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fragilevixenfic · 4 years ago

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My AO3 Fanfiction Links (Current)

“I’ve never really thought about making a “Master List” of my own work but I figured, now is the time to do so. If any of the links are incorrect just let me know. I fix.

Adding in a “keep reading” tab because the list is starting to get long and intense.

Each fic is categorized and easily referenced. I’ll update as I go.

X Files

Series

Into The Shadows

XII (COMPLETE): A serial killer targets victims and leaves behind symbols of his affection -- but who is his intended target and what will it take to discover the truth? (This has a lot of trigger warnings)

Dance In The Dark (ONGOING Chapters 12/? Posted **UPDATED): With the continuing murder trial of Miles, Mulder, Scully, and Max are confronted by the VCU with a case that seems to be mimicking the pattern by their, now infamous, psychopath on trial.

Echoes and Whispers

Parallel (COMPLETE): The aftermath of the three little words that Mulder says to Scully in his hospital bed after being rescued from the Queen Anne as it re-appeared in the Bermuda Triangle...and the strange connection that Scully starts to feel to a memory that Scully couldn't possibly have.

Only The Night (ONGOING): Mulder and Scully begin their undercover assignment as an engaged couple with the assistance of Skinner at the University of Maryland to catch a serial rapist, putting their newly formed physical bond to the test in this sequel to “Parallel”.

Casefics

Falling Away (COMPLETE): Kersh’s assignment partially splits the team as Scully goes undercover under the watchful eye of Mulder as they both assist on an operation with SWAT and FBI personnel. (A gift for Greta)

Veritas se revēlet (COMPLETE): (The title is roughly translated to let the truth be revealed in Latin) An impromptu wild goose chase leads Mulder and Scully to the drifts of a winter-locked Tonopah, Nevada—where a little more than the embodiment of Mulder’s imagination takes shape between the walls of the Mizpah Hotel in the dead of winter. (A gift for @monikafilefan)

She Walks at Night (COMPLETE): Mulder’s knack for getting himself and Scully into sticky situations leads them to the heart of NOLA at the tail end of Hurricane season after barely surviving a Floridian storm—to investigate a rumor of a notable Voodoo Queen and missing girls trying to bring her back. (A gift for @starbuck09256)

Intrigues in the Dark (COMPLETE): A string of suicides leads Mulder and Scully to a sleepy, coastal town in Oregon for the second time—on their return to The X File—as tensions run high and nothing is as it seems. (A gift for @admiralty-xfd)

By Light, Unseen (COMPLETE): A series of re-opened cold case murders with one link…they’d been drained of every drop of blood and wore the same, haunting stare toward the sky with their lips aghast as if they were still screaming. (A gift for @serahsanguine)

Post-Series

A House is Not a Home (COMPLETE): The mere thought of raising a newborn in a world full of horrors has every part of Scully’s emotional irrationality over firing on a chilly, winter evening. Mulder wants nothing more than to show her that not everything is gray and grim. (for @danceswithcybermen)

Remember the Reason (COMPLETE): Post Series (Part 1 of the “Little Redhead Series”). Mulder and Scully already knew that life with a newborn would be difficult but the first Christmas with their two-month-old daughter throws every curveball…some worse than others, some more humorous. (For @underworldobsessed)

Confectioners Sugar & Snow Drifts (COMPLETE): Post Series (Part 2 of the “Little Redhead Series”). Mulder spends the morning bonding with Eliana by having a Christmas baking session while Scully is out shopping for gifts. Messes, mayhem, and a healthy dose of laughter ensue. No moment is ever dull as the snow falls outside.

The Easter Bunny was a Fox (COMPLETE): Post Series (Part 3 of the “Little Redhead” Series). Scully has to pick up Bill, Tara, and a couple of surprise family from the airport, leaving Mulder alone with their 6-year-old daughter, Eliana, on Easter Morning. All she has for him are curiosities as Easter’s non-Christian ideology unfolds before her eyes…creating the most unique bonding opportunity for a father and his daughter. (For Flicked_Switch)

Angst/UST/RST

Caught in the Rain (COMPLETE): A dark, rainy night leads Mulder and Scully to a hole in the wall bar where glasses of Scotch and unresolved tension is re-visited.

Or We Can Burn (COMPLETE): Post Never Again - expansion and continuation of the aftermath surrounding what Scully has been hiding from Mulder.

It Lingers (COMPLETE): The aftermath of trauma and the lingering effects of Mulder’s risky attempt to recover the truth about Samantha’s abduction leads to a revelation from Scully about her own coping mechanisms and flashes into a past she doesn’t fully remember...and the path to which they lead thereafter. (For @red2007)

Fluff/Humor

Nervous Laughter (COMPLETE): It’s been two full days since their tender, albeit brief, moment at the stroke of midnight and Mulder decides to be brave and methodical by inviting Scully over for a little movie and popcorn night for a film that has stayed locked in his mind as her favorite—The Exorcist. (This is a gift for @rationalcashew)

Lamplight & Shooting Stars (COMPLETE): It’s Spring-time in DC and spontaneous, mutually taken vacation time has become a personal mission of Mulder’s to surprise Scully with so much more than an escape from their norm—and the unseasonable, uncomfortable city heat. (For @underworldobsessed)

Into the Nightlife (ONGOING): A little paid vacation time never hurt anyone, right? (Not giving anything away this time)

Smut

Insomniac (COMPLETE): Another lonely, sleepless night, another dingy motel, and another town that isn’t home for Mulder…but, something changed, with the last gasp of the air conditioner as his partner, and best friend, chooses to walk through the adjoining door. (Expanded writing exercise)

Vultus in Speculo (COMPLETE): The last of the paperwork on the Strickland case has been finalized and filed and Scully goes off for a drink at a known FBI watering hole. Mulder is invited but doesn’t show up until after Scully is halfway through a drink—giving him an opening to inquire about a whole lot more than her flirtations with the Sheriff in the booth of a rooftop bar. (written for @msrheadcanon

Phosphorescence (COMPLETE): Still reeling from their experience in North Carolina, Mulder and Scully take a much-needed excursion to the coast of Oregon, where a flicker of light becomes more than a curiosity in the middle of the night. (Written for @anniexami)

The Darker Side of Love (COMPLETE): Mulder does not want to talk but he does not want Scully to leave, either. (This is for the MSR fanzine vol 3)

Ficlets/Drabbles/Short Prompt Collection

Affirmations and Protestations: “Fluff and Angst” Prompts (ONGOING):

Chapter 1 - "You Weren't Supposed to Hear That" - prompt #5, 61, 77

Chapter 2 - "Shout!" - prompt #19, 61 (From Valerie)

Chapter 3 - "Litost" - prompt #1, 85, 97 (From Monika)

Chapter 4 - "Ad Infinitum" - prompt #42 (From Minuete)

Chapter 5 - "Brick" - prompt - After Scully calls Mulder in the ep Emily, she asks him to bring her some things from home. Her journal falls to the floor and Mulder sees some things written about him that she has never allowed him to know. (from Monika)

Chapter 6 - "I'd rather be oblivious" - prompt #46 (from Annie)

Criminal Minds

Angst/UST/RST

Dulce Periculum (COMPLETE): Maxine and Spencer have continued seeing each other, in spite of the interference brought to the surface by Cat Adams. Spencer continues to work closely with the BAU after it nearly dismantled, with signature members scattering to the winds, leaving behind only a few, including himself, to keep working on their caseload. After a long, intense case, Spencer returns home to a little more than a can of worms. (A gift for an anonymous prompter)

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

Angst/UST/RST

Chasing your Silhouette (COMPLETE): They’d learned each other’s quirks and intricacies on the job—but when did it become over the line? When did physicality become a detriment to them once they’ve taken off their shields? When did they realize the line in the sand no longer existed? (This is meant to take place a couple weeks after “Zebras” – had to assume a timeline, I don’t remember actual dates)

Paternity Redux - Time Just Stopped (COMPLETE): Her strength has always been immeasurable—but sometimes, something has to give and a string breaks. Nothing will ever be the same.“I’m trying my best, that is enough.” - UnknownThis is part of a challenge, to right a series of wrongs in an episode that has perpetrated many a discussion of “What Could Have Been”. WriterKC, Liv.Einziger, JustAnotherBookWorm78, MrsWellRested, EORocks, AlexisDawn, ChriskaPeach, and I have stepped up to the plate to do just that.

Oblivion (ONGOING 9/? Chapters posted ***UPDATED***): The undercover operation in Oregon takes an unexpected, unpleasant turn for Olivia Benson as an injury turns her life, and career, upside-down leaving her with pieces of her memory scattered in the wind.

Humor

Unlock the Door (TENTATIVELY COMPLETE 2/2): Olivia returns home from a celebratory series of shots with Kim Greylek and lets Elliot Stabler hear a little more than she ever intended to in the aftermath.

Series

Polaroids and Promises (COMPLETE): The Special Victims Unit has undergone an enormous amount of changes in the past six months, to the point that they are drastically undermanned—until a transfer from the 13th precinct brings new life, and a little chaos, to the team. Will her addition prove to be a permanent shift or a flash in the pan?

Discarded Dignity (COMPLETE): Elora continues to gain much-needed confidence as a member of the Special Victims Unit but an arrival booked for trespassing, assaulting an officer, and disorderly throws her progress into chaos as her past jumps to the surface. Will she be able to look beyond the misstep to solve one of the most convoluted cases she’s faced?

Contract Corruption (ONGOING 10/?): Dickie Stabler and Justin Andrisani are in over their heads--and the members of SVU and the Organized Crime task force must come together in order to set things right.

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit/Organized Crime Crossover

Series

Words of love, words of lies, words of loss

Age of Regret (COMPLETE): Elliot Stabler has never been good with words but ten years and a double on the rocks in a lonely room will make a man pour his heart out…in any way that he can.

Infidelis (COMPLETE): Elliot had been haunted by too many ghosts; expectations, fantasies, and a promise that he knew should never be kept. It was time to lay them all to rest. “I do not regret you…I regret what you did to me.” - Unknown

#My fics #X Files #Criminal Minds #this is ongoing #someday soon #this will have SVU on it #all the fics #Law and Order: Special Victims Unit #yes I have more #no they are not all done #I'm a little crazy #Organized Crime #crossover

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themardlonk · 4 years ago

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I just finished reading the books and I've come to the conclusion that I actually really like that Sam married Rosie and Frodo left?

Before reading the books, the ending to ROTK used to lowkey upset me, because Sam and Frodo love tf out of each other! But Frodo leaves and Sam stays behind to get married to someone we don't know and is happy in the Shire without Frodo?? It bugged me. But after reading the books, I've come to the realization that in order for them to get the happy endings they deserve, Frodo needs to leave and Sam needs to stay. And Sam's life with Rosie is essential to his happy ending and completed character arc and is entirely separate from Frodo and Sam's love for one another. The reasons behind why I think their endings are perfect for them have to do with autonomy and the difference between choices made selflessly vs. choices made in self interest.

TLDR; Frodo and Sam’s endings are perfect for them (imo) because they get to choose them for themselves. Both hobbits spend the entire trilogy sacrificing everything they are for the Good of Middle Earth. Frodo leaving is The Good Ending for him because he is suffering the traumatic effects of the Ring; Frodo isn’t happy in the Shire and chooses an adventure of his own to Valinor so that he can heal. Sam staying and getting married and becoming part of the community is The Good Ending for him because he is invested in the Shire; from the moment he returns to the Shire, he chooses to pour his time and love into its restoration and abundance. Sam is a gardener and he chooses the Shire because it brings him happiness, but Frodo can’t find happiness there and so chooses to leave because that’s what’s best for him. (And then eventually, after Sam’s lived his happy ending in the Shire, he sails to Valinor to live with Frodo, and they both get that happy ending, too.)

There’s a little mini essay on Frodo and Sam that I put under the cut because it’s just me rambling, but if I didn’t make my reasoning clear enough above, it might clear it up. (Forewarning: These notes are probably uncoordinated af, because they were jotted down in my phone while I sat on the floor of my kitchen for 3 hours in a feverish ADHD-med-fueled determination to wrap my head around the LOTR ending.)

Frodo and Sam have the same goal (destroy the Ring), but their jobs differ. Frodo is tasked with the actual job of carrying the Ring (the metaphorical weight of the world) to Mordor. On top of physical, Frodo suffers through enormous mental and spiritual anguish to complete this task. Sam, meanwhile is tasked with protecting the Ring Bearer, and every decision he makes is in Frodo's best interest before anything else. He handles the Ring very little and his suffering is mainly physical, but he spends the entire time as Frodo's second, and defers to Frodo's choices and well-being above his own the entire time.

When they return home to the Shire, of the two of them, it's Sam who takes the lead in the resistance against Saruman. Afterward, it's Sam who spreads the dirt and plants the mallorn from Galadriel. It's Sam who takes an active role in saving and restoring the Shire. Of the four hobbits, I noticed that Frodo seems to be the one most affected by the Scouring of the Shire. While they're all affected, Frodo is the only one who doesn't actively start rallying troops and planning attacks. Instead, he takes on advisory duties and then withdraws as soon as he is able.

All four hobbits come back physically changed, but the book makes it pretty plain that on top of this, Frodo is also experiencing chronic PTSD, depression, and withdrawal from the Ring. Frodo isn't completely present in his life because he's trying to cope. He tries to be there for Sam, he even lets Sam and Rosie move in with him after they marry, but on the whole, Frodo is really, really sick.

Sam explicitly states that he loves Frodo, and he tries to be there for Frodo through Frodo's sickness. But unlike the trek to Mordor, there's really only so much Sam can do for him. I think Frodo is aware of this, and it's why he encourages Sam to actively pursue happiness (Rosie, a home, a family, social standing, etc.). Frodo loves Sam and wants him to have the happy ending that Sam wants, but Frodo can only give so much of himself as he is currently. Sam is in love with the Shire, but Frodo's happy ending isn't in the Shire. He's not happy there, and Sam is. Frodo can't give Sam what he needs, and vice versa. They have a conversation about this in "The Grey Havens" chapter. Frodo asks if Sam would be willing to travel with him, and Sam says of course, but that he can't go too far from the Shire. They love each other, but their needs are different, now. Frodo needs help with trauma recovery, and he can't stay in the Shire, but he's also not going to ask Sam to leave it behind to be with him while he recovers. Frodo doesn't need Sam to go with him, and he actually kinda needs to do this himself. And it's really important to Sam's character arc that Sam says he wants to stay.

Sam's life with Rosie is essential to his happy ending and completed character arc. Sam spends the entirety of the books looking after Frodo, caring for him, risking his life for him, and making sure they both go "There and Back Again." For 15(ish) months, Sam is on constant Frodo Protection Duty, and looking at how Sam addresses him and treats him beforehand and during the journey, Sam has honestly probably deferred to Frodo his entire life. But in order for Sam to really complete his character arc, he needs to choose his future for himself. When they get back to the Shire, he begins the process of self actualization, and Frodo helps it along. On the topic of Rosie, it doesn't matter that Sam marries HER necessarily, but it does matter that he settles down and gets to live a quiet life of gardening and family and community, because that's what he WANTS. And it's important that he himself chooses it, independently of anyone else's well-being.

For Frodo, it's both very similar and the exact opposite. He spends the journey to Mount Doom inside his head, facing things he can't physically fight, and he has to lean on Sam the entire way. Frodo DOES make the choice to take the Ring to Rivendell, and then to Mordor. It could be argued that every step he takes toward Mordor is a choice, but it's never his personal choice. It's a choice between Good and Evil. From the very beginning when Bilbo leaves him the Ring to a year later when he finally returns to the Shire, Frodo's one and only choice is the big picture question: Will you choose Good or Evil? Will you give up, or will you continue to put your mind and body through intense trauma so that your entire world doesn't burn? They're both terrible options, but they're the only ones he's given, and both are detrimental to him personally.

When Frodo returns to the Shire, he could go back to living quietly there for the rest of his life, and he actually does try to do that for a little while. But he has choices available to him now, and it quickly becomes clear to him that he's not happy there. He's been changed so much by the Ring and the experiences he's been through and the wider world around him that his journey can't end in the Shire. It's impossible for him pick up where he left off, because he's not that same hobbit anymore. He's unhappy and unhealthy playing that role, and it would be antithetical to his journey and the opposite of character growth. For Frodo, his happy ending looks like trauma recovery and a kinder adventure that he gets to choose for himself, and that's why Valinor is such a good ending for him.

Before he leaves, Frodo does as much as he can to put the Shire to rights and set Sam up to live his happy ending (he INVITES Sam to live in HIS HOUSE, did I mention that? I love them), and then Frodo leaves for Valinor to heal and find his own happy ending. And he gets it. He does heal, and after he's much recovered, Sam comes to live with him after he himself has lived a full happy life in the Shire.

OTHER (other) THOUGHTS:

(((This ending also makes sense, because if Frodo can't live happily in the Shire after going on a huge journey to save it, SOMEBODY better.)))

I also think it's nice that Sam and Rosie get to be in love, and that Sam is allowed to love multiple people. And I think it's lovely that his love for Frodo is not diminished in any way by his love for Rosie. "You're allowed to love multiple people deeply in your life, and that love is not made lesser because it's being given to multiple people" is SUCH a good message.

#samfro #samfrodo #lotr #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #rotk #tolkien #maria talks #the scouring of the shire #the grey havens

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ddarker-dreams · 5 years ago

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Yandere Behavior: Jotaro Kujo

⋆ ˚｡ Yan MBTI: RDHS ⋆｡˚ ⋆

Jotaro’s method of dealing with unpleasant feelings is to withdraw. Not for the sake of using the time to be introspective, but to get rid of them. He doesn’t want to get attached. He doesn’t want the vulnerability caring for someone else brings with it. There’s too much on the line, he’s made enemies in all parts of the world. In between working on his degree and family matters, he’s left with little time for much else, and he likes it that way. The structure, and the familiarity it brings.

You’d think he’d notice it sooner. How his eyes drift towards your form, and how he pays close attention to every word leaving your lips. He’d like to fool himself by saying the obsession came out of nowhere. That’d be the furthest thing from the truth, it just took him a while to notice the full extent of it, since he had nothing to compare it with. How could he rationalize a feeling he’s never experienced before? Especially one this intense?

Unlike other yanderes, Jotaro’s primary goal isn’t to win over your affection. He’d secretly long for this, but it’s not the endgame. After losing those he’s cared for in the past and becoming jaded from it, Jotaro wants to protect you. From what though? Even he’s not sure. There are times this train of thought is how he justifies his actions, and other times he chooses not to dwell on it.

There might not be a singular enemy to point fingers at, but that’s worse to an extent. Everything becomes a possible opponent. Your job? It’s obvious how stressful it is on you, how it’s negatively impacting your health. Your friends? Sure, you’ve had good experiences with them, but what about the times they’ve also hurt you? Jotaro takes it upon himself to become a self-proclaimed martyr that you never wanted.

It takes a trained eye to catch how he interacts with you in comparison to everyone else. You might not even realize his favor upon you until it’s too late. He still doesn’t speak more than necessary, never mincing his words. Jotaro doesn’t get the point in flowery language. He’ll say what needs to be said, and this applies to you as well. There’s never any ill intent behind it. He’d never hurt you for sadistic purposes, it’d always be accidental, not that it makes it anymore justified.

The manner in which he’s delusional is different than most yanderes. He isn’t delusional in believing you love him back, rather that everything in this world is out to harm you. There aren’t coincidences. It must’ve been intentional. Someone, or something, is out to get you. The unspoken irony is that he ends up becoming the biggest detriment in your life, the force he wanted so desperately to protect you from. That’s why it hurts even more when you look at him with fearful eyes.

He doesn’t want your life with him to be completely miserable. Should you ask for reasonable things, you can expect to see them randomly appearing within a few days. Questioning him about it won’t get you anywhere as he’ll change the subject. Jotaro doesn’t know the best way to show his love for you, so he sticks to small acts. Making sure where you’re stashed away is full of your favorite foods and activities, maybe even letting you keep a pet (if it isn’t noisy...)

Jotaro considers himself a reasonable man, though your definition of reasonable doesn’t align with his. If you’ve been on your best behavior, he’d be amiable to letting you travel with him as a reward. Only to places that he knows for certain won’t have many people. The prerequisite would be that you must be in his sight (and Star Platinum’s range, for your protection), at all times. The sacrifice of autonomy grants some freedom to explore beyond the four walls of Jotaro’s different homes.

Not going to see the point in manipulation. His blunt honesty might serve as a form of it, serving to convince you one day that maybe he is doing all of this for your well being. Jotaro might not like it if you keep asking him why he’s doing what he is, but he’ll give you an up front answer each time. It’s jarring how self-assured he is in his motives. Pleading and arguing with him won’t lead to anything other than your own frustration.

Due to his paranoia of one of his many enemies coming to get you, there’ll be a lot of moving around. As soon as you get used to one house in the countryside, you’ll be on a private flight to a city across the world to live in a new penthouse. Rinse and repeat. He does this to ensure that possible Stand users (specifically those who follow Dio and have good reason to despise Jotaro), can’t track you down.

He brings you back various trinkets from his travels. Whenever he can’t physically be with you, you still remain on his mind. It’s irritating at first, but Jotaro grows use to it eventually. What he gets will depend on what you’re into. If you like different foods, he’ll bring snacks and cultural staples from the country he visited. If you’re into art or photography, it’ll be paintings or photographs of landmarks. When Jotaro’s knocking at the door after a long trip, he’ll have plenty of gifts for you in his suitcase. Should you comment on it too much he’ll stop for a while out of embarrassment...

The greatest guilty pleasure would be introducing you to Holly. Though he might not come outright and say it, he values his mother greatly. You mean so much to him, and the thought of you meeting the other person he treasures most feels right. You might end up visiting her one day, if you’ve proven your obedience to Jotaro. Until that day does or doesn’t come, he’ll keep the wish to himself.

Quotes.

“I might be gone for a week or two. You have everything you need here, so don’t do anything stupid.”

“It’s been a while. Check the kitchen counter when you get the chance.”

“How did you find that picture? That... that’s my mother. Hm. She looks too cheerful to be my relative? Give me a break. You don’t have to believe me.”

#Jotaro Kujo #Kujo Jotaro #yandere Jotaro #jotaro x reader #kujo jotaro x reader #yandere jotaro x reader #yandere #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #jojo's bizarre adventures imagines #yandere jojo's bizzare adventure #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #JJBA #jjba x reader #yandere behavior #my stuff

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obxlife · 5 years ago

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Green-eyed Monster (Rafe x Reader)

A/N: Okay so I haven’t done a Rafe request in a while but then I got this request and I was like YES! I feel like Rafe is super interesting to write about, and this request really gave me space to just do whatever I wanted lol. I hope you guys like this!

Pairing: Rafe x Reader

Word count: 2,898

Request: I don’t have anything specific but can I please req jealous/protective Rafe x reader?

Summary: Rafe notices all the looks that men throw in your direction, and he tries not to be jealous, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, etc. RAFE DOESN”T DO HARD DRUGS IN THIS FIC.

GREEN-EYED MONSTER

Rafe was pretty much pissed off at half of the boys at the party.

It had started an hour ago, though Rafe had been there much earlier to help Topper set up. You had arrived only forty minutes after it began, kissing Rafe on his cheek and then going off with your friends. Rafe had smiled at you and raked his eyes down your body, noticing how good you looked.

But as you usually did at parties, you had gone off with your friends with a promise to dance with him later.

You and Rafe had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You had met twelve years ago when you were both seven and going into first grade. Your family had just moved to the Outer Banks, and due to the fact that your father was best friends with Rafe’s father, Ward, during college, you had gone over to his house for brunch. It didn’t even take you two minutes to convince Rafe to go and play with you outside in the backyard. From then, you did everything together. You went to the same school and had the same group of friends until high school. It wasn’t that you grew apart, no. You just simply stopped hanging around each other at school because you were in different classes. Now, most of your friends weren’t acquainted with Rafe, and vice versa. This hadn’t put a strain on your relationship at all, in fact, you were still very close. You just didn’t seem as friends anymore in the eyes of most Kooks.

Your supposed departure from Rafe made you gain attention from a lot of boys. See, most of the other Kooks from Figure Eight thought you had been dating him, and once they noticed you had stopped being around each other at school, they had assumed you and Rafe broke up. This caused them all to begin flirting with you.

There was no denying that you were pretty. Like, no way of denying it. And Rafe took notice of your beauty as soon as he took notice of the boys that would flounce around you, trying to catch your attention. This was the moment he began to develop feelings for you.

He thought it was going to be detrimental to your relationship. Rafe really did think so, but he was surprised to find that not much changed. He still laughed with you at the same jokes, and the physical contact you shared didn’t make him nervous, really. He couldn’t understand how he felt the same around you if he had just noticed his feelings for you. Why didn’t his heart race faster than normal when he was around you? Why didn’t he blush when you laughed at his ridiculous jokes?

Rafe had voiced out these thoughts to Jason, his best friend, one afternoon.

“It’s because you’ve always been in love with her, dude.”

That made sense and Rafe soon came to realize that what Jason has said was completely true.

And so Rafe decided that voicing out his feelings was way too risky. He wouldn’t dare confess about them if there existed a chance that he would ruin what you had right now. It was one of the few things he had going on right now, and it was one of the few things that made him happy. So he remained silent and shut his mouth whenever he would see you talking to a boy or mentioning one of your male friends. He wouldn’t let his jealousy seep out around you.

Lucky for him, you never seemed interested in any of the boys that were surrounding you. Rafe loved the fact that you had never dated anyone as it made him feel as if there was a small possibility that you liked him back. All he could do was cross his fingers and hope that this was true.

And it was. You had never taken any notice into any other boy except for Rafe because you knew for a fact that you and Rafe were meant to be together. It was a feeling that had grown in you as you had grown with Rafe, and it was something you were sure was written in the stars (corny, yes, but true). You had decided long ago that you wouldn’t rush whatever was meant to happen between you and Rafe, as you knew it was bound to happen. The love you had for him was always and will always be there, as you were sure that he loved you too.

This didn’t stop you from being jealous of all the girls that would look his way. Just as it was true that you were pretty, Rafe was as well. He was one of the prettiest boys in Figure Eight, and everybody seemed to take notice of that. But unlike Rafe, you didn’t let that bother you much.

Rafe could only stare at you as you down shot after shot along with your friends. He smiled at how you were smiling until he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Damn, Y/N looks hot tonight,” Jason said to him. Rafe felt his jealousy burn his insides, but he didn’t take his anger out on Jason. Rafe knew he made these comments to rile him up.

“Yeah, she does,” Rafe muttered, raking his eyes up along your long, exposed legs for the second time that night.

Jason looked at his friends whose eyes were still trained on you. “Are you gonna ask her out tonight?”

Rafe shook his head before pressing a hand to his chin, which then moved to rub his eyes.

“Why not?”

Rafe only continued to shake his head.

Jason didn’t understand why he did that to himself. Why Rafe would purposely keep himself from you when it was obvious you both wanted each other. He spent days trying to convince his friend to just make a move, but Rafe never budged. He was so sure you couldn’t love him. How could you if his own father didn’t?

Rafe shook his head one last time before downing his drink and turning away from where you were, wanting to distract himself. He never got the chance to do so as he heard your giggles float through the air. Spinning around once again, Rafe noticed how your hand was on a boy’s arm, and how he was staring intensely at you.

Real jealousy flared up his body this time, and Rafe stared at the boy’s hands. They were squeezing your waist softly, and all Rafe wanted to do was shove him away from you.

But Rafe only walked forward to the table and stood behind you, trying to ignore you and the boy, as he searched for something stronger than beer. Bingo, he thought as he took out a bottle of whiskey that was full. He opened it and took a swig right there, as he felt your body walk away from where it had been. Rafe turned only his head to see that the boy was dragging you away to dance with him. He took another swig.

Your heart was thumping along to the music as you tried to dance to the beat to the song. The boy whose name you couldn’t remember had approached you a couple of minutes ago and ha wasted no time to ask you to dance. He had dark hair and light green eyes, but they weren’t the shade of green you wanted them to be. His hands were big, but not as big as Rafe’s.

However, he was cute, and you settled with that for now. You wouldn’t probably even kiss him, just the thought of Rafe wouldn’t let you do that, but you could have fun and dance with the boy.

You felt his hands on your waist as they pulled you into him. Your back was pressed against his chest, and you swayed to the music together. He spun you around in his arms slowly, almost as if to prevent you from getting dizzy. You were now face to face, and he leaned down just enough to press his forehead against yours. Panicked, you turned your face away, not wanting him to come any closer. However, you continued to dance with him. Noticing his failed attempts, he spun you around again and continued to dance with you for a while. The boy was not giving up so easily.

Rafe stared. Hard. Most of the people around him had noticed that he was angry at someone at the dance floor, and they had noticed the pressure he was applying to the bottle in his hand. The people around him had moved back from him a little while ago, but Rafe hadn’t noticed. All he could notice was the boy’s hands on your body, sliding up and down its length. His forehead on yours. Your back on his chest.

You danced with the boy for a total of four songs, which meant that Rafe had gotten halfway through the bottle of whiskey. Wanting to dance with you, Rafe took a step forward, but he noticed how another boy had taken his place. This time, the boy was blond and had brown eyes. Rafe retreated back to where he had been standing.

The blond boy had outstretched his hand for you to take, and you had gladly accepted. You hadn’t seen Rafe approaching where you were standing. And so you had happily accepted the blond boy’s offer.

His hands were rougher than the last boy’s hands, and you felt it barely graze your exposed stomach. He was a lot more foolish and his style of dancing made laughs erupt from your lips. This caused Rafe’s hand to squeeze around the bottle he had in his hand even tighter. The last boy hadn’t even made you smile, but this boy was making you laugh almost as much as Rafe did, and this made him fume. Rafe was the one that was supposed to make you smile. Rafe was the one that was supposed to place his hands on your waist. Rafe and no one else.

Taking another swig from the bottle, Rafe noticed he had emptied it down. Panic filled his mind for a few seconds, realizing that this was the most he had ever drunk in his life. He was probably going yo throw up or pass out, and that was not something he wanted.

Searching for Jason, he turned around in his place. Rafe dropped the bottle onto the table where he had retrieved it from and began to walk without direction. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

Topper had spun him around so fast that Rafe felt bile rising up his throat. He swallowed before looking at the younger boy.

“Hey, man,” Topper said. His eyes were worried and troubled. “You okay? You look kind of panicked.”

Rafe nodded but then shook his head. Topper laughed at his actions, noticing Rafe was completely and utterly wasted.

“What have you been drinking?”

Rafe shrugged before muttering out, “Whiskey.”

“Only whiskey?”

Rafe nodded. Topper nodded as well.

“That’s good. You probably won’t throw up if you haven’t been mixing alcohol.”

Relief washed over Rafe as he felt a lot better than before. He gave Topper a lazy smile before turning towards the drink’s table again. He was stopped by Topper’s hand on his shoulder once again. “I didn’t say you could keep drinking, man,” he stated. Rafe pouted at him and pressed his hands together as if in a praying motion.

“You’ll throw up for sure if you drink more.”

Rafe sighed and nodded his head. It was probably true. Topper let him go and Rafe turned to look at you. You were still dancing with the blond boy.

Rafe threw all of his previous restraints out the window and grabbed onto another whiskey bottle that was at the table. He opened it and walked away from the makeshift dance floor.

Bottle after bottle went down Rafe’s neck until he could barely see. All that consumed him were his feelings and the need to tell all of the boys that had been flocking around you to back off because you were supposed to be his.

So he stumbled all the way to the dancefloor and reached his arms out to rip the boy on you away, but was stopped before he got the chance to do so. Jason stood looking at him with a disappointed expression.

He managed to drag Rafe all the way up to Topper’s room, taking the bottle away from his hands and setting him on the bed.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

Rafe could barely speak. Not that he wanted to. He was mad now.

“Look, man,” Jason said. “Sleep, throw up, do whatever. But don’t leave and don’t talk to Y/N. You’ll regret it tomorrow.”

With that, Jason left. Rafe rested upon the bed and closed his eyes, the green-eyed monster still consuming his insides.

Meanwhile, you were searching for Rafe. You had promised him you would dance with him and you wanted to do so now. But for some reason, you couldn’t find him anywhere. You bumped into Topper, who was making out with a girl. You pulled him away just enough so he could reply to your question.

“He went upstairs with Jason.”

Trudging up the stairs, you noticed that all the rooms were closed. Where could Rafe be?

After opening at least three doors, you found Rafe draped across Topper’s bed. He looked tired and stressed and angry, and you wanted to make things better for him. He noticed you standing at the door, and you pouted at his expression.

“Hey,” you said as you sat down next to him. “Why are you up here?”

Rafe looked down from your face to the single broken thread on Topper’s duvet. He shrugged before muttering under his breath. You couldn’t hear what he said.

“Do you want to dance with me?” you asked him. You knew Rafe well enough to notice that he didn’t want to speak about why he was upstairs. So you did what you would usually do to cheer him up at parties, which was to ask him to dance.

However, he shook his head. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

Rafe shook his head, his muttering becoming more aggressive and more clear to your ears. You still couldn’t understand much of what he was saying but you could hear the occasional words.

“Rafe,” you called out to him, not liking being ignored.

Rafe stared at you and became angrier than before. What the hell?

“Rafe, what is wrong with you?”

Rafe pressed his hands to his head not wanting to lose his cool. But you kept pestering as you always did, knowing he would eventually crack and tell you.

“They’re all touching you!” he belted out. “And they’re talking to you and you do nothing about it and it makes me mad! But it shouldn’t and I know that, but it still does. I’m the one that should be touching you and making you laugh and making you smile. I’m the only one that’s supposed to be doing that. But you let them do that as well!”

He was panting and freaking out while you were shocked.

“Can’t you see that it should be me? That I’m the one who loves you for who you are and not them.”

“Rafe,” you whispered out trying to reach for his hand. He was drunk, but if all of this was true (which you were sure of), you would kiss him. However, you wanted to calm him down first.

“No, Y/N,” Rafe said. “Let me finish. I know you don’t like me because you’re always with all those other guys but I love you, okay? As in, I’m in love with you. And I’m tired of you not knowing about it and having to carry this secret around.”

“Rafe, if you could please calm dow-”

“Why? So you can tell me you don’t love me back?” Rafe got defensive. “Look, I know already. So just spare me your pity an-”

And you kissed him. Even though his breath reeked of alcohol and his kissing was sloppy. Even though he was drunk and might not remember this tomorrow. Even though you had doubts about doing so, you kissed him. And you melted into his arms and tried to keep him stable upon his two feet.

“Y/N, I-”

You only pressed your mouth to his again, trying to make your point clear. I love you, too, you tried to say through the kiss. I love you, too.

When you broke apart and he was panting you managed to say, “Rafe. I don’t care about all those other guys because I only think of you when I’m with them. It’s you. You’re it for me. I love you, too.”

Just as Rafe was going to place his lips on yours again, his eyes widened and he pressed his mouth against it and turned away and towards the bathroom. You sighed as you heard him empty his stomach. You walked in behind him, rubbing his back up and down.

“God, I hope you remember this in the morning,” you said to him with a teasing smile upon your face.

#outer banks #obx #obx netflix #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader

166 notes · View notes

cuthian · 5 years ago

Text

Starting Over Chapter Six

Hi guys!

Sorry for the delay on this one :) This is another Asgard chapter, so check the end notes again if you prefer not to read about Becca and Thor.

Love, Annaelle

Chapter Six

PEPPER POTTS IS PREGNANT AND BREAKS TWITTER WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK — Pepper Potts, C.E.O. of Stark Industries and longtime girlfriend of Tony Stark and Col. James Rhodes, is having a baby, and like everything else she has done since the news of her polyamorous relationship with Rhodes and Stark, she is doing so on her own terms.

[...]Potts, 42, is pregnant with her first child, and used the unconventional, but adorable video she dropped on her official Twitter account yesterday morning to confirm the rumors of a pregnancy that have been floating around for the past few days.

[WATCH HERE: PEPPER POTTS SURPRISES TONY STARK, JAMES RHODES AND STEVE ROGERS WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT.]

She followed her video announcement with a tweet stating, “I have seen many children born into homes with two parents, who end up arguing, fighting, and divorcing. The person this affects the most is the child. I don’t think our situation, our relationship, will be detrimental to our child because it will ensure that our child will be loved. [...] It takes a village, and we have a big, loving, crazy village. I cannot wait to begin this next part of our lives together.”

The announcement was retweeted by Col. Rhodes and Tony Stark within seconds—we cover the adorable and surprisingly eloquent reaction of the two fathers-to-be here in this podcast—as well as by Captain Rogers almost immediately after that, all with happy and congratulatory messages. Captain Rogers’ tweet hilariously promises he will be the best big brother to the Rhodes-Stark-Potts baby in the history of big brothers.

Potts replied to Rogers’ tweet: “Steve will definitely be the best big brother to our baby. He’s got plenty of practice as #BigBrotherOfAmerica.”

[...]Fans flooded the video with congratulatory messages, and the hashtag #IronBaby has been trending for forty-eight hours so far, and promises to hold for at least another few days.

—Clara Newitski, “Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy”, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

————————

TRAINING FIELDS, IDAVOLL, ASGARD

NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 8:57AM (EARTH UCT+1)

BECCA

She hit the ground with a dull thud, the fall knocking the wind clean from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath for a long couple of minutes. She laughed breathlessly when Sif appeared in her field of vision, grinning fiercely as she offered Becca a hand to help her up. “You did well,” Sif told her approvingly. “Not bad for a human. You held out much longer than I expected.”

“I got good trainers,” Becca chuckled, allowing the other woman to help her up.

She and Natasha had been training together for years at this point, and Thor had made a point of it to ensure that all of the Avengers learned how to fight opponents physically stronger—had made it a point to make sure they knew how to win and survive a fight against an opponent physically much stronger than they were.

“You must’ve,” Sif remarked, patting Becca’s shoulder. “I see our prince’s influence in the way you dodge, sometimes.”

Becca smiled lightly. “He’s been diligent about teaching us to win against more powerful opponents.”

“I cannot have my favorite mortal friends perish before their time,” Thor boomed as he came up behind them, slinging an arm around her. “You least of all.” She leaned into him when he pressed a kiss to her temple, relaxing against him.

She’d not been alone with him since before the disastrous feast, had barely even been in the same room as him, and she’d missed it—she’d missed him.

Sif only grinned in response before she curtsied—exceptionally sarcastically, somehow—and turned to beat up some hapless Aesir warriors. Becca smirked before she turned in Thor’s arms, slipping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. She’d been up since dawn, had joined Sif in training not long after, and they’d been at it for hours.

She was well-trained, and in good condition, but she was only human.

She was tired, and Thor was comfortable and safe.

“Hello Krúttið mitt,” he rumbled, smoothing his hand down her back. “You’ve been busy.”

“Well, I had to keep myself busy with all kinds of official, diplomatic things,” she told him, seriously leaning back to raise an eyebrow at him. “My boyfriend seems to have other, more important matters on his mind than entertaining little old me.”

Thor frowned faux-seriously, shaking his head sadly. “Ah, your man must be a fool, to leave a woman beautiful and ferocious as you all by herself.” He grinned rakishly. “Anyone could pass by and just… snap you up.”

He punctuated the last word with a peck to her lips, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, but she didn’t resist when he cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her again.

“Perhaps, but you… You,” Thor muttered against her lips, her cheeks cupped in his large palms, “you are a dangerous woman.” He slipped one hand down, trailing down from the back of her neck to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, ignoring the wolf-whistles that his friends sent their way. “And an irresistible one.”

Becca grinned against his lips and tugged on his hair a little. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I could never,” Thor chuckled.

“Odinson!” Fandral roared from somewhere on the training fields, effectively shattering their little peaceful bubble. “Stop canoodling with your mortal and come help me! I cannot lose to Sif again.”

Becca laughed when Sif cackled, and Thor shook his head in faux-dismay.

“Go,” she told him. “I think I’ll watch you, for a change. Go beat some unsuspecting morons for me.”

Thor chuckled and nodded. “Their blood shall be spilled in your honor then, Krúttið mitt,” he hummed. “And then I shall sweep you off your feet, and carry you to my chambers as my prize. My very own spoils of war. If you let me.” He hugged her close as she spoke, and she made note of the slightly possessive note to his words—it was so very rare that he admitted to wanting something different, or something potentially… more, she supposed, than what they already shared, that she cherished each time that he did.

“And after, I shall return you to your chambers,” Thor muttered, pressing a light kiss to her lips. “Once I have properly and thoroughly ravished you. I must confess I am most curious about your abode… I fear I’ll have to inspect whether it’s worthy of housing you, elskan min.”

“Oh?” Becca raised an eyebrow. “And should you find it lacking?”

“Well,” Thor rumbled, drawing her close one more time to press a smacking kiss to her lips. “I suppose I’ll have no choice but to house you in my chambers. Nothing less than the absolute best will do.”

She giggled against his lips, allowing herself one more moment before she pushed him back, keeping him at arm’s length when he pouted. “Go beat up your friends, hotshot,” she told him with a warm smile. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?”

“As you wish,” Thor hummed, lifting the hand she’d pressed to his chest up to his lips to press a soft kiss to her palm, before he turned and joined his friends.

She remained where she was for a few moments, grinning at Thor’s back when he collided with his friends. She watched as he threw a casual arm around Fandral’s shoulder, as she’d seen him do dozens of times with Steve, watched the way they all laughed and teased each other, and felt something loosen in her chest.

Even on his best days on Earth, there was a kind of heaviness to him that did not dissipate.

It had now.

Seeing him here on Asgard was… it was almost unreal. He was lighter here, flourishing in a way she’d never seen him flourish before—in a way he probably couldn’t flourish on Earth—and she loved seeing him happy and carefree like this.

She tried not to think about what that meant for their future, though.

She made her way to the plump, surprisingly comfortable benches to the side of the training fields, sitting down with a sigh of relief. Her body ached a little—in the good way, the way it ached when she’d done an intense workout and stuck with it until the end—and it felt good to let her muscles relax for a short time. She’d get up to do some more stretches soon, she promised herself, but she’d take a five-minute breather first.

She watched, as she’d told Thor she would, allowing herself to study the way he fought, now that he didn’t have to hold back. He was ferocious, fighting with a kind of elegant brutality that was both breathtaking and frightening—she loved him, more than anyone else she’d ever been with, but she forgot… she forgot how different they were sometimes.

It wasn’t a bad thing, certainly, but… it was a little scary.

“Milady?”

Abruptly startled from her thoughts, Becca looked up to find two of the—frankly absurd amount of—maids Odin had assigned to her, Unnr and Þrúðr, standing before her, both looking profoundly uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, squinting up at the two women.

Unnr shook her head shakily. “No, milady. We just—” she and Þrúðr exchanged a fleeting glance, “—we were wondering if you are ready to return to your chambers?”

Becca blinked. “Oh,” she said, looking between the two maids. “I… I was actually planning on staying for a while? Until Thor’s done, at least.” She didn’t miss the way the two exchanged another glance, and huffed impatiently. She’d liked Asgard fine, so far, and no one had been openly hostile—barring the woman she’d had to shoot for threatening Thor—but things were different, here.

The change from Earth to Asgard had thrown off her sense of time too.

It almost felt like jet lag, but worse too.

It wasn’t bad enough to incapacitate her, or make her want to stay in bed for a few days until her body had fully adjusted to the new time zone, but it was, at moments, so damned uncomfortable.

The minor headache she’d managed to ignore all day came roaring back, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Ladies,” she sighed. “Would one of you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Both girls blinked at her, before Þrúðr spoke. “The training grounds are typically… they’re typically off limits for maidens, milady. I believe exceptions were made because the Prince demanded it be so, but usually…” She shook her head. “It’s not proper for unwed women to be here.”

Becca swallowed thickly and blinked again, trying to digest… all of that.

“Sif’s here,” she pointed out dumbly, gesturing towards where her boyfriend was doing his best to electrocute his friends while cackling gleefully.

She shook her head.

She loved that weirdo.

“Yes,” Unnr conceded. “But Lady Sif is… well… concessions were made. She is of highborn Aesir nobility. Before Prince Thor was betrothed to Prince Loki, there were many talks of an alliance forged by marriage with her and the Prince. I believe the King allowed certain… liberties when he abruptly broke off such negotiations with her family.”

“That’s bullshit,” Becca blurted loudly, wincing a little when both maids startled.

Before either of them could speak, though, someone interrupted from behind them. “Our traditions are bullshit to you now, Lady Rebecca? I’m sure my son will appreciate hearing you express such blatant disrespect towards our customs.”

She stiffened, turning slowly to face her boyfriend’s father—his King—for the first time.

She had been introduced to him at the feast, of course, but that had been with Thor holding her hand, and about two hundred people surrounding them. She was vaguely aware that her two maids dropped into a deep curtsy the moment they realized who had spoken, and that they all likely expected her to do the same, but… she remained sitting, only moving to incline her head towards the man lightly.

She was not, after all, one of his subjects.

She was a guest of his son, and he allowed her in his home, so she owed him at least a modicum of respect, but she did not owe him allegiance or deference.

“Your majesty,” she offered. “I meant not to offend. I’m sure you understand that not allowing certain… parts of your citizenry to learn how to defend themselves seems… peculiar to someone looking in from the outside.”

Odin smiled tightly. “I suppose from your point of view, it certainly must seem so. As long as you remember that you are, of course, on the outside, glancing in.”

Becca blinked at that, taken aback by the barely veiled insult.

“Ladies,” Odin addressed Unnr and Þrúðr, “I’m sure you have duties to attend to.”

The two scampered off before the King had even finished speaking, and Becca remained were she was, stiff and decidedly uncomfortable, as her boyfriend’s father took a seat on the stone bench beside her.

She was tempted to get up and rejoin Thor and his friends, to let this arrogant old man look the fool, but… She sighed and shook her head.

He was Thor’s father, after all.

Insufferable bastard or not, she’d promised herself and Thor she wouldn’t let him get the best of her.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she offered again when he remained silent.

She wasn’t sure why the man was here, why he insisted on sitting with her when he clearly did not approve of her presence at all. She expected he would try to frighten her away from Thor, or that he would insist on tormenting her about all of Thor’s past lovers—Loki most of all.

“Worry not,” Odin finally said. “Human lives are but fleeting, I should not expect such underdeveloped minds to understand the delicate intricacies of our society.”

“Excuse me?” Becca spit, rearing back as though he’d slapped her. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am Odin. King of Asgard.” He turned to look at her slowly, expression frustratingly inscrutable. “Protector of the Nine Realms.”

“Yeah,” Becca snorted. “Right. Nine Realms. Including Earth. We noticed the protection. Thanks, by the way, for keeping our planet from slowly heating up and destroying itself. Or for stepping in during any of the wars, famines, epidemics, or disasters over the past thousand years.” She shook her head again. “Thor tells me you haven’t even looked at Midgard in centuries. Don’t you dare call yourself our protector when we’ve clearly been doing fine on our own.”

Odin merely chuckled, and shook his head lightly. “You humans… threatened by suffering in threefold; by your own body, doomed to decay; and the world you so cherish, that rages against you with overwhelming and merciless destruction… and then from your relations with one another. I’ve lived thousands of years, child, but I’ve never met another race quite so talented at self-destruction.” He looked down at her and added, “Your kind’s never taken well to our interference. While I have several agents established on Midgard, keeping me apprised of… relevant information, we generally let you be.”

Becca snorted. “For a man who so readily proclaims our brains underdeveloped, you sure seem to like some of our people’s works.” When he raised an eyebrow, she shook her head, “I know Freud when I hear it, your Majesty, however much you try to dress it up with fancier words.”

Odin smirked. “Ah, you are clever, at least. I suppose my son has some taste after all.”

He shook his head again, as though he’d grown weary of the conversation, and said, “Surely you understand, though, that my son will not be able to keep you. Certain classes of beings cannot mix—certainly not for any significant length of time.”

“With all due respect,” she replied coldly. “I hardly think we’re a different class of being. Having access to seiðr readily doesn’t make you more evolved—even certain humans can harness its power, even if they are far rarer than they are to your people. Honestly though, I can’t say that I care overly much for what you think. I care what Thor thinks, and he’s made the way he feels about me very clear.”

Odin eyed her critically. “My son has had many lovers before. What makes you think you’re different than those he dallied with to distract himself from Loki’s disinterest?”

“I trust him when he tells me I am,” Becca told him coolly, crossing her arms over her chest, and though she was fuming, she carefully kept her expression blank, because she refused to let him see that he was getting to her—that his words rattled her even the littlest bit.

Odin laughed humorlessly. “I’m sure he told the others such things as well. Like he did Loki. Undying devotion did not last quite so long, did it?”

She knew what he was trying to do, and she was sure if he had done so earlier on in their relationship, she might actually have believed him. She might have let this old, sad, heartbroken man get under her skin and ruin what she and Thor had managed to build, but she refused to let him now.

They’d worked too hard to get where they were today.

“You know, I’m a little sad for you,” she said, slowly. “I’m sad you’re so twisted up inside that it makes you want to make Thor just as miserable as you are.” She looked him right in the eye and shook her head. “I love your son. I really, really love him, and I don’t care that I’m mortal and he’s not. I don’t care that you don’t like me. I care that I make him happy. I know I’m not Loki, and I don’t need him to love me like he loved Loki.”

She shrugged and offered a soft smile. “I just need him to love me like he loves me.”

Odin chuckled derisively. “Such sentimentality. I should expect no less from a human.”

“Father,” Thor cut in, and Becca barely resisted the urge to jump at his sudden appearance. Thor settled himself on the bench beside her, pressing closer than was, perhaps, strictly appropriate in front of his father, but she didn’t protest, allowing the press of his torso against her side to soothe her.

“My son,” Odin said calmly. “I sought only to properly meet your frù.”

“Do not talk of her as such,” Thor hissed viciously, drawing Becca against him firmly, surprising her with the venom in his tone. “She is more than that.”

“Is she?” Odin chuckled. “Is that what your inn mátki munr signified? Will you insist on making her your kvàn, my son? Call her your brúðr? Your kona?”

“If I do,” Thor spat, “It will be because she chooses to be.”

“And she’s right here,” Becca said, elbowing Thor in the gut when he squeezed her too tightly.

Thor looked at her, eyes wide and somewhat crazed, and Becca made the executive decision that remaining anywhere near Thor’s father wasn’t going to end well for either of them. “Thank you for coming all this way to meet me, your Majesty,” she offered, making sure to paste the most insincere smile she could manage on her face, “I think we both rather learned a lot today.”

She looked to Thor and squeezed her fingers around his. “We’re leaving. You promised me you’d show me more of Asgard.”

“So I did,” Thor nodded, keeping his blue eyes intent on hers. “There is much to see still.”

He stood smoothly, offering Becca a hand as soon as he was standing, and pulled her to her feet as well. “We will take our leave, Father,” he said. “It was a pleasure, as always.”

With that, Thor began moving, pulling her along with him.

She didn’t look back.

————————

[PEPPER POTTS PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT VIDEO!]

There is a short moment before the image settles that shows a cozy, comfortable living room, before the image stills and zooms in on two men sitting at the kitchen island, heads bent together over a laptop.

“I don’t see the big deal, Capsicle. It’s not like this is news, even to you,” Tony Stark, looking almost like had only just rolled out of bed, shrugs, leaning back in his chair and sipping from the large mug in the shape of the Hulk’s fist.

“This isn’t a joking matter, Tony,” Steve Rogers, dressed in a tight white t-shirt and light sweatpants insists, gesturing towards the screen with a frown. “They moved to L.A. of all places. It’s a fucking outrage.”

“But it’s just baseball,” Stark mumbles, looking entirely nonplussed, before he offers, “Would it help if I bought them?”

Rogers blinks in astonishment before he groans and puts his head in his hands. “God, don’t tempt me, Tony. I don’t even need you to buy them for me—I could do it.”

Stark laughs and pats his hand on Rogers’ head while he shakes his head, using his free hand to draw the laptop closer to himself. “Shhh,” he tells Rogers, “let me live out my sugar daddy fantasies through you, Steven.”

Rogers looks appropriately scandalized while Stark cackles and types madly on the laptop.

Rhodes walks in, stops short, takes in the scene and shakes his head. “Whatever it is, Tony, no.”

Stark cackles louder. “Tony, yes!” Both Rogers and Rhodes sigh and share a commiserating eye roll before embarking on a journey to the refrigerator together.

The camera shakes a little when the person behind it moves, moving closer to the men in the kitchen. “Tony,” Pepper Potts says from behind the camera. “What have you done now?”

Stark looks up and smirks gleefully. “I’ve just bought our baby a baseball team.”

Rogers and Rhodes emerge from the depths of the fridge with identical, bewildered expressions, and Potts is quiet for a moment before she chokes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Steve was our baby now?”

Rogers, who has once again rounded the kitchen island to peer at the laptop, exclaims gleefully, “Neither did I, but you’re not getting rid of me now. You bought me the Dodgers?”

The camera shakes when Potts laughs. When it settles again, the three men are now crowded around the laptop, talking over one another excitedly.

“Well,” Potts interrupts, moving closer to the men. “I suppose we can keep you. As long as you learn to share with your future baby sibling.”

The camera swings up to catch a clear look of the three men’s astonished expressions before the image cuts out.

—Clara Newitski, “Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy” CONTINUED, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

————————

FENSALIR, VALASKIALF, ASGARD

NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 12:09 PM (EARTH UCT+1)

THOR

He was still fuming at the sheer nerve of his father, even hours later.

He had taken Rebecca to see the city and had shown her his favorite little corners. He had taken her to the tavern he had taken Steven to as well, had taken her to visit Aase and the market, and had watched her become struck with awe when he had taken her to the libraries that held the collected works of the Nine.

It had soothed his ire some, to see Asgard anew through her eyes.

Becca’s wonder at seeing his home was contagious, and Thor had relaxed some. He had known, of course, that his father would attempt to sow discord in his relationship, that he would seek out Rebecca and try to pinpoint her insecurities, that he would use those insecurities against her to destroy them, but he had not expected his father to be quite so open about his disapproval.

He’d certainly not expected him to corner Rebecca on the training fields.

“Hey.”

Rebecca’s voice and her insistent tug on his hand drew him from his thoughts.

“Stop it,” she told him sternly when he looked at her. “Don’t let him win. I didn’t believe a word he said about us, Thor.” She turned towards him fully, and Thor relaxed a little when she tiptoed to slip her arms around him. “I love you. I trust you. You know that. I didn’t let him get under my skin.” She smiled and pecked his lips. “Don’t let him get under yours.”

“You’re right,” Thor sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re right. I’ll not let him spoil our time together any longer.”

“Good,” Becca grinned, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips. “Now show me these famed gardens of yours. Steve’s told me they’re absolutely gorgeous.” She stepped back a little and held out her hand to him, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Thor smiled and took her hand in his, leading Rebecca back towards the palace. He looked forward to showing her the Gardens; they’d proven a refuge for him and Loki many times when they’d been children, and he knew it’d brought Steven comfort too, when he had been here.

He hoped that Rebecca, too, would find some solace there.

He recognized he had not been able to be the host he wanted to be due to the absurd itinerary his father had foisted upon them when they arrived. Rebecca had spent far more time with his friends and the handmaidens—whom she had thankfully taken a liking to, even the maids she had initially bemoaned—than she had with him, due to his father’s insistence on adhering to tradition.

Tradition that he had never once been forced to adhere to before.

He’d originally planned for their first few days here to be far less strenuous and far more intimate.

Heimdall had warned him, when he began planning this trip, that journeying through the Bifrost would likely be exceptionally taxing for a human; even Steven, with an enhanced physiology that brought him closer to Aesir than to human, had felt the effects of it for a few hours.

He had not kept as close an eye on Becca as he had planned to, and he hoped she wasn’t feeling any ill effects of the travel any longer.

“Are you doing alright?” he asked concernedly, pulling her to a slow stop by lightly tugging on her hand. “I’ve not thought to ask how the Bifrost affected you, I apologize.” He imagined an inter-dimensional jet-lag on top of his father being… well, himself must’ve been exhausting.

“I’m fine,” Becca told him with a wry quirk of her lips. “Although, Asgardian cuisine doesn’t seem to agree with me yet.” She smiled a little. “I guess I just have to get used to it, but I’m not very hungry. I’m so bloated it’s not even funny anymore, but I’m not feeling sick or anything bad. Little tired, maybe, but... ” She squeezed her fingers around his. “Jet-lag hasn’t been so bad yet.”

“If you’re sure,” Thor said doubtfully, running his fingers across her cheek.

“Of course I am,” she shook her head. “Come on, show me the Gardens.”

He nodded silently and resumed their trek back to the palace; they would not have to enter the palace, thankfully, and risk running into his father or any of the servants. Loki had once shown him a secret path into their mother’s gardens, where they could slip past the guards unnoticed and hide in the lush, green garden for hours without being found.

He fully intended on doing so with Rebecca as well.

Spending their afternoon basking in sunlight, snacking on the morsels Thor had had asked the maids to prepare, and relaxing together, as they hadn’t been allowed since their arrival on Asgard, sounded like the best idea he’d had in months.

“So, your father had these gardens created for your mother?” Becca asked, slowing down a little so they walked side by side again, swinging their arms between them.

“Yes,” Thor nodded. “She missed the woods of her homeland and her father’s gardens, and my father sought to ensure her happiness by recreating them as precisely as he could.” He wondered where the man his mother had fallen in love with, once, had gone.

He wondered if love lost turned all hearts bitter, or if his father was an exception. Then again, his father had been a bitter man for longer than his mother had been gone.

He wondered, briefly, if he would lose himself to bitterness and anger too, should he lose Rebecca as well.

Losing Loki and his mother had very well had the potential to turn his heart to stone, and he believed it may have, had he not had his mortal friends to lean on in his time of need. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif were worthy friends indeed, but they had not understood the depth of his despair following Loki’s death. It might have been more forgivable if they had not so clearly mourned the loss of his mother while barely paying lip service to Loki’s memory, and only then on Thor’s behalf.

Having Becca and Steven and the other Avengers to turn to had saved him, in a way.

“That’s sweet, I guess,” Becca nodded, drawing him from his thoughts.

He looked to her and smiled lightly, squeezing his fingers around hers. “I suppose it was, at the time,” he shrugged. They’d reached the palace walls by now, and Thor slowed their pace down to a casual stroll, gently nudging Becca’s attention towards the walls that surrounded the palace.

“Do you see the etchings that cover the walls?” he asked, slowing to a stop so Becca could reach out to touch her fingertips to the faint lines.

“What are they?” she asked, looking back at him quizzically.

“Loki insisted they are the remnants of the history of our people that our forefathers would rather have seen forgotten. If you look closely, you can almost see the figures that tell our tales.”

Becca was silent, and Thor allowed himself to remember the awe that had filled him the first time he had seen the lines on the walls form a recognizable pattern. “It’s beautiful,” Becca said quietly, pulling her hand away from the wall and turning back to him.

“It’s also our way into the gardens,” Thor confided in her, pressing close to her and taking her hand in his. He guided her hand up, palm up, to the wall, letting it hover above the stones for a long moment.

“Say the words with me,” he whispered. “Opnað grindrinn.”

“Opnað grindrinn,” Becca repeated dutifully, and Thor relished in how easily her lips formed around the still largely unfamiliar words—she had insisted on beginning to learn his native tongue as soon as their relationship became more serious—and smiled when she gasped delightedly when the solid wall that stood before them shimmered and then disappeared, revealing a veritable oasis of greenery and flowers.

“Oh wow,” Becca breathed, and Thor couldn’t help but smile. It was an awe-inspiring sight, even for him. “Is it a gate?” she asked as she walked further into the gardens, “or is it an illusion?”

Thor hummed and considered his words before he spoke, watching as Becca moved deeper into the gardens, fingers idly trailing past flowers and deep green leaves. “It is somewhat of both,” he finally said, allowing his gaze to stray to the bright red flower that bloomed only through his mother’s lingering seiðr. “Loki wove the spell centuries ago, weaving it so only those we chose to share it with would be able to enter, and only accompanied by one of us. It was an ideal hideout.”

He expected Becca to laugh at that, to tease him about hiding out in the secluded gardens with Loki so they could make out like the careless, lovestruck boys they had been at the time, but she remained quiet.

He looked up to find her standing only a few feet away, rather a lot paler than she had been minutes ago.

“Becca?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“I–” She shook her head and swayed where she stood. Thor moved before he had even consciously thought of doing so, crossing the distance between them in a few strides, grasping her forearms tightly. “I’m so hot.”

Now that he stood so much closer, he could see sweat beading on her forehead, and see just how alarmingly pale she’d suddenly become. “Becca, what’s going on?” he demanded urgently, concern flooding his entire being when she didn’t respond to his query immediately, eyes going a little unfocused before she muttered,

“I need to sit, I’m—l’m going to be sick.”

“Of course,” Thor floundered, trying to figure out how to help her sit without having her keel over, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in his grasp.

“Becca!” he shouted in shock, barely moving fast enough to catch her as she crumpled, knees buckling as he sank down to the ground, her limp form cradled in his arms. She didn’t respond, nor did she wake when he patted her cheek, despite him using more strength than he usually did with her.

No reaction, but at the very least she was still breathing, and her pulse sounded strong and steady to his enhanced ears.

He looked up desperately, shaking himself forcefully. “Alright,” he nodded to himself, lifting her up in his arms and making for the palace.

Eir would know what to do.

————————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

#IHWSBY sequel #starting over #stucky #Stucky fanfic #Steve Rogers #thor #Rebecca barnes #Avengers family #my writing #Lisa writes

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semirahrose · 6 years ago

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I hear some people are accusing Sam and Cas of abusing Dean to get him to do what they wanted, what do you think about that?

My reaction: Utter befuddlement.

(gif credit: sebstans)

I haven’t seen the latest episodes, so I can’t go in and take a critical look at whatever supposedly “abusive” behaviors Sam and Cas are displaying, but I’m gonna guess—as has been the pattern for a long while now—that one or both of them vehemently expressed their disagreement with Dean’s plan, probably more than once. They were probably sad. They might have even *gasp* shown their emotions. (How very dare they) And Sam punched Dean. ** Not something I’m comfortable with, to be honest, but that’s personal and is neither here nor there.

Part of why I love Sam so much is this: as much as he can, to the very limits of his endurance, he tries to trust in people and respect their decisions. He is (despite his lack of faith in himself) slow to wrath—or at least outward expressions of wrath. He is calm, and he is faithful, sometimes even to his own detriment. (Sam has never been able to deal well with losing Dean, though. That’s a long established canon fact.)

But:

Not being able to pretend everything is all right is not abuse. Telling a person (even repeatedly, even convincingly) that you really don’t want them to do something is not abuse. People are allowed to have emotions and reactions that do not mesh with my own. Wanting something or even needing something and showing you need it is not abuse.

Being broken, unstable, or on uncertain footing is not abuse. Needing and seeking support is not abuse. Needing and seeking support even when the person you are seeking support from is, himself, broken and in need of support you are unable to provide is not abuse. It’s tragic, but it’s not, by any stretch of the imagination, abusive.

Hitting a person is not abuse. Here’s where it gets sticky. Hitting a person is violence. It is not a healthy response and should never be encouraged. But abuse, by its very definition, is more than violence. Abuse requires a pattern (whether of violence or of financial, emotional, and/or social control) that is enacted specifically to achieve a desired result: to put the abused person under the abuser’s control.

(Under a cut because this gets long and no one should have to deal with my disconnected rambling unless they wish to. Analysis below of whether Sam [and Cas, to the best of my limited knowledge and ability, since he’s unfortunately not part of my hyperfocus] meet the criteria. tl;dr they don’t)

So. A pattern. And an unequal dynamic.

A pattern?

Sam is very, very rarely violent when he is in control of his actions (i.e. not possessed or under the influence of a supernatural substance). The instances where he has initiated physical violence in all 14 seasons can be counted on one hand. It does not create any real sort of pattern.

I could talk for a long time about how Castiel’s occasional violence does not also constitute a pattern of abuse, but though I like him, I haven’t spent as much time poring over his scenes word for word and am not sure how clear it would be, and additionally, it’s a little questionable to expect a being who has been brainwashed and molded for thousands of years to be a perfect soldier to a) understand and b) act in accordance with human relationship dynamics without a lot of trial, error, and patient explanation (which he didn’t get with any consistency from the person whose ideals he clung to when he first appeared [Dean].) I lived abroad in a country whose customs and social expectations were a bit different from my own, and I had the opportunity to do extensive research in advance. I still had pretty intense culture shock and an adjustment period. There were some things I simply couldn’t fully wrap my mind around, and some things I disagreed with. And it was only some thousands of miles of land and ocean that separated us. Arguably, it can’t even be applied to Castiel in those first seasons. Asking him to relearn in days, weeks, or even years things that have been beaten into him over millennia is… ambitious, to say the least, and something that needs to be considered in any nuanced analysis.

Then the show humanized Cas. It made him make some well-intentioned mistakes while trying to seek a leader and do what he believed to be good for his family…the family he has grown up with, again, for millennia. The show took away his powers, his memories, his sanity. But it did not change his role. Castiel’s arcs over the season have specifically emphasized his discomfort and inexperience with being perceived as a leader. When he was unstable after having taken on Sam’s overflowing trauma from his broken hell wall, he was very much not in a position of power, and… if anyone was being abusive, it wasn’t Cas.

But perhaps people are talking about emotional/psychological abuse? Again, both Cas and Sam have expressed desires and tried to explain differing positions from Dean and have been under powerful supernatural influence (the Siren, demon blood, Leviathan, etc), and have made decisions on their own without seeking Dean’s permission—and, oops, that just highlighted our second criterion.

An unequal dynamic (specifically, abuser in a position of power).

Neither Sam nor Castiel is in a position of power over Dean. Only in season 11 did Sam and Dean’s dynamic start to level out a bit. The big struggle in early seasons, the one that literally carried us to the season 5 finale, was that Dean treated Sam as a kid/subordinate, not as an equal, and Sam felt he needed to seek permission to do anything. Actual quote from “Swan Song” (and I admire this development in Dean so much, even if the later seasons dismantled it):

DEAN: The whole “up with Satan” thing. I’m on board. SAM: You’re gonna let me say yes? DEAN: No. That’s the thing. It’s not on me to let you do anything. You’re a grown – well, overgrown – man. If this is what you want, I’ll back your play. SAM: That’s the last thing I thought you’d ever say. DEAN: Might be. I’m not gonna lie to you, though. It goes against every fiber I got. I mean, truth is… You know, watching out for you… it’s kinda been my job, you know? But more than that, it’s… it’s kinda who I am. You’re not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can’t keep treating you like one. Maybe I got to grow up a little, too. I don’t know if we got a snowball’s chance. But… But I do know that if anybody can do it… it’s you.

Some people will try to claim that Sam is in a position of power because he tried to go to college or because he can leave Dean and (somehow??) holds that over Dean’s head repeatedly (??????????), but if someone is in a position where, for even their own education or mental health, they’re not allowed to be apart from someone or even think about seeking something for themselves, that’s not abuse on the part of the person who seeks separation. And when Sam (young, so young), left for college, the only control he had was his own autonomy, his own two feet that brought him out that door. He was disowned for choosing to do what he needed for himself, after growing up in a family he had a hard time feeling a part of. That’s not abuse on Sam’s part. Maybe Dean did need Sam there beside him. But doing something for his own mental health and personal growth is not abuse by any stretch of the imagination. I call that courage.

The same goes for Castiel, especially considering that, despite his greater physical strength (when he was a fully-powered angel), he still tends mostly to act as if he is a subordinate or inferior, possibly from the millennia during which he was a soldier in a garrison: he was looking for a leader, a superior officer, even when he left. He found Dean.

“But what about when Sam and Cas do things behind Dean’s back??” Some people might ask. Again, I feel like (especially in the case of the Mark, where, due to its powerful influence, Dean was significantly altered and violent/controlling) if characters are so afraid to seek permission/understanding that they fear that they have to do something completely in secret… that just…. that’s not evidence that these people scurrying around in breathless terror are somehow the ones in a position of power?? Quite the opposite, I’d say. I mean, MoC!Dean literally said they weren’t a team; it was a dictatorship.

I’m sorry there are so few examples. Honestly, I could go on for hours and for pages and pages and pages, but I don’t have the time or the brainpower to make that post, so this is what I have. I’m sorry it’s not as complete as it could be or that it doesn’t include examples from s14, since I haven’t seen anything since pretty early in the season.

In short/tl;dr: Sam and Cas neither display a pattern of control nor find themselves consistently in a position of power over Dean. (And I cannot stress enough that Sam trying to seek his own path/seek education/do things for himself does not count as abuse and it disturbs me that people think it does.)

In fact, the opposite is most often the case: Dean is generally in the role of the leader. Recent seasons have begun to change that dynamic a bit, but neither Sam nor Cas have reversed the dynamic.

** Re: Sam punching Dean: I understand the circumstances and his reaction makes sense to me, but I’ll be honest: I’m personally uncomfortable with violence as a problem-solving method. So I don’t like that Sam did it, but I understand that both brothers grew up in an environment where less destructive/self-destructive methods were not consistently modeled for them. I understand that there are situations in which people might feel like words are useless and their only recourse is a physical response. I get pain and tragedy and desperation and terror and loss… but it doesn’t mean I’m any more comfortable with it.

#bittersamgirlclub #sam winchester #castiel #negativity for ts #my meta #my stuff #sam and abuse #sam and fandom #sam and family #dean winchester #moc!dean #sam and cas #anonymous #semirah replies

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forbiddensoul562 · 6 years ago

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The familiar unpleasantness of wetness startled Near from sleep. He sighed angrily, feeling the first contraction build at the base of his spine. Of course, any child if Mello's would have the urge to surprise him it inconvenient times. "Mello" he spoke loudly, trying to shake his partner awake. The other snored happily, arm still wrapped tightly around him. (1/2)

“Mello, it’s time!” He hissed irritably, shaking him harder. Blue eyes started fluttering open as the other moaned unhappily before half lidded eyes focused on him a “Oh shit,” Mello slurred, before his eyes closed and he went back sleep. (2/2)

(Thank you for sending me this prompt. I’m sorry it took me so long to respond to this! In case Tumblr mobile is being a bitch like it used to be, there is a read more, so… do with that what you need to.

Anon has specified that this takes place within the verse of Isolation and Topology. If you have not read those, you can find them: here and here. )

“Mello!” Near grumbled loudly as the older successor so easilyseemed to fall back to sleep once more. He knew Mello was tired from working a lot. He knew that all the extra work took a lot of him, out of both of them… But considering how much Mello had stressed wanting to be present for the birth of their second child, seeingthe ease with which he fell back asleep, Near couldn’t help thinking the other was already falling short.

This wasn’t working. He’d have to rely on himself, he figured. So, he pulled away from Mello and hissed as he forced himself to sit up on the side of the bed. He touched the large swell of his stomach where their second child was demanding his attention in the most important of ways.

Nine months had been hard, exacerbated by having to navigate not just the changing of his body and his attitudes, but having to do so in the presence of Mello, and Michael as well.

Michael…

The young boy was so excited to meet his new sibling… to find out whether it was a boy or a girl, to be a big brother. Near wanted his son to be present after the birth of his sibling, but he didn’t want Michael in a situation where he might see this… to see him like this… Michael was already so sensitive and caring towards Near’s state, always asking if he was okay, and offering to help him however he could. But this, the helplessness alone, Near figured, would terrify him…

But now that it was happening, he found himself wishing that Michael was here to, in the very least, go wake his father up, instead of staying with Rester until after the birth.

“Ah!” A new wave of pain shot through Near, again, causing him to double over. Why did it hurt so bad already? Had his contractions been this intense, this quickly when he was pregnant with Michael?

‘The human body isn’t programmed to remember pain.’ He told himself. Yet, as he sat there worrying that perhaps the intense pain meant something was going wrong he found himself wishing that he could remember those finer details…

Pushing himself to his feet, they no longer felt achy and sore like they had over the last month or so. Instead, they were like jelly, unstable, shaky, weak. His breath trembled as he tried to such in air while forcing his body to carry him just a few feet forward, to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He grabbed the door frame for support, haphazardly searched the wall for the light switch…

He needed a minute… just a brief moment to catch his breath before he would decide what to do about the situation. He sank down to the side of the tub, the cool porcelain feeling good against his warm palms that gripped the side.

The pain in him wavered just a moment… just long enough for him to start trying to think, and plan. If Mello was sound asleep, would Near be able to drag himself upstairs in time? Would he be somehow harming their child by walking all that way in his current state? Would the increased time it would take him to get there cause harm to their baby who demanded freedom from inside him, yet had nowhere to go?

Hot tears dotted his eyes as everything swirled within him. Nothing felt like the right thing to do. He hadn’t even had enough sense to grab his phone from the nightstand to be able to call anyone for help. “Please…” He heard himself plead, to nobody in particular. Or perhaps only to himself, to find the strength to do what was necessary for his baby.

But the longer he sat there, the more impossible it felt to even push himself up, much less get out of their home or navigate the building. Near felt alone. Alone and utterly helpless, and the one person who was supposed to be beside him, helping him, was caught too far in his own dreams… Just like always… So far in his own idealizations that he was blind to reality.

Another contraction jolted painfully through Near’s bod and he cried out, louder, pained. He tried to force his already doubled over body further down, as though it would ease the intensity… He’d never be able to make it upstairs in his state.

That fact made panic immediately settle over his being, though not for himself, but rather for his unborn child. “Mello.” He called, eyes screwing shut, his chest becoming tight.

He received only silence as his answer.

“Mello!” He gasped louder, the name a desperate plea. He couldn’t do this… He couldn’t. He should have never let himself rely on anyone else!

“Mello!” He couldn’t breathe… He-

“Shit.”

Mello stood in the doorway to the bathroom, his blue eyes flooded with a mixture of shock, worry, fear… Had Near ever seen the blonde appear so utterly lost on how to react? Still, with Mello there, his eyes burning into the younger successor’s being, Near felt utterly pitiful being seen in such a pained, desperate state.

“T-Time.” Near forced out, wondering bitterly whether he was trying to relate that it was time for their baby to be born, or that it was about time Mello had heard his cries.

He shook the thought from his head, hissing through another contraction and clutching the material of the large white shirt he adorned. Each one was so intense… so quick. “Baby coming.” He said. “Can’t get downstairs. You’ll… have to cut it out.”

Mello blanched at the comment, yet it somehow seemed to restart his internal programs from their previously shocked state. “Like hell I’m cutting anything out of you.” He cleared the distance between them in a fraction of a second and scooped the detective up into his arms.

Near wanted to protest that he was too heavy to be carried… but the fear of not having Mello, of being alone again made him instead loop his arms around the other’s neck and clutch onto him. “Thought you wouldn’t wake up…” He tried to tell him as he was carried out of the bathroom and towards the front door “Thought that I’d… that the baby…” Although his logical mind filled in the gaps of what might have happened, he couldn’t bring himself to speak it to Mello. What would Near have done?

“You idiot.” Mello scolded, breaking into his thoughts. “Why didn’t you smack me? Hit me? Anything.” Near wanted to convey that he had tried shaking him, but the older successor continued, “You know how terrifying it is to wake up to your partner screaming for you?”

Had Near been screaming? How had he not realized…

“Probably as terrifying as being physically unable to get to the one place you need to be for your your survival… or realizing you don’t know what to do to fix it.”

Mello’s hold immediately tightened on him. “You idiot.” He repeated, seething. “I was right there. I told you that I’m going to help you through this. So stop trying to do everything on your fucking own.”

Near remained silent, trying to ruminate on Mello’s words instead of focusing on the pain of contractions. Perhaps Mello had a point… When things had started to go wrong he had immediately resorted to his old habit of self-sufficiency; of relying on his own abilities. But he couldn’t this time, and it had almost been to the detriment of both him and his child…

Even if Mello’s actions didn’t adhere to whatever plan Near had had for this labor process, Mello had still been there when he needed him the most. He’d risen to the occasion to make sure Near was taken care.

Near hissed as his muscles contracted again, but this time he found himself gripping Mello’s shirt tighter, burying his face against his chest. Pressed so close to the blonde, he could feel and hear his chest rumble as he spoke low, for only Near to hear, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Both of you are going to be okay. I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

Near’s eyes closed, his body briefly relaxing as he replied. “I know. I believe you. I trust you.”

I was going to continue and do the entire birth, but I think that would have been too long of a post. If you’d like to read more of the scene, feel free to send another prompt and I can continue it.

If you liked what you read here and want to see more, feel free to send your own minific request! My goal is to try and fulfill a minific request every Monday until I can work up the nerve to work on a larger piece again. So any input you have would be greatly appreciated!

#meronia #fsfics #melloxnear #death note #anonymous

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ellnaturae · 6 years ago

Text

Who. [PART 1]

Who: Elliott Gilbert, Ziggy and Prince Vassago. Location: Kreos Ceremonial Room at Agrippa College. Time: 27 june 2019. Early Morning. Summary: Elliott thinks he has a way to find the missing people. Triggers/Notes: Blood, possibly body horror-ish in some descriptions. I wasn’t planning to make this too long, but one thing lead to another and I decided to divide this into three parts, because i’m super tired to finish tonight and for aesthetics too. So here we go, tomorrow I will finish and post the rest. LOL.

Since the last time Elliott had been in that room, he had used the ability Gremory gave him, and also what Blaine’s classes taught him, to read and study the book he obtained from his friend. It has been a long time, not for the lack of moments where he could have tried, but for the presence of fear and guilt. What if this didn’t go well again? What if he did something that put someone in danger again? He needed to be sure that he could do it, that he understood the spells and the ways of performing them, and he had to be sure and confident on his strength as well.

However, things never happened the way he wanted, never, life was just like that. He was at his lowest physically, and his friends were missing, so this was just a situation where he had to do it. There wasn’t time to think if he was ready or not, if he could do it or not, though he was perfectly sure that he wasn’t going to involve anyone else because of what happened last time, so he was going to do it alone.

He sits down and prepares, he lights candles and places them in strategic places on the summoning circle he draws on the floor, then he sits on it drawing more symbols on himself. He took different things he needed from the bag and started mixing them on a small bowl as he saw Blaine perform that time, and as the book explained. The final ingredient, that he obtained with the help of Jesse and that he owed him one for it still, was a small bag filled with blood.

He pauses for a second and summons Ziggy, she appears on his arm and then drops to the floor slowly.

“What are you doing?” she asks confused.

“I’m going to perform this ritual but I don’t know how it’s going to go so... I need you to be alert, if anything strange happens to me, if... someone else took over... you need to bring someone here to stop me or...” he sighs hoping that just won’t happen and he doesn’t even finish the sentence.

The snake looks up at him in disapproval but she won’t be able to stop the ritual anyway when Elliott is so fixed on doing it.

“Will do” she simply hisses and stays behind watching him start the ritual.

<<To the Ancients of the Dark, in the Shadowed Veil Beyond our own, I beseech you. I offer my loyalty, my servitude, my obedience…>> He says as once Blaine said before, and as many Witches before him tried <<My flesh, my bone, my soul, my eyes, ears, mouth… I speak to only ask for your wisdom, for I know your intelligence is greater than as this world is wide…>> he is nervous and he hopes that’s not a detriment to the performance <<My body yields to your knowledge, to your power, I offer this blood for the bonding of our natures.>> he starts pouring some of the blood on the small container and it starts reacting, boiling <<Please, I invoke you, Ancient of the Darkness, Prince and ruler of legions!>>

There is an expansive wave of power that goes through him and feels almost like an explosion out of his body. The candles light goes out as if been intensely blown off at once. There is only darkness covering everything, and a strange sensation is invading him. His joints crack as if his body was readjusting to a bigger person, to someone else that was way too large in power to fit such an insignificant body. The pain he was feeling for the still healing wounds was slowly disappearing as a demonic force spread on his limbs.

As he opened his eyes to look around, it felt like he was watching through somebody else’s eyes, as if four eyes were fighting for the space of just two, his tongue felt swollen, bigger, playful, his teeth sharper. His muscles adjusting and cracking as his bones moved in place, it was such a strange feeling, giving up his body to share for as long as this ritual lasted.

“Oh...” a voice on the back of his head talked, low, like a vibration on his cranium as he finally got out of his body through his own mouth “You are a demon...” they sounded surprised but amused “oh...!” his eyes twitched and looked around the room realizing “you are the idiot who let a human summon Grem” they laugh “To what do I owe this honor?” a smirk form in Elliott’s lips moved by Vassago.

“I...” Elliott speaks “I need your help, I read you are able to find people who are lost and some of my friends are missing and-”

Vassago interrupts Elliott midsentence, his muscles actually stop, his vocal cords stop vibrating as if someone else just could select how his brain connections worked.

“Right, right, right... of course, you need my help... I’m sure you do” Vassago says impatiently “and I have no problem with it, in fact, I enjoy this” their voice, or actually Elliott’s own voice sounds cheerful for a second “It has been millennia since I stepped on this world, and I would say being summoned by another demon... a shedim... it is a rare case... at least I would have a curious anecdote to tell to Furcas when I go back” they chuckle.

“So... you would do it? Would you help me find them?” Elliott asks hopeful, he was expecting the worst after what happened with Gremory, he didn’t think Vassago would just help him like that, that there would be more opposition or a trick, but the book announced them as a good nature demon, whatever that meant because if he had to enter into that debate would take a long while to define if that was actually a good thing or not, but maybe, in this case, it really meant that they would just help you.

“I will do it, but in exchange of something... little demon” Vassago breaks the fantasy “I have a good heart” they say, thought Elliott can feel his face twitch into a smirk “but I also have a price, to find those you seek I need something attached to them, to their memory, and in this case that would be you, or I would say, something you possess, something of value... a treasure for each of them, deal?”

Elliott mind starts racing, treasures for each of them? He thinks he can have thinks for Santana, Marley and Kurt, but he isn’t sure if he has anything at all that would be considered a treasure in relation to Quinn and obviously not to Joe, or Brittany that he didn’t know much about either. He starts getting anxious thinking if he could actually do this, but he had to, even if he had to find objects he didn’t have.

“Deal...” he says with a knot on his stomach.

“Well, then... come back to me when you have something interesting to offer, alright? Don’t waste my time again” they pause “oh and... next time you could find better blood?” Vassago complains “I mean animal blood is great and all, but human blood is so much better.”

Elliott swallows uncomfortably.

“Ugh, don’t be boring...” Vassago says noticing “I guess we will meet each other again soon, huh?” they say before they start to separate from Elliott.

If the possession was strange, the separation was just absurd, Elliott felt as if his whole body was exuding energy, burning. When they finally left his body he let out a stifled scream and fell to the floor laying there for a second to catch a breath.

Ziggy crawls near him and they share a silent look.

“Fuck...” Elliott closes his eyes and sighs.

TO BE CONTINUED...

---

If you want more info about the book you can check this out, I have been working on it for a while so basically I just wanted to share it anyway lmao

#p: who #cw: blood #cw: body horror

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subnova-scion · 6 years ago

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🟊⟅⸉ IM GONNA TALK ABOUT NOVAVERSE CYM AND WHAT HAPPENS AFTER CAUSE I HAVE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS LETS GO ⸊⟆🟊

During the final confrontation with White Diamond, not only were the CG’s unable to help Steven, they were turned against him. If the B-team had come in at that moment, they would’ve been turned against him, too. Can you fucking imagine? Seeing your family and friends slowly being possessed? Screaming, howling in agony as they’re turned against you? And you can’t do anything to stop it? And all you’ve got to back you up is your human friend who the person controlling everyone else thinks is disposable? And will not hesitate to try and kill her?

And you’re just a child?

Yeah!!! Steven doesn’t just end up having nightmares about being ripped apart from his gem once this is all over! He also has nightmares about the White Puppets. He had to see them turned! Every adult figure he’s ever trusted and loved had been turned against him by a villain who LITERALLY TRIED TO KILL HIM NOT EVEN MINUTES LATER. LIKE. WHITE DIAMOND DID THAT, KNOWING THAT THE ‘HUMAN CHILD’ PINK WAS ‘HIDING IN’ WOULD PROBABLY, IF NOT UNDOUBTEDLY, DIE.

“I’m tired of this shit, Pink. Time to end it and kill the organic parasite so you can’t run from your problems anymore.”

This is why Steven’s relationship with White Diamond in NOVAverse will be far from canon. He will always be scared of her!! AND THAT’S THE TEA!

As for the attempted murder, Steven barely remembers what happened when it comes to getting his gem removed and seeing his other half. Because when his gem was taken out it was, uh, very bad. Like,, from a gore standpoint. He only remembers vague feelings and images. Both halves experienced the same event, but from their own separate perspectives. One half was bleeding out, though, and your memory kind of takes a back seat when you’re LITERALLY DYING. So Like? He remembers it? But it’s mostly one sided, through his gem half. And that’s why it feels so bizarre when he tries to remember what happened. It feels like an extreme case of out of body dissociation.

Meanwhile, Yellow and Blue and the CG 3 couldn’t remember anything. They didn’t know what was happening, just what they were feeling as White was controlling them. It was severely emotionally and physically painful, and that’s all they knew! So they had no idea what happened, and the crystal gems freaked out when they were freed from White’s control and saw the state of their kid. Because there was still blood!! Everywhere! All over him! And Connie! Since she had to carry Steven over to his other half while he was BLEEDING OUT WITH A HOLE THE SIZE OF HIS FIST IN HIS GUTS.

And these two kids were too relieved and in shock and generally traumatized to answer their questions! They couldn’t even begin to process what exactly had nearly happened to him. Nova had already started to dissociate as soon as he was whole again? Cause his brain was like: ‘Haha gonna just black most of that out and go numb to protect you and keep you functioning through this hellish experience lmao.’

Considering he was almost killed for like the 12th time in his 14 years of life, there are VERY obvious reasons as to why he began falling into a state of dissociation, but what he started dissociating from first is deeply rooted in what happened to him. The first thing he dissociated from was his feelings. See, after his human half sustained serious damage, guess which half has to kick into higher gear to keep him alive and functioning after going through awful trauma?

The gem half. Which is well… Numb. We see that PINK!Steven literally cannot process emotion other than the intense, overwhelmingly negative ones. That sudden outburst, the literal grief and rage of a young god that is sick and tired of everyone wanting his mother to be alive over him. Quartz (That’s what I call Nova’s gem half) didn’t hesitate to strike at all of Nova’s loved ones. He had no attachment. He was doing what he needed to do to protect himself and his other half so they could be whole again. Everyone else was an afterthought.

And that’s how you know Quartz is different. Because the human half, and even as a whole, Steven puts everyone else first. Human Nova (who I call Universe) is literally bleeding out and he’s crying out for his other half to stop because he’s hurting them. But that half is a part of him. And it’s a part he’s been needing to get in touch with for a long time. Considering Steven puts others before himself even to his own detriment, and the reactions of his human half only solidify this fact, if his gem half was anything like that, Steven could have died. He couldn’t afford to strain or distract himself trying to help or protect others. He needed to help himself. Save Steven. That was the objective.

And even as two halves are united again, the gem half is still more or less handling the reigns because of how straight wrecked the human half is at the time. It’s still working to protect himself as a whole. And the first sign of this emotional change is shown in the first thing he says to white after she tried to murder him.

“I am a child. What’s your excuse?”

See, now that he’s been reunited with his other half, he has all the emotions and feelings his human half provides, too. So he’s able to actually lay down some sick burns and common sense without going absolutely apeshit and creating craters with his screams. And this boy didn’t leave quietly with ‘If you let everyone else be whoever they are, maybe you can let yourself be whoever you are, too.’ No. That didn’t quite happen in NOVAverse. Yanno what happened? Yellow and Blue confronted White first, and since she had yet to regain her composure, she was shaken and defensive.

They almost started fighting all over again. They were all terrified and scrambling in fear of the unknown. Until White’s attention was on Steven again. Because, who is this little creature supposed to be if they aren’t Pink??? What the fresh fuck is going on?! Now, we all know PINK!Steven is Mcfuckin Pissed. The gem is back-loaded with thousands of years of emotional turmoil and trauma, most of which isn’t even his own. And this is related to WHY he initially goes off on the diamonds, too.

Because he goes off on them defending Pink Pearl.

Steven had to relieve through so many of his mother’s memories of abuse, and her painful memories of regret regarding what happened to her best friend??? So to actually see Pink Pearl okay and looking like herself again was so important to him. He didn’t just go 'welcome back’ and pat her on the shoulder, HE HUGGED HER AND HELPED HER TO HER FEET. HE WAS IN TEARS. He walked her over to the CGs and said, “ You’re coming with us. ”

LIKE. SHES BEEN SUBJECTED TO MENTAL AND PHYSICAL TORTURE FOR +8,000 YEARS??? GET HER AWAY FROM WHITE. And when White managed to regain her composure and what he was doing caught her attention, she asked him what he could possibly be doing taking her pearl? That’s when Nova went off.

“ She was never yours. She was my mother’s best friend and you took her away and turned her into a puppet and used her as an emotional manipulation tactic to keep my mother under your thumb.

You have kept her like this for thousands of years. It’s time she comes home with us so she can finally start to be herself again. Far away from you.

Die Mad About It.”

Boy put his foot down not just on that, but about his mom and why she left, and why he came here in the first place, that he needed White’s help. And everyone was in such shock and was so overwhelmed and lost because of what just happened that they listened to what he had to say and they did what he told them to! They didn’t know what else to do or how to move forward now that their worlds have been turned upside down!

The night they got back to Earth, the diamonds had to hang around for a while because Steven and Connie are a mess and the CG’s have to take care of them before anything else happens. They have to get them checked out (thanks Dr.Maheswaran.) It was determined they were both in shock, but Connie wasn’t too badly injured. Steven, however, spent the night in the hospital due to blood-loss. He was in enough pain that he had to take it easy and mostly stick to staying in bed. It was fine, as he was majorly exhausted and slept like a rock.

His nature as a demi-gem allowed him to heal faster, but the human half was still seriously damaged. He has to take painkillers and not be too physical for a while. He also has a sicknasty scar around his gem because it was ripped out so that’s Neat. When he uses his powers and his gem glows, you can really see the scarring. It looks something similar to what it looks like when his body comes into contact with destablizers. (He decides to wear bigger t-shirts from now on. He doesn’t want it to be exposed, and he doesn’t want his family to see it)

Then, the next day was the big Bubble Bath. They were all up late, so the healing party happened the following afternoon. Once he was cleared, they checked him out of the hospital, and went straight to the fountain to meet up with the diamonds and finally cure corruption. The water from the fountain helped him heal more, too, so he was feeling better already. He loved meeting all these new friends and was so relieved it was all over. But after a few hours, as it usually is at parties, he just kept talking to so many people and getting distracted and, god, he just couldn’t leave.

Yanno? You just keep trying to leave a party but someone or something keeps sucking you back in. All the people there. How loud they all are. Using his voice becomes exhausting. Thinking becomes exhausting. People talking to him becomes like nails on the chalkboard? Suddenly, everything is so irritating and blurry and painful and so, so loud he feels like he’s going crazy. And when he finally has a quiet moment to himself to be mindful of his own state he’s like, “Oh. I’m having an anxiety attack in slow motion and probably experiencing sensory overload. Cool.”

He’s so mentally overwhelmed and burnt out that he just felt himself having a meltdown at ¼th the speed and knew it would speed up or blow up if he didn’t leave. They had to take him home and he just went to bed. From that day on, for another week or two, Steven is under the constant watch of the Crystal Gems and doted on. He didn’t particularly mind some affection, because he was just so relieved to be home. To be safe. To be alive. Understandably, his family and friends were worried, of course they were. How could they not be, with the state he was in after that fight?

He looked like a dead boy walking, clothes and limbs absolutely bloody. They hadn’t the slightest clue what happened after White Diamond took control of them, and they could only look to Steven for answers. Steven always told them he doesn’t really remember what happened, which is only partially true, and they say that since then, he hasn’t seemed like himself. They say that in the aftermath, that he acted strange and cold, that now he seems ‘far away’ and is too quiet.

While that was true, it was only the case at a certain point because Steven found it harder and harder to be around them when they looked at him like he could die at any second and talked to him like they want to scrape the inside of his skull with a spoon.

See, Nova is struggling with his emotions a lot more now, in terms of emotional detachment and his literal demi-god power showing through in his personality a bit more? He was BORN a fusion, but reflected his human half more than the gem half for so long because he wasn’t in touch with gem stuff for the first 10 years of this life.

This is why he couldn’t use his powers for a long time. But NOW that he’s come so far and has seen his gem half for what it really is, seen himself for who he really is, it’s changed the cognition of the human half. So now that they're whole, the gem half and all the Diamond Powers are like, ‘Hello, I am here now. I am also you.’

And both halves are struggling to balance the whole self out again. This is why his Pink Power™ is more obvious from this point onward. It’s the “Light of his gem shining through”, as White Diamond put it. Now, Steven himself doesn’t know this, so he can’t put his finger on why it’s so hard to talk, why he feels distant, not only from his family, but his own feelings.

He needs time alone to work through them, to try and understand what exactly happened, and why he’s feeling so odd. At times, he feels simply… indifferent to everything, some kind of numb. But there is another uncommon feeling that frightens him more; Anger, it rises within him frequently, so much so that he almost feels bad about it when it does. He was never one to feel this way so easily before.

Not to say he doesn’t have things to be angry about, to be emotional about. He’s angry because wasn’t even allowed to leave the house by himself for a whole week. He hadn’t seen Connie since they got back, and it seems that he could never get enough time with his father, the only other person who being around would make it easier to breathe. Every conversation with the gems eventually leads to being about what’s wrong, the questions Steven couldn’t answer, that he doesn’t want to answer. It’s hard to express this when they’re each being their own ways of overbearing about his well-being, and his anxiety is off the charts.

The question of the Diamonds and what they were going to do, how they were going to continue, looms over him. It’s such a source of his stress that he has as much trouble falling asleep as he does staying asleep the whole night through. He has to know what’s happening. What they’re doing. He couldn’t just leave them be and expect things to not go back to how they were before. At times, he feels like he has to go back to Homeworld, but how could he?

Especially if he told his family what happened to him? Steven knew that if he did, that they wouldn’t let him, and who knows what else would happen. Truthfully, he’s afraid they wouldn’t see or treat him the same anymore. He feels like he has to be okay as soon as possible so he can do what he feels needs to be done, but the longer this goes on the more he feels like he’s having a meltdown in slow motion.

The peace he was hoping to have after going through such a harrowing time is yet again out of his reach… and it’s getting harder and harder to swallow his slowly boiling frustrations.

#🟊⟅⸉ᴏᴏᴄ⸊⟆🟊

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carelessgraces · 5 years ago

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on astoria and control ( part one ) —

In both of Astoria’s main verses, her adolescence is marked by a series of pretty intense traumas following the same model: she is “educated” by previously unknown family members whom the rest of her family trusts. These family members — her godparents !! That’s a huge responsibility in a devout Catholic family like the Grimani family, and it brings with it a huge level of trust — violate that trust repeatedly: first, by manipulating Astoria’s mind and memory through magic; second, by physically and psychologically abusing her to force her into compliance, isolation, and fear; and third, by using her to harm other people, usually her own family, for their own purposes. It’s an intense thing to go through at any age, but at 14 – 15, Astoria is at a crucial moment in her development, and this fundamentally alters how she thinks, how she feels, how she reacts to things, how she develops and maintains relationships, going forward. Please proceed with caution: the following will discuss abuse, trauma, and recovery.

Astoria is only able to bring about an end to the abuse and manipulation when she starts manipulating her abusers back. The more that Amycus and Alecto mistreat her, the more she plays into what they want: she stops asking questions, she flinches at loud noises, she very much emphasizes her own fear and vulnerability. She recognizes the signs of her trauma starting to manifest and, rather than trying to hide them to keep herself from seeming vulnerable and like an easier target, she makes that front and center of her visible personality and reactions. More than that, she deliberately acts ashamed of this, so that Amycus and Alecto won’t suspect anything.

The psychological abuse is the major piece of this — while Amycus’ “discipline” is violent and leaves significant damage, it’s rare, and intended as a punishment for failure or disobedience. With Alecto, it’s constant gaslighting and manipulation, designed to make Astoria doubt her own perception of reality. Astoria learns the responses that Alecto wants and provides them, and the more that Alecto imagines that Astoria is easy to control. In both verses, Astoria is able to use this to lay a trap to stop them: first, she isolates them; then, she leaves a trail for anyone who’s looking to find; and third, she antagonizes them and goads them until they move to harm her, and in doing so, lead to their own deaths.

For the sake of ease, I’m going to talk about each verse individually, so apologies for length.

DRAGON AGE.

Astoria is able to leave Seleny, her grandfather, and her mother behind for a time, and she spends about six years in Orlais. The only family she maintains regular contact with on her mother’s side is her uncle — Giovanni hadn’t known, hadn’t even been present for most of it, and couldn’t have identified a blood mage’s thrall even if he was around. She slowly picks up communication with her mother and grandfather again after she settles into Orlais and begins studying at the University, but for the most part, the only people from home she cares to speak to are Giovanni and Lorenzo. She starts to develop a strong relationship with her father, visiting the Storm Coast whenever there’s a holiday, and she in turn becomes deeply connected to the bannorn itself. She works through the short-term trauma by becoming one of the many noble students at the University to take up bard training, and so her teenage angst is literally worked through by learning how to navigate the deadliest court in Thedas, and that includes violence and murder. ( As per Veronica Sawyer — “My teen angst has a body count.” )

If, as per her main DA timeline, she ends up caught in the Blight and traveling with the Hero of Ferelden, this is what brings about her healing. At first, I thought it was Alistair who did it, but it’s just the matter of traveling through this country that she has only recently started to call home and risking her life for it even when it’s not her responsibility, even when she ( arguably ) has a greater responsibility to do the opposite, and to get home to protect Seleny. It’s her first real act of selflessness, and it changes her: until this, she has always known in theory that she must be ready to sacrifice everything, her life included, for the people she ruled. Now, she knows that she can do just that, and more than that, she will.

And in so many ways, that’s what it comes down to: knowing that this is a choice she’ll make of her own volition, knowing that this is a sacrifice she’ll be willing to offer without anyone else’s influence. The Warden’s companions ( regardless of what the Wardens do ) will give her the chance to leave, over and over and over again, and every time she chooses to stay, it’s for her father, and her sister, and the bannorn, and everyone she meets. Astoria is selfish at her core, but she has the capacity for a really profound selflessness when it comes to the people for whom she is responsible; that’s what makes her a good leader, and it prepares her to become Inquisitor. It helps her get past her anger, it helps her understand that some failures can’t be fixed but they can be handled, and it gives her the space she needs to heal in an honest way. When she comes home to Seleny in 9:34, it’s with a sense of peace.

If, instead, she stays in the bannorn during the Blight, she goes to Kirkwall next, and Kirkwall is not the sort of place that really encourages one’s better angels. She can do just about anything, and really, who’s going to prevent her? So her anger comes out in different ways: she doesn’t feel like she has a home in Antiva or in Ferelden, and so she treats Kirkwall as temporary. She lashes out in battle, she’s vicious, she’s calculating to an extreme, and depending on Hawke’s influence, she is utterly lawless. This time, it’s Fenris who evens her out: she sees someone with similar fears of magic, but with more focus, more drive. The more she knows Fenris, the more she begins to realize that the biggest difference between them is that she’s in a position where she can make the changes she wants, that she can do something about all of this.

Astoria isn’t fit to be anybody’s princess until the end of Act II — again, after she’s risked her life when she really doesn’t have to, and after she’s been made to take a stand in favor of people who can do absolutely nothing for her in terms of social and political mobility. When the Arishok describes what happened to the elves who converted, and why they converted, Astoria is moved to defend Kirkwall not because she thinks that the Guard should have access to those elves to punish them, but because she realizes that the elves and the mages really can’t go anywhere else, and really, what the hell kind of princess is she if she’s not willing to do something about that? Astoria fights, Astoria bleeds, and at the end of it, Astoria returns to Seleny not because of her grandfather’s health, but because she knows she has to. She’s a little clumsier around the one act of selflessness — she’s had less time to make sense of it — but by Inquisition she’s the same person: she’s a fine princess for Seleny, and while she knows that her own life has a great deal of value if only for its symbolic value ( if she lives, Seleny remains stable, the changes she makes can be made permanent, she can protect the people and the economy, etc etc ) she knows, too, that there’s a lot to be gained by bleeding in place of, or alongside, her people. It’s what sends her to the Conclave, and if she’s not Inquisitor, it’s what keeps her with the Inquisition.

And it all comes down to control and anger. Astoria’s greatest fear is losing control of herself, and she spends all of her youth pushing back against even a perceived threat to her self control. She imagines that control of the self will lead to control of the world around her, and it’s the process of understanding that this isn’t always the case that helps her to grow.

ON WRATH.

While Astoria’s susceptible to any and all of the ~deadly sins,~ and commits most of them frequently and with great enjoyment, the one that’s the most detrimental to her is wrath. She recognizes the power of anger: it mobilizes, it kickstarts healing, it has a lot of value and it can be a really important part of just existing in a hostile world. For Astoria, though, her anger takes on a life of its own: she’s been wounded in profoundly personal and brutal ways, told time and time again that she brought those wounds on herself or that the wounds simply do not exist, and that she’s only hurting herself.

It feeds off of her fear of a lack of control — if she can’t trust her perception of reality, then what can she trust? How can she keep control of anything? She has an instinct to punish, rather than towards true justice: her wrath tells her that the only way to guarantee that she is never made a victim again is to destroy anyone who tries to victimize her. Her wrath tells her that her safety may need to be bought through someone else’s blood, and that she has to be ready to pay that price. It’s not entirely wrong: Trevisan assassins have been coming after her with some regularity since she was fourteen, and she’s been placed under the thrall of someone she should have been able to trust. In all of these cases, it’s kill or be killed. ( As per Katherine Pierce — “Better you die than I.” )

Part of gaining a greater control of herself is in gaining control of that wrath and learning to overcome it. ( Kirkwall’s terrible for her in that regard — wrath runs pretty rampant in Kirkwall, and there’s no shortage of people willing to pick a fight. ) It proves difficult, in part because there are a lot of people who Astoria thinks deserves to die, and these are the people she’s fighting: slavers, and Loghain’s forces ( and Loghain himself ), and Uldred and his blood mages, and the werewolves. In Kirkwall, there are slavers around every corner, and the Templars abuse their power in ways that sicken her. In Inquisition, she genuinely cannot go more than a few days without killing someone, because she’s constantly fighting some battle or another.

And after a while, she becomes desensitized, because it’s part of her new normal. Astoria is not a good person, and I’ve said this a thousand times by now: the blood on her hands cannot and should not be ignored. Frankly, nobody in a Dragon Age setting is a good person. I think that’s something that needs to be grappled with, but that’s for another day. When her wrath becomes normalized, that’s when it’s at its most dangerous, and she struggles with that constantly, because wrath is another thing that takes control away from her.

Nowhere is this better illustrated than in a Dragon Age universe, because it leaves her vulnerable to literal demons of wrath. ( And I have been itching for a verse where Astoria is left in the Fade and comes out possessed by a demon of wrath, js. )

To follow: modern verses, and how this impacts Astoria in shipping.

#i. she had a marvelous time ruining everything. ( about )#tw: abuse #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: murder #i. you never hear of anyone storming a castle on a wednesday. ( character development )

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mothcrlost-blog · 7 years ago

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the headcannon / cannon masterlist as of 11 - 15 - 2017

crescent-rabbit asked: 👑

get to know the people in my muses life | accepting  👑 …someone my muse is jealous of.

O R I T A okay this one is interesting for orita specifically , because she is so quick to adore people . she actually has a deep jealousy of splinter but doesn’t ever really address or show it . she cares about him and her boys too much to do so , she mostly is jealous because of the fact he was the one who got to raise her sons instead of her .

HIKARU hikaru is jealous of a lot of people because of his breathing and leg difficulties but out of everyone he envies it has to be donnie , he adores donnie and he is such an inspiration but the fact donnie has functioning legs but would rather sit in a lab upsets him very deeply . he is a total sweetheart and would never tell anyone but sometimes it can be noticeable .

REI rei is VERY jealous of akane , the youngest sibling . rei constantly practices , strives to be the best and never stops training or practicing , yet her sister is better at , speaking , less fearful , bigger stronger and more skilled even though she uses and fights with ‘ dishonorable ‘ tools and weapons . even though she rarely trains and barely takes being a ninja as serious business . it isn’t fair her little sister is so perfect in her eyes . it does create a hostile dynamic between the two that they struggle to overcome because they learnt how to bottle up emotions from the best .

AKANE akane is different in her siblings that she doesn’t actually envy a person but a side , she would feel more comfortable as an oroku , or a criminal . she has a lot of unchecked emotions and can be VERY soft , however due to her family’s manners she only feels safe opening up to raphael . she gets a thrill out of doing bad things , it makes her feel alive instead of paying so much attention to her depression . in a way it keeps her happy and sometimes alive . she doesn’t have the strongest morals but a robin hood or vigilante lifestyle would suit her best . life is a game to her , she’s not afraid of losing or dying but she is afraid of never having the chance to live it in as many ways as she can .

okay but on character development , weapon choices

rei is all about honor and prefers to use blades and hand to hand combat , she WILL NOT use poisons , bombs or guns in any form . it often lands her in trouble and in tight spots but she refuses to break her unspoken code of honor . she keeps a rules journal for this unspoken code and thoroughly keeps it up to date with any new rules or revisions . her original assigned weapon was a tanto

akane is the team sharp shooter , she has the eyes of a hawk and the aim of a goddess . this girl does not miss , she does strive to be like raph but her mind is very calculated like donnie . she can practically see every trajectory and angle , because of her skill with shooting she prefers more dangerous weapons , like rigged arrows , throwing blades , and her guilty pleasure , guns . she doesn’t see much use in traditional weapons and for close combat she uses her brute and dirty tricks like poison , bombs and occasionally scythe blades or sais . her original weapon was two handled scythe style blades , she did learn the sais from raphael .

hikaru due to his asthma and bad legs does not fight nearly as much as his sisters , he does act as their tactical support through a com line however . he mainly uses a wheelchair but does have specially designed leg braces and plenty of his medication on hand at all times . when he is forced to fight he uses a half bo with a fully electrical ability , & prods he always wears rubber gloves and boots . he has also been known to use his assigned weapon , a kyoketse shoge , the swiss army knife of feudal times .

when orita was mutated she was in pain and emotionally destroyed , mutating was physically painful and devastating emotionally . every moment of her life was rewritten in her mind with a new understanding and sentience . she felt every emotion in her life all at once and with an insane intensity , enough pain to put her into a short coma where she spent the first two weeks of her mutant life absorbing every emotion and memory she’d ever experienced but with a human mind . it messed her up bad . then she woke up and the first thing she saw was saki , he was nice at first tricking her into trusting him before she discovered the truth about her children . she was almost immediately abused and thrown into a cell to rot and constantly tortured for information on her kids and a turtles weaknesses . like she went through a lot to get to her kids and being questioned on her care for them sends her right back to that dark place where she bottles everything up and hides her feelings .

O R I T A actually learns all curses from her kids and basically parrots every new word they teach her , she actually has no idea what their definitions are but she understands how they are used in a sentence and with what emotions , they are used in .

okay so when orita gets angry she huffs a lot , she can’t help it , it’s just one of her mannerisms . only because of her crooked teeth it doesn’t come out as a huff it comes out as a crazy whistle . this frustrated her but she got used to it , that’s until her kids heard it , all of the sudden their mother is pouting , trying to look angry but spewing crazy whistles . then when she gets emotional her lisp starts acting up and now she can’t even talk without whistling . normally when this happens she ends up , laughing with them , getting very embarrassed , or ends up covering her mouth to muffle the whistles while she scolds the kids . only the kids are in stitches laughing because it looks absolutely ridiculous .

she occasionally does get upset by her deformities , she doesn’t view herself as beautiful but at the end of the day because she has her family she’s just happy to be there with them .

okay but , orita trying to wear clothes and wigs and make up because she’s insecure about her sides not matching , and just generally being a mutant and not a human , if she were human she could do so much more for her boys , get a job , get them things , pay for food and supplies so they’d never run out the fact she can’t really bothers her…

samuraijacqueline asked:

character development question~! ; What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why?

What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out ?

O R I T A actually seeks out relationships with tender hearted individuals , but she gravitates toward those she can nurture or protect often those who in a sense need a mother , whether they like it or not . she is also very drawn to strong individuals who can or will protect her . she has a tender and fragile heart and needs someone to look after her in a sense so she doesn’t break under emotional or physical trauma , she can be pretty clingy and quick to infatuation but seeks others like herself .

versus actually cultivate?

O R I T A is most likely to cultivate a relationship with someone she is attracted to or has subconsciously adopted . she’ll do anything for them even to her own detriment and harm . this is part of the reason she didn’t leave shredder or fight him until her babies were put at risk , because he was kind and caring enough to get her infatuated then cruelly use it against her .

What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why?

O R I T A prefers close and intimate interactions , she is afraid of being alone for too long and she feels lost and empty in a crowd , in small moments such as brushing up against someone , touching hands or even being close enough to hear a persons breaths makes her the most happy because she knows she’s not alone . this is a reason why she will often place her head on those she cares abouts chests , because listening to a heartbeat makes her feel safe and intimate with another person . she could listen for hours straight & it’s something she will never tire of hearing .

#[ headcanons ]#[ cannon ]#// char tag | orita ! i'm forgetting something aren't i ? //#// char tag | hikaru ! a shell on wheels //#// char tag | rei ! honor in practice . honor in sadness //#// char tag | akane ! heart wrenched . blood quenched //#// mothcrlost | tracking tag //#[ masterlist ]

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catflowerqueen · 8 years ago

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You will not... believe... how hard it was for me to get this out...

This is currently up on fanfiction.net, and I’ll crosspost more chapters onto ao3 later... i’m going to bed now...

Missing Scenes

Chapter 44: Safe

Despite the unfortunate fact that he had seen the direct aftermath of Laura’s “incidents” many times before, the Dark-type couldn’t shake the feeling that this one would be far, far worse than usual.

In fact, he had a sinking feeling that it may even be worse than the first one he’d born witness to—which in itself had been legendary. A small part of his reasoning was because in the ten minutes since he had rescued her from falling into the ocean’s unforgiving waves she had not stopped convulsing or sparking with energy … but most of his reasoning lay in the fact that, even though it was very hard to see her shape through the darkness lit only by her mess of sparking energy and the occasional flash of lightning, her form looked… different than usual.

As he lowered her to the sand and eased her into a seated position, her upper body leaning against his chest as he cradled her in his arms, heedless of the sparks she was emitting, he did his best to shield her from the driving winds and rain of the storm. Since they were a shock to his own system after having resided in that dark, weather-less world for so long, he could only imagine what it must have felt like for Laura, especially in her current condition. But, admittedly, it wasn’t as much of a shock to him as one would expect since he was far too distracted anxiously awaiting the girl’s sparking to die down long enough to fully assess her condition and see what exactly about her was making her look so strange. His anxiety and guilt only grew the longer it took, and when the sparking died down enough that he could finally see her more clearly, his heart all but plummeted in his chest at what he found.

She was no longer human. She had turned into a treecko—a pokémon.

But before he had a chance to do anything about this fact—not that he really knew what could be done, since he had no idea if the sudden species change was the only problem currently plaguing her, or how complete the change was—she opened her eyes to stare directly at him. He winced at the expression she was making. Not only was her face contorted in obvious pain, her eyes—usually so brilliant and lovely—seemed almost pupil-less in the intense glow they were giving off, and were staring intently into his own. She wasn’t glaring at him, but he almost would have preferred it to the utterly lost, helpless, and… disappointed look she bestowed him instead.

“Why?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

He looked away in shame, unable to bear that sad, betrayed gaze any longer. But it was answer enough for her. Her gaze hardened infinitesimally. “This won’t stop him,” she warned.

“I know,” he assured her softly, finding the courage to meet her eyes again just in time to see them widen slightly in surprise before softening in understanding.

“Oh,” she breathed, bringing one of her arms up as if to lay it on his cradling ones in comfort before pausing at the last minute, wary of burning him even more with the sparks she was giving off. “So, then,” she began, seeking clarification, “this was because…” she trailed off, and her eyes widened briefly before she clenched them again in pain as another set of powerful sparking racked her body. He cradled her closer, not caring about the fact that he was getting burned. Besides, he knew her well enough that he could guess the gist of what she was going to ask, and the very fact that she was going to ask it, that she still felt she wasn’t worthy enough to deserve such care and consideration left him feeling so hollow inside that he couldn’t not give her some measure of reassurance.

“Of course it was,” he told her, his anger and his guilt at this entire situation, his desperate need to get it through her thick skull that she was worth so much more than she gave herself credit for leaking through and making his hushed whisper sound much harsher than he’d intended. “Of course it was!”

She gave a soft chuckle before raising her arm again and setting a soft hand on the side of his face, apparently deciding that the physical contact might comfort him more than holding back in an attempt to mitigate his physical injuries. “In that case… I’m sorry,” she apologized, “but this won’t stop me either, Cr… Cr…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing as her eyes, whose glow had finally begun to dim, suddenly brightened again.

But he didn’t notice. He was too busy seeing red at her words and the utter stupidity and stubbornness of her self-sacrificing nature and insistence that she fix everyone’s problems, even to her own detriment. But then his anger suddenly extinguished itself as he realized that her sparking had died down to almost nothing, indicating that the next stage in the cycle of her “incidents” was quickly approaching, and would then be followed by…

His eyes narrowed, and his gaze hardened. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” he challenged. “But first… ” he said as he secured his grip on her and smoothly lifted her back up off the sand, cradling her closer to his chest, “tell me: where do you think is the safest and most idyllic place for a young, amnesiac treecko like yourself to wait out the saving of the world?”

But instead of a glare or a frown like he expected, the answer he received instead was a chuckled, “Over… there. A little to… your right. Between that wall and… those small rocks.”

He was stunned at the response, and it must have reflected in his expression since the slightly-dazed pokémon he was holding snuggled deeper into his arms and explained, “Just now I… had a Dimensional… S-scream… of me… lying there… and you… hiding… and watching… as a pikachu comes up to me and… wakes me up.” Laura paused there momentarily before she chuckled again, rather brokenly this time, and wearily finished, “She’ll ask me… who I am… and I’ll tell her… I used… to be human… and that my name… is Laura… and… nothing else. I won’t r-remember… anything else.”

He was quiet for a moment, grief and guilt briefly pooling within him once more—both at the realization that she still, after everything that had happened, shared a bond of trust with him that allowed him to activate her ability, and for the fact that, as it always seemed to be the case with the two of them, he’d had to be cruel to be kind in order to truly help her and keep her safe. “I see,” he said softly, honestly regretful for the treecko’s upcoming trials. But the feelings were swiftly washed away by a tide of relief. “I see,” he said again, gently carrying the soon-to-be-amnesiac to the predetermined spot to see what he could do to ensure she would be comfortable there during wait for the destined pikachu. But he soon stopped when the hand that had once been pressed against his face in comfort suddenly grabbed harshly at his arm.

“Even… so…” she struggled to say, a glare firmly in place as she looked at him with quickly dimming eyes, “th-this… won’t… s-stop me.”

With that, her arm fell limp and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The sparking finally stopped, and the new Grass-type fell completely unconscious. The Dark-type felt a moment’s pang of worry and regret, but it was quickly brushed aside in favor of continuing his self-appointed task to ensure the girl’s comfort and protection while they awaited the stranger she had foreseen.

As was always the case with Laura’s visions of the future, it was unclear exactly how far off those futures were, so the Dark-type wasn’t sure how long he would have to keep watch over his charge before the pikachu would appear. But Laura had, at least, been clear that the Electric-type’s appearance would be the catalyst for her awakening, so there was one surefire way he knew of to speed up the process. However, he wasn’t sure if it would be worth the risk since it would involve leaving Laura alone and unprotected while he searched for the item in question. Admittedly, she would only have to be left alone for a very short period of time since he knew where multiple stockpiles were and he had… ways of getting to them quickly, despite some of them being in semi-dangerous locations. But even so… he was wary of leaving her alone in her helpless state. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t possess endless patience when it came to this particular girl. He could afford to wait however long it took—and, given how much energy she had just wasted, it would likely take a long, long time without his intervention. But there was also Laura herself to consider. While he was fully capable of taking care of her for as long as she needed him to, there was also the fact that the longer she stayed unconscious, the more problems she would have in the long run when it came to her health—especially since she had gained a new body.

Eventually he decided that, as Laura had mentioned that he had witnessed the pikachu waking her up in the vision and she hadn’t mentioned the pikachu worrying over any injuries or other health issues, it would probably be safe to leave her alone while he went in search of the special items. Once the rain stopped, of course, as it wouldn’t due to risk her catching pneumonia (or accidentally drowning) by getting wet because he wasn’t there to shield her from it.

He returned from his errand just as the sun began rising on a new day, and as he used the precious items on her he was relieved to see her beginning to breathe more deeply and flutter her eyelids open. She muttered something too soft for him to hear, and he watched as her eyes—which, he was saddened to see, had lost their beautiful coloring and become just as ordinary as any other treecko’s—sluggishly moved around to take in her surroundings, focusing briefly on the brilliant sunrise, before shutting once more as she quickly sank back into unconsciousness. Given his experience with her “Incidents,” he knew that she would likely have more of these brief moments of awareness before her true awakening, and he also knew they would be colored by confusion and, likely, panic as she tried to figure out what was going and why she seemed to be missing memories. So as the sun slowly began its journey overhead, he did the best he could to comfort her and assure her that she wasn’t alone.

He talked to her. He told her stories. He sang her songs. As he shifted his positions accordingly with the sun’s path, ensuring that she was always within his protective shadow and shielded from the sun’s harsh and unyielding rays, he even hummed the lullaby whose melody—though not the proper lyrics—had been passed down from generation to generation since the dawn of the world’s creation. Then, as the sun began its descent back beyond the horizon and krabby appeared in the distance to blow their bubbles, he backed off just the slightest bit so that her body would be able to soak up the last of its rays to use for photosynthesis. But even as he moved away, he kept a vigilant watch for the promised pikachu.

His patience paid off when, just as the sunset had begun in earnest, a yellow-furred pokémon began to walk down the shoreline and admire the bubbles sparkling in the light and gently floating into the air. He quickly retreated further, hiding himself completely from her view, and, after a brief moment where the light seemed to reflect off of the waves and bubbles in such a way that momentarily blinded him and obscured the pokémon from his sight, he watched as Laura’s vision played out.

But despite knowing the outcome, and despite knowing that this was what was best for her in the long run, he still couldn’t help but be disheartened by the extent of Laura’s memory loss.

As the two girls continued to talk, he pondered what his next move should be. Laura’s Dimensional Scream hadn’t revealed what she or the pikachu—who was apparently named Paula—would do after she woke up, and he didn’t want to stray too far from her side until he could be certain that she was safe. But just as he was contemplating the benefits of making his presence known, Paula was assaulted, and then mugged, by a duo of Poison-types. He bit back a snarl of anger as Laura was inadvertently shoved aside in the process, and his simmering rage was such that he almost missed the girls’ mad dash past his hiding place in pursuit of the thieves. But he quickly snapped out of it in deference to following them so that he could ensure Laura’s safety.

He kept at a distance and stayed safely in the shadows, not wanting to interfere unless is help was truly needed. But it turned out that his caution and worry weren’t even necessary; for someone who had just been thrust into a foreign body with foreign capabilities, Laura seemed almost unnaturally good at exploring the cave and defeating enemies. Aside from the way she insisted on walking, it was almost as if she had been a treecko her entire life. Though, given who she was, he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised by the outcome. In any case, Paula and Laura quickly located the thieves and retrieved Paula’s item, and the two of them—with their unseen tagalong—managed to return to the Beach before the sun had even completed setting. He watched as the two discussed the item—which he was too far away to identify—before Paula broached the topic of forming an exploration team together and joining the nearby Wigglytuff Guild.

The Dark-type considered the idea. He remembered all of the stories he’d heard about the place; it was considered to be the best institution for learning how to be an explorer, which would mean that, if Laura did end up joining, she would receive excellent training and would be able to learn the ins and outs of her new body and how to strengthen and protect herself. She would also have easy access to food, shelter, and—though she would hopefully never need it—medical care. Guildmaster Wigglytuff was also known to be incredibly strong, so he would easily be able to protect her from harm. The Dark-type was still loath to leave her, but… he knew that, with the world in its current state, leaving her was the only feasible option to ensure that things progressed as they should, and that the opportunity Paula was suggesting was the best scenario that he could think of. Still, though, he couldn’t help but follow the two as they made their way to the guild, and, even once they entered, he still waited patiently outside the gates for a while. But after a half hour had passed and the duo did not come back out, he assumed that they had, indeed, been accepted into the guild.

Even then, he still lingered for a while, staring up at the gorgeous moon in contemplation. He knew there was no more need for him here, but he could not bring himself to leave just yet. A part of it, he knew, was lingering worry over Laura’s safety, but most of it was guilt over the entire situation and how quickly everything had escalated… and how powerless he was to stop it.

“Though, considering how it all started,” he thought with a resigned sigh, “I suppose I should not be surprised…”

He sighed again before tearing his gaze from the moon and shaking his head in sadness. It was time to leave. In light of recent events, there were many things which had just been added to his “to-do” list to ensure that things proceeded smoothly—the first item being locating the other pokémon who had been involved in the fiasco from the previous evening. He was fairly certain that Grovyle would be fine, but still—he just had to see it with his own eyes… even if he had no intention of revealing himself to the Grass-type when he did so. Besides… assuming that things went as they should, it might be his last chance to see Grovyle before he… well.

The Dark-type shook his head again, as if the action would dissipate such morbid thoughts, before he sighed in resignation. He stood up and brushed himself off before giving one last, lingering look at the gate separating him from his friend, and he was unsurprised to feel the pinpricks of tears beginning to form in his eyes as he set off to begin his search.

“Please, please forgive me, Laura,” he silently begged. “But this was the only way for you to stay safe…”

#writing #pokemon mystery dungeon #explorers of sky #missing scenes #the world's treasure #twt #ms

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divinebronzegoddess · 6 years ago

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For those who didn’t know, I recently lost my brother. That’s why I’ve been a bit MIA.

I received this beautiful picture (Dot Art from Australia) from one of my favorite people and readers in the whole world. She has always supported me from the day that I knew of her existence, even if she didn’t understand or agree with what I was writing. Last year, she sent me snowflakes (with words inside) when we didn’t get any snow. This year, we got snow, lol. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I will put it near my desk where I can see it every day (and where all the literal “magic” happens) to make sure that I remember why I love doing what I do. Thank you so much, Falala. I hope you don’t mind me sharing. My Muse is alight with love and gratitude. ❤

I also heard that the royal baby shares a birthday with our Falala. Happy birthday, darling!

Danger—Aussie accent ahead. Turn away now.

Oh, song lyrics in here, too. So, for those who don’t like song lyrics, you might want to skip that part, too.

All other previous disclaimers still apply.

Chapter 80—Melbourne Mischief

ANASTASIA

“You should get a social media page,” Laura says as the four of us are enjoying dinner at the Paradise Restaurant. I look at her like she’s grown five heads.

“I can’t do that,” I reply.

“Why not?”

“Because Christian likes his privacy…” I look over at Christian.

“I didn’t say Christian should get a social media page,” she interjects. “I didn’t even say you and Christian should get a social media page. I said you should get a social media page. No offense, Christian.” To my surprise, my husband doesn’t protest.

“I’m an extension of Christian,” I tell her. “We’re in the public eye a lot—the press, the tabloids… If I sneeze, the gossip rags are printing that I have the flu before someone can say ‘bless you.’” She shakes her head.

“Ana, President Obama has a Twitter page. You need to be on social media. Everything that you’ve told me that you’re trying to do—exposure for your center, your battle with the medical licensing board—you can reach exponentially more people with a social media page.” I shake my head.

“I don’t know,” I tell her, still looking to Christian for backup and getting none. “We need to consult our public relations people.” She frowns again.

“You have to ask your public relations people if you can start an Instagram?” she asks bemused.

“Yes,” I say. “The simplest things can become wildfires if they’re not contained properly.”

“And there’s those monsters again…” she mumbles.

“No, no,” I tell her. “Those aren’t monsters. Those are harsh realities. Just before we came on this trip, we had just put a lawsuit to bed for an idiot who flashed me an offensive tattoo on live radio.”

“Ana,” Laura begins in disbelief, “are you honestly telling me that you two sued someone for having a bad tattoo?”

“No,” Christian finally interjects. “We sued him for being an asshole.”

“Oh, they’re doing that now in the states?” she says. “Maybe I need to go back for a while. There’s a few I’d like to drag through litigation—one in particular…”

“Ovah moi dedd body!” Jaxon says, drawing a chuckle from me and Christian.

“We didn’t sue him because of the tattoo,” I say, bringing the story back around, “But the tattoo started it. I was doing live radio shows for a while—just local stuff, but talking about the Center and my situation with the medical board. This jerk was on one of the highest rated radio shows in Seattle…”

I share the unflattering story of Rossiter flashing me on the air and subsequently assaulting my dad, the “mysterious” beating that led to the defamation suit, and Rossiter finally agreeing to leave town, all without using his name. Laura now frowns deeply and stares at me.

“Who exactly are you guys?” she asks. I sigh. Here we go…

“Take out your phone and Google ‘Christian Grey’ with an ‘e’ and ‘GEH Enterprises.’” She raises a brow.

“Google?” she says incredulously.

“Google,” I reinforce. She shrugs and takes out her phone. After swiping the screen, she taps some words into her phone… and then she’s silent for a solid three minutes.

“I take it you found him,” I say. She raises wide eyes to me.

“Jesus, Ana, this is you?” she asks. I shrug, not quite sure what she’s looking at. “He’s worth more than Jaxon’s whole fucking family! And they’re worth a lot!”

“Yeah, he’s got a penny or two to rub together,” I say.

“A penny?” she says incredulously. “Seriously, Ana?” She turns to Christian. “Industry giant with interests, even here in Australia. How do I not know who he is?”

“Well, I don’t know, but everybody else does,” I lament. “It was actually quite refreshing to be around people who didn’t know who we were.” She whistles and shuts the screen down.

“Well, at least you’re not the mob,” she says as she puts her phone away. Thank God! I didn’t want anything to get weird between us because of who we are.

Our dining experience in Paradise turns out to be just that… an experience, that is. To begin, the restaurant is themed like a garden… the Garden of Eden, if I were to guess. There are people—hosts and hostesses of sorts—interacting with the diners. They’re running around like water sprites or flower children or something, communing with the earth while they engage you in their folly. They have names like Blossom, Idalia, and Apollo, and they greet you at the door or they walk along with the server as he’s bringing you some spacy drink.

Blossom comes along with our first drink, a Frozen Paradise Daiquiri Fishbowl… and yes, it’s really served in a goldfish bowl—with four metal straws. In her spacy little way, she tells us about Paradise. She tells us about the water sprite in the swing hanging from the ceiling that’s about a whole story above us with a train from her dress that hangs all the way down to the floor. She then tells us the plight of the acrobatic fairies dangling from the cage-like crescent moon also hanging precariously from the ceiling. In addition to the servers, I’d say there’s about seven to ten performers that engage diners in conversation and interactive garden play.

The food leaves nothing to be desired. Beautiful, colorful dishes in natural and garden themes are as tasty as they are creative, and the four of us feast and fill on beautifully artistic presentations of exotic and delicious foods that we would never think to order if we weren’t on a luxury cruise, including exquisite cheeses, truffles, and delicacies that I can’t even pronounce, let alone recognize.

Our food has been consumed and our first drink devoured when Apollo follows the second server over to our table with yet another frozen drink. This one is inside of four separate globes with straws inside. It’s some kind of rainbow drink made with multicolor jellybean vodka and lemonade. When the server leaves, I take a sip of my drink while Apollo decides to “mime” out each of our names. He did a mini-dance representing the King of Pop for Jaxon. He crossed his body for Christian, which I thought was strange since Catholics—and not Christians—are known for crossing their body.

Not to be confused with an eagle or a seagull, I scissor my hands at the thumbs and gently flutter my fingers. Apollo immediately guesses a butterfly. Laura just makes a universal sign for the sun, so he calls her Solari. I have no idea why she did that, and I have no idea what physical representation he would have come up with for her name.

The entire establishment is multileveled, and you can explore it from a ramp that spirals around the edge and connects to each level. Once the meal is complete, I decide to stroll up the ramp and observe the goings-on of the establishment. Christian declines the invitation, deciding instead to “watch me walk.” I shrug, take my globe, and begin my stroll around the restaurant and lounge.

“He’s been attentive this evening,” Laura observes when we get to the second level. He’s always attentive, but she’s right… tonight more than usual.

“He has,” I acknowledge while observing the activities on the main floor. “What did you say to him?” I ask before sipping my drink.

“Nothing much,” she says, unfazed. “I think I may have just given him a different perspective of a situation he already knew.” I nod.

“Like you did for me,” I say, raising my eyes to her. She leans on the rail and faces me.

“It’s like I said, Ana,” she says, “same… but different.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Knowing what I know about the two of you now, I understand why he reacted how he did to our conversation. I wish I had known before, but I’m certain that I wouldn’t have handled it differently if I had.”

I’m not sure I’m at all comfortable with her digging into my husband’s brain that way. If you think my monsters are something, you aint seen nothin’ yet!

“Christian is… a strong personality, unwilling to show any weakness, but not incapable of feeling it,” I warn, a little more firmly than I intend.

“I know that, and so does he,” she says, again unfazed. “What I find so remarkable about this relationship is how protective the two of you are of each other. You fight hard, but you love harder. It makes for a very intense relationship, but if you’re not careful, it can also make for a very short lifespan.” I frown deeply.

“Are you talking about us or our relationship?” I ask, somewhat appalled.

“Both,” she says. “Your fires burn hot for each other, but if either or both of you dump all of yourselves into it at the beginning, there’s nothing of you left. Eventually, if you can’t always have that spark—that fire—that you feel right now, you’ll begin to resent each other for not being that person that lit that spark in the first place, and you’ll hate the fact that you lost yourself in the process. And let’s face it—that’s not good for your health, and neither is constantly worrying about the well-being of the other; not trusting their instincts to do and be the right thing, make the right decisions, or know what’s good for them and what’s not. You’re both protectors—even to your own detriment. You need to know when to protect and when to allow yourself to be protected.

“You must find a medium where you settle into happy contentment—where he looks at you the way that he’s looking at you right now not because you’ve detoxed and decompressed and you’re glowing from the spa and you’re wearing a knockout dress, but simply because the atmosphere of the room changed because you’re in it now.

“I don’t know why we met, Ana,” she says, turning back to view the activities below. “I don’t know what brought us together, but you already know that I’m a firm believer in fate and destiny and all things mystical. You meet me and a few days later, you’re highly unnerved by a spiritual disturbance and here I am… and you haven’t seen your shrink in weeks. Coincidence?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I say, never looking at her.

“Let him be him,” she says, her voice comforting, “and you be you. Let life happen and take every advantage or opportunity to be happy. Prepare for the unexpected, but when the bad comes, work your way through it, and when you’re done, rejoice in overcoming it. And Ana, by no means am I telling you to love your husband less. I’m only stressing that you don’t forget to love you in the process. Am I making any sense?” I sigh.

“More than I would like to admit,” I say, moving away from the rail and walking up the ramp a little more. I’m the shrink. I should have known these answers long ago, and it took someone who has no fucking clue whatsoever to help me see the light and get through one of the biggest obstacles I’ve ever had to face. It makes be feel… different… about my profession and how things are handled… how people handle me…

“He adores you,” she says. And I him, I think to myself. “And he knows that we’re talking about him.” I look down at him and see his eyes fixed on me. I lean on the rail again and gaze at him—his sexy new haircut and how good he looks in his slacks and blazer, his shirt open just a bit at the collar… a button or two, I think.

He looks scrumptious, and my mouth waters just looking at him. I run my tongue over my straw, take a drink, then suggestively wipe the corners of my mouth.

“You two could fuck without even touching each other,” Laura observes. Her voice intrudes my thoughts and I look over at her.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I lie, finishing my drink and placing it on the bar-ledge of the railing before beginning my trek back down the ramp.

“I’m sure you do,” she laughs, “and I’m sure you’ve done it more than once.” She falls in step behind me. “Don’t be ashamed of your passion, enjoy it! Most people live their entire lives never once feeling what the two of you feel for each other.”

“You confuse me,” I say when we get to the bottom of the ramp. “In one breath, you warn me about allowing my passion to burn too hard and in the next breath, you tell me not to be ashamed of it and to enjoy it. Which one is it?” She raises a brow at me.

“Don’t you know, doctor?” she asks, and I suddenly feel like I’m talking to Ace’s Smartastic ass again. I turn and begin to walk briskly away from her.

“Ana,” she calls firmly, and I stop, folding my arms and looking at her. I’m a little tipsy from the alcohol… maybe more than a little, but I’m still pissed.

“You don’t like that,” she says, closing the space between us. “Why?”

“I get tired of people assuming that because I’m a psychiatrist that I have all the mental answers. I don’t! If I did, I’d be on a mountain in Tibet somewhere, handing out valuable tidbits of knowledge while people came from all over the world just to hear my wisdom! I certainly wouldn’t be running away from dead people on an island and I certainly wouldn’t be seeing a shrink myself!”

There, I’ve said it. I don’t have all the answers. I never even claimed to have all the answers. Why do people assume that just because I have a Ph.D. and M.D. behind my name that I automatically have all the answers—even to my own problems? It’s infuriating!

“I see,” Laura says coolly. “That was presumptuous of me and I apologize.”

Suddenly, I’m taken aback by that statement. No one who ever expected me to know it all ever apologized to me. They just continued to argue that I should know… even Ace. Now, I’m wishing I had some of my drink left.

“What I should have said is that we’re human and we have to find happiness wherever we can. You and Christian find extreme happiness in your passion. Go with that, but in the process, please remember who Ana is. Go ahead and get lost in the passion… just don’t lose yourself completely. Does that make sense?”

That’s the same thing Michelangelo said to me when I talked to him about the whole submissive thing a while back. Now, Laura’s saying it, too… and Christian said something the other night about our scene, but my head is too cloudy to remember it right now.

“Can we please stop with the serious talk I need to have some fun,” I say almost in one breath. Laura smiles and as if on cue, Apollo meets us at the bottom of the ramp.

“Butterfly, Solaris, come.” I frown at first as he takes our hands and leads us through the clouds.

“Fly, Butterfly,” he says as he mimics the gesture I did earlier to denote my name, so I fly. He leads me and Laura to the stage and instructs her to “shine” because the flowers need sunlight to grow and the birds and butterflies need sunlight to flourish. On the other side of the stage is the girl who said something yesterday about my hickeys. She’s some kind of bird.

I won’t fuck with your flight if you don’t fuck with mine.

Luckily, we all have fun fluttering around the Garden of Eden in Paradise and there’s no need for a butterfly to take a bite out of a bird’s ass because she stays on her side of the garden.

It’s late when we emerge from Paradise, and it’s clear that Laura and Jaxon are feeling a bit amorous.

“Whadya sy we call it a noight, love?” Jaxon says suggestively to his wife.

“I’d say you lead, and I’ll follow,” she replies coquettishly. They turn their attention to us.

“Whaht’s tha plan foh tomorrow?” Jaxon asks. “OI see ya didn’t book any excuhrsions.”

“Well,” Christian says, “we’re just going to see what sites we can in the city. You know we’ll be debarking in Melbourne.”

“Yeah,” Laura whines with a frown and her shoulders fall. “That makes me sad. It was really great sailing with you guys, Ana,” she adds trying to hide her disappointment. “Do you know what time you’ll be leaving the ship?” Christian and I look at each other and he shrugs.

“Not really sure,” he says. “I guess we’ll wake whenever the sun wakes us, then have breakfast and leave after that.”

“Whoi don’t we meet fah brekky?” Jaxon says. “Have one lahst meal befoh ya shove off?”

“Oh, that sounds so depressing,” Laura says, “but let’s. I’ll help you set up a Facebook and Twitter page so that we can keep in touch.” I raise my brow at her. “You don’t have to use your real name. Just let me know if you decide to change it.” I nod.

“Okay, that sounds like a plan. Christian?” I say.

“How’s 10:00?” he asks.

Pehrfect!” Jaxon says. “We’ll see yah in tha mohrnin’.”

Once a slightly distressed Laura heads off to be comforted by her husband, Christian takes my hand and leads me through the deck and outside.

“We should think about planning a trip to Italy,” he says softly. “You know I wanted to go this summer, but with Pops’ passing…”

“It couldn’t be avoided,” I interrupt. “The family had to be together.” He looks at me and nods.

“You’re so beautiful, Butterfly,” he says just above a whisper. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?”

“Yes, Christian, I do,” I reply just as softly. His brow furrows as he pushes his fingers into my hair and cups the side of my face.

“Do you really?” he asks a bit more earnestly. “Do you really know that I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without you? That I’m not just saying that?”

Laura’s words choose this moment to come back to me, about losing yourself in the other person. We’ll have to talk about that… but now isn’t the time.

“Yes, my darling,” I say softly, “I do know.” I cup his opposite cheek with my hand. “I know.” He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. I feel his fear and uncertainty. I don’t know what Laura said to him, but I need him to know that this is where I want to be.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what’s next for us, Christian,” I say softly, “for our family.” He raises his gaze to mine. “The future doesn’t seem so scary anymore…”

And it really doesn’t.

“No?” he says, somewhat surprised. I shake my head.

“No,” I reinforce. “I mean the unknown will always be a little frightening, but it’s not terrifying. I know I can handle it… and I know that we can conquer anything as long as we work together.” His lips form a flat line.

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine again, “as long as we work together.”

I feel his caution, but I don’t know what’s causing it. I’m wondering what Laura said to him and if that’s why he’s feeling so rudderless. I pull back from him and meet his gaze again, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I like this look,” I say, running my fingers through the extremely short but soft waves in his hair. “I think you should keep it.”

“I thought you might not like it,” he says, running his own hand over his cut. “I know how you like to play with my hair.” I tighten my fingers in the short strands and he stifles a gasp.

“I still can,” I point out, “but I may have to get used to not seeing the JBF look you have when you grab at it yourself.”

“If you can grab it, I can grab it,” he proclaims. Our gazes lock and he leans down and presses a soft and sensual kiss to my lips, his tongue caressing mine just once and sparking a small fire inside of me.

“Come,” he breathes. “Let’s go gaze at the stars for our last night aboard.”

He leads me to the very top deck—the “adults only” deck. There’s no one up here, but there are chaises around for lounging and enjoying the view. I haven’t seen many children on this cruise, but apparently, they’re not allowed on this deck.

Christian removes his blazer and reclines on the chaise, gesturing for me to come to him. I sit on his lap and after a bit of adjustment, nestle myself sideways between his legs, after which he drapes his jacket around my body. I settle into the warmth and look at the sky. It’s amazing to me how the Australia night sky looks so much different than the Seattle night sky. It’s all connected… isn’t it the same sky after all?

Then I put that Ph.D. mind to work. Even though it’s the same sky, the constellations that Seattle sees at midnight in December are definitely going to be different than the constellations that Australia sees at midnight in December. Same sky, different constellations.

“Same, but different,” I say softly.

“Hmm?” Christian says, his voice content. Well, I can’t leave that hanging out there, especially not knowing what Laura said to him.

“I was just admiring the clear sky and thinking that it looks so much different than the Seattle sky at night. I’m not into astronomy, but I wonder if we ever get this sky during the course of the year.”

“Hmm,’ he says again. “That’s a good question. Without a bunch of charts and diagrams, that’s something we’ll probably never know. For all we know, this particular sky may not show up on our side of the world until noon.” I twist my lips.

“You’re right…” hence the comment, same, but different… like you and me.

“What made you think of that?” he asks.

“Just the fact that the sky looks so different, but it’s the same sky,” I tell him. “This may sound silly, but it reminds me of that song from An American Tail.” I look up at him and see absolutely no recognition in his eyes. Okay, I forgot. This is the man who hasn’t met many fairytales or cartoons—none at all, in fact, before me.

“An American Tail is about a family of Russian mice who travel to America for a better life…”

“Oh, a Disney movie,” he says, some realization in his voice. Close enough.

“A cartoon, yes,” I say. “During the ride, Fievel—one of the mice—gets thrown from the ship. He manages to make it to New York, but now he’s separated from his family. The entire story is about Fievel trying to reunite with his family, but while his mother and father think he’s dead, his sister is convinced that he’s still alive. At some point in the movie, Fievel and his sister Tanya are both looking at the night sky and singing the song, Somewhere Out There…”

“Wait,” he interrupts. “That song came from a cartoon?” he asks. I chuckle.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Fievel and Tanya are looking at the night sky in different parts of New York saying that even though they’re apart, they might be wishing on the same bright star and…”

“Sleeping underneath the same big sky,” he finishes. I look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Wow,” he says incredulously. “I wonder how many other songs came from cartoons that I never knew about.”

“Well, let me think,” I say, trying to scan through my brain and think of the songs that I know. “Colors of the Wind by Vanessa Williams…”

“Which one did that come from?”

“Pocahontas,” I reply. “Remember Grandmother Willow, the tree behind the door in the twins’ room that creeped you out when you first saw it?”

“Yeah… oh, yeah, Pocahontas,” he says.

“A Whole New World by um… Regina Belle and Peabo Bryson,” I continue. He frowns and shakes his head. “I can show you the world shining, shimmering splendid…”

Still no recognition comes across my husband’s face, so I sing the chorus…

“A whole new world, a dazzling place I never knew…”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard that,” he says finally.

“That’s from Alladin, the cartoon with the big blue genie. You’ll definitely have to see that one now that Robin Williams is gone.” He frowns.

“What does Alladin have to do with Robin Williams?” he asks.

“He was the voice of the big, blue genie,” I say. My husband’s mouth forms an “o.”

“Circle of Life, Elton John,” I continue, attempting to get away from the morbid, “The Lion King.”

“Geez, I feel so out of touch,” he says.

“Don’t,” I comfort him. “There’s no way for you to know this at this point until you had children. Wait until you get to the really old stuff, like Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” He twists his lips.

“Oh, come on,” he jibes. “That’s just some word kids made up.” I release a high-pitched scoff.

“No, it’s not! It’s a song from Mary Poppins!” I correct him.

“Mary… I don’t believe you!” he protests. “Sing it!” I immediately break into song.

“It’s Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious. If you say it loud enough, you’ll always sound precocious. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Um-dittle-ittl-ittl-um-dittle-I, Um-dittle-ittl-ittl-um-dittle-I…”

“Okay! Okay! I believe you!” he stops me. I can’t help but laugh, because if you’ve never heard the song before, it goes so fast that it can be kind of shocking. I lay my head on his lap and look up at the stars again once I’ve contained my laughter.

“You’re a great mom,” he says softly. “Our children are so lucky.” I put my hand on his chest and push off of him so that I can look in his eyes.

“They have a great dad, too, Christian,” I say. “You’re kind, generous, protective to a fault… and you love them…”

“But I left them…” he interjects, “and you.” I swallow hard and take in a deep breath.

“And hopefully, you’ve seen the err of your ways and you’ll never do it again,” I reply. He gazes at me for a long moment.

“I’ll never do it again,” he whispers. Here’s hoping…

“Good,” I say, and lean up and kiss him softly. Our gazes lock when I pull away, and he pulls me to him and kisses me earnestly.

Remember that spark that I referenced earlier? Yeah, it’s a full-blown blaze now! He’s grabbing my ass and groping my breast; his tongue is plunging into my mouth, exploring every crevice as he holds me captive against his body. I can barely breathe as he devours me like a starving man and I’m powerless to his will.

We neck on the upper deck for what feels like hours until I’m so aflame that I could fuck him right out here in the open. Then, he tells me that he just needs to hold me—like he did that night in Anguilla. Part of me wants to stomp and pout—why didn’t he tell me this before he got me all worked up? And then I think about it. We’ve fucked for like half the trip. I can keep my hormones in check for at least a night.

Alright, Mr. Grey. I’ll behave myself and snuggle.

CHRISTIAN

My wife is looking flawless in a black and white fitted striped maxi-dress as we head to breakfast on Friday morning. Her original hickeys have faded a bit, but she has a new, smaller one on the other side. She displays them like badges of honor with her back and shoulders bare. I think she looks simply scrumptious.

So as not to look like a total toad next to my exquisite wife, I go with a Beckham-esque look with black jeans and a black button-up. I leave Jason to get our bags off the ship and to the jet, which should already be at Tullamarine Airport, and Lawrence will accompany us for the day. He has decided to wear a suit today, and I assume that Jason may have had a talk with him about his effectiveness in Sydney.

We meet Jaxon and Laura at the Bistro for breakfast since Butterfly liked it the last time we ate here.

“You two are a really handsome couple,” Laura says when we enter the restaurant. “Your security looks really sharp today. What’s the plan?”

“So far, we’ve only made plans to see the Melbourne Aquarium,” Butterfly says. “Not sure where to go from there.”

“Don’t be afryed to ahsk the locals what’s poppin’ ta’dy,” Jaxon says. “OI can sy check out Fed Square. Lots ta do and see thehre. St. Paul’s Cathedral is a soite, or the Austraylian Centah of the Moving Image. And thehre’s lots of street aht if yah touh the city on foot. Ohr you cahn tayke a look around Queen Victohria Mahrket or Luna Pahrk.”

I got most of that… I think.

Laura helps Butterfly set up a Facebook and Instagram page under and assumed name with the option to change it once we talk to Mac about the implications of a social media presence.

“It can be really helpful to you,” Laura says. “It’s a great way to connect if it’s done correctly… like us.”

“Here, take my email and my cell number,” Butterfly says. Laura nods.

“I’m so accustomed to social media, I forgot those were options,” she laughs, pulling out her cell phone.

We feast on a breakfast of gourmet French toast made with cinnamon-brown-sugar brioche and served with syrup and fresh fruit; apple-cinnamon crepes topped with apple compote and vanilla yogurt; seafood crepes made with baby shrimp, fish, surimi, and mushrooms in a velouté sauce; flat iron steak with tarragon-Hollandaise sauce; corned beef hash and eggs; sweet potato French fries, Café Mocha, and Mimosas.

Jaxon tells us about going to Melbourne strictly to visit his mom’s grave. He doesn’t tour the city at all to avoid running into his overly snobby relatives.

“OI’d love foh them ta meet you,” he says before taking a bite of his steak. “Thaht wood cuhrtainly tyke the wind outta thehr sayls!”

“I wouldn’t mind making the trip with you,” I tell him once I swallow some of my seafood crepe. He shakes his head.

“OI think it’d be an exsahcoise in futility,” he says. “Some people ahre jes too fahr gone.” I nod and devour more of this delicious seafood crepe. Jesus, Gail or Ms. Solomon may have to find a recipe for this.

We dawdle as long as we can before we finish our breakfast and move to debark the ship. Jason has taken care of packing our things and double-checking the cabin to be sure everything is leaving the ship with us. I had to pull a lot of strings for us to be able to debark in Melbourne. First, I was supposed to get the request to the cruise line a week before we took our trip… in writing! I hit the antiquated fax machine the day before we flew out to Sidney. I needed—and received—a response the same day.

Getting off the ship in Melbourne instead of sailing back to Sidney was a little costly and a bit of a trial. We had four people who had to “check out” of the cruise much like you check out of a hotel. If I hadn’t, they would have listed the four of us as missing passengers. Luckily, when we flew out of the states and into Australia, our passports were already stamped. So, we didn’t have the hassle of having the cruise line vouch for us and handle our immigration issues because we were already stamped in.

I did, however, have to pay for the entire cruise for four people as well as an additional fine for each of us to get off the boat even though we didn’t cruise for the last two days of the trip. It’s not that the money is any big issue, but I am a bit miffed at our travel agent who insisted that Barossa Valley was an absolute must to see wine country…

The entire goddamn continent is wine country!

For the reaction that Butterfly had to Port Arthur, we could have skipped that part of the trip and toured the Tamar Valley or any of the numerous other locations that boast wine tours. I’m sure that my wife would have much rather been traipsing through rows of fresh grapes, tasting delicious wines, cheeses, and truffles, and enjoying an education on Shirazes, Cabernets, and Rieslings than trying to shake off the burdensome spirits of the dead!

The trip and itinerary through the Barossa Valley are the only part of the trip that was actually planned for us. I believe the agent is getting some kind of kickback for booking it. It better be a-fucking-mazing or I’m reaming her a fucking new one when we get back to Seattle. I’m already going to take a bite out of her ass for what is clearly a set-up. I’m sure that there are other ports we could have visited besides Port Arthur, and I’m not happy about that at all.

When I’ve signed every possible form and nodded a hundred times that I understood that we had to make our own way back to Sydney—or in our case, home—I send Jason on his way to the airport to secure the jet and to get us and our luggage to Adelaide later this evening. Once again, Lawrence stays with me and Butterfly. Once we’re on Melbourne soil, Jaxon and I bid one another a heartfelt and fond farewell with promises and intentions of seeing each other again. Tearing Laura and Butterfly apart, however, is proving to be a Herculean feat!

“I feel like I’m saying goodbye to one of my sisters,” Laura sniffs. Butterfly smiles.

“Then we’ll just have to make sure that we see each other again, won’t we?” my wife says. Laura nods, still in Butterfly’s arms.

“You take care of yourself,” she says, her voice cracking, “and don’t forget our talk.”

“I won’t forget,” Butterfly says, “not a word.” They hug again before they release and Butterfly hugs Jaxon goodbye. I wrap my arms around Laura.

“I won’t forget either,” I say quietly in her ear. She scoffs a sob.

“Take care of her,” she whispers. “She adores you, and she’ll do anything for you. Treasure that and make sure she knows that you do.” I pull away from her and look into her tear-filled eyes.

“Excellent advice that I intend to take,” I say softly before placing a gentle kiss on her tear-stained cheek.

“Ay!” Jaxon barks. “Don’t ya be givin’ ahll ma smooches awy!” He moves closer to us. “Goh grope yah own woife!” Laura chuckles.

“He wasn’t groping me,” she protests.

“OI saw the mate with a handful o’ me Lahrie!” Jaxon jibes. “Thaht’s gropin’ as far as OI’m concuhned! And the kissies on yah cheek! Whaht wass’at?”

Laura raises her brow and shakes her head. That’s when I realize that this performance is strictly the stop his “Laurie’s” crying.

“My apologies, sir,” I say, placing my hand on my chest and mocking extreme contrition.

“OI’ll let ya sloide this toime,” Jaxon says, pointing a finger at me, “but don’t let it happen again!”

We quickly part ways to keep Laura from weeping again and flag a taxi to our first destination, the Sea Life Melbourne Aquarium. Butterfly doesn’t get to the aquarium anymore, and it used to be one of her favorite pastimes. I knew for certain that we would visit this place the moment I knew that Melbourne would be one of our ports of call.

Once we pass the admissions counter, we go down this colorful hallway to a darkened room and a large round glass tank—very large, like nearly the size of the room. It’s called the Bay of Rays—as in sting rays—and it’s a 360-degree tank that looks almost like the bottom of the ocean and you can walk around it and see the different fish inside. I’m more than a little squeamish of sting rays.

“Be careful, baby,” I say as she leans over into the tank to get a closer look. She looks up at me.

“They’re very gentle, Christian,” she consoles, but I’m not convinced.

“Isn’t… didn’t… Isn’t that what killed the Crocodile Hunter?” I say quietly, so that the nearby children don’t hear my question. Butterfly stands.

“Well, yes, but that was different,” she says softly, also aware of the children around her. “First, he was in the wild submerged in the water with the thing. Second, from nose to barb, that stingray was longer than you are tall, and it felt threatened. I’m sure these specimens are accustomed to people. And third, I don’t want to be that close to a stingray. So, keep your shirt on, Mr. Grey.”

I guess I shouldn’t be too afraid of these specimens. They’re coexisting just fine with several other fish in the large, circular tank. The children don’t seem to be intimidated at all, but I can’t help it. We’re talking about my beautiful Butterfly here. I can’t discount the fact that a beloved conservationist and zoologist was killed by one of these things.

They look like they actually have fins instead of barbs, though, and when they swim to the side of the tank, they look like they’re smiling at you. As long as she doesn’t get into the tank with the damn things and they stay on that side of the glass, I guess I’ll be okay.

Our next stop is the Rockpools. Now, even though there is no deadly sea life in this area, it’s interactive, which means that you can stick your hand in the tank. Butterfly quickly takes advantage of this opportunity, seizing the moment to touch “sea stars” and shark eggs. No thank you.

“What’s the difference between a sea star and a star fish?” I ask the young guy on the other side of the exhibit.

“There’s no difference,” he tells me. “A sea star has a calcified skin that protects them from most predators, but they’re often called starfish when they’re not fish at all. They’re simply invertebrates with no backbones, like sea urchins and sponges. Would you like to hold one, sir?” I put my hand up and shake my head.

“Oh, no thank you,” I tell him. “I’ll just take pictures of the beautiful nature lover here,” I say, as I snap a picture of Butterfly closely examining a red and yellow star fish, er… I mean, sea star.

The Ancient Ocean provides information on prehistoric sea life, including some specimens that are still around, like the mudskippers and the pig-nosed turtles. My wife is totally immersed in the display, awed by the large teeth on the outside of the tank, said to be the actual size of the prehistoric Megladon. I’m not as enraptured by the whole experience as she is. However, I take great joy in watching her have so much fun, so we could spend the entire day here for all I care.

We take an escalator to the lower level, where we find the Coral Caves and the Art Aquarium. Now, the Coral Caves were nice to see, with all the nemo fish painted on the wall, but the shining moment for me is the Art Aquarium. My very adult wife with two twin children at home sits down at the child-sized table and colors a picture of a fish. I take several pictures in case she wants to later deny this moment… but it gets better. You scan this picture into some high-tech projector video whatever thingy and you wait for a minute and what happens?

Your fish appears on the screen—a simulated fish tank with fish on it that other “kids” have colored—and your fish is alive and swimming in the tank! I thought my wife was going to lose her mind.

There’s even one portion of the aquarium that talks about crabs. Here, we find a large crab shell—the ones the hermit crab carries on its back. There are several facts about crabs all over the wall, including crabs in tanks and the unforgettable fact that a crab can grow a limb back if it loses one. What’s more unforgettable is Butterfly’s interaction with the crab shells on the floor. One is pretty large—about three feet or so—with a glass crab inside, strictly for show. The other is larger, maybe four or four and a half feet round and empty.

My wife crawls inside of the damn thing.

I take several pictures of her crouched inside that thing… just in case she gets stuck, so that I can show our children. No such luck—my wife is a rubber band.

“Now, that’s probably the ugliest thing I’ve seen today,” Butterfly says when she sees the Japanese Spider Crab.

“The day is young, my dear,” I reply, and she swats my arm.

Down a flight of stairs we go to yet another sublevel where we find the Shipwreck Explorer and its guardians, the lionfish. Butterfly is once again mesmerized by this unique fish that I find somewhat unattractive.

“You like that thing?” I ask surprised.

“It’s interesting,” she says. I raise a brow.

“Maybe you’ve found a new favorite fish.” She rubbernecks to me and frowns.

“And replace Marty? Never!” she declares. I laugh.

“I’m sure Marty appreciates your loyalty.” I say as we proceed over to the Mermaid Garden.

Here’s where I discover that the stingrays in the Bay of Rays were not the ones to be concerned about. The ones with the killer barbs are more contained—in large tanks not accessible to the public like the open tank in the first room. However, they’re in this gigantor panoramic Oceanarium with harmless statues of mermaids in various poses as well as not-so-harmless massive sharks and huge stingrays, one of them so large that it basically takes up the entire ceiling above us.

Oh, by the way, idiots—er, I mean, people can choose to scuba dive with the sharks, which is exactly what one idiot is doing along with a guide or something while we watch. I don’t care how tame they are in captivity. You’ve got to be three eggs short a dozen to choose to swim with Jaws, much less pay to do it.

Did I mention that these things are in a very dark room that’s pretty much a 360-degree tank that leads to a tunnel where these things are floating all around us and swimming over our heads?

“Well, I’m thoroughly creeped out,” I say. My wife looks over at me.

“Christian, you really need to chill out,” she says in a soft, scolding voice. “The fish in the open stingray tank were more likely to get us than these are.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I say as I hurry through the tunnel. My wife, on the other hand, dawdles inside the death tube, communing with the fish and gazing into the “ocean” depths as if she would sink into it and become one with it if she could. I take a picture of her looking so ethereal with her hands pressed against the glass and mesmerized by the fish inside. Then I have to think of something playful to say to snap her out of this faraway look that she often gets when she stares at the water… because it scares me.

“I’m going to change your nickname from Butterfly to Ariel,” I say. She turns to me.

“You remembered,” she says, dreamily and somewhat surprised. Yes, I remembered. I don’t know how I remembered, but I did. It’s a little factoid that was probably stashed back into the recesses of my mind along with the fate of the Gingerbread Man that my mind dug out when I needed a quick and relatable distraction.

“Wonders never cease,” I say, having drawn her daydreaming away from the blue depths. “Just don’t expect me to remember the words to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” Come out of there now, please, I think to myself as I hold my hand out to her.

“Well, it wouldn’t suit me,” she says, taking my hand. “In theory, a mermaid is a beautiful creature, but she has dragged many men to their deaths. Not only that, but as much as it soothes me, I can’t breathe underwater.”

Exactly my point.

“So at least I don’t have to worry about you leaving me to become King Triton’s mistress,” I jest. She chuckles.

“No, dear,” she says mirthfully, “I’ll keep my feet planted firmly on dry land.”

So, back up the ramp we go to the Crocodile Lair and the Coral Atoll. The Croc Lair… yeah. For starters, there’s a pretty big replica of a fossilized crocodile in the lobby. Upon closer examination, I can’t help but wonder if this thing isn’t some kind of distant cousin to the big ass fucker in the lair! This monster is so big that you’re wondering how the hell did they get him in there and who the fuck feeds him. Fucking hell, while we’re talking, what the fuck do they feed him?

“What the fuck is that?” I murmur to my wife without moving my lips.

“Um, dear, you’re in a crocodile’s lair,” my wife says. “That would be a crocodile.”

“I know what it is!” I quietly snap at her, affronted. “I mean, what the fuck is it?” My wife facepalms herself.

“Come on,” she says, leading me over to the information wall on the beast.

His name is Pinjarra and supposedly, his body is ten times the size of his head. If that’s the case, that thing has a pretty big head! I think somebody miscalculated. He’s about 16 feet long, weighs nearly 1700 pounds, and he’s older than I am. Yeah, what the fuck does he eat? That’s probably why he’s in there by himself… he ate all the other crocodiles!

Oh, and when they’re sitting around with their mouths open like they’re about to chow down on dinner but nothing’s in their mouths, they’re panting like dogs to cool themselves down. How cute… not!

The Coral Atoll is harmless enough. It’s a giant circular and concave tank full of extremely colorful and diverse variations of coral and a variety of fish and sea life, including a green moray eel and several blue fish that my wife keeps referring to as Dory.

Up we go again to yet another level of this never-ending expedition, where we’re able to look down into the lair of the 16-foot monstrosity that we left on the floor below. No thanks, I’ve seen enough of you, buddy.

More to my liking was the Rainforest Adventure. This is a huge tank something like the Bay of Rays, only bigger… and it looks more natural because there are rocks and plants inside, trees with vines draping and extending to one another, and tanks in the walls that either look like caves or are painted with tropical backdrops that mimic the forest

This room is much more calming than just about any room in the aquarium… for me, anyway, except maybe the coral exhibits.

Butterfly wanders around the exhibit leaving me to my own vices. I guess she figures there’s nothing to really creep me out in here.

She figures correctly.

I enjoy being in here and seeing the different harmless species of fauna of this portion of the rainforest, not to mention that it’s very colorful and inviting in here. There’s a very harmless-looking sea turtle or three in the large tank, accompanied by lungfish—so named, I discover, because they’re the only species of fish that can actually breathe air. One school of thought is that the lungfish, which actually has lungs and can live to be 50 years old, is the missing link between humans and fish.

I’ve never dug into or studied evolution as such, and I honestly couldn’t say which school of thought I’m more particular to—that of evolution vs. Creation, that is. I have to say that I ultimately believe that there’s a greater power in the universe, I’m just not really sure how to identify it. I’ve never been particularly religious, but if I had to answer the question, “Is there a God,” I would have to say that my answer would be, “Yes.”

As far as evolution is concerned and the ideas that dinosaurs once roamed the earth and that man was once a water-dwelling being who decided to crawl out of the water, mysteriously grow bones, and become land creatures, I don’t know about all that. I know what the science books say and all that, but I guess if I had to put my theories into words that I would say that life and man came from a combination of both evolution and creation.

It’s too much for me to ponder on a trip to the aquarium. Why does vacation always send me on some kind of introspective spiral? Greece, Anguilla, the MONA, Port Arthur… well, Port Arthur did a number on us both. I guess I can ponder the relationship between man and a prehistoric fish without any problem after that experience!

There’s so much to see in the Rainforest exhibit—frogs, crabs, turtles, and large green snakes that my wife avoids like the plague. Probably the most menacing little guy in the entire display was Boyd’s Forest Dragon, menacing only because he gave Butterfly a little fright. He’s a reptile—very colorful—but he was perched on a branch inside one of the caves and gave her the willies.

There appeared to be fishing poles of some kind attached to the outside of the large circle exhibit, but we never found out what they were for.

We take the escalator back down to the ground floor and I discover that we’re finally on our last leg of our journey. It was educational and informative, even a bit interesting, but it seemed to take forever! I wouldn’t be surprised to find that it’s time to board the plane once we leave this place.

At the foot of the escalator is the Seahorse Pier. Now this is a bit of an extraordinary experience. I’ve always known that seahorses were a thing, but I didn’t know that there were other variations of them. I also never knew that there are these things called sea dragons.

“Butterfly! C’mere, look at this!” I exclaim with the excitement of a third grader. She comes over and examines the new world with me.

The sea horses are easily distinguishable by their familiar shape, but they come in so many sizes and colors. I find myself particularly drawn to a dramatic orange sea horse, just because I’ve never seen them in that color before.

But the sea dragons! Some of them are just long, slender little creatures of different colors that vary in length—some may have a small hump, like a beginning sea horse; others may have a slightly fatter body. The really remarkable ones are the leafy ones! They look like random, stray, leafy pieces of flora in the water. It’s fascinating!

Also in this exhibit is the chameleon of the sea, the giant cuttlefish. He’s a bit of an ugly guy, but he can change the color and texture of his skin to match his surroundings even though he can’t see color. I find that kind of curious. How does he change if he can’t see colors? As it turns out, the tiny nerves and cells in its body can “see” the environment and change colors.

To the left of us is a doorway that leads to the Bay of Rays, so I know we’re back where we started from. However, to the right of us is a movie theater that’s showing a 4D version of a movie called Ice Age.

4D… what the hell does that look like.

“I’ve heard of this. Is this one of the movies I need to see?” I ask my wife. She twists her lips.

“Well, first, it’s a series,” she says. “There’s about four of them out right now. Second, I’m not really sure if this feature is part of the series as I personally haven’t seen them all. And third, nah, you don’t really need to see it if you don’t want to. It’s cute, but not really a classic.”

I nod. No Ice Age for me. I’ve got enough to keep up with.

Speaking of the Ice Age, our last exhibit before we see daylight is the Penguin Playground. Nothing really special here—we just get to watch the penguins frolic and play in a recreation of their natural habitat. We watch the King Penguins with their yellow beaks and chest and impressive size. The King Penguins are smart because if you put something colorful up to the glass, they’ll follow it through the water. Not to be outdone, the gentoo penguins who are known to be the champion swimmers of the two species will follow the colors with even more balletic precision. Though we don’t see any at the aquarium, we’ve come to discover that there are places here in Melbourne, too, where the fairy penguins come in to nest after sunset.

“Jesus, it’s bright as hell out here!” Butterfly says, searching through her bag. I happened to ask one of the cashiers in the gift shop which direction would be best for us to go once we left the aquarium, as I’ve completely forgotten everything Jaxon suggested at breakfast.

“Well, ya got a coupla choices,” she had said. “Ya can take tha 30 strayte down ta Fed Squeh ohr ya can take Weeliams down to Queen Vic.”

She pulls out what looks like a tourist map and shows me in a “you-are-here” type of way where we are and where she’s suggesting that we go.

“Fed Squeh is nice and all—thehr’s lots to see, but you moight want to wayte til dahk, unless ya got tickets to an event or something…” which I don’t. “I prefer Queen Vic duhring this time of day.”

“Queen Vic” is Queen Victoria Market. Both destinations are extremely close, and her description makes me think that there’s not necessarily anything we’d want to see at Federation Square before sundown. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know, but that’s the impression I got. So, when Butterfly finally locates and dons her Jackie-O’s, I look down at my little map and make a decision.

“Where to now?” she says.

Queen Vic it is.

A/N: If, for some reason, you live under a proverbial rock, the Crocodile Hunter was Steve Irwin, world-renowned Australian Zookeeper and conservationist. He had a televised nature program; he owned a zoo in Australia; and I’m told that he was in Dr. Doolittle and Happy Feet. I had seen clips of what I called his crazy antics with animals and he had a lot of close calls. I hope I didn’t offend anyone with that “under a rock” comment, but I didn’t really keep up with the guy and even I knew the day he died. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Irwin#Death

For anyone who may not know, Ariel is of course the main character in The Little Mermaid.

The new question and answer thread is always open for questions about the story. Be sure to read it and please adhere to the rules when asking questions. You can find it on the left, second from last on the menu or you can click HERE.

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Raising Grey: Chapter 80—Melbourne Mischief For those who didn't know, I recently lost my brother. That's why I've been a bit MIA.

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