you shut your eyes to collect your thoughts so you could muster up the courage to look at him.

“Whatever you need baby,” his voice is barely louder than a whisper and you slowly lean into his space when you see him shutting his eyes and moving towards you.

A sudden smack to your back and his head abruptly ends the little moment the two of you are in and as you rub his head to get rid of the snow, you look up and see everyone staring at the two of you. You narrow your eyes at Nat and Bucky, only to find yourself getting pushed up to your feet by a very irritated Steve.

“You know what fuckers, you’re going to wish you didn’t do that.” His voice is a little menacing but you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up your throat when you see him quickly forming snowballs and running up the hills behind them. All of them scatter quickly and you laugh even harder when you see genuine fear on Peter’s face.

As the sound of screams and swears and laughter fills the air, you finally let out a sigh of relief, and you quickly thank your brain for having an irrational fear or else you and Steve would have never shared the moment.

#aerynwritesDC21 #dwc21 #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #captain america #captain america/reader #captain america x reader #marvel #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction

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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

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happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

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