#crossfire king rambles

[unholyhelbig]

Ronance prompt idea…. (Extremely wholesome and fluffy edition) The squad (include whoever you want in this) go to a fair/carnival playing games eventually Nancy really wants to go on the Ferris wheel except nobody really seems interested, even Robin is hesitant but reluctantly goes with Nancy anyway (because feeeelings) Nancy and Robin are on the Ferris wheel when it gets stuck … like actually stuck and Robin is freaking out (because guess what friends she’s afraid of heights) and Nancy is asking her why she got on the Ferris wheel if she was afraid of heights which sends Robin into a rambling mess and Nancy figures the best distraction from both the Ferris wheel situation and her overthinking is to kiss her (because secretly Nancy had liked Robin too)

[A/N: I totally loved this prompt, thank you for sending it my way, and I'm sorry it took so long to get it done!]

TW: Heights, and probably awful grammar, I didn't proofread this.

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Single Rider | Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler

Robin Buckley had long since resigned to the fact that she couldn’t list her fears on all ten of her fingers. There were the normal things; like talking too loud in a quiet room, or the painted faces of smiling clowns. Of course, she had a fear of spiders, and bats but not because of their small teeth, she had read that you could barely feel a bite, but she wouldn’t risk a bite for fear of rabies.

 She loved to read and had read that less than 1/10th of bats in the United States actually had rabies but she was counting that if one sunk their fangs into her flesh, it would be that small margin.

Despite all of this, Robin knew how to have fun. Of course, she constantly thought about what she was touching and the texture that was under her fingertips, and the loud noises around her- but it was easy to melt into normalcy around Steve, Eddie, and Nancy.

The carnival in town had four things she was afraid of- Public restrooms, faulty machinery, Carnies that didn't wash their hands after scratching their junk, and most palpable- heights.

The thick scent of dripping caramel and freshly popped corn coated her throat and made her stomach clench as they stopped below the bulb-lit arch at the entrance of the carnival. They stared down an aisle of poorly constructed stands loitered with cheap stuffed animals, men, and women shouting to patrons.

A rickety rollercoaster that consisted of one solid loop was off to the right, and something called the scrambler that sprung its riders in three different directions was on the left. Looming over the entire pop-up park was a Ferris Wheel, flicking its red, white, and blue lights in a mesmerizing swirl. There was no way in hell Robin was ever going to step foot on something like that. 

Nancy Wheeler’s face lit up under the mix of spectacle lights, a purple haze bouncing off her curls. She looked like a kid in a candy store, even excitedly gripping at Robin’s cold fingers in a squeeze of trust. Eddie shoved his shoulder into Steve’s, laughing excitedly.

“I bet I can win more goldfish than the king of Hawkins High,” Eddie said.

“No fucking way, Munson.”

There was a dangerous look in Steve’s eyes before he took off, kicking up the loosely packed dirt and shoving through the mothers and fathers, and children that were caught in the crossfire. Eddie wasn’t far behind, right at the heels until they blended in with the crowd.

“Well damn,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms over her chest “They’re not going to have anywhere to put twenty goldfish.”

Nancy Laughed “Better than here, come on, let’s go play some games.”

Robin opened her mouth to object. They were all a farce, rigged by the carnies working them with golden smiles and darkened eyes. But she caught the smile on Nancy’s lips and all annoyance dissipated into thin air. She would move mountains for this woman, but the least she could do now was play ring toss.

Nancy wicked her hand around the sleeve of Robin’s jacket, keeping track of her movements as they weaved through the crowd. Despite the cloying cold of the night, she felt sweat against her collarbone, in her palm, damp with nerves. Nancy had led her to the stand closest to the Ferris Wheel. It loomed in its innate steepness.

She had chosen a game with four metal water guns pointed at a comically disproportionate target. Wooden cut-outs of clowns smiled at them, tipped down when the small chamber filled with enough water.

Robin patted her coat pocket and produced two red paper tickets to the bored man behind the counter who smelled strongly of liquor and perspiration. He chewed on the flat end of a toothpick, shifting it to one side of his mouth. “Alright, ladies, you each get a gun, you each get a clown.”

“Don’t worry, Rob, you’ve got this.”

Nancy had said those words, and Robin was sure of it, but she was too focused on the intense look on the shorter girl’s face, the way her stance changed as if she were firing a shotgun instead of a metal shooter at the Hawkins annual summer fair. Robin had seen Nancy shoot before, and the small part of her that hoped she would be able to produce a stuffed animal from the prize bin shrunk.

A bell sounded and Nancy polished her aim in three seconds flat. Robin stumbled with the singular button on the gun and ended up splashing the carnie on the far side of the booth. He mumbled profanities and her cheeks reddened. Nancy’s clown dropped with a sickening pre-recorded laugh.

“That’s time!” The carnie yelled.

Robin dropped her arms with a laugh. There was no game of physical skill that she would best Nancy in. Unlike Eddie, who had some form of coordination when it came to certain games that relied on something more than chance.

Nancy pushed her shoulder into Robin’s and gratefully accepted the small stuffed Elephant that was passed to her. “I’m going to name her Robin, I think.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not, Wheeler.”

“Of course, it is!” Nancy’s eyes moved past Robin’s shoulder and locked in on the patriotic spiral that spun in the center of the Ferris Wheel. It reflected off the brilliant blue of her eyes, and the pale coloring of her cheeks. Robin felt her stomach drop despite the beauty of the view.

Robin turned and stared up at the monstrosity. She had a general rule when it came to her fear of heights: don’t look up at it, and most certainly don’t look down. Both had the same effect of turning her stomach into knots.

“We should totally do the Ferris Wheel, it’s a beautiful night.”

“Ah,” Robin cupped the back of her neck, finding it damp “I don’t know, Nance. What if you go up with Steve?”

“What about Steve?” The jock held a soft pretzel in his left hand, wrapped in a small parchment paper. A glob of orange artificial cheese was drizzled across the top, muddying his fingers. He took a bite and chewed through the rest of his statement. “All good things, I hope.”

“I was just telling Robin here that it’s impossible for you to join me on the Ferris Wheel.”

“Oh, yeah, no I’m not doing that.” He took another bite, “upchuck city. Every year I barf off the side of that thing.”

Great. This was fantastic. She couldn’t bare to see the way Nancy’s face would drop if she had to be escorted to the front of the line and paired with a stranger who reeked of popped kettle corn. More than anything, Robin hated the feeling of missing out on a moment like this because of a fear of heights.

Still, she gave Eddie a pleading look. He just shook his head and took a long sip of his lemonade. He was wielding a pink stuffed rabbit, hugging it close to his body as if he had been the one to win the ring toss. Neither of them carried a fish, so Robin had a sneaking suspicion that it had been surrendered for a different prize.

“What do you say, Robin?” She held up the elephant, lowering her voice in a cartoonish way. “I’ll go too.”

She nodded, and God, she can’t believe she nodded. But the smile that spread across Nancy’s face made up for the influx of fear that clawed at her throat. The line was on the tail end of loading up, sparing Robin the wait to change her mind- and she would have changed her mind.

They were in a red embossed cart that had more room than Robin had anticipated. The worker smelled of mint instead of liquor, so she took that as a good sign that it wasn’t being drunkenly operated. A bar moved across her lap and was strapped in with a metal clink.

She felt herself tense, but then felt the warmth of Nancy’s hand in her own. There was a comforting squeeze, Robin’s eyes moving from their interlocked fingers up to Nancy’s calming stare.

When the Ferris Wheel begins its ascent, Robin thinks that all of this would actually be okay. She began to loosen her stance, first staring at the rows of tents and vendors, the lights that sparkled beneath them, a man setting up fireworks, a crowd on the edge of their seats in anticipation.

Past that was the entirety of Hawkins, a blanket of stars that flickered as its patrons read books and ate dinner around the table. The town seemed so small from up here, higher than Robin had ever been. The Ferris Wheel looped around twice in an even motion before slowing to a stop at the very top.

That’s when Robin remembered all her fears, but especially the ones related to heights. Her eyes flicked down to the metals interworking of the wheel below them, a cold wind reddening her cheeks.

“Uh, why are you stopped?” She managed to ask, turning around and then steadying herself again when the cart started to sway with her movement. “Oh my god, we’re going to die.”

Nancy chuckled, “We’re not going to die, they usually stop it for a few seconds before lettings us off. Isn’t it lucky we’re on the top?”

“Yeah… Lucky.”

Robins swallowed hard as Nancy noticed her demeanor. They had both noticed a second worker joining the first one down at the base of the wheel. Eddie and Steve looked so small down there, both staring up at them and carrying a conversation, pink bunny still in Eddie’s grasp.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice was tender, quiet “What’s wrong? It’ll be back up and running in no time.”

Robin swallowed hard, looking at the worry creased in Nancy’s features. “I’m afraid of heights. Not like, deathly afraid to the point where I couldn't get on an airplane. We go to Virginia every year for Christmas, and I have to take two Benadryl so I sleep through the entire thing, but I thought I could handle the Ferris Wheel because you know, 212 feet is way more manageable than 33,000 feet.”

Nancy moved carefully, gripping Robin’s cheeks with the warmth of her hands. It helped her focus less on the height at which they were stuck and more on the even touch that she so desperately leaned into.

“Robin,” She whispered, “Why the hell did you agree to get on the Ferris Wheel if you’re afraid of heights?”

Robin could feel her heart in her throat. She wished she had popped a pink pill for allergies. Instead, she took a deep breath of Nancy’s floral perfume. She could see the light smattering of freckles against Nancy’s nose, her cheeks. She felt weaker than she had before being conned onto the Ferris Wheel of death.

“I,” her mouth was dry, a strange cracking noise coming from below them. “Fuck!”

“Focus on me, alright?” Nancy pulled Robin’s face back inches from hers.

“You wanted to go; I thought I could handle it.”

Robin could not, in fact, handle it. Each time her stare would drift down to the tightly packed dirt that the Ferris Wheel was haphazardly bolted into, she knew she couldn’t handle it. But then there was Nancy’s expression, taking in what Robin had just said.

This might have been worse than the fact that they were stranded so high up. Nancy had a look of confusion that dripped slowly into admiration, and then something more. Robin couldn’t focus hard enough to read it like she usually did.

The wind had picked up and goosebumps rose against her skin. Nancy took a calculated breath and closed the distance between them. Robin was stunned, frozen, yet compliant. The kiss was gentle and tender, Robin’s hands found solace on Nancy’s waist, breathing every inch of her in.

They pulled apart as the Ferris Wheel groaned into submission, starting it’s slow turn back to the ground. Her bones felt weak. Nancy sighed with contentment and turned forward, using the edge of her thumb to wipe the corner of her mouth.

Robin felt a twinge of guilt for not covering the stuffed elephants’ eyes.

 Her legs were barely about her as the attendant unlocked their bar and released them. She used the railing to steady herself, wrapped up in the joint spew of words that came from Eddie and Steve’s mouths.

“We never thought you’d get down,”

“The guys working this thing are idiots.”

“Are you okay?” Steve ended, eyeing Robin with suspicion. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, totally fine.” She rasped, hugging the won prize close “Just not used to heights, I guess.”

[demonprincezeldris]

Who's in the mood for angst? Doesn't matter cause you're getting it.

Rough idea, more rambly than anything but eh. The day I am coherent is the day I stop wearing funny graphic tee's. Which is never.

Anyways. So we all know that pack breakers are The Worst. It's basically The Worst Thing You Can Do. Ever.

(I headcannon that there's a way to formally, politely leave a pack, for various reasons. Some are serious, like abuse, while others are simply 'we no longer get along' or 'I don't feel I fit this pack' and is usually talked through. There's no shame or stigma -but that's a whole other thing. I digress.)

So naturally what Meliodas did was a terrible thing. But... what if... it had been to protect his pack? And ultimately, his clan as well? He had developed a friendship with Elizabeth, and they both learned of something both sides were planning on that, separately, would be devastating but together could cause such a monolithic catastrophe that they had to do something to stop it!

(Could be something else, anyone who has idea's is welcome to use them!)

They needed a way to stop, or at least stall, so these two things wouldn't clash. The stalemate was growing old and both sides were getting restless, if they launched off with those plans right from the get-go? At least half of all clans would be lost, more of those caught in the crossfire (humans, fairies and giants especially since they all lived on earth, just the bleed-out and after-effects would cripple the other realms).

There wasn't any way the Demon King would even consider a hearing or diplomatic party from the Celestial Realm. He certainly wouldn't hold off on the plan, either, and would probably push it forward out of spite. The Supreme Deity might, if for no other reason than appearances, but there would need to be quite the offering. Again the Demon King would never accept any demon acting in any diplomatic sense, except for maybe sabotage or an ambush.

The Supreme Deity also wouldn't allow anyone to go on such a mission, even with the current stalemate. But would at least pretend to be more reasonable. Things were quickly coming to a boil, with more skirmishes, an increase in arms and armour being commissioned, taxes and tithes and resources being gathered and prepared.

There wasn't any time. So Meliodas and Elizabeth planned, and schemed, and came to an agreement. With his instincts screaming, he released the prisoners of the Stigma Alliance, and helped them escape, taking the plans for the terrible strategy along with him. Everything inside him roiling and protesting at abandoning his pack, but every time he thinks of doing nothing or going back on this plan or trying something different that he knows probably won't work-

Well, safe to say that soul-deep agony was preferable.

He didn't have time to tell them, and even if he did... if his father, if anyone, found out that they knew? Or had even suspected? He didn't even want to know, though he had a fair idea of what might happen. They also needed to stay behind to protect the clan, and this -them hating him and hurting for his betrayal- was the perfect motivator.

He does take Elizabeth as a mate, partly because he does consider her pack, and because it was her idea. Another link to help protect him against any of her own kind who might strike against them. Plus plenty of other reasons. Once things had settled and the war ended, they would annul the mating. They do love each other, but not as mates, and she declared that if the Commandments never take him back (which he believes they absolutely won't), then she'll become a member of his new pack. Friends. And with any luck they'll be able to end the war in their lifetime.

If only things had gone that way.

I love this angst!

I feel like the interaction between Zeldris and Meliodas would be a lot more angsty. (I'm gonna make it angsty-)

When Meliodas reveals his plan, Zeldris tears up. "You're leaving, brother?" Meliodas gave him a sad smile. He reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry Zel. As much as I don't want to do this, I have to. I'm doing this to protect you."

"By leaving us? Your own pack? Your own brother!" Zeldris cried.

[clockwork-cryptid]

Another thing that my dad brought home: 9 liters of my favorite lemonade soda, 1 liter of lime soda, 1 liter coke, and 11-12 FUCKING LITERS OF ICE CREAM

[sapphire-knight]

Welcome to a new episode of Sapphire Rambles, today's topic being:

Just as c!Tommy is a simbol of Care, c!Fundy is a simbol of Love.

Let me explain.

(There are going to be 3 principal points to this rant, and each of them is gonna end with a Tl;dr in purple, so it's easier to follow)

If you're a regular in the Fundy tag (or in the Ranboo tag since this argument gets often brought up in relation to C!Ranboo), you might have already seen some rants talking about how C!Fundy is an incredibly loving person, willing to chase after the people he care about if he sees the tiniest hint that mending their relationship is possible, even if they hurted him in the past.

Yeah you are going to see the same argument again here in the first part, but I promise this gets interesting

This became more clear after the Break, when he decided to try and mend his relationship with Philza and Ranboo even if they weren't at all on good terms at the moment, but he thought it was worth it so he tried and will keep on trying anyways, but we have examples of Fundy's really loving and forgiving nature back to the Revolutionary era

Everyone knows about Eret's betrayal I'm sure, but one thing people seem to skim over is how it effected Fundy, because there's the really high possibility that he was the one who was hurted the most by it.

For everyone who has some spotty memory (me too sometimes fam), Eret was the closest person to Fundy at the time, the two being really close friends, so the betrayal must have had a terrible effect on his emotional health, but you know how it went?

It went that Fundy was the first person to reach out to Eret and start to forgive his actions. Fundy always valued his friendships above the side he was in. So even tho he was a L'manburg abitant, he still thought of Eret as a dear friend to him and did his best to not make them feel alone or isolated

There are really few examples of people Fundy actually has an issue with, but even here Hate is a strong and mostly wrong word to apply, for example:

- Wilbur: as we are shown in the interactions with Ghostbur, Fundy didn't hate Wilbut for how he neglected and patronized him, it made him upset (as we saw when Ghostbur called him "his little champion" and he ran away) but he never hated Wilbur for that. The only thing he didn't forgive him was deciding to die, leaving him. And his issue with Ghostbur is not aknowledging or taking responsability. But he doesn't hate Ghostbur, he can talk to him in a civil manner even if the Ghost pretty much upsets him. And about Wilbur? Fundy loved Wilbur, the thing that hurted him was he taking the decision to definitivly leave him.

- Technoblade: even before Doomsday, the correct word of Fundy's feelings towards Techno has never been Hate, but Fear. A lot of people seemed to miss this point about the Butcher Army as a whole, but they weren't move by hate, even if they tried to make it look like they were. They were terrified. On their way to Techno's house, it was more clear than ever that they were TERRIBLY afraid of Techno. The Butcher army was never a movement of hate, but a bad reaction to a traumatic event that scarred them with fear. Also, after the Break? Fundy understands why Techno wanted L'manburg gone, so he doesn't hate him for that.

- Jschlatt: if you followed Fundy's pov, it won't be a surprise me saying that Fundy doesn't hate Jschlatt, but it may be news to other people, since one of the last interaction between the two was... anything but positive. I still shiver at the caravan scene. But even after all he's done, Fundy can't bring himself to completly hate Jschlatt, even if he did a lot of horrible things and was a horrible person, he still doesn't hate him. Fundy took with him Jschlatt's sword, keeping it as a relic and a memory of the man.

There is no one in the server, probably not even Dream Himself, that Fundy full-on hates. No matter how much they hurted him and everyone else, he just. Doesn't hate them. He's able to see the humanity in everyone, even if he wishes he could just hate people that wronged him. He was always forgiving and loving, these two aspects of him becoming even more prominent after his Break.

Tl;dr: Fundy is a character incredibly full of love and almost always willing to forgive and mend relationships with people he cares about at the moment he sees the possibility.

Now that I got the part most talked about out of the way, I'm taking the second tangent. Let's talk about Self-love.

It's not news the fact that there are really few characters, if not actually none of them, who love themselves. Might it be for trauma or for guilt, none of the characters actually love themself and act out of self-love.

Sometimes there are characters that act for themselves, but that is different from acting out of self-love.

Acting for themselves means doing something to achieve an objective that you want, for example: Eret's betrayal.

Eret betrayed L'Manburg becayse he was promised the role of King of the SMP by Dream, she acted out of her wish for power and control. That's an example of acting for yourself.

Acting out of self-love means doing something with the only cardinal reason being that it's good for you, taking care of yourself doing something that makes you feel better and healthier. That is acting out of self-love.

And, if you look at the server, you can easily see that no one has ever done that, expect for one single time.

The closest wrong thing you might be thinking off right now is when Tommy escaped from exile, but that was not an act driven by self-love. Sure, Tommy saved himself and went towards a healthier mindset, but what drove him towards that direction was not a desire to be better and good for himself, but rage towards Dream and a desire to be back to his family and friends.

You know what the only act that could possibly be out os self-love is?

Fundy going away for a years and a half, taking a break from everyone

Think about it for a second. Why did he do that? Let's start putting away the wrong possibilities:

- Doing it for someone: Fundy at the moment was heavily spiraling towards paranoia, wanting to be a villain to make everyone hate him. If that was his mindset at the time, why would he even want to get a break for anyone?

- Having a second cause: what second cause could there be for a choice like getting away from an unhealthy situation to heal? The only second reason a choice like this could have is healing to help someone else heal when you're feeling better, but refer to the last point

- ... that's virtually it

The only reason that could have caused Fundy to decide to take a break from the whole situation because it was unhealthy and heal was because he wanted to heal. For himself. He genuinly wanted himself to feel better for the only reason being, simply, feeling better.

Fundy is the only character for now to have ever taken an important choice for making himself feel better and letting himself heal.

Tl;dr: Fundy taking the year and a half break was the only decision on the entire SMP taken only out of self-love and genuine desire to feel better for the sole reason of feeling better.

Fundy is a representation of love, in any shape or form. He is unapologetically full of love and care, both for himself and for the people around him.

Anyway, the third part is a theory, if younwill kindly follow me:

The above analysis is the exact reason why the Egg causes Fundy an extreme repulsion.

Since both Fundy and Tubbo said that the Egg seems connected to Dreamons, I'm going to roll with that idea in mind.

As we all know, one of the only known weaknesses of a Dreamon is Love and this Dreamon seems to be acting and controlling people out of wishes and desires.

Fundy should be a perfect candidate for the Egg to manipulate, isn't he? One of Fundy's most known characteristic is his research for love, affection and appreciation from people, and we know the egg has no problem using love to manipulate someone, because he is manipulating Bbh using his (platonic?) love for Skeppy against him.

So why the egg would cause a repulsing reaction to Fundy?

Tommy seems immune because he doesn't wish for anything right now, he has everything that he wants

Tubbo also has a repulsive reaction, but is not a hateful reaction but one driven by fear and sadness, the Egg purposefully trying to scare him away, probably to make him unable to fight against him

But why Fundy's reaction would be full-on hate?

I think the egg was trying to do with Fundy the same thing he's doing with Tubbo, scaring him so badly to drive them to the point where they cannot fight back out of complete fear, but it's not working.

It's not working because the Egg fears Fundy, fears how full of pure, unfiltered and unapologetic love his heart is, fears how he's the living representation of the fact that love, of any kind, is the strongest emotion out there. Fundy already was able to defeat a Dreamon because of his own love, and now that he's more emotionally stable and has decided to follow his heart more, mending relationship with people he loves even if they hurt him?

Fundy is an incredibly dangerous threat to the Egg.

So fear is not enough to keep the fox away, he cannot let him anywhere near his plans.

He fears that if he tried the fear treatment on Fundy, Fundy would be able to break out of the web of terror as soon as someone he loved was caught in the crossfire

So he tried pushing him away in a different way, using hate instead of fear, because since Fundy is such a love-driven person all around, the best way to keep him away is to use hate, just like Tubbo is often driven by hope and optimism, so the best way to keep him far fron where he could be a danger is to use sadness and fear.

Tl;dr: The Egg is making Fundy hate him because that's the only emotion that could actually keep Fundy away from him, because he, being a Dreamon, fears how full of love Fundy is.

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter I | Raul Mendes

                                           *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Helloo, this is the first chapter of this series and I'm super excited about it. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. I plan on posting a chapter weekly, which means new chapter every Thursday (and maybe a sneak peak every monday). Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like it as much as I did. I'll stop rambling now, byee. Happy Reading!

                                                     masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 3.4K+;

*Warnings:  cursing, descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, hostage situation and a whole lot of teasing. Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings. 

*Posted: July 1st, 2021.

                                                     -*-

Raul Mendes was a pain in the ass. Y/N loves him way too much for her own good, but he was a pain in the nonetheless. 

He was the only person she knew who could be in a possible life-or-death situation and still make fun of her through their communicators. And sure, that made the whole thing lighter and less scary, and sure, he was the best agent she’s ever met, but damn did he get on her nerves. And Raul always knew how to get her frustrated or squirming, he enjoyed it more than he was willing to admit. Sure, they’ve been friends for a long time and she should be used to him, but it never got easier. The fact he had a killer smile, the looks of a legit greek god and had this whole tough guy exterior, but secretly had a soft spot for her did not make her case any less complicated.

Y/N and Raul knew each other ever since they’re basically born. Their parents met when they worked together at a company of secret agents, it was only a small corporation back then, and they were known as the best agents at the time. After they retired from field missions and eventually desk jobs, they became only advisers and emergency contacts. But despite that, they kept their friendship going though all the years and that’s how Y/N was introduced to the triplets. They’re always together, doing everything with each other and protecting themselves. And of course she loved Peter and Shawn with her whole heart, they’re like family to her, but Raul was different. Y/N wished it wasn’t, but there are certain things in life you can’t exactly control. Like falling in love with your best friend.

And it’s not like she stood a chance, to be honest. Regardless of his looks, he treated her like she hung the moon and stars on the sky. Sure, he was a tough guy, who rode motorcycles and wore leather jackets, and wouldn’t admit alive that he cried while watching Lion King. But he took care of her when she was upset or having a bad period, he would take her driving around town at midnight on random occasions just because he knew it would make her feel better, and would always be so mindful of everything involving her. And yeah, he teased her endlessly, but it was part of it and in reality, Y/N didn’t mind it that much. 

So when they started growing older and decided to follow their parents career, it only made sense they trained their asses off and got the job together. The company their parents worked for grew a lot, a team that was originally formed by 15 agents turned into a massive business, with over 100 employees, doing various functions. Shawn was picked for a more diplomatic field, always in meetings with important people and traveling around the world. Peter became a tech engineer, developing the coolest gadgets and weapons imaginable, something out of Totally Spies! Raul was clearly a field agent, an expert on body combat and weapons, best out of the four when it came to their physical test. And Y/N was the one who guided the operations, the hacker and responsible for strategies, also for the tech part and best sniper out of the three of them. 

That made her and Raul an unbeatable team and the best duo ever. Their chemistry on the field was recognized by their bosses on the first week, basically glueing them together for every future mission and it worked. For the company. But it only dug her little crush deeper on Y/N’s heart. And obviously no one knew it. She was a spy for fucks sake, she knew how to lie and she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Raul didn’t date, working on this field made  everyone’s love life a bit harder than it was already, and he never seemed interested enough in anyone with the same career to have a long lasting relationship with. That didn’t mean there where a lot of people interested, which made Y/N’s heart twist in her chest. 

“Sweetheart, you still with me?” Raul’s voice came through her earpiece bringing her back to reality.

“Of course I am, you idiot, I take this job really seriously” Y/N replied rolling her eyes as if she didn’t just daydreamed a bit. 

“Oh sorry, doll, didn’t mean to insult you hard working” he chuckled “but could you please check in the corridor number 6, half the team is heading down there right now”

“Sure” she quickly typed on her computer changing cameras really quickly, perks of being Peter’s best friend is that she could usually take extra stuff and the newest gadgets on the market “It’s clear and, by the way, you look pathetic with this glasses”

Raul laughed clearly amused, throwing his middle finger up in the air in the direction of the security camera he found “Oh really? Tell that to Peter, he’s the one who created them” 

“Technically their still a prototype, so make sure to let him know”

Raul scoffed playfully as he climbed another set of stairs, the man and woman with him following without questioning, used to his ways of leading “Of course, I’m sure he’ll like to hear your fashion critiques to his million dollar glasses”

“I’ll write it down, now careful, you’re approaching the level where they’re at”

“Sure, mom, I’m always careful” he said in a hushed tone signaling to his teammates to keep quiet and try to find the possible security team they left to watch the hostage.

“Shut up” Y/N said trying to hold back the smile from stretching her lips, already letting the airway team know to be ready to pick them up as they approached their target. 

They’re currently in the middle of a mission where they needed to recover another agent who got caught up in an ambush two weeks ago, and now they’re being kept as a hostage. Raul’s leading a team to retrieve the agent as quickly and as silently as they could, two with him and three other on the opposite side to meet halfway. All that while Y/N’s on the under construction building across the street seated among her gear, gun in hand following their every step and guiding them through the camera system and the big windows that other building had. It’s not the worst mission they’ve ever been, no apparent violence or blood bath, just a simple rescue mission, but they still felt a little jittery and always worried about each other’s lives. And through the years, they noticed that their copying mechanism to make this less stressful (at least a tiny bit) was through light banter and jokes. That somehow brought a bit of normality to their very non ordinary job. 

Y/N did her best to keep them hidden while they crashed into the building as quietly as possible, trying go unnoticeable since they didn’t have enough munition or people on the tactic team. It would also prevent them from moving the target around or opening fire. And despite the fact Raul kept on trying to joke around and that she’s been doing this for at least four years, the fact that they’re working with a less experienced and fresh out of the academy crew made her a little jittery. Not that she didn’t trust Raul to command everything and boss everyone around if things got messy, she just didn’t want him to get in the middle of a crossfire again. 

He had the terrible habit of playing the hero in the most inconvenient times, like when they were little and a guy twice his size, with three friends mocked her pigtails. He didn’t stand a chance, but he went after them anyway. They ended up having to run as fast as they could so they wouldn’t end up with a black eye or something. And that was nothing compared to the stupid shit he could do on field. And Y/N couldn’t be more pissed whenever he came home with more bruises then he should just to play Superman or something. Sure, that was admirable and the fact that he put everyone on his team on his top priority was definitely something fantastic for a captain, but not for Y/N’s heart. 

And for that reason, she was always extra careful, but when he had a newbie joining him on the field, Y/N tripled the attention to avoid putting the kid in danger, and, consequently her best friend. 

Raul was quick to take down two man on their level without raising much alarm, grabbing their munition, dragging the unconscious bodies away from where they’d be easily seen and moving forward to another set of stairs. He was a very skillful agent, with great physical development and worked great under pressure, with quick thinking and a natural leader. So it didn’t shock her when he was able to do that as if it was the most natural thing in the planet. While Raul was more of a passionate person, Y/N was more rational, was analyzing every possibility and coming up with creative solution, she was also really cold on work (she just had one exception) and was a quick thinker, great person to rely on. It’s almost as if the complimented each other and that’s why it worked. That’s why when she tells him to shoot, he does without thinking, or to jump, he wouldn’t blink before doing it head first. 

And that’s why they’re able to reach the hostage without much trouble. 

“Told you to chill out, I knew we could make it” he murmured through their coms and she giggled, shaking her head incredulously.

“You should watch the entrances while your teammates take care of the hostage”

“That’s why I have you, sweetheart” he said with his infamous smirk stretching his annoyingly pink lips.

Y/N shook her head when she felt her face warming up a bit, stupid boy “Well, actually I’m pretty busy calling for our ride, so watch your own back this time, you’re a big boy, I’m sure you can do it”

Raul scoffed but did as she say either way “fine, are we clear?”

“On your floor yes, climb three more levels and meet me on this side of the street, don’t stall champ, they’re going to notice there’s something wrong with the cameras and their man who aren’t responding, so be quick”

Raul chuckled as he helped balance the hostage on Roman’s arms and signaling them to climb the stairs again “Yes, ma’am, anything to keep you from frowning and scolding my ass”

Y/N rolled her eyes smiling, sighing in relief that half of their mission was done and it went as smoothly as it could have been “Great, now get your ass out of there now, Raul” 

The tactic team started moving to the floor they’d have access to jump, and everything was going too smoothly to be true, not even a minor inconvenience. And that was not normal, at all. That’s when Y/N started getting worried. 

Everything was great until Seth, from loosing a lot of blood and being severely dehydrated, started loosing his conscious, making Roman’s job a lot more complicated and making everyone move slower. And while that was happening, Y/N saw when one of the guys saw his partners laying limply on the corner of a hallway and finally the pieces clicked. Luckily she was able to caught it quickly enough to be able to mess up their coms, so instead of a dozen men, they’d have to deal with two. She was also quick to let Raul know, so he jumped into action, telling everyone to rush and grabbing Seth’s right side, basically carrying him alongside Roman up the stairwell. 

But as they’re almost reaching the door, Raul heard footsteps rather close, rushing Roman up the rest of the way, warning he’d be right behind him, that he was only to be a bit far back so he could hold whoever was coming. 

He ran downstairs, quickly blocking the door to the staircase with a fire extinguisher, running all the way upstairs to reach his teammates and jump to go home. But as he had just reached the door, his colleagues waiting for him with their gear (and also his) ready to cross to the other building, he felt the barrel of a gun touching the back of his head. Raul raised his hands in surrender, his teammates staring at him with horror in their eyes as they aimed their guns to whoever was behind him, but he knew they couldn’t do much before he got shot. He also knew they’re too young, apart from Roman and Cara, who were both holding Seth up, they weren’t experienced enough to do something like that. But before the person could pull the trigger, they grunted in pain and Raul felt the barrel slipping away. 

He turned around to watch the guy on his back in the floor, clutching to his left ribs, a little pool of blood already forming underneath him and gun long forgotten. Raul looked around to see if it was anyone from this guy’s side or anyone on the stairs, only to be met with silence and a single security camera with the green dot on, meaning Y/N was still in their system. He shook his head in disbelief, dragging the whining man outside of the room, quacking his gun down the stairs and managing to lock the door so they could escape safely. 

“Still with me, baby?” Y/N’s voice teased mimicking the way he said it earlier. 

Raul shook his head with a smirk on his lips, before moving to where his teammates stood still a bit shocked with all that happened in front of them “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you, sweetheart”

“Alright boys, the helicopters are coming for us, meet you all on the roof in three” Y/N said through the coms for the whole team, quickly shifting to a line only the captain, Raul, could hear “and if you dare be late just to make a big entrance or another dramatic scheme you can think about, I swear to God I’ll leave you behind”

“You wouldn’t dare”

“Try me” Y/N sing sang picking up her stuff and quickly shoving them down in her backpack, gathering the rest in her hands before turning around to climb to the rooftop. 

As she climbed the last set of stairs, Y/N saw their helicopters approaching as the seven agents she was waiting for used a special gun to shoot a line to her building, before locking them in place before zip-lining their way to meet her. She helped Seth, the agent that was kept hostage climb up the little wall since he was in a pretty bad shape, throwing his arm across her shoulders and basically dragging him to where they thrown the stair to climb up to the helicopter with the medical team waiting for him. Cara and Roman climbed first since they’re going to report what they saw and assist Seth as best as they could. Roman grabbed him and the rope stair, shouting to pull them up so he could be taken care of. 

Raul was the last one to arrive, as always staying behind to insure everyone got there safely and no one would try to kill them or anything. He graciously climbed the all as if it was nothing, pulling the gun from the string and cutting it so no one could follow them up there that quickly. Raul told everyone to climb onto the helicopter and they’re quick to follow his order, only one person stubbornly waiting for him, as always. He held back the relieved smile from stretching across his features, noticing how warm and relaxed he felt only by seeing Y/N standing besides the hope ladder. She looked worried, a frown on her beautiful face and Raul wanted to smooth his fingers over it as if it would ease all of her troubles away.

She nodded as soon as he was close enough, Raul being quick to pick up the heavy backpack she was carrying and leaving the rest to her “Are you okay?”

“What? Of course, Why do you ask?” he knew why she was asking, hell, his heartbeat was still a bit too fast to be normal, and yeah, partially was because he was standing in front of Y/N, but on the other hand he almost got killed. She only arched her brow at him and he sighed in defeat “Of course I am, doll, you know me, I’m always okay” 

“That’s what’s scares me the most” she said with a sad chuckle and started climbing the rope ladder to the helicopter and Raul was quick to follow behind.

“Dude, that was insane, I can’t believe you didn’t miss or accidentally shot Raul from across the street!” the youngest guy from the mission shouted as soon as they reached them on the vehicle, Raul closing the door behind them. 

Y/N only giggled in response “yeah, a bit crazy, isn’t it?”

“That’s because she’s the best, Tommy, but she won’t believe it” Raul said as he sat on one of the vacant seats, waiting for her to join him. 

“Oh shut it” she said unable to stop the smile from forming.

They kept on talking about the mission for a while, Tommy and the other two kids who recently joined still high from the adrenaline, but Y/N couldn’t be more worn out and Raul was quick to catch it. He leaned closer to her and she automatically laid her head on his shoulder, a movement that was almost mechanic to both of them. He gently grabbed her hand that was placed on her knee and interlaced their fingers together, letting her play with his hand to pass the time. 

Y/N sighed and mumbled after a while, when most of the kids were too distracted to pay attention “Are you really okay? Don’t say that you’re always fine, I mean it”

Raul had mastered the art of the poker face. He could easily be having the worst time of his life, but he would never let it showcase always with a quick sarcastic remark and an easy smirk on his lips, ready to flirt with anyone to distract them from the real problem. Raul was not the best when dealing with feelings and emotions, always thought it was easier to push them away, but Y/N saw right through him. She always did, ever since they were little. After that, he never tried to hide it again from her, always being as honest as he could with her about how he was, and obviously it didn’t always work, but she understood and respected it. It’s not like he needed to say anything for her to know. 

But at the same time, she didn’t know that he would always be fine, as long as she was safe and right next to him, the rest didn’t matter. 

“I promise you I’m fine, you saved my beautiful ass and we’re going home, I’d say we’re fantastic” he said after a while, pressing a long kiss to the back of their laced hands. 

That seemed to be enough to convince Y/N, since she huffed through her nose and let out a tiny giggle, before leaning closer to him and Raul took it as a sign to drape his arm over her shoulder pulling her closer to his chest “your beautiful ass is really annoying, you know that, right?”

“Oh, I do, but you love it anyway” he said with a giggle, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, as she just showed him her middle finger, making him laugh even more. 

Yeah, he was definitely fine. For now. 

                                                     -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

[deathvalleyusa]

day’s eye

Summary: In the eyes of a child named Daisy, Alfie Solomons is a thing of adventure books and mythical tales. As she grows he seems to morph to even more mythical proportions. That is, until Margate shows Daisy just how mortal and human Alfie is. ONE SHOT.

Characters: Alfie Solomons, Child OFC, OFC

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Language, S5 spoilers

A/N: Wrote this a while ago but only recently picked it up again. I had plans to write a fic about Nora (Daisy’s mom) and Alfie but this ended up happening instead lol. x-posted from AO3.

When one grows up without a father, people assume a terrible fate befell him. The War. An accident. Perhaps he had found himself in trouble with one of the many gangs that ran the streets of every city on British soil. His absence could be explained away.

When one grows up without a mother, death is often called upon as the excuse as well. Childbirth. Influenza. Beatings no one saved her from.

But in certain cases, the father is simply gone and the mother still lives and breathes. Daisy was one such case.

Her mother, a lovely woman named Nora, had dreams. Visions of a house, a garden, and a job to keep her steady. Daisy was a part of the vision, but not a part of the journey thus far. So at her grandparents cottage she stayed. Six years old, knowing her mum was somewhere else, trying her hardest.

The day Nora came for Daisy was one of excitement. Tears. Good-byes from her Papa and Gran, hugs that melted into her skin. A buzzing ecstatic feeling as they boarded the train, heading to a place called London.

"It's all new there for us, Daisy," Nora had said. Pretty in her makeup and burgundy cloche hat. "A life for us, eh? Me and my girl?"

Daisy was not expecting to meet a man that week.

At six, she'd met her fair share of men from her grandparents' village. Her mum had never brought around anyone other than her uncle Harry. So this man was something new entirely.

Daisy had thought he maybe had been a bear before he was a man. Towering and scruffily bearded, he was an odd one.

"This is little Daisy, then?" He had asked. Voice low, accent unlike the Liverpool one she had lived with all her life. He spoke with a curiosity and a kindness, deep blue eyes twinkling.

"That's her," Nora answered, beaming. "Daisy, this is my lovely friend Alfie."

He offered a hand. Daisy stared, then gave a glance to her mum. A supportive nod, and her tiny hand met his.

It was not unlike her grandfather's, or Uncle Harry's. Worn and slightly rough on the pads, work showed it's time through calluses and small light scars. It was warm though, gentle as he shook hers before enveloping it in another large hand. Daisy couldn't help but admire his rings and the small crown tattooed into his skin.

Like a man from the pictures, she thought to herself, giving a pleased smile. Like a pirate. Or a king.

One thing Daisy learned, as she spent more time with her mother and Alfie, was how much he spoke and how rapt her mother's attention was to his words. He spun stories, rambled about the folk about town. Posed hypotheticals at Nora who would answer after a long pause. Alfie would always include Daisy, posing the same questions or asking about life in a quiet village.

Years passed. Daisy, in her infinite child wisdom, came to understand some of the nature of Alfie besides his sweetness. That he was just as she had suspected, a pirate and a king. He terrified others, kept the men in the bakery in reverence of him.

She came to understand her mother as well. A woman with muted glamor, someone with quiet dreams that slowly seemed to materialize. She was not the princesses or damsels in the films or books Daisy consumed. No, she was something of a beautiful warrior.

Daisy thought of herself as an adventurer. No one feared a child of her age, and she had no one who needed her protection quite yet. Instead, she was a wily spirit, content with exploration during the day and a cozy home with her mother, and quite often Alfie, at night.

It came as no surprise at the age of nine when Alfie sat her down and explained he had asked her mother to marry him. Truly, it felt like a long put off event, and Daisy had just wanted it over and done with.

Alfie's laugh filled the sitting room when she told him.

"It's not always that simple, Daisy Bell," he said. "But I'm pleased, your mum expected you to take the news hard. Not sure why, but you are full of surprises, yeah?"

And so, on one afternoon that had gifted pockets of sun, Daisy watched as Alfie made her mother his pirate queen. Daisy, in turn, became a pirate as well. And with her new place as the daughter of a pirate and a king came new lodgings.

Not a ship, but a house with many rooms. A place for her toys and baubles, and a new wardrobe to hang the pretty things her mother liked to dress her in. Daisy quite liked to sneak into Alfie's study, staring at the little collections that lined shelves. On the occasions she snuck in while he sat at his desk, he'd call her over with a wave of his big hand. A sweet would appear, followed by a kiss to the head.

"Don't tell your mum," he'd whisper in gruff tones, "or she'll 'ave both of our heads for spoiling your dinner."

It was those moments she liked best, when the two of them would hold a small secret. Daisy knew Alfie and her mother had their own secrets, whispered under their breaths as if Daisy would pay it no mind. Talk of bread, of a man named Shelby. Nothing that ever reached her in her fortress.

And in that fortress protected by men led by Alfie, who as Daisy neared eleven, seemed more pirate than king, she thrived. Played with the other children, took pockets of Yiddish they taught her home to practice with her mother. Spent hours feeding treats to Cyril behind her parents’ backs. Tormented Alfie's men with silly games and questions they usually had no answer to. Ollie was her favorite. He had taught her to play cribbage in the moments where his time wasn't completely occupied with Alfie's commands.

There were long stretches where Alfie did not return home, only giving a phone call to calm Nora's nerves. Her mother would get whispered conversations; Daisy was given sweet words and a gentle good night or morning. Daisy contented herself with this, until one day Alfie did not return.

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

"He's gone to Margate," Nora explained, rubbing at her tired eyes. They seemed to grow more tired with each passing year. "I haven't heard from him yet, Daisy. Perhaps tomorrow we'll get a ring."

The call did not come. Daisy thought of terrible fates that befell kings and pirates. How easily it could happen to a man whose business kept him in hushed conversations. How her pa, dear Alfie, could be struck down in crossfire with the polished guns he kept locked in his study.

When a letter came, and with it a terrible wail from the beautiful mouth of her mother, Daisy knew she was right. Wished it not to be so; that there had been a terrible mistake and the news written was wrong. But sneaking a look at the letter when her mother had finally let it out of her grasp, Daisy found her worst thoughts had not been bad enough.

Alfie's wonderful handwriting lay before her. Asking forgiveness of Nora, then of her. A betrayal to the Shelby man detailed Alfie's demise. A desire to end a painful, cancerous existence that he had never spoke of to Daisy.

Another letter detailed his condition. Alive, but for how long would be up to him. Where he could be found in the winding streets of Margate.

With no noise, she returned the letter to it's envelope. Daisy took care to walk quietly, letting herself hang at the entry of her mother's room. For the first time in many years, she crawled beside her in the vast bed, letting a desperate hug melt into her skin.

On the eve of her twelfth birthday, the house with many rooms lay barren. Everything had been packed and sent to Margate, which Nora explained would become their new home. Daisy had seen her mother hold back tears as they locked the doors for a final time. Her house and her garden that had materialized out of her dreams since Daisy was very small was no more.

Camden Town had too much risk lying to the north to bring Alfie back even in secret. He was no longer a king, but a ghost of one. They were to follow the ghost, live in a haunted home by the sea.

In that haunted home, Daisy helped place Alfie's collections and her baubles on shelves. She ignored the moans from the guest room, which had become a makeshift hospital ward. Instead she practiced her piano and read on the balcony to avoid the noise. Wished that Cyril, wherever he had gone off to, was by her side to help her ward off the ghost that lived here.

Alfie haunted her, night and day. He haunted her mother more, once he became more coherent and spoke his rambling nonsense to her. More than once she had heard Nora's voice raised behind the oak door, and no reply from Alfie. Her mother was not an angry woman, but Margate in those early months had sparked like a flint and filled Nora’s glamorous face with a rage-fueled fire.

As time passed, Daisy returned to her schooling. New friends were found, and so was a sense of normal. Her mother’s anger had become smoldering coals, and she started to leave the house. Sometimes for pleasure, other times for business still left from Camden Town. Daisy wondered often if Alfie, who remained behind the closed door, envied their comings and goings. She wondered more if he missed her, months separating the moment she had seen him in a gauze mask till now.

***********

On an unremarkable Sunday afternoon, her mother had gone out for some air. Daisy had been left to her own devices, plunking out a song on the piano in the sitting room. A voice, one she hadn't heard in more than a gruff whisper in weeks, sang out:

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do!”  

He was awake. Calling to her, it seemed, with a silly song he'd sing to tease since she was small.

"I'm 'alf crazy, all the love for you!”

Daisy rose from the piano bench, wood upon wood scraping quietly before feet plodded to the guest room she avoided. Now, though, the call from within was irresistible.

The door groaned silent as she peeked in, black curls slipping around her shoulders. There in bed lay the man she called father. A man in a pitiful state, but lucid.

"Daisy Bell, sweetie." he managed to crack a smile. "I'll cover up this nasty face of mine if you like, yeah, I just need to see that cherub one of yours."

She stepped in, trod closer.

"It's all right," Daisy remitted. "Will it always look like that?"

Alfie took consideration. "It won't always be as red, yeah, but it'll still look like a gnarled fucking tree. Maybe it'll smooth one day, but it's stuck, love."

"Then don't cover it," she said quietly. "If it's forever, I need to get used to it."

"Wise words from the mouth of babes."

"I'm nearly thirteen." A slight bristle shook through her voice, reminding herself of her mother. "I'm no baby."

"Is that right?" Alfie shut his eyes, heaving a grumbly sigh. A few beats passed, and he opened his good eye. Deep blue, like the ocean at night. Daisy sometimes sat on the balcony of their townhome and watched the waves roll in and out. Alfie's eye held no waves, just stillness.

"Well, if you're such a grown woman now, with wisdom and maturity beyond all our years, right, you'll fetch your dad a thimble of whatever Mum's got in that fancy bar cart she had to have, yeah? A secret between us grown ones, so I can partake of the earthly pleasures again."

Daisy's face hardened. "Mum says you can't."

"A biscuit then. With a strong cuppa." Noting her doubtful looks, he gestured to his face. "The tea to soften the biscuit so this old man can chew softly."

Daisy gave him a doubtful look, but obliged. Wondered how many times he'd asked for small tokens from the nurse or her mother and was promptly shut down. She returned, biscuits and tea in hand.

"You have my undying gratitude, Daisy Bell," he said.

He seemed quite happy, but Daisy couldn't tell if the biscuits or her presence was more the cause. As he dipped a corner of the biscuit into his tea, she thought how silly it was for a ghost to enjoy afternoon tea. She couldn't help an amused smile.

"What's that you're giggling about?" Alfie asked. His own mouth drew into a devilish grin. "You do something funny to these biscuits, ey?"

"No," Daisy replied, smiling wider. "It's a silly thought is all."

"I haven't heard silly thoughts in some time, just a nurse droning on and on about health and tablets. Indulge me."

For the first time in many months, Daisy felt heard again. Hands grabbed the wooden chair next to the wardrobe, scooting close to Alfie. She even let her forearms rest on the side of his bed, close enough to feel warmth not usually becoming of a ghost.

"Well you see," she started, "when we met when I was very little, I saw your rings and tattoo and thought of the men in the books my Gran would read to me. All while we lived in London, I thought of you as a pirate king."

"Is that so?" he chuckled, taking a sip. "Reckon you were a pirate princess then, weren't you?"

"Something like that." Daisy grinned before looking away at the wall. "After Mum got the letter and we couldn't bring you home… Well, I felt like you were a ghost. Like I've been living with a ghost this whole time in Margate."

Alfie didn't respond. Daisy had known he wouldn't; the wound on the soul was still as raw as the scar on his eye.

"But just now, seeing you eat,” she continued, “I found it quite funny to see a ghost eat a biscuit and enjoy a cuppa. All ghosts should be that funny, I think."

"Do you?" Alfie heaved a great sigh, then chuckled. "Better to be a ghost with a sense of humor and an appetite for sweets than a man who's lost both, yeah?”

Daisy nodded. The more she let what he had said rattle about in her mind, the more she came to understand the thankful truth of it. Though she mourned her pirate king, Cyril, and the house with many rooms, Margate and its ghost with his biscuit and tea had their own comfort.

She once again was a child who had a father with a terrible fate that had befallen him. A dozen excuses could be made for his absence but Daisy knew this time, at least, that in secret he still existed. The little secrets they shared had grown to one of great magnitude, like ones of novels and myths.

“I’ve missed you.”

Alfie, who had finished one of his biscuits, eyed her up with that twinkle she loved so dearly in the still dark blue iris. The cup clinked against the saucer as he set it on his lap covered by a blanket. Daisy felt the familiar roughness of his hand as it grasped hers.

“So have I, Daisy.” He gave her hand a squeeze, the feeling less ghostly than she had imagined. “Someday, I promise you, I’ll be out of this terrible fuckin’ bed and you and I can do whatever pleases your sweet heart.”

“That could be a very long time,” Daisy answered. “Is it okay for me to come back in? Will Mum be upset?”

Alfie took a pause.

“I don’t think so,” he decided. “And if she does get upset, it won’t last. The rotation of faces will do me good, yeah? That nurse sometimes makes me feel more ill by her presence alone, she’s got a particularly sour smell to match her face. The sooner I’m out of this room, the better I’ll be, I think. The sea air’ll do me some good, don’t you think?”

Daisy nodded again, vigorously. If Alfie thought the sea and the wisping salt against his face would help him be less a ghost and more a man, she would believe it too.

“We can go walking together,” Daisy suggested. “In the afternoons when I come home from school. And all day on weekends. Mum said she’d buy me a swimming costume for the summer, maybe we could swim—”

Alfie interrupted with his distinctive laugh, a near giggle unexpected from such a large man. The first time Daisy had heard it she had been taken aback, only to laugh along. Hearing it now was like a balm slathered on a skinned knee.

“We’ll start with a short walk, sweetie, then think about swimming in the next distant summer when these limbs can carry this old man easier. If I try to swim now, right, I might be swept away into the sea and some fantastical creature may happen upon me and drag me to its home in the depths. You believe in mermaids, love?”

“No.” Daisy sat back in the chair. “Not anymore.”

“Pity,” Alfie answered. “I saw one once at a carnival; pretty thing with a tail blowing bubbles under the water. If anything were to drag me out to sea, I’d choose her.”

“Stay on land, then!”

Alfie looked at her, quieted by her outburst. Daisy hadn’t meant for the words to leave her mouth so loudly. But all the talk of leaving once more sent her deep into a place of fear.

“I don’t want you to leave again,” Daisy tried once more in a softer voice. “I don’t want you to even try.”

“Then I won’t,” Alfie replied simply. “I’ll ignore all those siren calls I hear from the beach and stay right here, on your orders. You’re the boss, then.”

“Mum said she’s the boss now.” She shifted in her seat, wondered how cold the tea sitting on Alfie’s lap had gone. “Her and Ollie, she says.”

“Right then, you’ll just have to be my boss, won’t you?” Alfie shut his eyes. Daisy inspected his face, riddled with red scars and the patches of scaly rashes around his scalp he had explained as an affliction called psoriasis when she questioned it. He opened his good eye, giving her a quick smile. “Keep me in line and give me my orders to follow. First order is no following mermaids, got that love, what else should I heed from you?”

Daisy had never had that kind of power before, giving orders to an adult. The men at the bakery heeded her silly requests before, yes, but Alfie had always been the one to bark orders. As a child on the cusp of thirteen, it was an immense responsibility. She racked her brain, lips pursed as she ignored Alfie’s amused face, before settling on one.

“Get well fast,” Daisy finally said. “And don’t make Mum cross again, I’ll know if you do.”

“A tall order, that last one, but I’ll do my best,” Alfie grunted, tapping her hand before saluting her. “Yes ma’am.”

[clairenatural]

look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song  (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

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

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

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

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

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

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.  

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

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

Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

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

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

[berrydoodleoo]

big bro gladio

This was just supposed to be a few quick headcanons? Instead it’s a fic. Less dialogue and action than I usually put in my fics, but eh. Anyway, have my thoughts about Gladio and his relationships growing up.

***

Like Noct, Gladio has spent his life on guard against false friends.

When he was seven, his dad pulled him aside after weapons training. “I don’t want you hanging out with that boy Lycus anymore,” he said, apropos of nothing as far as Gladio could tell. 

Shocked and angry, Gladio pestered him for an explanation, and eventually Dad said it was ‘a potential security issue’. Gladio spent hours trying to visualize how Lycus could be a threat to him -- Gladio was bigger and stronger, Lycus was hilarious and fast on the field but had no combat training whatsoever -- when he realized that wasn’t the point at all. Lycus could be a threat to Noctis. And as ever, anything that happened to Gladio was actually about someone else instead.

He imagined that his Dad had caught Lycus doing something when he stayed over. Going through his office, maybe, or trying to get into the weapons cabinet. He doesn’t mean to, but somehow the rest of the class turns against Lycus as well, and he stops speaking up in class, stops being funny and starts being mean. But not to Gladio; Gladio doesn’t talk to him anymore. As ordered.

Later, he learned that Lycus’ dad was in an argument with the King about infrastructure development in his district. That was all it was.

It’s not that he doesn’t forgive his father -- there are lots of things he’ll never forgive him for, but he’s learned to live with them -- it’s that he’ll never stop resenting him for it. Hating him, for making Gladio an instrument of his thoughtless cruelty.

~

It’s not that he envies Noct. Yeah, Gladio has to guard him, but Noct also has to guard himself, all in preparation for his future as the King. And Gladio has seen how the King lives.

Early in his training, he spent a lot of time trailing his Dad around, just seeing how things worked. After Noct’s thirteenth birthday, the press suddenly shifted their attention from the Prince (who they speculated about wildly -- was he doing well in school? Did he have friends, a girlfriend, post-traumatic stress disorder? Did he cry at his mother’s grave every year?) to the King. Was he planning to remarry?

Remarry? The King?

Gladio wasn’t sure where the question came from, but when it hit, it hit everywhere. Every state banquet was suddenly an opportunity for photos of the King and his conversation partners, accompanied by endless speculation about what that smile meant, that hand shake, that choice of drink, or tie, or watch, and so on. If the person they targeted didn’t answer their questions, they became the target of even more speculation. It wasn’t just the gutter press, either. Gladio turned on the TV at prime time one day and was shocked to see an hour-long special about the King, his courtship and marriage with the Queen, and the potential legal issues surrounding his (rumored) remarriage. They were going to have a special segment about the Prince, with a psychologist to talk about step-families and trauma.

Gladio turned it off, feeling voyeuristic. Everyone in the Citadel was tense after that, bristling with rage, but there was nothing they could do about any of it.

Gladio, in his role as his father’s obedient shadow, was also made privy to a top-level conversation on the topic between Clarus, Cor, and Drautos. Some of the figures pursued by the press had merely been caught in the crossfire, they concluded. Others were attempting to use the publicity to their advantage, which was not a problem for their offices. A few, maybe, had real aims on the King, and ‘love’ didn’t seem to be an option they even considered. Clarus ordered thorough security checks and surveillance on the biggest names, and the whole thing made Gladio sick.

But it didn’t end there. A few weeks later, to Gladio’s horror, the Council had their own version of this discussion, this time with a political slant. All directly in front of the King himself. His Majesty didn’t seem perturbed by the discussion -- he exchanged a Glance with his Shield, but remained otherwise unreadable -- and yet Gladio burned with embarrassment and indignation for him.

~

So as much as Gladio resents Noct sometimes, he also pities him. And so he guards himself, socializes carefully, makes friends among the children of his father’s associates, and never gets too close to anyone.

In high school, he falls in love once, and he’s too busy with dates that ended in making out and heavy petting to notice at first. When he did, he broke it off immediately, cited some excuse about his duties and his dad not thinking the relationship was a good idea. All he could think about was getting away, getting away, getting away. When he got home, his heart was still pounding, and he checked all the locks and codes twice. Was he scared, or guilty?

When they told him they’d confronted his father, his heart stopped. He was certain he was about to be caught in his lie. But the rambling, teary argument that followed revealed that Clarus had been sympathetic but firm, and had invented a completely false conversation to back up Gladio’s falsehoods. 

Afterwards, he never brought it up with his son, and Gladio never asked.

~

After high school, in the Crownsguard, Gladio makes a new set of friends. Many of them are older than him and worldly in ways he isn’t. They have their own routines, which Gladio is indoctrinated in. The whole idea of ‘friends with benefits’ was a pretty sweet deal, he felt, especially since these ‘friends’ often went out on assignment afterwards and he never had to see them again.

(Except Ignis. They only hook-up once -- okay, twice -- or maybe three times -- but they don’t talk about it. More than the weapons training or survival courses, it’s the most dangerous thing they’ve ever done.)

At the same time, fifteen-year-old Noct makes his first friend. Prompto. Weird kid, goofy, but likeable. Not cool, really, but then, neither is Noctis. They spend their time goofing around, playing video games and doing homework. Unlike Gladio’s ‘friends’, Prompto stayed, and Gladio was happy for it. Noct needed a friend.

Not like Gladio. Gladio didn’t need anything.

~

During his training with the Kingsglaive, Gladio developed a reputation of sorts. He was known for taking people on flashy dates to exclusive clubs (getting in was effortless, for him), hooking up, and then moving on. All perfectly friendly and above board. He worked himself to exhaustion all week, spent most of his weekend in bed with someone new, and went back to the routine again on Monday. Never the same person twice.

His peers admired him for it. His Dad asked a few questions, and when Gladio snapped, he backed off with a scowl. Iris … Gladio convinced himself she didn’t know what was happening.

Noct and Prompto started dating then, too. It was a terrible idea, and Gladio knew it, but it was clear the kids were in love and besides, he’d seen how the King lived. How Noct would one day live. Hell, he was already half-inside the bubble anyway. He covered for them, even from Ignis for a while (and boy did Ignis give him shit for that), and then he and Ignis covered for them together.

It was good. Nothing was missing, everything was in its place. It was good.

~

When the treaty discussions start up, Gladio ends his dalliances with his fellow Glaives and ‘Guard members. He needs to be focused. No holes in his, and thus in Noct’s, security; no gaps someone could wriggle their way through. It’s easier than he thought it would be. He takes up reading to fill his sudden spare time.

Before the betrothal is announced, Prompto and Noct stop … doing whatever they’d been doing. Noct called it ‘hooking up’, but couldn’t quite pull off the lie. Prompto started training with the Crownsguard, and Gladio had to stand by and watch Prompto run, face-first, into the same hook-up culture he’d just left behind. It was different, from this angle. He didn’t like that Prompto was getting off with people he didn’t know. He didn’t like how they didn’t care about him, how they used bad pickup lines and groped him in public. How they didn’t know about his photos, or his parents, or the kitchen scale on his counter, or his obsessive knowledge about calorie counts and chocobos.

They didn’t love Prompto, but Noct did. From a distance. The kid had turned into a good actor at some point

Prompto got pulled into the wash cycle of hook-ups and break-ups fast enough, but Noct continued on alone. More and more his eyes came to resemble panes of glass, from which something shadowy and mute peered out in silence.

~

After Altissa, Gladio starts sleeping beside Ignis. Just sleeping. They end up spooned together most of the time, Gladio at Ignis’s back, looking out into the darkness that Ignis can’t see. Guarding him from it. Ignis is weird, strangely muted and palpably discouraged, but he clutches back at Gladio as hard as Gladio clutches him.

~

In Zegnautus Keep, Gladio wakes one morning to see Noct and Prompto talking. They know he’s up and moving, their conversation soft and halting behind him. He hears when they fall into a kiss, and stays turned away, giving them their privacy. His face is burning but he’s also amused, a little heartsick, and quietly happy for them.

It’s the last morning the four of them will have together, although they don’t know it yet. Further in the Keep, the crystal and the darkness are waiting. Even further in the distance, a blood-stained dawn calls their names.

~

As they set out into the Keep again, Noct pauses and looks at him. At Gladio. His eyes are full of questions and uncertainty, like a kid who needs to hear that everything will be okay. That he’s done everything right.

“What?” Gladio asks, confused.

Noct just sighs. “Nothing.”

Gladio stares at his downturned face a moment longer, trying to figure him out. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to make him mad. 

“All right,” Gladio says finally -- dubiously -- and without another word, he leads the way.

[ardenssolis]

what does ozy think of you?; accepting || @oldestking​

-behind closed doors- coughs

     ❝DO NOT CONFUSE MY tolerance towards the other king as friendship. Such is not the case nor will it ever be. I merely enjoy his presence. That is truly all there is to it.❞ Although that did bring into question a great deal of things; primarily being the fact that ‘tolerance’ was a rather odd word to use for how well the two got along. One would think that their similar, haughty, difficult personalities would mean clashing on a regular basis with all of Chaldea potentially being caught in the crossfire of it all, but rather than two lions baring fangs at one another, both kings just seemed far more at ease in each other’s space more than they would admit. ❝However, since you wish to hear my assessment of another king, then I shall grant it. Heed well the words that you hear and commit my wisdom to memory.❞ A rather roundabout way of him saying that he was going to just ramble about Gilgamesh, but that was not the point. The point was his brilliant observations as well as his factually correct opinions.

     ❝I can respect a king who knows who he is and what he stands for. There are no excuses for his behavior, be it past or present. Whether he is seen as a tyrant by others or a wise king by another, it means little. After all, he knows who he is, just as I too know who I am. For what reason would he care about the opinions of those who are equivalent to ants scurrying about on the ground? This goes for you as well.❞ He chuckled, waving his hand as he caught the frown on the other person’s features at his words. He was not here to sugarcoat truth. This was merely how Gilgamesh was. ❝I think at times he is bored and needs a bit of a challenge be it through rhetoric or otherwise. As one who hungers for the same thing, this is why we are able to poke and prod one another while being aware to not cross a line. I respect him despite him believing nonsense about being the greatest king. By being around me, he will learn why a pharaoh like myself will always tower above all beings.❞

[jawritter]

Broken Me...

Ch. 4

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunately have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Language, sad Jensen, touch starved, angst, fluff if you squint.. I think that’s it for this chapter...

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2265

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

“Jensen?” You hiss, looking up and down the hall, and then back at your sleeping friend before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind you..

Jensen stepped back a little in the narrow hallway, not wanting to crowd you, shifting his feet a little uncomfortably before looking back up at you with an almost a shy expression covering his face.. 

"Hey." 

You more than a little dumb founded, of all the people you expected to see standing in outside your motel room door in the middle of the night, Jensen was not one of those people...

You couldn't tell if he was angry or not. Personally you felt like everything was your fault. 

You didn't know why, but there it was... 

He and Danneel had obviously separated before he got here... 

Still you couldn't help the guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach... 

So you stood there examining your feet... Waiting for him to say something else...

"Hey." You echoed him.. Needing desperately to break the silence that had fallen between you. 

"Let's go grab a coffee down stairs, I think I owe you an explanation." He finally said after what felt like forever. 

You still couldn't look up at him for some reason, a strange feeling crossed between shame and confusion from all the drama making you feel more than a little stressed to even be seen with him in public right now..

"I'm a little underdressed." 

You were wearing an oversized, faded black shirt  that had Stewie from a Family Guy holding a bazooka on it that said 'I don't play well with others', and a pair of pink, purple, and black plaid pajama pants and ankle socks.

Jensen laughed slightly. 

"You look fine sweetheart, and besides, I'm not much better off."

Curiosity got the best of you at that point, making you really look at him for the first time since he knocked on your door..

He was wearing a plain white T-shirt, red and black pajama pants, and flip flops. His hair was sticking up at cute random angles, and his face was a little redder than normal, his eyes had an unnatural red tent to them, and looked as if he’d either had a little too much to drink earlier, or he had been crying.. It was hard to tell which...

"It's like 3 am, nobody is gonna be down there." He said, shifting his feet uncomfortably on the floor, and looking around the hall... 

He was a mess....but he still looked attractive as ever…

He hadn't shaved all day, so he had a nice five o'clock shadow going, and even though he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed after a long night out he still looked beautiful. 

There was a look in his deep green eyes… One you didn’t quite understand that just wouldn’t let you turn him away...

"Fine, let me grab my wallet." 

You turn to open the door to your room, but he quickly stops you as if you go into the room, you will just leave him hanging in the hallway... 

"I'll pay." He said, reaching out and grabbing your hand in his, then quickly letting it go as if he’d crossed some unseen line. 

"Okay." 

You silently followed him to the elevators and watched as he pushed the button to the bottom floor, both of you riding in silence, not saying anything until you both had your coffee ordered from the tired looking girl behind the counter, and found a booth in the very back of the kitchen/ eating area of the hotel..

There was nobody in sight. Just the desk clerk, and the girl working for the coffee shop. The hotel was almost eerie quiet compared to all the cayos and movement of earlier today with fans and vendors working throughout the hotel, now it was all but deserted...

"I'm sorry about what Danneel did." He finally said almost in a whisper, staring at his untouched coffee cup that was sitting in front of him. "You didn't do anything wrong, and you didn't deserve that. She was just pissed, and was attacking me. Still you shouldn't have been caught in the crossfire." 

He looked exhausted when he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing it harshly, and you just wanted to reach out and hug him..

"You can't control what she does Jensen. Don't worry about it. It's not that big of a deal." You tell him, not wanting him to feel like he owed you anything.

You definitely didn’t want him to feel like he owed you any sort of apology or pity..

"I read the comments." He said, staring you down now, his eyes are cold and hard, emotionless, and that’s just not like him at all. From what you’ve seen online anyway.

"It is a big deal. She was trying to make me look bad. Like I was the one who did wrong, and I didn't do shit." He said flatly, clenching his fist on the table in front of him. 

"I came home early from Vancouver. I was going to surprise her. When I came through the door I found her fucking a cashier from our brewery in our living room." He said, still staring you down.. 

You didn't realize your mouth was hanging open until he smirked at you.

"Yeah that was pretty much my reaction too." He gave you a hollow laugh under his breath. "I stormed out and drove here. When I got here I called her and in so many words told her it was over. I was filing for divorce." 

He wasn't looking at you anymore, just rambling like he needed to get all this off his chest. 

"She said it was my fault she was cheating on me...... Said she was lonely, and I was never home...." He broke his sentence looking down at his lap taking deep breaths to steady himself. The unshed tears forming in his eyes was enough to make your heart want to stop beating.

Reflexively you reach across the table, and touch his hand, he stiffened, but didn't pull away. 

"None of that is your fault. You didn't do anything to deserve what she did. As far as the post to the internet... You're the one that has to get up there in front of a room full of people to answer their......question." You tell him, but he's still just staring you down coldly…

But he hasn't moved his hand... 

The man was hard as stone... 

You could tell this had cut him deep... 

It's not something he would just get over or be okay with in a month or two, this was going to take him some time to get past everything she’d done to him, and you had a feeling it didn’t start today with the cheating, but he had been manipulating him and using him for awhile now..

"You don't even know me.......why are you being nice to me right now........ Is it because I'm famous.... I have money..... What, what's the reason you didn't tell me to go fuck myself like you rightfully should have? I pulled you on stage. I'm the reason there was even a video for her to post." 

You hadn't noticed until he'd stopped speaking he had laced his fingers in yours. 

It shocked you.....

His words were hard, but it was like he was doing all he could to seek affection and comfort from someone..

"You didn't do anything wrong. She's the bitch that made a post out of a damn cell phone video." You tell him, becoming a little distracted by his thumb making little circles on the back of your hand. 

"I don't care about your money, you can keep it. I don't care about you being famous. If you were a UPS driver or somebody flipping burgers at Burger King you still deserve to have better than what she’s done to you. 'Cause you were gone a lot and they were lonely.' That's the biggest bullshit statement I've ever heard, and definitely not a valid excuse for someone to be unfaithful." 

He was looking down, jaw clenched, so you decided to stop talking. Not knowing if you were pissing him off, or if he was just tired of talking about it because it was still pretty fresh.

"She wasn't the only one that was lonely." He said, one hand spinning his untouched coffee on the table. "She at least had the kids. I had nobody." 

You sit watching as his walls slowly start to come down, walls you didn’t even know were there until they started to crumble.. 

"I came home a little early cause I wanted some time alone with her... You're not human if you don't crave intimacy from someone, and I’m not talking about sex... Just to have someone to hold while you sleep... Someone when you wake up in the middle of the night you can roll over, and wrap up with so you don't feel so alone......so empty...... I just wanted to be able to be in contact with another person... Just for a little while before I had to be alone again." He still had a grip on your hand, but he still wouldn’t look at you, not directly. Like he was a little ashamed of his own confession.

You were pretty pissed at Danneel before you got down here, but now, now you were even more pissed. 

It wasn't fair what she did to him, she didn’t deserve someone like Jensen.... You wished someone would crave you like that, just to be near you… Yet she threw it all away...Then tried to blame him for her fuck up... 

"I wish I didn't feel so alone." He said, taking his hand from yours. You already missed his warm hand wrapped around yours. Your skin is still tingling where he’d been touching you.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just dumped all that on you. Come on I'll walk you back to your room. It's 4:30 in the morning, we both need to get some sleep." He said abruptly, standing and waiting for you to do the same. Walls firmly back in place..

The elevator ride to the 5th floor was a quiet one, and the walk to your room was just as quiet. You both stop in front of the door, facing each other. 

There was a look on his face you didn't recognize, pain, fear, loneliness maybe…

"Well I'd say goodnight, but... It's kinda already morning." You say, putting your hand in the door. 

Without saying anything Jensen pulls you by your waist into his chest, and for a moment you were too shocked to move, until you hear him take a very unsteady breath. The both of you just stood there holding onto each other for the longest. 

Finally, when you looked up at him, his eyes were unfocused, his mind somewhere else. Reaching up in a moment of boldness you touch the side of his face, bringing him back down to reality...

"Where is your room?" You asked, he looks at you confused. 

"Very end of the hall." He said, jerking his head in that direction. 

You break away from him and grab his hand, you lead him that way. He followed alone behind you, quiet and confused.. When you stopped at the last room he unlocked the door, still confused, but he held it open for you to come in.

Stopping just inside the door he turns to face you, his face guilty, and pained. 

"I'm sorry I can't do this." He breathed out, but before he could get too carried away you reached up again touching the side of his face. He leans into your hand without realizing what he was doing.. Or maybe he did… He was a hard person to read when he was acting, and this was no different...

"We're not going to do anything." You tell him, grabbing his hand leading him to the side of the bed. 

"I just couldn't stand the thought of you alone again tonight." 

Understand hit him hard, and the walls around him broke again, this time like a dam, letting loose a flood of tears in their wake. 

Lifting the cover he crawled into the bed. Holding the cover up for you to climb in too..

You climbed in the bed next to him, and he wrapped his arms and legs light around you. Taking another deep shaking breath. 

"Thank you." He finally whispers once he gets control of his emotions some...

"Let's get some sleep. You got a lot of people waiting on you in a few hours." You say, running your fingers through his hair, hoping you weren’t pushing him too far.. He was so hurt.. So broken... 

You don't know what gave you the boldness to do this. 

You just could leave him alone. 

Not like that..

Not that hurt. 

Not that alone. 

He didn't deserve what she did. He deserves to be treated like a damn God as hard as he worked for his family. 

Not to be cheated on and lied to.

After only 10 minutes you felt him relax, and his breaths deepen, finally falling into a deep sleep. You drifting off to your own deep sleep wrapped up in the arms of someone you'd had a crush on for almost 15 years. It wasn't even about that at this point though. You Couldn't stand how broken he looked. 

You just wanted to put him back together.

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

Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ 

Binge Tag: @sarahbaker2010​

[kelenloth]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed) Characters: Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Randvi (Assassin's Creed), Sigurd Styrbjornson, Guthrum, King Aelfred of Wessex Additional Tags: Additional Tags to Be Added, historical fiction - Freeform, graphic depictions of injury, Philosophical ramblings, Nightmares, Fever, historical treaties, discussions of the christian faith, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Ragnarok, the battle of ethandun, are you having fun yet?, not ship-centric, but it's there i promise, Sigurd isn't evil, Neither is Aelfred, Ravensthorpe, musings on the afterlife, Family, Established Relationship, let my poor drengr rest, danelaw, the siege of chippenham Summary:

AD 878. The battle of Ethandun is lost. Guthrum Jarl submits to Aelfred Rex, and Eivor Varinsdottir is caught in the crossfire, in more ways than one. As the treaty is signed and the Danelaw established, life changes forever in Ravensthorpe, but Eivor would rather be here than anywhere else, even Valhalla itself.

This work is inspired by the true story of what happened to Aelfred, Guthrum, and the Danes after the end of the game, and how Eivor must find her place in an ever changing world, especially after Odin has taken one last revenge, marking her forever as his own. Can Eivor stand by her defiance of the gods and live in peace? And as Mercia is split in half, what will it take to remain? Contains graphic depictions of injury and violence, but also a lot of thoughts on love and family.

[kazayneo]

*runs in here* heyheyhey. im in the mood to ramble about old cringy stories and im gonna make it everyone’s problem

*cracks knuckles* so- theres a story that lingers in my mind sometimes!! its still unnamed but i consider it a main story, a story that lasted in my mind for a long time and something that is,,at least more developed than other stories haha its very loosely based off of rpg games- with classes and adventurers and monsters and magic and the like

the story centers around 6(?) main characters in an adventurer group thing they all came from different places all around the world, but through a string of coincidences, they all ended up in the middle continent oh!! and also!! theres the geography of this world theres 3 known continents, with tiny islands scattered around near them theyre all named, i just dont remember what i called them

theres the 1st continent, the one where magic is everywhere and mages thrive. in fact, most of the strongest mages are born there. its very old fashioned, maybe medieval inspired, and theres a large empire ruling it, with a royal family at it's head. power-hungry nobles fight for power, and commoners struggle below them. meanwhile, there’s a succession war going on between the empire’s 2 heirs. it’s not at it’s peak yet, but it’s still there in the background. there used to be a 3rd heir who disappeared years ago, and there are rumors of her return. who knows, though? the royal family has a lot of skeletons in their closet.

theres the 3rd continent, where magic is limited and very rare. to the point where mages are either outcasted or used as very important weapons its very futuristic, the technology is the most advanced out of the 3 continents. after all, the 3rd continent has the harshest environment out of all 3. and with its very limited natural magic, the humans living there needed to adapt to survive its a dystopian type of society with an oppressive government. but, underground and hidden away, there are many resistances plotting to take it down

and then theres the 2nd continent, the middle one where the story starts and where the main cast meet up its the one in between the 1st and 3rd continents, both physically and metaphorically theres a balance of technology and magic there the 2nd continent is divided into small villages and governments and kingdoms. the balance of magic and technology, and the ideals and laws vary between these places. but generally, they are fairly neutral

hmmm the 1st and 3rd continents are at war with eachother and even tho most people from the 2nd continent are trying to stay out of this war, they are still caught up in the crossfire, since the 2nd continent is in between the 1st and 3rd continents thats where the main cast comes in, kinda the main cast is mostly made up of characters who came from either the 1st or 3rd continents, but ran to the 2nd continent to hide, for various reasons and the rest of them are already super duper tired of the war and the way it has destroyed their land even tho the continents(nations?) all look cool on the surface, theyre all falling apart at the seams everyone just want the war to end

hmm wait i have some backstory for some of them that i remember- rima(i think her name was rima) was a talented mage who specialized in healing. she was also born in the 3rd nation she was given a choice, either join the war as a weapon or get left behind with no shelter in a world where everyone is against her and despite her prickly exterior, shes kind at heart. she would never hurt anyone if she doesnt need to and so she flees

theres also,,,healy and levin im pretty sure?? dont remember them that much healy is a blind girl born in a noble family, with levin as her guard and older brother figure. i dont exactly remember what happened, but healy betrays her family as well as the royal family, and is banished from the kingdom levin goes with her

kiki, stupid name but still, was a street kid in the 2nd nation, who survived on stealing stuff from different villages she was always on the run. maybe there were kind families who gave her shelter, but they never lasted because of the war shes seen how desperate people can get when they needed to survive in such harsh conditions, seen the destruction of the war and the effects it has on others, shes been caught in the crossfire so many times and lost so much- she promised herself never to stay still again kiki's fast and full of spite. her speed kept her alive. if shes given the chance, maybe she can outrun the war too and never feel that pain again

ooo theres also so many side characters that ended up stealing the spotlight from the main cast fun fact for the 1st nation, the one with the empire, the royal family *isnt doing so great* theres a divide between the king and queen, who married for purely political reasons and never got along well they had 2 biological children, isolde(the original one), and,,,* squints at notes * theo?? im pretty sure?? isolde was the oldest one, with theo being the 2nd one. they grew up together, just them against the world until * insert political thing that i completely forgot * happened and isolde is banished from the kingdom because the empire has a system in place where the royals are required to have 2 heirs, so that they can have a succession war to place the strongest as the ruler, there needed to be a 2nd heir after isolde was banished so they adopted rose, an orphan with incredible magic and talent. rose is the youngest child

what happened to isolde? she fled to take refuge in the 3rd nation, the only nation who agreed to take in the banished princess no kingdom from the 2nd nation agreed to do so, because they were afraid of becoming enemies to the 1st nation isolde agreed to join the war as a combat medic and a strategist for the 3rd nation, rising up the ranks super quickly and eventually landing a position as the head healer this is all hidden from the royal family back in the 1st nation, before they eventually find her on the battlefield, on the other side (maybe)

oh and also!! the royal family mm so remember the conflict between the king and queen? yea. they both played the funky favorites game since isolde inherited the queen's incredibly strong healing magic, she was the queen's favorite. isolde reminded the queen of herself, since isolde grew up naive and cheerful and kind. the queen wanted to protect that innocence. but naivety doesnt last long in war and the king's favorite was rose, the orphan he personally picked as a potential heir. like the queen and isolde, rose reminded the king of himself, because she grew up in hopeless circumstances that made her form a hard and prickly shell to survive. and despite that, rose still had the motivation to rise up. the king respects that. and so rose is his favorite theo is kinda just,,caught in the middle. hes the middle child, the mediator, the golden child who is somehow still forgotten by everyone

and yknow the kingdom that the family rules? everyone there have kinda,,extreme thoughts on both princesses some love isolde and hate rose. these are the ones who are in full support of the queen some love rose and hate isolde. these are the ones who support the king but everyone has good opinions on theo. hes just the universal ":D" yknow? most people expected him to be the future ruler. and maybe it gets exhausting, always being the neutral one. hes tired and lonely, he misses isolde and he cant get to rose no matter how hard he tries man he just wants a happy family again HAJSKAHKAS

ohh and theres also the side characters from the 3rd nation theres a lot of resistances against the oppressive government, but theres a big resistance that the government is the most determined to squash it started out small, with maybe 6-7 people in it. these are the og members. theyre the leaders of the current resistance (maybe theres some parallels to the main cast?)

but back when they were 1st starting to get big, one of the og members went missing after a mission his name,,,,dave. lets call him dave. dave was captured and force to join the government or else,,,something back happens im pretty sure but idk and so dave cooperates with them and years and years go by, when the og members are forced to move on and prioritize the movement. they shifted into a new dynamic, one without their friend. but things were never the same

until one day, one of them find dave on the other side of the battlefield, wearing the uniform of the governemnt's millitary everything stops for just a moment, as the leaders look at him in shock then, screams and cries ring around them, and they look around to see that they are surrounded dave turns away (thats when the resistance leaders and most of its members are captured. dave is a traitor. or is he? dun dun dun)

[redfoxline]

Thanks to @whumptober2020 for their hard work at organizing the challenge! I’m so excited to participate this year! =D

Whumptober Day 01-02

Theme: ‘Let’s hang out sometimes’ + ‘In the hands of the enemy’

Prompts: ‘Waking up restrained’ +  ‘Kidnapping’

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Word count: 2264

Summary: Prompto opened his eyes to the sight of blood spots on his white shoes. The very same pair of sneakers that he had begged Cor to purchase for him as a gift at the beginning of the school year. Cor, who was neither his father nor his foster parent, but who looked after him like a godfather anyway. Cor, who abhorred spending unnecessary funds on trinkets, but ended up paying a pair of shoes a third of his wage just because they were trendy and Prompto had wanted to look cool. Barely one semester in, and Prompto got them ruined.

Prompto opened his eyes to the sight of blood spots on his white shoes.

The very same pair of sneakers that he had begged Cor to purchase for him as a gift at the beginning of the school year. Cor, who was neither his father nor his foster parent, but who looked after him like a godfather anyway. Cor, who abhorred spending unnecessary funds on trinkets, but ended up paying a pair of shoes a third of his wage just because they were trendy and Prompto had wanted to look cool. He had made him promise to take good care of it, at the very least, because it was useless to spend this amount of money in mere shoes if they didn't last the whole school year at least.

Barely one semester in, and Prompto got them ruined.

His internal laments were cut out by pain. Like a wake-up call, his brain finally registered that he was sitting in a very uncomfortable chair. Around him, nothing but plain, dented walls of some sort of warehouse. The door was locked, a brand new padlock glistening in the beam of sunlight.

Fear rose in his throat like bile.

Prompto lurched against the ropes binding him, straining his neck to get a better look through the window. He could barely see the top of some skyscrapers further away, and the sky. Was he that high? Was he in some kind of abandoned parking lot?

There was a district full of this kind of building near the checkpoint entrance of Insomnia. Prompto had never set foot in this area. It was rumoured to be haunted by the old people in the Niff District. Noctis had promised him it only was an urban legend, that it was empty because no one wanted to build a house this close to the gates, where fights would happen should deamons or niffelheim army sneak past the Wall.

Noctis! He smiled at the thought of this friend. Didn't Noctis explain to him what to do in case of kidnapping?

"Don't provoke them. Keep a low profile and give them what they want until rescue comes to get you," Noctis had recited in an obviously bored sigh. "Look at them and your surroundings. Try to gather as much information as you can. If you can communicate, try to give as much information as possible about your location. If they leave you behind, keep hidden until sunlight and get to the nearest place with a phone. Only act against them if it's your last resort."

That wasn't very useful to him, Prompto thought. !there was no one to make demands. Not that he could grant any, anyway.

He tried to move but the chair had been screwed down to the concrete. Grumbling in defeat, he looked around for another option, until his eyes found the door and its padlock again.

Wait. How come he could see the padlock? Shouldn't it be outside?

A wave of dread ran through his body and made his skin crawl.

If it was inside, it could only mean that, whoever had taken him there, had locked the both of them in.

After a long minute where terror froze him into place, he tried to turn around. A large wood board had been screwed on the back of the chair, preventing him to fully see what was behind him. He craned his neck as much as he could, his eyes turned so far back he felt they would just pop out of his head, he managed to glimpse at a tinted mirror. From the look of it, Prompto imagined it was large enough to cover most of the wall.

His stomach twisted. If there was a door to access the other side, it probably was right behind him.

How many were they? Were they watching him? He could imagine their stares burning his neck through the wood board.

The sob escaping his lips took him by surprise. He valiantly tried to blink back the tears but they fell anyway, tracing burning tracks on his cold cheeks. The empty room suddenly felt freezing, extracting another full-body shiver out of him. He didn't dare to speak up. Whatever they wanted, Prompto couldn't give it to them. Not that he would have wanted to, anyway.

They probably expected him to be able to provide information about Noctis, he realized.  Maybe they would even ask for ransom. His face had appeared enough times in tabloids, trotting along with the Prince, for them to understand Noctis would go to great length to retrieve him.  Too bad for them. The only information he knew about Noctis that was public was his love for fishing and tomato-flavoured chips. No one would have been stupid enough to let a civilian like him get access to security data. If there were in for the money, though, he wasn't sure about what would happen. Certainly, King Regis wouldn't let an underage civilian,  especially a friend of his son, in the hands of his kidnappers. He wouldn't pay, though. If he sent the Kingsglaive, Prompto wasn't sure what would happen to him in the crossfire.

Hope bloomed in his chest when his internal voice of reason - which has suspiciously started to sound like Ignis as of late - reminded him they could do it for intimidation. To prove they could get close to the Prince. Anti-Crowners. They would have left him there.

Metal scratching the concrete dashed all hope away. Someone had opened a door.

Someone had opened the door right behind him.

His world went spinning and stopped whirling at the same time. There was nothing to feel but the utter terror blossoming in his belly when the man came into vision.

"Prompto Argentum." He knew what fearing for his life meant, now that his own name had left the man's lips. "Good afternoon, kid. You slept for a very long time. My buddies and I were wondering if we might have roughened up you a bit too much."

The blood on his shoes, Prompto realized. It came from somewhere, of course. He felt bad overall, but no place hurt more than another, so he assumed they hadn't beaten him up that much. It wasn't like he remembered how they got him there.

"Do you know why you're there, Argentum?"

He shook his head. The man grinned and snickered.

"He doesn't know why he's here! What an unassuming boy!". His hands plumped on Prompto's shoulders, all amused attitude vanished from his face. "Are you serious?"

Prompto couldn't get a word out, but that didn't seem to matter to the man. He turned back, leaving Prompto with a bad case of trembling knees, and started rambling.

"What a joke. He doesn't know!" The coldness of the man's glare would have been enough to pin Prompto down to his damned chair if he hadn't been tied up already. Prompto had seen Coeurls on Lucian Geographic who looked less murderous than his perpetrator.

"You're the bestie of the Prince and you don't have a clue what business we could have with you, kid?" A raucous laugh that didn't sound right ricocheted against the walls.

"Guess what? You're a lucky one. We're not bad guys. We don't care about the Prince. He is a kid too, and we're not child murderers. No need to be scared of us. We just want information about a man, and you happen to know a lot about him. Right, Argentum?"

Names and faces flashed through his mind. Who could he know that would have that much importance to that man? He didn't know the King personally, hadn't met him yet. Neither did he know Gladio's dad. The man probably didn't mean Ignis, because even if Iggy was the future Chamberlain, he wasn't one yet, and anyway he was barely legal so he didn't have time to do anything some crazy old man would want to...

"Seems like the Immortal is quite fond of you."

What?

"The Immortal?" He heard himself whisper, bewildered.

"Yes, the Immortal. Fancy that you know him. We've been tracking the little Prince for a while just to catch him. Seems like a busy man. Even if he's the head of the bloody royal security, we never saw him in a mile radius of the prince."

The man laughed and squeezed Prompto's shoulder. Hard.

"And here you come! The Immortal never visits the Prince, but Uncle Cor sure wouldn't miss the chance to take his dear nephew shopping, Imma right? Or are you his son, maybe?"

"I'm not. I'm really not!" He insisted, feeling the man digging his fingers deeper into his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Sure thing you aren't, kid. Why would the Immortal spend his time with you then?"

"I swear I'm not! I'm niff! The Crownsguards took me back in Insomnia when my parents were killed in Gralea!"

His pleas only made the man angrier.

"Likely story, eh? Someone like him wouldn't spend so much time with you if you weren't linked somehow."

A series of impatient knocks on the tinted mirror interrupted him.

"OK, kid. I just have a few questions about daddy dearest." If he ever made it out alive, Prompto would never laugh at B-Movies lines ever again - in real life those were downright terrifying to hear.

"Where does the Marshal live?"

Where did-Where did Cor live?

The walls of his apartment were painted with a light yellow. In the evening, the living room gleamed in the golden light.  Being perched on the 32nd floor, it felt like being nestled in a cocoon nest, unreachable and above the clouds. Prompto had stayed the night a few times, whenever Mrs Argentum had to go away and needed him to be watched and every time he had managed to snatch a handful of amazing sunsets snippets. It didn't hurt Cor hid a fantastic collection of photography books in his office and could make a killer paella.

It seemed crazy people wouldn't know where it was situated. As far as Pormpto knew, the location wasn't a state secret. He wasn't an important person either. No matter what Noctis said, Cor wasn't exempted from following the rules. If the location of his apartment was deemed sensitive information, Prompto would never have been allowed up there.

"I don't know," he heard himself say, anyway.

"You don't know?"

"I don't know," he repeated, feeling a bit more sure of himself despite the tremors of his voice. "I suppose he has an apartment in the Citadel or something."

Next thing he registered was pain.

The punch would have sent him flying if the chair hadn't been screwed onto the ground. His vision turned blurry from the tears and he could hear the man yelling and yelling, but could not concentrate enough to understand what he was saying.

"Think you're funny, little shit? Think this is a joke?!"

"Calm down Dan." A new voice piped in. "Not gonna help if he can't answer."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"N-No." He kept his eyes on the ground.

A kick to his knee tore a cry from his throat. Finger dug hard at his jaw, forcing his chin up.

"For a Niff you're quite loyal, aren't you?" He shoved him back, dirty nails scratching Prompto's cheeks. "Perfect. Then if you don't know where he lives, you can tell me where he works, right?"

"The-The Citadel?"

"And how does he get his orders?"

"By phone -I think he has some by the phone. the secured stuff. And - hum, he gets summoned by the King sometimes."

Wasn't it common knowledge? Or was trying to coerce some other information from him with those questions? He hoped not. Had he revealed sensible information?

"This number...is it his secure phone, or his personal mobile."

A screen was pushed under his nose - Prompto hadn't even noticed the other guy walking in! - with Cor's name flashing right at him. Despite the new crack on said screen, he immediately recognized his own phone.

"It's...I don't know. I've never asked, "he stammered. "I think it's his personal phone?"

"Does he usually pick up right away when you call him, or does he call you back?"

The new man spoke with a heavy accent, Lucian accent. His calm demeanour was throwing Prompto off. The violence and the rage of the other man, that was what Prompto expected from a kidnapper. What was up with this guy? And what kind of questions were these?

"I- we - I mostly text him and he calls me back."

They couldn't do anything with that kind of information, right?

Wrong.

Wrong, he realized, when the new guy threw a punch and took a picture of his crying face.

Wrong, he realized, when he made a show of tapping the 'send' button. The tiny arrow icon flashed blue a few times before the picture was sent to Cor.

Wrong, wrong, wrong wrong...

Seconds grained like sand into an hourglass, stretching as they fell, until the screen lighted up back to life, displaying the text as 'read'.

Immediately his phone started vibrating.

He didn't need to see the ID to know who was calling. The cruel smile spreading on the new guy's face was telling enough. Before he could do or say anything, though, the two men left and snapped shut the door behind them. He strained his ears but quickly gave up. Walls of concrete didn't let pass many sounds, let alone distinct conversation.

With nothing but fear and uncertainty for entertainment, he went back to staring holes at his bloody shoes.

[clockwork-cryptid]

Last month, my grandparents gave me $10 to buy Easter eggs. Today, my dad came home from their house and handed me a giant Easter egg with 4 chocolate bunnies

... and another $10...

[dredreadsdrawing]

Oc-tober Day 21: Palette

Aight, first and foremost, this is not a pretty story and these character are morally veeery bad people lol. And the colors I used for Massacre Anne in the first piece are not at all what they really are, they’re just the palette swap thing. Moving on to the story:

MASSACRAZE

Based on the song Massacre Anne by Mary Crowell:

Massacre Anne was a well-known mass murderer, on a rampage for years until a powerful wizard cornered her. She expected to die, but he gave her a choice. He marked her bones, making her more powerful and chaining her to his will. He would use her to clean up the other powerful law breakers.

She killed evildoers for years, armed with a magical list showing all her opponents, a sentient sword, and a mammoth as transportation. She never complained, she loved the thrill of being able to kill powerful opponents.

Then, one year, a Lord of Necromancy who routinely (and illegally) brought zombies back to life to search for his lost love (and to release his… desires when it’s not her), at the basement of the Wizard Tower, accidentally opened doors one too many times and unleashed the Angel of Darkness. With the angel gone from its realm, all souls became unleashed, and zombies littered the desert.

The Angel of Darkness took the chance to go out and get revenge on those who he feels are unworthy and wrong. He starts with the wizard commission, killing them all and inhaling the Master, keeping him prisoner inside his stomach. He spares the Lord of Necromancy because he feels no threat from him, instead, gratitude. The Lord of Necromancy is shaken but takes being spared by cowering in his room with a zombie girl caught in the crossfire.

Before getting inhaled, the Master sends an SOS to Massacre Anne. She goes to the temple as fast as she can, but all she finds are the feathers of the angel and the emergency power rings her Master never took off. She puts them on and finds the Lord of Necromancy in the basement. When she hears of what happened, she forcefully takes the Lord and zombie girl with her on her quest. She claims she will never rest until she gets her Master back!

…. But first how about some more killings to let her blow off steam? She goes to the desert to check her paper for some quick stops, only to find her names disappearing one by one. She’s distraught, her kill count is shrinking! She investigates by going to the last name, hoping to get there before they’re killed as well.

The last name is of a Priest of Guile and Elocution. He was a Priest who took advantage of his smooth talk to trick many people through the years, eventually leading to him having to sign a contract with a devil in order to not die. Little did he know, the devil was already working for another; his rival for power, the king of the desert. He was framed for many crimes he didn’t commit, and incarcerated. It was the night before his execution when the Angel of Death burst into the kingdom, powered up with the souls of all the criminals they killed, demanding the devil come out and fight him. The king, now possessed by the devil, proceeds to fight with the Angel; in the confusion, the jail is crushed and the Priest almost escapes, before getting snatched by Massacre Anne. They get away from the town just before it was completely decimated, and Massacre Anne hides the Priest with them on a cave; her base.

There, she learns more about the Angel of Death and the Devil thanks to the priest. The Angel of Death used to be a pure one, the most naïve of all angels, but he was tricked by the king with help of the Devil and her Master into going down to Earth. Once he stepped foot on the ground, he was attacked by Master, and stripped of his holiness in order to feed the Devil. After he was drained, they tossed him aside, making him too weak to fly back up to heaven, and too tainted to be rescued by his fellow angels. Instead, the ground swallowed him, and he became the keeper of souls, the Angel of Death. Try as he might, he had no power to get out, but he bid his time until he could. Overtime, his strength was regained, but he was still trapped.

Then he was unleashed by the Lord of Necromancy and here we are.

Boosted by the power of many living souls, the Angel of Death defeats the Devil, crushing him and the king, feeding on their power as well, regaining his holiness in the process. The problem, though, was he was still a tainted angel; mixing the two causes a reaction in him, turning him into a demigod.

He plans on going to heaven now and destroying the angels that abandoned him. Once he’s up there, Massacre Anne and the rest wont be able to stop him, and the Master will be doomed.

They need a plan.

They agree to work together, and they stage a trap with multiple layers. Lord of Necromancy manages to hold the angel down by overwhelming him with a mountain of zombies, the Priest uses his possession powers to keep the angel in a sedated form, unable to fight, and Massacre Anne delivers the final blow, using all her power gained from her master.

It works.

He pops, and all the people he inhaled are back. The door sucks up all the lost souls and closes again, taking all the zombies with it (including the poor zombie girl everyone got attached to), and they are left back to normal. Except the Master’s energy has been reduced significantly and he has become a child now with his adult brain still intact. The big bad Master has now become much less of a threat, reverted to a child, and Massacre Anne fakes sweetness for am minute only to immediately try to kill him to get out of the contract, but no matter his power level, she is still bound to his will and cannot harm him. Now she must continue killing big opponents like before, but the Master joins her in order to soak up their power and restore his levels, much to her disdain. The Lord flees before he’s able to be persecuted, becoming another name in Massacre Anne’s list. His mission has been modified to bring back both his love and the young zombie he’s taken a parental role for, now with the added difficulty of not having the supplies he needs nor the portal chamber the Wizard Tower provided. He needs to build his own. The Priest returns to his position as leader of the church and, now with the king dead, his power is absolute. He will work closely with the Master to create new rules to follow… or else be persecuted. Massacre Anne is excited for the possibilities of more names being added with these revisions. (This is fuel for a second part to the story)

A few notes on the characters I couldn’t take pictures of cuz Tumblr has a limit of photos lol: 

Massacre Anne:

- A sociopath

- Really doesn’t understand feelings or empathy

- Has no interest in turning “good”.

- Hates her Master behind a smile

- Only searches for him because of his command. Was very theatrical the whole search for him and would constantly grooooaaan about it.

- Has a sentient weapon that changes shape but mostly takes the form of a sword cuz they’re cool. It’s the “Sword with a will of its own” in the song. It’s definitely her best friend and the only one that ‘gets her’. 

- The Priest and Lord somewhat befriend her as well, though they know they’d kill eachother if it came to it. Massacre Anne has formed a stronger bond with the Zombie Girl, and she went as far as calling her her only female friend. Zombie Girl genuinely likes Massacre Anne, though she finds some stuff she does offputting.

Lord of Necromancy:

- There’s no way around this, this man’s a bit of a necro, though he only takes corpses with souls and asks for consent. 

- On a normal day, his zombies would only last a week usually before their souls slip away.

- His kink started with his love, a the past head of the Wizard Tower, an older woman who took him under her wing. This dude is trans, and she was the only one that helped him fit into his body. She was kind and understanding, nurturing even, and he was hopelessly in love. She brought him to the basement and introduced him to zombie summoning. You can imagine what went on.

- Then she died in an accident. She maniacally laughed till the very end, excited and calling this her favorite experience yet. The Lord was distraught without her. He mourned for a day before beginning his search for her soul. He’s been looking for her for years.

- When he was stuck with the young zombie girl, he was annoyed at first. He has no use for ones as young as her, and to top it off, this girl was missing her tongue and was mute. Poor conversationalist. But with time, she really grew on him. And he began accepting her as his adopted child. When the portal closed and she was ripped from his arms, he nearly followed her. The Priest held him down and prevented him. Now it’s his duty to find both his love and his child.

Priest

- He’s selfish, egotistical, narcissistic..... but he’s smart af. He can play anyone like a fiddle.

- Celibate (read: He’s so self centered, everyone else just... disgusts him)

- Him and the Lord do NOT get along... though their relationship becomes more amicable with the more alcohol they drink. By the end, he saves the Lord in a moment of genuine concern that suprises everyone. Though he’ll always say it was just his instinct kicking in. Tsundere.

- He also became close to Zombie Girl, and even the Mammoth. Zombie Girl stuck to him and helped him get well (since when he was found, he had a fever and hadn’t eaten in days.) Afterwards, she would always listen to his ramblings and make him knicknacks like flower crowns and stick dollies. He once again would never admit it but he kept a few. He ends up liking the Mammoth becuase, though it is big, hairy and smelly, it’s helped the Priest many times as well, even blocking hits with its trunk. Ugh, feelings.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, BRIDGET! You’ve been accepted for the role of POMPEY. Admin Minnie: I had some trouble writing Piero in the beginning; in fact, I rewrote him a few times because I couldn’t find the right words to describe the core of him. But you, Bridget, nailed it exactly in ways that I had not even seen myself. You made him utter real — sometimes uncomfortably so, all of that feeling and pride, As I was reading your application, I immediately felt like he was already yours. I really tried to pick out my favorite line in your application, the detail that really drove it home for me — but the truth is, Bridget, you won me over so thoroughly that I love it all. I cannot wait to see you on our dash again, Bridget, and I’m so happy you’re back! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Bridget

Age | Twenty-two

Preferred Pronouns | She/they

Activity Level | I’m either gonna be on every three minutes or three days apart, there is no in between, but I promise to keep my activity constant and in line with your standards and let it be known if I am having any struggles with meeting them.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp?  | Hazel

IN CHARACTER

Character | Pompey ; Piero Montrelle Ruiz

Piero ; italian: rock

Montrelle ; italian: mountain

Ruiz ; spanish: famous ruler

What drew you to this character? |

Listen, I made a meme when I was apping Hazel, Imma show y’all right now:

It’s a dumb meme and I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but share it.

I honestly play characters like Piero more than I play nicer, more morally-sound characters like Hazel, but I wanted to try something new, so ultimately I decided to pursue Hazel at the time. That said, as much as I love Hazel and would love to write her again, I kept thinking about Piero and his youth and ambition, and so now here we are, me obsessed and wanting to write him.

Okay, rambling ? Done. Let’s do this.

Something about Piero just screamed to me boy king, and that’s just my style. It was in the way he put himself above other children, his pride and his ego. He was born to be something and, in his youth, before he knew of his parents’ empire, before they told him who he was meant to be, he was searching for it. He couldn’t find in it eager kiddy games, he couldn’t find it in chit chat or childhood experiences. But there was something that rushed through him when he saw them stumble, he found satisfaction in figuring things out ages before them. It was in feeling better than them, feeling stronger and superior, and — simply, just being better. He had no time for laughter, for foolishness. What was the point of that, if not to waste time ? ( He was a mean boy, but his parents never pushed him not to be. If he caused another to bleed, it was their fault for not defending themselves. If his whispers of cruel words caused them to weep, they needed to strengthen their mental fortitude. No fault was to be found in Piero ).

I also want to pinpoint there’s something about Piero that also reads naivety to me. He considers himself wise and intelligent, and to some point I do agree ( books and tutors can teach, and they do ) but there are other notions that bring out his youth. It’s in his eavesdropping on his parents — yes, he was young when it happened, but still someone wiser would have understood that some secrets are such for a reason. Instead, he lusted for the unknown, something bigger than himself ( this — as well, is something I’d like to focus on, but I’ll come back to this later. ) and he found himself frenzied until he was finally privy to the family secrets. I see him as being inexperienced, someone who doesn’t have quite the worldliness as someone twice his age or even someone who had to struggle for basic needs during their childhood.

( Also, there is the fact his parents groomed him as being special. He never earned the title, instead it was bequeathed unto him from the very start. His parents claimed he walked younger than most, talked younger than most. He excelled in classes, he excelled in his physical ability. Again and again, his parents claimed him remarkable. I think, amongst the Veronesi, it might be time for him to realize that maybe he isn’t more than his name. This probably should go under plotting but I’m imagining him seeing others with skills he was never taught, maybe those his mother would have considered barbaric and uncouth. Piero wouldn’t see that, though. He would see force and deadly talent and he would see the areas in which he holds deficits. Also, just the ability and skill that comes with time and practice beyond natural talent. I keep reminding myself that, although a little bit weary with a lot of trauma, Piero is still nineteen. I used to think that was so old and so mature, but he’s barely more than a kid. Fun Science Fact: brains aren’t developed fully until their mid-20s !!! Some studies suggest early 30s !!!! Piero hasn’t even reached 20s !!!! He’s still baby !!!!! He’s going to make mistakes and learn and he might be reluctant and angry to do ( please see trauma re: parent death and assassination attempts )  so but he’s gonna do it to better himself which is what he wants to do !!! )

Piero learned so much from his parents, from tutors and teachers alike, but there is something more about experiencing things for himself and not just from the words of others and that’s where his youth shows. The first time he fought, really fought, not for practice or for fun ( something about him just coded him as a bully in my mind, one who’d pick a fight with someone who, one, would fight back, and, two, someone he would definitely beat, but I digress ), in my mind, was when Tiberius came to kill him. There was a fight or flight reaction and he was proud and cocky and pumped up on adrenaline because — this — this was what it was all for. He fought with a flurry of fists, frenzied, wild. In that moment, he knew this for certain: Ruizes were powerful and forceful and they would not flee. If he died right then, so be it, but he wouldn’t have looked death in the face and accepted it.

Okay, so this has turned into a rambling character analysis, and I apologize because I said I was done rambling, and clearly not. That said, I don’t regret it. I just have so much passion and fervor for Piero and I could write a ton more. I might. Later. We’ll see.

I just can’t help but be captured by how striking he is. He’s new to Verona, new to this scene of criminal seediness because this is when he’s finally beginning to get his hands dirty, beyond the basics of opening his eyes. His parents were introducing him to this life, but they didn’t let him delve too deep. They were bringing him in slowly, and then they died. He had nothing right then, nothing but his name and its weight. That wasn’t enough, but his brutality was. When death came for him, it made a mark on Tiberius for him — maybe all of the Capulets, too — and now he’s determined to leave a stain on all of Verona, perhaps Spain and the rest of the world, too.

I originally saw him as something of a blank slate when it came to his being in Verona, but after thinking it through a tad more, he isn’t. His parents wrote his future for him with the very incident of his birth, and now he is filling in the blanks that have been left for him after their deaths. Verona — the Capulets — they are a step in his path to power. Here, he could find allies — he already has enemies — and he learned at a young age the value others could be in company. Over time, maybe they will see that he is someone with a bright future, someone who should be watched carefully because blink and you’ll miss his grab for something better.

He should not be overlooked and that is something I think people might do. Sure, his family had a reputation, one that might cause some pause, but they might think he isn’t them. He is young and inexperienced, but there’s a chip on his shoulder and in his mouth is a taste for blood. He won’t go down quietly or without a fight. He is watching and waiting for chance and opportunity. He’ll prove any doubter wrong, he’s sure of it with all the self-confidence and egotism a princeling could have.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

1. Emotional Motion Sickness: Something that struck me about Piero is how he once wore his emotions on his sleeve. He fought for his life, fueled by loss and grief. He has a practiced void in his eyes and locked tears away. In my mind, this is not him, it is not in his nature. He was the sort to be fueled by idle amusements, wanting satisfaction, his eagerness knowing no bounds. He feels, and he feels immensely. It could be said it’s what he does best.  But now? He is quiet, showing little. It’s vacant and a little numbing, and the void in his eyes is cold and distant. What his cards are and what he intends to play are known to him and him only. I can’t help but think that maybe, one day, he is going to break, the facade dropping, eyes blazing. Anyone caught in the crossfire surely would regret their taunts and jeers.

1. I just have this vision of him snapping. It would take a lot — honestly, a lot — because he’s created this solid version of himself, almost patient, somewhat mostly obedient ( I do imagine he chafes under rules a little — more than a little bit actually, but he bites it back time and time again ) but unfeeling. Jibs and jabs don’t get to him. They seemingly roll off of his back. I have to say that isn’t the case. He’s proud and he can only take so many insults. If — actually, when — he breaks, it’s going to have been a long time coming. The facade will start to break, cracks showing in the twitch of his fingers, the tension in his jaw. Maybe it will earn him respect from those around him when he snaps and demands more for him  — he’s more than just the last of the Ruizes, living off of the faded glory of their name, and he’ll be damned if he’s not allowed to show it — but maybe it will only be a reminder that he was a loose end, and he was meant to be dead to begin with.

2. Who Am I? You Decide: He comes to Verona and what’s most obvious is that he has offered himself wholly to the Capulets. It’s not what his parents did — they were owed power for their allyship while Piero is now owed nothing. At the beginning, he is dutiful and obedient. He’s got nothing to lose but he has everything to gain here. He has to prove himself, really it’s his main goal. To do this, he finally understands words his parents told him so many years ago. Detener la marea y esperarar al momento adecuado: Hold back the tide and wait for the right time. He’s trying to listen and be quiet and wait and watch, but he’s never known patience well. He acted and reacted in his youth — power and privilege granted that ability — and this restraint is taking a lot of effort.

1. The facade crumbles and falls slowly, piece by piece. It starts with remarks and quips that are a touch too dry and that have too jagged an edge to people who don’t matter. It then escalates. He tries to manipulate situations where he sees a chance to take hold. He bites when he should be muzzled ; he acts of his own accord. I have no doubt that his own desires and whims to take action will get him in trouble. He is a wicked boy and always has been, soul stained black by birthright and only darkened with time. He found thrill in other people getting hurt, whether by his hand or not. He found glee in twisting his words to twist knives in others’ hearts. Maybe he learned it from watching his parents — they were by no means good people — but maybe it was part nurture, part nature. It was fate to be bad, or at the very least unkind.

2. His true nature shows in these ways: he speaks when he shouldn’t, he becomes too comfortable around Tiberius, a man who is like a friend and a brother, but ultimately was the man who was meant to kill him. It shows in his interactions with Vivianne, charm oozing, frenetic words of grandeur and idyllic plans slipping from his lips in eager commentaries about Verona and Spain and the whole world further. He speaks to them as if they are not his betters — as if he is more than even an equal — and soon it is not only them. It will become everyone.

3. Throwing Rocks Around Your Room: Everything in his life has been destroyed or taken from him in irreparable ways. This new life, this new existence, a part of him wonders how long it will last ( there is, of course, a certainty that this has to last. It’s this life in the mobs, or death. No middle, no escape. All or nothing. Black or white ). He seems so neutral, so unmoveable, but his head is a wrecking ball. He thinks of ways to destroy not only himself but all those around him. A part of him thinks the Capulets are to blame for the ruination of his family and their name — exceedingly childish, for sure — but he wonders what it would be like to see them crumble, perhaps making a martyr of himself in the process. The one flaw to this is that he does not want to die. For what use was him surviving this long if it comes not to a head ? He needs to make a mark. He needs to be known not just by a few Capulets and other Veronesi — but by everyone. He wants parents to shiver when their babes utter his name. He wants his name in history books, imprinted on pages that will survive longer than their maker.

1. Destruction has followed Piero. At first, it was only others, starting with children who crossed him, and then it turned to the enemies of his family. He did well when it was his hand casting the stone. And then, it turned on him. His family’s empire turned from masterpiece to rubble. Another turn took and his family was whittled down to one. The idea of erupting and destroying who he thinks hurt him ? Somewhat appealing. But he can’t do it. He wants more. He’s hungry to become bigger than he is. I want him to find a way to do it ( and while he’d consider acting Brutus within the Capulets, his own pride and ambition would be champ at the bit, rendering him unable ) or at least consider his options. He’s restless as part of the Capulets. He feels like they are keeping him down, not letting him be enough.

4. I Don’t Have a Fancy Title for This One I’m Sorry: When it comes to Tiberius, Piero wants to impress him, to prove him right, that sparing him was the right choice. But at the same time, bitterness remains and finds itself seeping into his blood, the feeling intensifying, every time Piero finds himself being held back by the scruff. With his … befriending ( that isn’t the right word, and it doesn’t convey what I want to say ? Admiring ? Infatuation — not romantically, of course ) of Vivianne, he wonders if impressing her over Tiberius is the way to go. He considers ignoring Tiberius, going off on his own and making his own choices. Maybe that’s what he needs to do to shake off the status of initiate, to become a soldier.

1. tl;dr: Eventually, if Tiberius doesn’t let Piero have a little more responsibility and things to do, he’ll find someone else who will grant him that.

Current State of Being

→ Piero is trying to stay in line, keep quiet, and do what’s asked of him. But he’s antsy and he’s simmering. There’s so much he has to say ; he’s so not used to being at the bottom of the pecking order. It’s not going to last. He’s got a lot to say, he wants to do things. Sooner or later, he’s going to stop waiting for permission ( and, in turn, he’ll beg for forgiveness if need-be )

Character Goals

→ Have Piero use his voice. He stops listening to the jeers and taunts of everyone who thinks they know all there is to know about them, and he tells them off. He’s no longer silent and maybe people will look at him in a different light. Or maybe he gets in trouble. Either way would further. I’m leaning towards having him react and get angry, raising his voice in a way he shouldn’t.

→ His true nature shows. Wicked is as wicked does. He gets comfortable in Verona. He acts on instinct, he lashes out. Maybe someone gets hurt — maybe it’s him, maybe not. He starts to abuse his ability to talk to people, twisting words and twisting hearts and feelings. Manipulation is in his blood. He acts out, he steps out of line and does something for people to see him as more than just a little initiate in the Capulet’s gang.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |

Don’t kill baby jk do it i dare you

IN DEPTH

( i’m replying to some of the questions & i did a para sample )

What is your favorite place in Verona?

He gets lost more often than he’d like. He wanders down streets he’s never gone down and through alleys with unknown endings. A part of him would be delighted if it wasn’t overtaken by the idea that he needed to know these streets better than he did. There was no time to be idle, no time to do anything with purpose. Most of the Capulets, surely the Montagues, knew this city like the back of their hands.

He wanted to know it better than they did, better than those naturally Verona-born. It was more than a want, it was a need that burned within him.

Still, the streets were beautiful.

It was different than home, than Spain. There, his family had resided just outside one of its largest city. From his room, he could hear the sounds of cars whizzing by on nearby highways. If he didn’t close the curtains, he would be bombarded with the lights of the city, no stars to be seen.

Here, despite its age and all of its magnitudes, Verona seemed infinitely smaller to him. He was refusing to allow himself to like it, to find a home.

It’s a long time before he finally answers the question, and his response can hardly be considered an answer. He only gives a shrug of his shoulders, absent, vague, and his gaze turns towards the window. His eyes are dead and shark-like as people pass by.

That’s not an answer, Piero.

He sighs, a loud and exasperated sound. There’s another pause on his part, this one longer and emphasized by his ability to not look at the asker once. This person — the soldato — means nothing to him. He’s sure they’ve already passed their prime. They’re as likely to ascend further as he is to fall flat — which is to say unlikely. And because of this, he cares little for them. He waits to say something poised and clever until perfect ears are listening.

Finally, there comes an answer, the barest bones of respect he’ll give, one with a little more substance to it. That doesn’t mean his voice has an affect that is more than flat. It doesn’t mean he seems to care. “ There’s a little flower shop that I can see from the window of my flat. I’ve never — “ his nose wrinkles at the thought “ — I’ve never bought anything from it, but it reminds me of when I was living another life. ”

It reminds him of the day his parents died and he was left standing alone to face their destruction, his shoes sticking to the hardwood floors as blood dried on their soles.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“ Ambition is my folly. ”

It’s said lightly, airily, as if it doesn’t matter. Look closer, see how the muscle clenches in his cheek, how there’s a sparkle momentarily flashing in his eyes before it fades to dullness. He wants to do something that has weight ( — like the heft of a gun in his hand, the feeling of his body atop another’s as his fists bear down ) and yet he is relegated to simple tasks only. He feels like a page, or perhaps worse, a pawn, unimportant and oh-so-easily replaceable.

Maybe his mistake has been living.

It shouldn’t seem like that.

But he hates being an underling. He hates being told what to do and when to do it. His life is now dictated by another, not even a Ruiz. When it was his parents instructing him, it felt different, less like someone was making all of his choices for him and more like — more like he mattered ? There is no need to convince himself that he did matter to his parents — he was next in line, preened and primed, being readied to take the throne his family had been sitting on for generations — because he knows it’s true. Here ? One wrong move can cost everything.

Perhaps he should have allowed himself to have been martyred, killed in cold blood despite fighting to prevent it. He would have been the last of the Ruizes ; they’d have been remembered for not going down easily. Now ? He thinks a wrong glance cast could mean his throat will be slit.

You don’t seem so ambitious to me.

He supposes most won't have seen it. Tiberius knows — Tiberius has heard him ask over and over for something to do, something bigger and better, with meaning, and so has Vivianne, he would be remiss to forget her — but everyone else ? He doesn’t suppose it’s important enough information for his sponsor to pass along that he wants to do more, so he rationalizes that most think he’s just a good little soldier-to-be, keeping his head down and toes in line. It’s not time for people to fear him, not just yet. That time will come.

“ Then maybe my biggest mistake was that lie. ”

Para Sample

He has been being followed for sometime now. It is always a shadow in the periphery of his vision, disappearing when he turns to see, a jacket billowing behind someone who had just walked out of frame. Piero wonders if this should make him nervous. He’s considered it, the idea that someone must want him dead to end the Ruiz family once and for all. They came for his parents, now it’s his turn. It’s a horrifying thought at first light, but there is something dangerously satisfying to him within it, at the idea of someone considering him that necessary to end. Perhaps it’s dark and twisted, but not all boys born to wear a crown come out golden.

Nearly a week passes, and by now he’s on edge. Every knock on the door of the shitty motel he’s staying in, every blow of wind against the glass windows, sets him on edge. There are purple circles under his eyes, dark as can be. He hasn’t been sleeping well. He tosses and turns, his deepest worries allowed to fester and grow in unguarded dreams, until he wakes unrested. He can’t go on like this much longer. He’s wondered if it’s worth it to flee Spain, to call on distant relatives, begging on bent knees for salvation and charity. His own pride sets him straight. Cowardice is not an option. Ruiz blood has reigned over Spain for generations. He will not be the one to bring that to an end, bringing shame to his name and the memory of his parents.

It’s just past three in the morning when he hears the turn of the doorknob. He sits up straight in the rickety armchair in the corner, his eyes adjusting to the darkened room, and he stares and he waits. He considers running. There’s a window in the bathroom, already open. He’s slender enough to squeeze through it if he really wants to, he’s given thought to it already — the doorknob rattles again, a thump echoes through the room as something hits the wood of the door — but he thinks to himself he doesn’t have the time. If he tries it, he’ll be caught halfway out. He cannot flee if it will lead inevitably to his demise. It’s embarrassing and shameful and wouldn’t do. Even in the face  of death, Piero is as proud as ever.

The moments before the door cracks open, broken by the weight of another’s body, seem to last forever. He thinks of himself. He thinks of all the things he has yet to do. He thinks about his parents, their dreams and expectations for him. This becomes painfully clear: he cannot die without a fight. This is his moment. No matter the outcome, someone will remember the Ruizes. They were once noble and strong, but they didn’t allow their fire to go out so easily. It’s all he can do.

The door breaks, and he’s on his feet finally. The room is still dark but he can see motion in the darkness. He will let his attacker come to him. To tire himself out, to make all motion, seems like it’d be a mistake. Though he’s expecting it, the first hit knocks all of the air out of his lungs. Another hit lands, then another. Finally, something snaps within him. Elbows in, chin down. That’s what his mother taught him. He’s wild and frenzied, suddenly hits aren’t met with pause, and he begins throwing blow after blow, some hitting, some not. He’s all in. There is no hesitation, not anymore. It’s become apparent, right then, after this week of waiting, that perhaps another motivation is a fear of death.

It’s not an unreasonable thing. He is barely nineteen, hardly an adult, barely lived. He thinks there is so much more for him to do, to see and to experience. In his head, his mantra becomes I will not die today. Over and over, he says it to himself, despite blows hitting his body, his own strikes meeting their targets, muscles pounding against flesh.

Thoughts continue to rush through his mind. Why is he fighting ? For his parents. Why does he need to ? They’re dead. There are tears welled up in his eyes, out of pain and anger and grief. They shouldn’t be dead. They should be here. He shouldn’t be fighting. A choke sob escapes through swelling lips, but he doesn’t let himself falter. This is life or death, and he is doing everything he can to choose life.

His mouth tastes of iron and salt, but it isn’t from his own body. A fist met his lips, teeth scraped against gentle flesh, and Piero had drawn first blood. Though there were bruises forming on his own body already, though his muscles ache and scream, there is something satisfying about that. All he can do is manage to stay standing, quick on his feet, landing in jabs where he can.

The sounds in the room are heavy breathing and the noise of flesh hitting flesh. He wonders if the neighbors have been disturbed. He wonders if they care.

He isn’t sure how long has passed. He isn’t sure how much longer he can last. This fight, this rush of adrenaline coursing through him, it’s all new. Before this, it had always been fights that ended when someone hit the ground or time was up. Never had stakes been so high. A part of him is screaming for it to stop ; another wonders why this is only the first time. There’s something fulfilling in it, and maybe that’s monstrous, but Piero thinks that maybe he was born to be brutal and bloodthirsty. For so long, he had been charming and a pseudo-intellectual, clever and cunning. There had been merit to that, yes, but this ? Every fist that connects with skin sends a rush through him, a thrill like never before.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed when the man takes a step back from him, a thrown swing causing him to fall off balance. For a second, his heart leaps to his throat and he thinks this is it. But the man doesn’t take the misstep as an opportunity. Instead, he’s looking at him, interest crossing his features. Piero doesn’t let his fists fall to his side, he doesn’t know why the man has stopped, and he is too in the moment to care. He takes the chance the man doesn’t and swings, his fist meeting the man’s jaw. It lands with a satisfying thwack, but again the man doesn’t retaliate.

“ That’s enough. ”

Piero can’t help but flinch under the tone of resolve and authority, but when he looks up again, the man is still staring at him. No, he is studying. Piero can’t fathom what he can be looking for or why their fight has stopped. His body is screaming, surely if he wakes tomorrow the pain will have increased tenfold, and his most basic reaction is still fight, fight, fight.

He’s winding up his fist again but again the man speaks. “ I said, enough. ”

Piero knows when words spoken are no longer suggestions — when instead they become commands. His fists fall, his shoulders do, too. His expression turns petulant, childlike in its quick and open displeasure.

He is silent, waiting — for what ? He wonders briefly. It could be death and damnation that awaits him. A part of him, however, thinks differently. He has never been idyllic, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses with glee and a grin, but something inside him is waiting not for death’s hand to grip him.

Instead, he waits. Blood is rushing through his ears still, his pulse is throbbing. Finally, finally —

“ Sit down, boy. Let’s talk. ”

Extras:

FAST FACTS

( i looked up spanish naming customs for this and i might have gotten it right but i might not have i need to do more reading to be 100% sure but i still wanted to include it )

→ Full Name: Piero Ruiz Lorca

→ Mother: Marcella Blanca Lorca de Ruiz

→ Father: Piero Ruiz Zapatero

→ Siblings: None

→ Birthday: July 12th ; this makes him a Cancer

→ Hometown: Cordoba, Spain

→ Dominant Character Traits: harsh, ambitious, bloodthirsty, rash, driven,  

HEADCANONS

001. For generations now, men wore the name Piero, his grandfather the third, Piero the fifth. There were expectations to meet, legacies to exceed. Live up to your namesake. Piero’s father was speaking of his own father at the time and, while this weight of that bore heavily down, the young boy could only think of becoming instead like his father. His grandfather died before memories of him solidified in a young child’s head, and so he only knew of him through tales and rumors. For his father, though, he watched as all stood when he walked into a room, his presence commanding respect, his reputation demanding it. While his hands were stained bloodied red, he was a beacon of light that people looked to, he captured attention easily. Once he understood, Piero craved that same state of existence. The children he grew up around, he had their attention, but in a different way. They whispered about him when his back was turned, they ducked their heads and left the room once he entered. It was a shame, really, but he was sure he would grow into his father’s shoes, filling the role the elder Ruiz did easily. For some time, he believed he was doing exactly that. And then, his parents were slaughtered, and the role he had to fill was that of a ghost. Now that he is human once more, as part of the Capulets and their crew, he feels like he once did as a child, unliked and not very seen. It’s digging at him, shoving splinters under already broken nails, causing him to grit his teeth and try a thousand times harder to earn a little bit of the damned respect he so desperately craves. It’s one of the few things that his father told him to do, this living up to his namesake. His father might be dead, rotting in the ground, with most of his words forgotten to time and space, but his spectral voice lives on in Piero’s head.

002. I have this image of Piero, maybe no older than fifteen, sixteen, at a table surrounded by compatriots of his parents. An older man, in his fifties, or perhaps, his sixties, is chewing tobacco. It’s disgusting. His gums are coated in black spit and when he smiles there are specks on his teeth. Piero cannot hide his disdain. But he’s chewing something, too. With all of his egotism, his thoughts that he is better than those before, he’s found a better option. Mint. It’s fresh and better and — the adults around him, most find him insufferable. For good reason. Anyway, it’s stupid and dumb, but god, I imagine it’s a habit he hasn’t broken. It also means mojitos are his favorite cocktail. No, I won’t elaborate on this or give any good reason for it besides please, I want it, and it’s just youthful arrogance, you know ? Before Verona, before his parents died, I feel like he had just come into himself — he felt sure and he was certain that life was grand. Era una vida tan buena. He was cocky and a little … I don’t know. Smarmy ? That’s not quite the word I want, but god, Piero was living each day as it came. Nothing could faze him. He lived under the shield of his parents and their name, of his own youth. There was privilege in that. He had seen the taste of power and luxe that his parents’ world — the one he was set to inherit once he was of age — and it delighted him. He revelled in it. He wouldn’t have to unlearn his innate cruelties, his hubris. He was a prince set to ascend, his crown was never askew.

003. As a child, he was raised not only to be smart, wisened by words of the experiences and the words in books, but to be cultured as well. His mother took him to parties with him on her arm, where his smiles never quite reached his eyes under the coos and remarks of her friends. He talked when spoken to, he never raised his voice. He could be charming when he needed to be, grins and chubby-cheeked, with words uttered that they desperately wanted to hear. He never enjoyed them, especially not when his parents would slip away into back rooms to have their own meetings. He would wait resting under the doorknob, eyes desperately seeking for some revelation under the door’s crack, ears yearning for words through the keyhole. The door would open at midnight, if not later, and he would fall into the room because of how he’d been leaning against the door. On the rainiest of days with no other plans, they would find themselves lost in museums all over the continent ( they had money, and while they didn’t quite flaunt it, they didn’t have qualms about traveling ). Beautiful things never caught his eye. They were nice, sure; but they were idle and dull and fleeting in his mind. Were his mother not guiding him ( in another life, one without bloodlust and bloodshed, she would have been a curator — a stunning one, establishing beautiful collections that many would travel to. alas, this is not our story ), he would have been lost in statues of gore, in paintings of wars and hatred. There was something about them that caught his attention and never let go. Is there beauty in being brutal ? Piero would say so.

004. The Ruiz home was decorated with exorbitant quantities of flowers while Piero lived there with his parents — why wouldn’t it be that way ? Their front for their operations was a massive floral establishment, it was only fitting for their home to be decorated accordingly. As a child, he loved their scent filling the halls and rooms — roses and lilies and all sorts of magnificent blooms. They were pretty and they weren’t long-lasting, but they were always something that represented his family, and he would be remiss to say a part of him wasn’t fond of them. However, from the day his parents died, all he can remember besides their shouts in frantic Spanish is the scent of blood and flowers. Now, any breath of anything floral makes him gag. It’s unfortunate.

005. The first time he held a gun — the first time he did so with meaning, it loaded, intended to be used against another — he was fourteen. He followed behind his mother, into a meeting with a man who owed the Capulets money. She knew he was unlikely to run or cause a fuss ( he had pride and character, his mother told him, and though he had wronged them, only a coward would have fled or refused his fate ) and thought it perfect for Piero’s first attendance. He stood behind his mother, just beside her shoulder, and listened as she talked. He stood on the balls of his feet, eager and ready for his chance to do something — anything. It never came, much to his disappointment. His mother said everything she needed to. She demanded payment. The man refused, citing he couldn’t. His mother nodded, then she fired one shot into the middle of his head. They left quickly after that, someone would be coming to clean up the mess, and the weight of Piero’s gun felt heavy in his hands having gone unfired.

006. He has nightmares. Nobody knows — he refuses to tell anyone for fear of it being seen as weakness or a vulnerability — but surviving two assassination attempts ? It should come as no surprise that it’s affected his psyche. But there are nights, more often than he’d like, that he wakes up, thrashing, sweat-coated legs and arms tangled up in bedsheets, and his heart is beating in frantic panic. It takes a moment for Piero to realize that his life is in no danger ( at least, not at that specific point in time ) and then he lets his head fall back to the pillow. The days after, he finds himself more on edge than normal, dark-circled eyes narrowed and angry.

PINTEREST BOARD

Rambly Bits That Didn’t Fit Anywhere Nicely But Still Provide Notion Of Character And I Didn’t Want To Delete Permanently For Fear Of Regretting That Decision Later

2. His parents were not good people. They never had hope of cleaning the blood off of their hands and fingers, but they never had desire to burn them clean. At his birth, he was blessed by aunts and uncles in hopes he’d have a fraction of his parents’ abilities — their cruelty, their decisiveness, their skill with gun and blade. He grew up in a home that never knew weak submission ; it was eat or be eaten, and he learned that quickly. He watched friends of his parents cry for mercy after failures — ones he didn’t understand in the moment, not until years later, when he crept downstairs in the midnight hours to watch their meetings through stair railings — and he watched as they were met with slaps to cheeks and sometimes worse. He was too young to understand the permanence of death, but he understood that a hole in a man’s temple meant he was never getting up. He saw the cool poise his father wore as he held a smoking gun — he imagined himself, older, in the same position. He echoed the steely edges his parents’ voices took ; he repeated the words they said that meant nothing to him until his cadence and tone matched theirs.

3. His parents praised him while he was in school when teachers and tutors reported that he was harsh in the face of sadness or whining and unable to handle the wrong answers of others.  It only worsened ( bettered ? ) as he grew older. His harshness seemed less precocious and began to unsettle others. Tutors and teachers began to dislike being in the same room as him. He wore a smile that said let me do as I please and his temper echoed I mean it. He asked them questions about things they didn’t know, baiting them with their insufficiencies until they had no other option but to quit. His parents would only hire someone new with no question. No one was spared. He asked personal and probing questions until they shifted in their seats. He was like a needle under their skin, sharp and uncomfortable.  )

4. Being a part of something bigger than himself. Isn’t that what a king does — or in Piero’s case, a princeling ? They are a large part of their kingdom, surely, and, though they might be its head, it cannot exist without its body. There needs to be support. When he was young, being a god amongst the other children wasn’t enough. He wanted something more. He wanted to be something more. He knew his parents did something that made them special, and their dis-including him ( for whatever reason it could be, he wondered night after night, staring up at the stucco ceiling, sleepless and agonizing ) just wouldn’t work for him. He needed to be involved, he needed to know. His knowing parts of their secrets, the whispers he overhead, was enough to build up his patience until it came to know more.

5. He has his eyes set on the crown his family once wore ; he was born and bred into a vicious line.

6. It’s a game of chess. Where once he was perhaps a knight or a bishop aside his parents’ queenhood, someone who could advise and assist, he feels now hardly more than a pawn. There are others in charge and he acts in their stead to do their bidding. He knows it’s what he must do. He must build his power back up, but gods above, the wait is agonizing. He wants to feel the rush of adrenaline that power brings surge through him again. He wants to make his own choices and decisions.

7. His peers had it worse. Unlike teachers whose authority he undermined, he knew he was better and above his cohort — a king amongst sheep. He ruled conversations even when no word slipped from his mouth. They needed to entertain him or he’d find another way to spend his time. ( A brief interlude: his “ friends ” didn’t like him but were scared of telling him no — also, they were most likely the children of his parents’ friends and associates, so there was need to make good with Piero. ) He’d pit them against each other with lies and rumors he’d overheard or made up. It was interesting to see them scramble, like ants under a magnifying glass. So long as he was amused, where was the harm ?