#he would atone the citizens to his cause
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Amendments II: The Panther and the Duckling - Kaz Brekker x Reader
[Part 1]
[vulgar language, canon-typical violence]
SUMMARY: The moment comes when Kaz gives you the opportunity to make amendments for the two thugs that started a fight at his club. He can only nod in appreciation at the mayhem you effortlessly cause.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.2k
[Grishaverse-inspired playlist]
Kaz didn’t quite know what to expect when walking towards your place. Would it be filled with riches? Or instead, kept plain and simple? How golden is the Golden Panther’s lair?
Despite having no expectations, he’s pretty surprised to see the interior of Albasten Vlam Casino. Creme and crimson furnishing along with gold chandeliers and brackets make the venue appear exclusive. A soft jazz tune carries through the venue, skilful hands of the pianist creating a neverending, atonal melody. The guests are also nothing short of lavish, losing in one game the same amount of money some citizens of Ketterdam earn in three months' time. It seems as though the entrance to the Albasten Vlam is a doorway into another realm, where poverty and disease are about as real as the boogeyman under a child’s bed.
Two Fjerdans, each roughly the size of a grange, eye Kaz suspiciously as he walks through the spacious halls. His common elegance looks almost offensive among the million-Kruge suits of the casino’s clientele. Even if he wasn’t a thief, the guards would still expect him to dabble in thievery - simply because of the way he looks compared to the other patrons.
Walking up short stairs and turning into backrooms and staff-only corridors, Kaz knows that he’s expected. Otherwise, why is no one stopping him? In fact, most of the employees don’t seem to pay him much mind.
The long hall decorated with statues and paintings ends in a two-wing pair of doors almost completely covered by the stocky bodies of bodyguards. One of them, covered in tattoos of Zemenian origin, laughs when Kaz approaches the door.
“Oi, boys!” the tattooed man yells to someone behind Kaz. He speaks with a heavy accent. “Would you look at this! Twee’y wans in.”
Kaz hears two sets of footsteps behind him. They’re not distinctively loud, those people aren’t carrying weapons.
“I came to speak with the Golden Panther,” Kaz states, unaffected.
“Like many did before ya and many will do after,” the guard answers. “Wha’eve’ ya have to say to me Boss, ya can say to me, Twee’y.”
“Very well,” Kaz says quietly. “I’m here to discuss the repayment of Panther’s debt for causing a fight in my club.”
The tattooed man gives his friend, who looks like his archenemy is the Sun, a meaningful look. “Keep an eye on the lad, I’ll check in with Boss.” He goes to open the door but before he walks into your office, he makes sure to give Kaz the most annoyed expression a face can make.
A few minutes go by when no one makes a sound. The sickly pale guard barely blinks, keeping his watchful, grey eyes on Brekker. Whoever followed Kaz is still standing a few paces behind him, also remaining suspiciously quiet.
Kaz hates this feeling. He has to put his faith in your apparent reliability. Some people say that ‘there’s no honour among thieves’ and perhaps they’re right. But what honour could there be between a panther and a crow? Isn’t the only thing they can honour Mother Nature? The food chain?
Right when Kaz is about to give in to his fatalistic thoughts, the door opens once again and the tattooed man emerges from the room. His lips are kept in a thin line. The man appears to be dissatisfied with what he had learned but alas, there is nothing he can do about it.
“Today’s ya lucky day, Twee’y,” he speaks up, his voice bitter. “Pop in and behave yaself.”
Without another word, Kaz pushes past the tattooed guard and into the room.
Your office is furnished in a similar style as the rest of the casino: creme, crimson and gold. The first thing that Kaz notices, and pretty much anyone who walks in, is the taxidermied panther head hanging on the wall behind you. The motif of a panther is quite prevalent as the legs of your desk are also carved to resemble pouncing and roaring panthers.
Bright ringing chimes in his ears. He turns his head to the side only to notice a frail woman, if she is even old enough to be called that, typing away on a typewriter. Judging by the stack of papers next to her, she’s rewriting your letters and notes. Kaz makes a note of her clothing: the pigeon blue barely fits the interior design but the quality of the material and craftsmanship looks far too expensive for a typist.
“Kaz Brekker in the fucking flesh,” you say aloud. His attention is once again focused on you. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to show up in person.”
“An opportunity has arisen for you to repay me.”
“Tell me.” Your voice sounds disinterested as you look back down at whatever document you are signing. Kaz puts his gloved hand on the back of the chair in front of your desk but you’re quick to shut him down. “Nah, don’t sit,” you say without looking up.
It’s all a gimmick, he thinks, but she has the means to uphold it. The skill and power to make it real.
For a moment he considered sitting down against your will simply out of spite but he’s heard enough stories to not get in your bad books just to prove a point. Golden Panther is a name even Pekka Rollins would say with fear in his voice. Kaz has seen the damage you’ve done to Pekka - damage that even his title of “The King of the Barell” can not repair.
“I’m planning a job and I need a distraction,” Kaz explains. “There’s a brewery in town. Belongs to a man known as Magnus Molders. Your job is to destroy his business, thus drawing the Stadwatch away from me and my Crows.”
With a devilish smile on your face, you look up from the document and set your pen aside. “And what did little Maggie-boy do to you, Dirtyhands?”
“That is none of your concern.”
You give him a knowing nod.
“So, kill two birds with one stone,” you sum up. “Practical, effective, sends a message. Solid 6 out of 10. Lacking in the finesse department.” Half-jokingly, you shake your head with an expression of disappointment.
“I’m not interested in your appraisal,” Kaz retorts. “Magnus Molders’s brewery in two days' time. That’s your assignment if you want your debt erased.”
A scoff flies past your lips. “I’m rude, not stupid, Brekker,” you drone your words. “I’ll be there. Stadwatch won’t even catch a sniff of you. Here, let me walk you out.”
You stand up from your desk, grabbing the cane with the panther's head leaning against it. Although Kaz doesn’t want to admit it, hiding a blade inside the cane is an idea that has been growing on him. Practical, effective, sends a message, he hears your voice in his thoughts.
Kaz follows you out and is immediately met with an obvious change of behaviour in your employees. The guards suddenly stand uncomfortably straight, pushing their chests out. Now, Brekker can take a look at the two men who had followed him up to your office. They both look like chimney sweepers or shoe shiners, the type of lanky young men no one pays attention to in a crowd. People of this sort tend to be overlooked enough to listen in on any and every hot scoop or invited into people’s homes and no one ever checks whether they’re not helping themselves to the expensive belongings of the homeowners.
“I want Sorokin and Evander with me,” you order. “They started this shit and I will do my damn best to make sure they end this.”
“Yes, Boss,” the tattooed man hurriedly answers and bows his head slightly. He’s about to march away when you ask him one more thing:
“And bring the Duckling.”
The tattooed man’s lips turn into a devilish grin. “Aye, Boss,” he drones the words.
“The Duckling?” Kaz repeats in a questioning manner.
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise now, would we?” you answer in an irritatingly patronizing tone. “It’s very me.”
Explosions and mayhem? Kaz thinks to himself. But then he realizes it doesn’t quite matter - if this “Duckling” lives up to your known style of dealing with things, he’s going to get one hell of a distraction.
Magnus Molders rushes out of his brewery. He didn’t even have the time to button up his coat. The cold, rainy wind tugs at his thin shirt and dishevelled hair.
He gasps in surprise. His employee, a redhead boy with a lisp, told the truth: there’s the Golden Panther waiting for him on the circular driveway in front of the brewery. You’re leaning against the backdoor of the steel carriage, finishing a hand-rolled cigarette.
“I’d say ‘good morning’ but it’s more of a shitty noon, you know?” you speak up. With a flick of your fingers, you throw the finished smoke under the brewmaster’s shoes.
Nervous, Magnus clenches his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. His lips tighten into a thin, white line.
“What…” his voice trembles. Magnus clears his throat. “What do ya want, Panther?”
“A lot of things,” you answer. “But I don’t suppose you sell lavender cream puffs or pistachio croissants, do you?”
“No, I-” he hangs his voice when he sees you put your hand up.
“That was a rhetorical question,” you spit out.
“So,” he continues, “What brings ya here?”
You took a small step towards him. “At first, I wanted to talk to you. You know like proper adults. But then I remembered I don’t speak little bitch.”
Magnus clenches his jaw. His eyes begin to burn with anger, fear and humiliation. Like a wounded animal, he ounces when threatened.
“Yer mad, woman, is what ya are!” he screams. A few distant passers-by look towards him and you. They scurry away, sensing immediate danger. “I’ve no bad blood with ya. What’s all this for?!”
With a sad expression on your face, you shake your head disapprovingly. “Because you’re a cunt.”
You hit the steel door of the carriage with your fist, the banging ringing in your ears.
“Duckling?” Jesper repeats confused. Kaz only nods along, an absent expression on his face. “What in Hell is-...” he hangs his voice when he notices a metallic shine in the darkness of the steel carriage. “Oh. Oh, that’s proper mental.”
Without a warning, the massive Gatling gun hidden in the cab begins shooting. Bullets faster than blinking eyes pierce the air, thousands in a second, destroying the brewery. As you ordered before, Sorokin is the one aiming and firing, his whole body trembling from the recoil of the machine gun. Evander, the other man responsible for the fight, is holding the casings with the bullets and making sure the Gatling doesn’t seize up.
After barely a few minutes, although they felt like hours, the brewery building looks like one of the kerchen cheeses that have more holes than actual cheese. Magnus Molders is catching his raspy breath as he tries to stop the bleeding in his left arm. Most of his white shirt is crimson now. Blood is covering the circular driveway, red mixing with greyish rainwater in puddles only to turn into a black, thick liquid. It’s hard to say what happened to his employees back at the brewery but you couldn’t care less. “Bad place, bad time” as some people say.
The streets are awfully quiet but not for long: galloping horses are heard in the distance. A bell begins to ring feverishly. It’s the Stadwatch, always arriving when the party’s already over.
When Kaz gets back into his office in the late evening hours, he’s met with something he should have expected - you’re sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk. Although it’s supposed to come off as arrogant, he notices that you’ve stacked his papers, so that your shoes don’t actually damage them. Strangely nice for someone who has no qualms about shooting up a random brewery.
“What are you doing here?” he asks angrily.
You look at your pocket watch. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you’ve lost your way.” You take your legs off his desk and stand up. “I should probably ask whether you’re satisfied with my service but I find myself unable to care for your opinion.”
“Why’d you come here, then?” he retorts swiftly.
“Business etiquette, I guess?” You shrug. “Shake hands, erase the red from the ledger and go our separate ways, admiring each other’s achievements from a safe distance.”
Kaz slightly squints his eyes. By the way he’s clenching his jaw, you can tell he’s angry. He does accept your handshake but keeps the courtesy short and stern. Professional, one might say.
“And yet I feel compelled to give you my appraisal." His tone is intense, filled with violent emotions kept under control with the last bits of his self-control. "You’re like a fly that keeps buzzing but keeps escaping the swat. Infuriating.”
A humourless chuckle erupts in your throat. “You might want to check that with the board of directors.” Before he has any time to react, you pat his thigh, indecently close to his groin, before walking past him and out of the room. At first, he’s angry, blood boiling in his veins and begging him to put you in your place, demand respect in the only way people like you and him understand. But then Kaz grows strangely bashful as he realises that there might be some truth in your words.
___
Guys, I promise I'm not actually dead T_T Been writing original stuff and binging The Mortal Instruments (the Netflix show is so bad it's actually fun...?)
Tagging people who were interested in part 2: @queenkalico @kplatzman @sunset-kisses-vibes @zeeader
#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone imagine#shadow and bone fanfic#shadow and bone fanfiction#six of crows x reader#six of crows imagine#six of crows fanfiction#six of crows#six of crows fic#kaz brekker fanfic#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x reader
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Dutch arrives in the afterlife as a broken man and gets his comeuppance, but he is broken in such a way where doesn't understand *why* people are upset with him.
How will his reunion with those whom he loved so dearly and yet hurt them go?
That Other Place by Roaming Tigress
There was smoke, dust, fog, a combination of the three being swirled among each other in the dark cave. A dimmed broad ray of light came through a hole in the roof that dramatically silhouetted the form of what appeared to be a huge serpentine creature with what seemed to be a thousand arms. The massive being was towering over some far smaller pitiful creature lying in an awkward heap the dirt; it eyed it hungrily. If one had mistaken the bloodied orange and brown enrobed figure for a discarded pile of clothing, they would be forgiven.
Then, the pile of laundry slowly stirred up into a sitting position, revealing the form of a pitiful man of average size, and short cropped greying hair, bloodied and matted. He almost innocently, stupidly stared at the menacing form before him. He wasn't scared, puzzled maybe, unaware where he was, but not scared. He was trying to recognize what this being was. Maybe, innocently, he was in wonder of it. Maybe the man thought he was looking up at a terrifying dragon from those storybooks he read as a boy.
This man? Dutch van der Linde.
A hollow, broken shell of Dutch van der Linde.
In life, Dutch van der Lnde was respected, hated, feared, and loved at some time. Some even loved to hate him. He had led a notorious gang that was chased across the lands when the 'Old Wild West' was dying. he was a complicated man who had killed, loved, and manipulated hundreds; his silver tongue was as much of a weapon as his trusted pair of Schofields. He thought he could charm his way through life. He dreamed ambitious dreams of achieving greatness against the force of modernity and a world that had no place for men like him, his gang. He sadly could not make those dreams of his come true.
Now in the afterlife, the land of the beyond, Dutch was getting his and facing the consequences of his actions.
Normally a full restoration of health -- the mind and body -- comes with the passageway into the afterlife. But for whatever reason -- some Powers That Be may have decided that Dutch had to atone for his sins in a particularly harsh way. Maybe there was a glitch in the process of coming into the afterlife. Whatever it was that was the cause or reasoning behind it, Dutch's brain had gone further into ruin.
When Dutch stepped back off that cliff to end his life, the massive head injury that killed him on those sharp rocks below had, for the most part, carried over into the afterlife. The damage to his face was by and large 'repaired' by some supernatural afterworld force, likely not for his sake but for the sake of those living in the afterlife; even here, nobody would want to see scrambled grey matter dripping out of a hole in the head. It was the inside of his head where the damage remained, however. It would reduce him to halted speech and uncoordinated movements, and most damaging of all, his mental state, his mental capacity, was torn asunder.
Dutch would be able to recognize the people in his life in varying levels of recognizability, many whom he had hurt, some he even killed, but he couldn't remember how he hurt them. Mentally, he was somewhere between a small child and a fragile senior citizen whose memories were starting to fade, who 'fought all his life' as he once had said in life. He had little fight left in him now.
Dutch's silver tongue also couldn't help him anymore; it might as well have been cut and thrown to the 'beast' before him.
The 'creature' before Dutch was an angry mob, consisting of the people whom he had hurt and killed in life, clustered tightly against each other and some even fighting among each other to get to the source of their anger. Some might have even been defending him, but this he couldn't make out. For a brief moment, Dutch thought he heard the voices of John and Arthur attempting to call the mob back before their voices were drowned out. He recognized the voice of Bill and Micah jeering at him but he was unable to recognize what they were saying, and maybe even couldn't recognize the jeer in their cruel voices.
Innocently, Dutch crawled over to the beast before him on his hands and knees, unaware that his curiosity and his confusion would get the better of him. Despite the scrambled state of his mind -- or maybe especially because of it -- he desired the company of someone in this strange land that he had seemingly awoken up into. Perhaps this creature too sought comfort and companionship. The surroundings looked much like they did in life, but . . . Different, somehow.
"W-what . . . What are you? W-where . . . W-where am I?" Dutch tilted his head like a confused dog hearing an unusual sound.
And then the 'creature' attacked the stammering man in reply.
Dutch was slammed to the hard floor of the cave, and it was then that he realized that this 'creature' wasn't some fabled dragon he had read about in a childhood fairy tale compilation, but what seemed to be an unpenetrable army of a thousand angry people descending upon him in rage. These were people he had memories of, both familiar, some vague; enemies, but some that he had loved and loved him.
Only Dutch didn't understand *why* these people were angry at him.
"Monster!"
"Traitor!"
"Murderer!"
"Coward!"
"Hosea's the leader now!"
These words at the moment were foreign to Dutch; he had some semblance of recognition that they were *negative* words, but not the meaning of them.
The man tried in vain to get away, his movements stifled and awkward. When he got up to run as instinct told him, he stumbled back down, his legs not quite connecting to his nervous system which was seemingly on strike. The expression on his face was one of confusion, and he felt as utterly lost as he looked. The once bold and cocky van der Linde was now terrified of the very people he once barked orders at and hunted ruthlessly. Briefly, he did fight back, pitifully, mind you. His efforts consisted of half-hearted pushes, maybe an ear was bitten that might have been Micah's, could have been Bronte's, could have been Milton's, the only semblance of any remainder of the fight that was left in him. In life, he was a good scrapper -- but he just ended up shoved back hard onto the ground, and was only kicked, and punched harder.
"I-I . . . " Dutch, trying to make himself as small as possible, held his hand up to the crowd in a distinct signal of surrender. "I-I . . . Don't . . . " His chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought each word out.
"G-got no . . . Fight . . . N-no more."
There was a distinct sneer in the tone of one of the mob. The voice was that of Edgar Ross, who seized Dutch by his hair. "What's the matter? Did you lose your silver tongue on the way out there, van der Linde?"
Dutch managed to break away briefly when Edgar suddenly let go of him when a scuffle broke out among the mob. Bill and Micah though, were onto him. They each grabbed a leg and pulled him back like a conjoined two-headed crocodile dragging its victim into murky waters. In an act of desperation, Dutch clawed at the rock floor of the cave with his gnawed-down fingernails in an attempt to crawl away, but it was no use. As he was pulled back into the crowd, Dutch clung to whoever's legs like a scared child, and he pressed his bruised and battered face against their leg. Bill and Micah let Dutch go then, but the terror Dutch felt hadn't waned. His dark eyes screwed tight as if to shut out the attack; if he can't see them they can't see him. Hot tears streamed down Dutch cheeks and onto the other man's pants, his body heaving with each breath he took, pitiful whimpering sounds escaping from his throat.
The legs belonged to that of Arthur Morgan, who Dutch rescued from the pits of hell, taught him to read -- and hurt him deeply as well. And yet, here he was defending him at the same time he was fighting his inner anger towards Dutch. The younger man couldn't quite push the renewed pain back, but . . . Something felt so *off* to him about the way Dutch was like in this strange after-world. Something told him the old man wasn't manipulating him. He seemed so . . . Vulnerable, submissive, even. Something inside Dutch was so broken that Arthur couldn't quite grasp it at first. And then, he remembered the vision he had of his passing, the vividness of it, and it ended right when his head hit that particular rock.
'He really hit his head hard on the way down there.'
Arthur couldn't let the mob torture Dutch further. Nor could he beat him. It wasn't right, it wasn't honourable. He wasn't even sure that Dutch, in the state he was in, recognized who he was just yet.
"STAY BACK!" Arthur barked, his tone not matching the gentle gesture of touching the older man's shoulder when Dutch flinched from the anger his voice, as if assuming his anger was directed at him.
"C'mon, Black Lung, let us have some fun!"
A sense of protectiveness was fighting back the anger and disappointment Arthur felt towards Dutch. He knew exactly whose taunting voice that belonged to and if he could, he would rip his head off with one pull.
"Fuck off, rat!"
Michah's voice sounded like it was echoing through some chamber in the cave, no longer part of the crowd now that his victim was unreachable. "We're all here in eternity, Black Lung. You won't be able to always protect him."
There was truth to Micah's words, as much as Arthur hated to admit it. He couldn't always protect his father. Micah and several others would be back for him when the timing was right or they were bored, but as long as Arthur was here with him, no force could hurt him now. No longer bogged down by the viciousness of tuberculosis, he had returned to being the big shire horse of a man he once was. He had a massive beard that draped past his collarbone now, a formidable figure standing guard. Maybe it was to do with the state he was in, but Arthur seemed even bigger and taller than what Dutch remembered him being. Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was some omniscient being standing guard over him for whatever reason.
For Arthur, while Dutch was, well, a bit fatter now, he also seemed more fragile than he remembered. When he first met him on that fateful day, Dutch looked so tall and as intimidating as Arthur looks to Dutch now. But now he looked like a sad, broken old man.
In his feeble mind, the childish 'if you can't see them, they can't see you' trick seemed to work for Dutch; it seemed the attack was abating. There were no more blows -- none were thrown once Dutch clung onto Arthur -- and no more insults. If he dared open his eyes Dutch would have seen the fearsome shape of the mob drawing back into darkness, as if a force stronger than them, something fiercer, was pushing them back.
Then, it was as if a lightbulb had gone off in Dutch's battered head, a flickering light bulb, swinging violently in an office of a ship during a storm as the electricity flickers on and off. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes in wonder.
It really was Arthur. His beloved son, Arthur.
"A-Arthur . . .?" Dutch whimpered out his words, and then shrank, expecting to be hit, kicked, punched, as the others had done as some of the last moments of Arthur's life came into view.
Arthur instead let out a sharp breath, a sigh, and nodded. There was so much to say but there was only so much he could say to a man who didn't know what was going around him. "Yeah, it's me, you . . . " He sighed again as he rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, the other still resting on Dutch's shoulder as he was trying to find the right words and ended up thinking out loud.
"Something ain't right with you," Arthur paused, half to himself, half to Dutch. "Even more so now."
Dutch looked up at him with bewilderment, blinking rapidly. He didn't understand what Arthur was saying nor could he detect his tone, but he knew this man in another life, and that he loved him. And maybe that love still extended into the afterlife. After everything, Arthur was not among the men who attacked Dutch in that mob.
"Arthur."
With a cry, Dutch hugged him around the waist in realization, and Arthur let out the third sigh in less than five minutes. He patted his shoulder and returned the embrace as best as he could in his position.
"S-sorry . . . . Sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . " His voice was plaintive; not the loud baritone that he was all too familiar with.
"I know, I know . . . "
The source of the crowd's departure from the scene stood before Dutch and Arthur.
It was Hosea.
He stood grimly before them as if judging the situation. The shadows cast onto him made him look foreboding and to someone in the state of mind that Dutch was in, terrifying.
"Dutch."
Hosea's voice was firm and direct, his arms crossed over his chest.
Dutch hid his face against Arthur's leg and shrank down to the ground , trying to block out the sight of him. Maybe like the others, he'd go away, leave him be with Arthur.
Arthur looked over at Hosea with an expression of a silent plea, and after giving Dutch one more pat on the shoulder, he gently eased him out of the embrace. When Dutch tried to cling to him again, he firmly but carefully removed his hands from him once again.
This time Dutch didn't cling back, as if thinking it was futile, his fate was sealed.
"You better go with him, Dutch," Arthur's voice was firm as he saw the look of confusion, but there was an empathetic tone.
"It's Hosea. I know you've missed him."
Arthur's heart cracked when he saw Dutch's expression hadn't changed much. He helped him up onto his feet and steadied him when his legs weren't sure of what they were supposed to do. The larger man steadied him with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip -- something that spooked Dutch at first, who reacted perhaps as if he was being attacked. When he got Dutch settled back down with a pat on his shoulder, Arthur again started to carefully and slowly lead him toward Hosea. He was careful and slow with him, but also sensed that Dutch could make a run for it and did not let him go.
"Hosea, Dutch. The love of your life. Your soulmate. Your sweetheart."
As he predicted, Dutch did try to get away, but couldn't get far and nearly tripped over himself. Arthur caught him and firmly straightened him back up as best as he could. "Easy, Dutch, eaaaasy . . ." Arthur spoke in the tone he'd be calming a scared horse, instead of the frighted, confused, broken man before him. He even soothingly ran a hand through his hair as it was one of his steed's manes, partially out of comfort and partially in an attempt to make him look somewhat presentable.
Arthur's voice was clear again. Now free of tuberculosis, his lungs had healed here. Dutch though was too fractious to have noticed. "There's no sense in runnin', Dutch. Easy."
What Arthur didn't know is that Dutch was trying to bolt *to* Hosea and that holding him back was making him panic. He flailed helplessly in his hold, and then . . . Broke down, crumpling again.
Hosea then decided what the next course of action should be. His expression was hard to read, but his body language was one of authority. He braced himself, uncertain as to if Dutch was pulling some sort of trick, but this way, he'd know the truth.
"Let him go. See what he does."
Arthur did just what he was asked of, and with a nod, he let him go. The two men were so focused on each other that his quiet exit went unnoticed.
Dutch lurched awkwardly to Hosea, falling at feet in an awkward kowtowing gesture of submission. He was expecting that Hosea too would attack him, and thus he offered himself up for further punishment. There was some vague memory of a few words strung together in his sound beating, that Hosea was the leader now. He had some notion that he had done something or many things terrible, though he didn't know exactly what it was. He didn't want to face the wrath of Hosea as well. Some animalistic instinct told him to look as small, helpless, and submissive as possible and he likely wouldn't be harmed, or at least too badly. Or maybe he would and it would be brutal, but swift.
"H-Hosea . . ." Dutch's once strong voice sounded so . . . Weak and meek.
"S-sorry . . . "
Hosea for a moment clenched his fists as he felt anger towards this pathetic creature clinging to him and crying on his boots. He thought about all the wrongs he had done, having his part in undoing all they worked for. A part of him even wanted to kick him as he was down, literally, even; Dutch was right in the position where he could give a boot to him right in the jaw.
He felt Dutch's hold on his legs loosen and then, grasp one of those fists that he felt he could have knocked him out with. It was a soft, placating gesture. In life, he often squeezed Hosea's hand when he wanted to soothe him when he was worried and angered.
Hosea though, saw this as nothing but an attempt to manipulate. He tightened his fists, and heavily breathed in and out, his eyes focused on the darkness within the cave.
'I should punch him right here and then, I'll do it!'
And then, seconds before he was going to strike Dutch, Hosea felt his lips on the side of his hand in an awkward attempt to kiss. His mustached lips were unable to quite coordinate it, and he grew frantic to perfect the gesture. He was so good at kissing in life; how come here, in this strange life, can he not manage to do them? It was then that Hosea knew something was 'off' about Dutch; in life, he got his way by kissing his hands when a mere squeeze didn't' do the job. He was still *trying* to charm him, trying to soothe his anger. His fists clenched harder a moment later, though, as if willing himself to not let this pathetic shadow of Dutch butter him up.
Hosea then felt his teeth lightly nibble at the soft flesh from the side of his hand. Now, one would think this is when Hosea would give him a good hiding, but something from his memory stirred within him.
In life, whenever Dutch was feeling particularly cute, playful even (especially to distract Hosea away from being annoyed at him), he would sometimes take hold of one of his hands, squeeze it, and kiss it. Then he would softly bite it with a devilish grin. Hosea would 'boop' him on the nose, call him his naughty kitten and shower him with kisses, often by a campfire but sometimes on a fine hotel bed.
This time though, there was no cheeky grin. There were just big sad and confused eyes looking at Hosea, belonging to a man trying to understand what was going on, who sensed Hosea's anger and was trying to do something about it. Dutch gave another soft bite, this time a little more playful as if he was picking up on the memory that Hosea had from all those years ago.
In life, Hosea and Dutch were soulmates and . . . Maybe, despite everything, the ties that bind weren't broken in the afterlife.
Hosea felt himself soften. He tried to push it back, but he felt the leaks in the dam wall and he was out of corks to plug up the holes. Before he could stop himself, he tentatively touched the side of Dutch's head, the side which he landed on when he ended his life.
At first, Dutch shrank and whimpered at the touch, as if not expecting such a gentle touch. Another river of tears streamed down his eyes and onto Hosea's fingers as they shifted to his cheek. Hosea was encouraging him to look at him, and he obliged.
"You are broken, aren't you?"
There was pain and heartbreak in Hosea's voice as he slowly kneeled down to Dutch's level and slowly cupped his jaw in his hands. He cradled his head against his chest, positioning in such a way that he could hear his heartbeat. Dutch slowly rocked his head in his hold, against his heart, craving that contact fro him that he had gone a decade without.
Hosea had always loved how strong his jawline was; it was a bit softer since he had last seen him but, it was still Dutch.
"Hosea . . . " Dutch's voice was almost a whimper; his brown eyes still took on that lost, confused look but the expression was slowly melting away to one where he was trying to understand, but only briefly as sadness crept into them.
"I'm . . . Broken . . . " It was hard for Dutch to string together two words in a row, but he *tried*; he was always talkative in life (to everyone's annoyance it wasn't always something of substance) and now, as if it was the punishment he had received, every word was a battle.
"Please . . . " He wanted to say more, but couldn't.
Recognizing this really wasn't manipulation, a mere attempt to get back into his good graces, Hosea let out a cry and hugged him as tight as he could. It about broke him to see how shattered Dutch was. He wasn't sure if he was going to remain in this state for all eternity, but . . . He'd be there for him. He gently rocked Dutch in his arms, kissing him on the cheek. Dutch responded with a little sound that he wasn't sure was a sound of contentment or maybe a cry; his cheeks were already wet with tears and dirt and blood.
The cave floor was cold, and hard. Hosea knew where he wanted to go with him.
"Come with me, old friend, let's get you somewhere more comfortable."
At first, Dutch hesitated as Hosea eased him up into a standing position. He looked away, his expression of shame. He even stepped away from him, fearfully backing away into another tunnel within the cave. He seemed scared, not of Hosea, but maybe fearing what he thought, in his foggy state of mind, what he could do *to* Hosea. Dutch struggled inwardly again as if battling some inner force within him, simply for talking. His voice was halted, stuttering, as if he wanted to say more but the words wouldn't come out.
"N-no . . . Monster . . . I'm . . . I'm a . . .. Monster."
Hosea wasn't present at the time of the beating, but he was certain the gang and the others who he had hurt and done wrong with in life beat that notion into him. He had done some monstrous things in his life but it pained him to think that's all he viewed himself as now. What had been done had been done and Dutch had paid dearly for it (and he was sure that wasn't going to be the last they'd give him trouble), but what had been done could not be undone.
The afterlife is as much of a place to heal, to reconcile, to move forward as a whole person again as it was to be punished for what one had done in life. Indeed, we can say the afterlife is as complicated as several of the individuals residing in it.
Hosea swallowed hard again. He wasn't going to let Dutch disappear into the abyss.
"You are *my* monster, Dutch," Hosea spoke gently, with affection, stopping Dutch before he could disappear into that tunnel by hooking an arm around his waist and gave a firm but affectionate squeeze.
"And I'm afraid we'll be stuck with each other forever in this weird place."
Dutch felt comfort in the tone of Hosea's gentle and affectionate tone of voice, even if the latter part of his message was something he couldn't understand. He didn't resist Hosea's embrace and leaned against him as he was led through the cave. For a moment, he even almost caused Hosea to lose his footing with his weight against him. He held onto Hosea as he was doing to him, perhaps mimicking, but when he stumbled over his footing in his awkward movement, Hosea almost went down as well.
"It's okay . . ." Hosea spoke again softly, patting him on his back as if thinking Dutch would feel bad about accidentally tripping him up. With a grunt, he straightened him back up. Dutch was a good number of pounds heavier than him.
"We're almost there."
Both men blinked rapidly as the sun greeted them at the mouth of the cave, Dutch -- who had arrived in the afterlife only a moment ago -- especially so. He died on not the sunniest day of the week, in winter; and being that he had spent some of his last moments in a cave, the sun was almost a stranger to him. His eyes needed time to adjust and he shrank at the harshness of its rays, hiding his face against Hosea's shoulder. Sunglasses weren't dispensed back in the day when one came into the afterlife.
Outside the cave, the landscape looked much like it did in their lifetime, but somehow. . . Enhanced. The mountains and the trees were still there greeting them; and before them, a massive oak's branches gently arching over the stream that still ran its steady pace as it had always done. There were the sounds of various birds, maybe some that some of the gang even took down for food or to complete the decoration on a hat.
"Oh Dutch . . . It's beautiful . . . " There was a waver to Hosea's voice as he stopped leading to take in the scene, and gently encouraged Dutch to take in the surroundings as well; it never got old to him and he wanted so desperately to share it.
"Eyes . . . Eyes, head hurt . . . "
Dutch's struggle to speak was certainly not an issue he had in life. He looked as if he felt shame and his body posture was slumped, defeated. He blinked rapidly, still protecting his face against Hosea's shoulder.
Hosea rubbed his back, holding him close in case he attempted to retreat into the cave. "It'll take some time. You're not used to the light."
" . . . H-head broken . . . " He paused as if seeking the right word. "S-shattered, smashed . . . "
"I know . . . " Hosea's voice was pained, and he hugged him carefully as if hugging him any tighter would cause him to shatter. He knew he had to be honest. "It . . . It might always be like that, but . . . " He squeezed his hand, thinking that if it was meant for Dutch to come here healed he would have arrived healed. A more optimistic side of him didn't discount that maybe because he never thought he was worthy of true redemption, he arrived only partially healed but that the healing would take place over time now with them reunited.
Hosea decided the mood needed to be lightened and he brought one of Dutch's ragged and worn hands up to his lips to kiss. Once kept in near pristine condition, they now bore the marks of a rough outdoor life, scarred from fights, from the elements. And yet, the top of his hand still felt velvet soft against his lips. He had to smile when he heard some sort of sound of contentment from Dutch. It was an odd sound, but a recognizably *happy* sound. He decided he wanted to hear that sound again, and gave a knuckle a soft kiss again. Sure enough, Dutch made that little rough, sighing little sound again. It made his smile grow.
"You know, you have a whole eternity to bother me."
At this time Dutch knew nothing about what an eternity was. He was back in Hosea's arms and there was nowhere else he wanted to be. Hosea didn't kick him in the ribs, didn't grab his hair and pull him back into the fray.
Hosea wasn't even sure that Dutch knew that he was dead and that he was now in the afterlife. He knew he had to bring that news to Dutch eventually, to get him to further understand what had happened to him, and had to rip off the bandage and tell him why everyone had been so upset with him when he arrived, but . . . Not now.
After a moment, shoving aside that heavy discussion topic, Hosea led Dutch down a well-worn path out from the cave to the giant oak. "That tree? It'll be our spot. We both visited here a long, long time ago when we first met."
The camp where they first met in life, was right by that magnificent tree. It and any trace of it were now long gone, but by where the tent was, was a pile of well-worn books by a bonfire.. One of these books was a well-read copy of American Inferno, which was once one of Dutch's. Hosea assumed that John or maybe Arthur left them there and maybe even made the fire as well, and he was touched by the gestures, but he blinked back tears when he realized that perhaps Dutch *couldn't* read now. He remembered there was a time when Dutch was so obsessed with those damned books that he thought he was having an affair with Evelyn Miller. It ironically pained him that he likely now wouldn't hear Dutch's enthusiastic speeches about the virtues of his writings. The gang tended to tune out, much to his annoyance.
Hosea wanted to cry; he already felt a familiar sting in his eyes and fought it back. It had been some time since he had cried a good cry; the last time was when he was reunited with John and Arthur, Lenny and Jack and Tilly. He needed so badly for the release of a good cry, but he wanted to be strong for his broken soulmate, who might not understand why he was upset. And then, he got an idea. A *plan*, if you will.
Hosea wanted to read out loud to Dutch. He wouldn't read him Evelyn Miller right now -- that material would be too hard for him to digest right now. Then, thoughts of Jack's reunion made him remember the little fairytale stories he once read to him when he was a small boy. Those books were in among the stack by the bonfire; they contained charming stories, simple stories, but they were so wonderfully creatively detailed that he had often enjoyed reading them himself. He remembered Dutch teased him now and then about it, but he paid him no mind; he'd always retort back about Dutch's favoured reading material. Maybe he could help jog something in Dutch's poor addled state.
Hosea squeezed Dutch's hand as he watched him look around looked about fearfully as if he was expecting to be attacked from the trees. It was heartbreaking for Hosea to see such a formally cocky and confident, frustratingly pigheaded and often arrogant figure in such a pitiful state. Yet, there was a small hopeful smile in the corner of his lips.
"I'll read to you, Dutch. I'll read a nice story to you."
Dutch looked at him as if he was trying to understand someone speaking to him in a foreign language. The tone in which Hosea spoke in was so pleasant to him, so whatever it was he was talking about sounded like something pleasant to Dutch. He looked . . . Curious, for the first time since he first encountered the angry mob he mistakenly thought of as some strange animal who was just as inquisitive about him as he was of it.
"You loved to read, Dutch," Hosea spoke soothingly, stroking his cheek as he took in that sad, lost expressoin of his. He noted his cheekbones were more prominent than he had last known him. "Come and sit with me and I'll read you a fun story."
It had been many many moons since anyone read a story to Dutch. Now and then when they could, Hosea and Dutch would read a chapter of a book to each other in the evening. Before that . . . His mother who may or may not have been among those in that bloodthirsty crowd who mauled him. Their relationship was a complicated one but she did instill his love of books into him.
"Books . . . " Dutch plaintively whispered, staring at the tidy stack of books, but then a light spark formed in his sad, tired eyes as if something had clicked.
Hosea smiled, a smile that could have lit up a room as he carefully eased Dutch down onto the ground when he saw excitement spark in his eyes. If he hadn't eased him down he might have taken a tumble in his enthusiasm.
"Yes, books! You loved them, and drove us mad with them," Hosea added with a light laugh as he sat next to Dutch, and pulled him in close as he leaned back against the tree. "And we have all the time in the world here in Eternity to read them. We have a big library, with an endless supply of books. You'll love it."
Hosea's smile faded when Dutch held the book in his hands and the confounded expression told him he didn't know what was even the title. Yet, the twinkle never left Hosea's eyes. He'll spend hours reading to him if he needs to. Maybe he could even teach him to read again.
Dutch may yet grasp the concept of an afterlife, that he had died and was sent to Eternity to be punished, but perhaps also to reunite with the man who may have been able to keep him together had he not died. But he was now grasping the concept of books and love, and maybe, the love he had of books. He had loved Arthur and Hosea in life and so very much does so in this strange new world, and maybe . . . They still love him.
"Love . . ." Dutch whispered, almost timidly, as if afraid to say the word out loud. He curled himself up and laid his head on Hosea's lap, clutching the book against his chest for a moment as if to emphasize what he was saying.
"Love . . . Love . . . You."
"I know . . . I know . . . " Hosea blinked back tears as he gently brushed a hand through Dutch's silvering hair. He missed how it looked in their life together, those curls were so beautiful. He wondered if he could grow it back here.
"And I love you."
Hosea wanted to say that his love had broken him. He had seen how Dutch unravel while he watched helplessly from the afterlife; there were so many times he wished he could have intervened. However, he knew Dutch couldn't comprehend how his love had broken him. He knew he couldn't understand much beyond books that he couldn't read, and beyond the attachment he had to Hosea and Arthur. He knew that logically, his attachment would extend to John as well, who was the very last person he had seen before he took his life.
John was also not among those who laid a beating on Dutch. Like Arthur, he valiantly tried to push the mob back. The recognition that something just wasn't right with him -- even more so in the afterlife -- further fueled the urgency to end the violence. He ended up being pushed to the back of the bloodthirsty crowd, but it gave him the opportunity to seek out the one who could put an end to it all.
John had found Hosea alone with his thoughts by a pond, sitting on a log as he watched Silver Dollar graze nearby as the crickets and frogs sang an eternal song. The moon reflected so beautifully on the still water. When his moment of tranquillity was interrupted, Hosea had thoughts of confronting Dutch head-on, telling him what a fool he had been in his part of ruining what they had built together, among so much, but . . . All that was before he saw firsthand how damaged he was. He could yell and scream at Dutch for doing all those foolish and reckless things, essentially turning feral towards the end, but what come of it? He could picture it in his head, his face turning red with anger and Dutch would just respond with that pitiful, confused gaze as he looked up at him with his knees held close against his chest.
"John and Arthur love you, I'm sure of it . . . " Hosea spoke softly with a voice that took on a tone of uncertainty with it. He was also careful to word his message into something simple that Duth could even get an edge of understanding.
"Despite everything, Dutch . . . " He added quietly, mostly to himself, but with more confidence as he idly played with Dutch's hair, gently tugging out bits of dried blood, mud and matted strands.
"I think they still love you. Yes, I still love you."
Dutch shifted slightly so that his head and shoulders were right into Hosea's lap, and he looked up at him with an innocent, even hopeful expression. There was even a hint of a smile on Dutch's mustached lips, so blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil simmering under Hosea's surface as he was processing so many feelings simultaneously. Hosea was good at hiding it, mind you. He was always a fine actor who could sell water to a drowning man.
"You're still frustratingly cute, you know that?" Hosea laughed despite Dustch's drastic downturn in fashion sense, and that beautiful hair chopped down so short.
That smile of Dutch's grew when Hosea gently traced a finger along the softening jawline, to the point his eyes crinkled up into little slits. He leaned his head back with a little whimpering sigh, encouraging his touch. He couldn't quite understand what Hosea was talking about, but he *felt* it. He *felt* cute. Hosea wasn't mad at him anymore, he must have been doing something right. For as long as he continues to be cute, Hosea wouldn't be mad, he thought. Perhaps a new concept, or an old one unburied, which often got Hosea's anger turned away.
"Oh I've got a smile out of you . . ." Hosea cooed, slipping another hand to his side, the side in which he was shot shortly before his death.
After a moment of hesitation, Hosea gently pushed up that bloodied patch of his orange shirt, revealing bruised skin underneath. The wound from the gunshot was closed over, but a dark patch of bruised scarring remained there. Much like the wound to his head, that scar seemed as if it was a reminder, and was only patched up to prevent others from the sight of his organs slipping out of his body. To his surprise, though, the skin on that area was as satiny-soft to the touch as he remembered. Hosea's caress was gentle; how he moved his hands in a slow, rythmic pattern was as if he was telling Dutch it would be OK to let himself heal.
Perhaps that's why Dutch was in the state he was in the afterlife; he wasn't giving himself that chance to fully heal because he *didn't* think he deserved to heal. Let's go with that.
Hosea stopped when Dutch stiffened, and he wasn't sure if his touch caused him some pain that might have been residual. But then, his smile grew as he saw Dutch was trying to hold back a . . . . Laugh, probably the first genuine laugh, in oh . . . A decade! He remembered he had a particularly sensitive midsection in life which seemed to carry over into the afterlife, too.
"I think you're still a little ticklish too!" Hosea gently teased, his fingers dancing over his poor bruised and scarred belly, softer than he remembered it being, and eliciting more laughs. To him, Dutch's laughter was among the most beautiful sounds he had heard since arriving in the afterlife. That big hearty laugh of his was reduced to a silly squeaky sound as he submissively, lovingly offered himself up to him for more which Hose happily obliged.
After a moment, Hosea decided to leave Dutch wanting more. Predictably, Dutch gave him the pleading puppy eye expression that he still managed to pull off, after everything. His smile that came with it was almost sheepish, more lopsided than Hosea remembered, but still irresistible.
"Still trying to manipulate me are you?" Hosea gently teased. All the same, he gave in to that expression and scritched a little more before his fingers slowed into a massage. His eyes twinkled as Dutch offered that book to him. He gently took it from him and carefully repositioned himself in a way so that Dutch could follow the book as he read it out to him. He chuckled though as Dutch flopped back down. Maybe *he* was more comfortable but it forced Hosea to reposition himself a bit. Some things never change; in all their years together, Hosea was often forced to reposition in bed just because someone had to be more comfortable.
"Ah, this one . . . " Hosea's smile brightened, recognizing the title 'In The Land of Dragons.' "I read it to Jack before . . ." He paused, the smile fading. Among the last pleasurable moments he had of his life was reading that book to Jack.
Dutch picked up on the shift in the mood of his beloved and weakly squeezed his hand. It was a gesture that deeply touched Hosea; no matter how broken Dutch was right now, he still couldn't hide a thing from him.
"Well, we're all here together again," Hosea's smile returned as he gave Dutch's hand a light squeeze in return to emphasize. "Maybe I'll read it to him again if he so wants. He's all grown up now, though. Not sure if he wants a doddering old man to read to him again."
Dutch tilted his head to one side as he tried to understand what Hosea was saying. To him, it came together in a messy heap of words with no order to them. He did pick up on a few concepts; Jack, and reading. Yes, he wanted him to read to him like he remembered watching Hosea read to Jack. Despite the . . . Complicated relationship with the boy's parents, Dutch always had a soft spot for Jack. He'd often lean back and watch Hosea read to the boy by the campfire or a quieter location in the camp. Occasionally, as expected, Dutch would put his two cents but often just let the two have their quiet moment.
Jack was another who didn't join in on the mob's attack on Dutch. He tried to pull a few people back and got into a fight with some of them, but the mob grew too numerous. From there, he went on to find his father.
"Please . . . Read . . . ?" Dutch gave him the puppy dog eyes again.
"Still pushy after all these years, eh?" Hosea gently teased, leaning down to kiss Dutch on the top of his head as he gently eased into an easier position. Cute as he was to have him sprawled out on his lap like a puppy, he didn't think it'd be comfortable for him to follow along with him as he read.
Dutch's eyes had trouble focusing on the beautifully illustrated first page. He was growing frustrated with himself in this state, to have trouble even looking at a picture. The illustration featured a large and smug dragon looking down at a small boy who was bravely standing his ground, tiny sword and all. The colours were reminiscent of a watercolour painting and the thin lineart spared no detail. Dutch once made a speech to the gang that referred to the drawing, about the little man standing up to the federal government. The speech was one that Hosea tried to get people to get into but alas.
Hosea picked upon Dutch's frustration, and with a free hand, he traced a finger along his jawline. After a moment, his touch soothed him, to his delight.
"Can you see it, my pet?" Hosea brought up Dutch's old, old nickname softly and slowly traced a finger around the picture to help train Dutch's eyes on the page. He often pointed out the little details to Jack, and it reminded him of that.
"You liked this picture a lot for what you thought it meant to you."
Dutch still couldn't understand what he was speaking about per se, but he squinted, trying to focus on the picture. He was drawn to the colours that he felt were so pretty all those years ago. He even bought the book with his own money instead of stealing it for Jackie, as he used to call him. Hosea might have caught him reading it himself.
"In the Land of Dragons . . ." Hosea soothingly murmured out the title, running his hand over the title which was also lovingly detailed with the ends of dragon tails accenting the letters. "Written and illustrated by D. Houser."
Dutch blinked rapidly, slowly taking in the detail. And he got a gist of the details, the artistry, the detail, he was in awe. It was like all the horrors he had faced coming into the afterlife were far behind him now and he was dreaming. It was like he was transferred to some more innocent place.
Dutch's reaction did not go unnoticed by Hosea, and he was touched. He was reminded of when he first presented the book to Jack, all those years ago; how fascinated the boy was on each page, wondering what would happen next. It was a small book, only twenty-one pages but for Dutch, this would be the first step of a journey.
"Tommy was but a small boy, in a big world, and soon to meet even bigger dragons," there was almost a smile in Hosea's voice now he dragged a finger along the dialogue. "He didn't quake, didn't quiver as he walked through the spooky wood. Some of the trees themselves looked like dragons." He even added a bit of wonder to his voice as he worked a finger along the illustration of the twisted tree trunks and their branches. It was as if he was reading to that small boy again; this, he thought, turned out to be therapeutic for much for himself as it was to Dutch.
Hosea's tone might have elicited a certain spark in Dutch's eyes that threatened to errode the sadness and confusion in them. Maybe the concept of the story was seeping into his poor mind. Maybe he thought he was in the book.
"Are . . . W-here . . . Are we there?"
Hosea felt himself tear up again. He planned on telling Dutch at some point, when he's at a less vulnerable state, but . . . The question was asked.
"Well . . . " He set the book aside, leaving it open to continue after his explanation, and he took one of Dutch's hands in his own. He gently gazed into Dutch's curious eyes, his expression gentle, soft. He wasn't sure how much Dutch would get out of it, but it was worth a try and he would be patient.
"We . . . We died, Dutch."
Hosea paused, waiting for Dutch to absorb the news. He studied him carefully, waiting for any change in expression. Dutch still looked curious, almost innocently so. He hadn't quite processed it yet, but he was trying.
And then suddenly, Dutch's expression changed. The sad expression returned in his eyes, and the tears returned as if Hosea's ripping off the bandage opened up new wounds.
"When . . . When you . . . Went, I . . . I-I broke, shattered . . ."
"I know . . ." Hosea almost whispered, clutching onto Dutch as crawled up further into his lap. Tears that he fought hard to keep down to keep a strong front trickled down his face when he rested his chin on his shoulder. His hand moved over Dutch back in gentle, soothing circles.
"When we died . . . We got sent here there though so we could be together again. We all call it The Next Place. The afterlife."
Dutch buried his face against Hosea's chest as his fingers clasped on his blue jacket. "D-dont . . . Don't. . . " It was as if his brain's synapses were misfiring again, he couldn't say anything more though he so wanted to. He felt so vulnerable, so scared.
"Shhh . . . I'm not going anywhere. . ." Hosea cooed as he slipped a hand up underneath that ratty shirt, his hands gently gliding over his back. As he had spent some time sprawled out on Hosea, his skin still felt so warm there and less clammy than he did when he first reunited with him. Skin contact was what Hosea thought Dutch would feel connected to and reassured with; after all, they said so much through holding hands.
The touches soothed Dutch again, and he settled his head under Hosea's jaw. They would return to the book, but for the moment, he just wanted to cuddle up to HOsea as he had longed to do for far too long.
As if Hosea had absorbed what Dutch was feeling even if he couldn't articulate it, Hosea also just wanted to hold Dutch, and to do nothing else. He had almost forgotten how much he had missed him; he had seen the things he had done and was nearly blinded with anger, but now . . .
"We'll never be parted again."
*Never* be parted again.
Dutch felt something he hadn't felt in a long, long time:
Relief.
"Never . . . ?" Dutch's voice wavered as he looked into Hosea's eyes with some sort of acknowledgement in his expression.
Hosea whispered and gently cupped his jaw in his palm. He has always loved how strong it felt in his hands, even in his condition. "Never . . . "
"We're . . . " Dutch struggled for a moment, but his eyes never left his as that expression got a bit stronger. He was piecing it together and it hadn't gone unnoticed by his soulmate. "O-other . . . Place . . . " He slowly eased his face closer to Hosea's. He wanted to kiss, oh he so wanted to kiss him but could not connect his lips up to his and tears welled in his eyes for his failure to do so.
"Y-yes . . . " Hosea found his voice wavering as he felt Dutch's breath on his lips. After steadying the back of Dutch's carefully, he eased him into the gentle kiss he was asking for. It was a slow kiss, a gentle kiss, a kiss that was ten years in the making.
Together again, in That Other Place.
#vandermatthews wednesday#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#red dead#red dead redemption two#red dead redemption#rdr1 fanfic#rdr2 fanfic#vandermatthews#hosea matthews#dutch van der linde#rdr2 hosea#rdr2 dutch#rdr1 dutch#arthur mogan#dutch x hosea#hosea x dutch#red dead redemption 2 fanfic#red dead redemption 2 fanfiction#red dead redemption fanfc#vdm#fanfiction#rdr2 community#red dead redemption 2 community
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Insurgency: Utopia
Summary: A totalitarian regime reigns over a South American country in which the virus is being distributed to its citizens at the pretense of a “cure.” Leon was sent to retrieve a sample of the virus mutation when he stumbled upon a group of anti-government activists whose main goal is to overthrow their government. Will Leon help the cause or will he fall down with the government as well?
Warning: Mentions of mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Slow burn. Age gap (Leon is 38 and reader is 21+). Reader is female.
Word count: 1,680
A/N: this is the last chapter. next chapter is just a bonus :) anyways guys I’m so glad next week is my last week of school. I’m tired of ts alr
[part one][part two][part three][part four][part five][part six][part seven][part eight][bonus]
“Accept suffering and achieve atonement through it - that is what you must do." - Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
Days passed ever since the victory of Pruye. People began to work on the reconstruction of the fallen cities. People finally returned to their homes and it felt like a weight had been lifted off everyone’s shoulders. No more dictator, no more law.
Leon stayed in the base, sitting on a chair near your hospital bed as he waited for you to wake up. It’s been three days since you’ve been in the infirmary. Doctors and nurses would come in and check up on you, occasionally updating your charts.
He never left your side- only to use the restroom or get some food.
“Argh…” you groaned as you woke up, catching Leon’s attention. He quickly rested his hand on your shoulder, “Hey take it easy,” his voice soft and quiet.
You opened your eyes and met them adjust to the light, “Where am I? What happened?”
“You’ve been out for about three days…” he responded.
Your eyes widened at the revelation and then everything had started crashing down on you.
The battle.
The president.
Falling.
Blackness.
That was all you remembered. It didn’t take time for you to connect the dots.
You looked over at him, “Did we win?”
He took a deep breath and nodded, “You sure did.. President Mendez died and so did the soldiers.”
“So… it’s over? Everything is finally over?” You asked weakly.
Leon nodded once again and you sighed in relief.
Your efforts weren’t in vain. If someone were to ask the younger version of yourself that one day you’d lead a rebellion to victory, you’d probably laugh in their face.
But that was the truth. No matter what, you did this. You brought freedom to a land that had long forgotten what that felt like.
-
Recovery was easy. You stayed a few more days before you could get discharged. Leon and some insurgents would visit you and catch you up on things.
The cities had been rebuilt, there is no sole leader anymore. The country became an anarchy.
But that didn’t matter to you.
No one told you the effects of being a war veteran.
Nightmares kept you up, certain sounds made you remember those bloody days- it was true hell. You weren’t okay and maybe it was time to finally acknowledge that.
You found yourself on a building- a memorial building for the fallen insurgents and other victims from the battle.
The building contained the history of when everything first started to when things ended. As you walked through the halls, you saw objects laying around. The guns that were used, the uniforms from both sides. It felt like a museum more than a memorial but maybe that was just you.
Behind the building was a cemetery. You walked through the grass until you stopped in front of two gravestones.
Esme and Franco.
It felt weird standing in front of the remnants of your friends. It was like they were there but also weren’t.
Death was a real mystery. You rest but you leave behind pain to others. That’s such a cruel thing to do. Death was nothing near comfort. It was unfair and cruel. But there was nothing anyone can do. We all have a countdown to our death.
You could die in the next five minutes. Maybe tomorrow or maybe in ten years. No one knows but everyone knows that death is inevitable.
War messed up with your concept of death. Death was something to be meant with meaning. Something that was supposed to be relieving and beautiful. But now? Now you see it as punishment.
Life is sanctity. There is no reason why someone should take someone else’s life. It’s not just. It’s not right. But yet human kind still finds ways to bend the beauty of nature and contaminate everything with the greed for power.
As you stood in front of the gravestones, you felt bitter. Not at them for dying but for leaving you alone.
But it was not their fault. No ones at fault for dying and yet you couldn’t pin point the cause of your emotions. And what better way to feel better about yourself than projecting it into inanimate things? It’s not like Esme and Franco are coming back from the dead.
Because they won’t. They’re gone. Forever.
All they are now, are just fragments of memories and pieces of what was.
You didn’t cry, you couldn’t. Because if you did then it be confirmation that they were gone.
Their presence was gone. Their voices were gone. They no longer existed and that is a pain no one should go through.
Life is supposed to be a blessing but now it all felt like it was just a curse.
If there is a god then you’d understand why humans were cursed with such small lifespans. We are evil, even if we claim to be otherwise. No one is purely good, no one is innocent. We all bear the bearings of sin and evil.
Because you finally understood that the world is nothing like the novels. At all.
You walked up to Yarina’s grave. It was the biggest one with an Athena statue. Fitting, you thought.
No one is prepared for the death of someone. What are you supposed to do? Forget that your friend no longer exists within the same universe as you?
And yet you were. People move on and soon they’ll forget their dead friends, including you. It’s not bad, per say, but it’s saddening. To let go of the last piece you have of them- a memory.
A memory is what they became. A distant one because you wanted to forget everything already.
Esme, Franco, and Yarina… they’re all a distant fragment of the memories you tried to forget.
-
Leon had to go back to the U.S. and it made you sad. You were getting used to him.
The helicopter landed on the helipad, prompting Leon to get on it. But he stopped mid walk to look at you. He seemed hesitant.
“Come with me,” he blurted out.
“What?”
“Come with me. Live with me in America.”
Your mouth gaped open as you tried to speak but nothing came out. He walked up to you and held your hands in his, “C’mon Y/n… we both know you don’t want to be here anymore. Come back home with me. I’ll let you stay at my place until you settled in. I’ll show you around. We can build a new life together… away from all of this. Just you and me.”
You stared up at his blue eyes and nodded slowly, “Okay… I will.”
He smiled softly and leaned down to kiss you softly. You hummed in response and kissed him back, just a softly as well. He pulled back and interlocked his fingers with yours as you two walked towards the helicopter.
A new life. Away from Pruye. Away from the memories.
A new life with Leon, the man who understood you inside and out. He has you all figured out and he didn’t leave. He stayed. That was all you needed to follow him to his home country.
You didn’t care that you left all your belongings behind. It would only remind you of the constant pain. Plus, Leon offered that you two should go shopping and spend time like normal people.
Like a normal couple.
A normal life.
And you couldn’t agree more. Leon was the blessing in disguise that you needed. And you were his ray of hope at being normal.
Trauma bonding works wonders. You two can’t seem to let each other go as your bond grows deeper than anything else.
-
Once you reached the state of Pennsylvania, he called an Uber for the two of you.
Leon’s house was modest. Being an agent brought financial stability yet he was humble and didn’t want to splurge all his money- he was too busy fighting anyway.
His house was two stories but small in size. You can’t blame him, Pennsylvania has had some housing problems lately but that was not of your concerns. You just got here.
He refused to let you sleep on the couch so you reluctantly agreed to sleep with him on his bed.
Leon let you borrow some of his pajamas- sweatpants and a tee. They fit big on you but it was okay. Loose clothing was more comfortable to sleep in anyway.
He laid behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Your back was pressed against his chest and for once you felt like you could finally sleep without waking up from the nightmares.
Leon brought you comfort. Leon was comfort.
And you were his comfort too. Leon didn’t need help falling asleep, he’s been dealing with this way longer than you but you clearly needed someone to be there for you. And he wanted to be that person.
Leon may be sarcastic and cocky at times but he’s a dedicated man with a heart. He cares a lot and would do anything for the betterment of the world. He’d do anything for you.
The age gap wasn’t something you two seemed to mind. What you two felt was not superficial and it went beyond just dating. It was as if your souls found each other after traveling through space and time.
Home. It was as if your souls were finally home together.
-
Leon kept his promise and the next day he took you out to see the city. He took you to the mall, where he offered to pay for your new clothes. You two went to eat at his favorite restaurant, you two visited the park near a river- it felt like you could breathe again.
You were glad to be away from Pruye and everything that had happened.
Slowly but surely you began to get better, and Leon was there to support you. You rebuilt your life- got a job, decided to apply to school, got your citizenship thanks to Leon’s connections. Life was finally beginning to look amazing for you.
You and Leon made life amazing together.
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon scott kennedy#resident evil#id leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#death island leon#di leon
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William Rex Chapter 20
。⋆。˚🦋˚。⋆。
William: "I'm here for a reason, and you'll see it in this."
Kate: "This is----"
The sensational article, which was circulating a few days ago.
It is said to have caused further tremors in London which was in turmoil over the prisoners' escapes.
It was printed at their own expense, not by a major newspaper.
There was----
That the article "The Savagery of Count William Rex" was false.
It was a plot to frame Count William for organized crime involving several noble families, including the Marquis of Avalus.
It was stated that the reporter was unknowingly complicit.
"When the reporter went to question the ringleaders of this conspiracy, they took him to the Tower of London to keep him quiet."
"There, in addition to the reporter, many other citizens were imprisoned for crimes they did not commit."
"Yes, those prisoners that Count William released a few days ago."
"Needless to say, it was also a ploy to force them to surrender to their protector, Count William."
"It is journalist justice that we hereby publish the names of the ringleaders."
"I hope it will at atleast make amends to Sir Rex."
"The ringleader's name is Lord Grimsley, a member of the Privy Council himself."
The reporter's name was known without confirmation.
Kate: "Mr. Brian..."
William: "This accusation by Brian Bennett gained a lot of credibility, despite being pitched in the name of an individual!"
In addition to the appearance of a well-known journalist, who had to self-publish to avoid being cornered by the press, the report was also published in the form of a book,
His credibility grew rapidly when freed prisoners began to mention that his statement were true.
William: "The major newspapers also immediately started denouncing the case."
William: "It was surprising that Grimsley's rubbish operation took a back seat."
William: "Brian occasionally wrote articles to the detriment of Grimsley's enemies because...."
William: "I suspect that those who had a growing grudge against him may have assisted in the pursuit of this case."
The sparks were not doused but rather heated up.
In just two nights, demonstrations calling for Grimsley's punishment took place.
The Privy Council, under criticism, found itself in a difficult position.
William: "It's articles like this that have made the whole parade pointless."
William: "Victor is going to scold me for exposing the existence of the curse for nothing."
Kate: "Parade...?"
William: "I'm talking about this."
William shrugged his shoulders lightly and returned the newspaper article to the side table.
William: "Still, it's a terrible article, don't you think?"
。⋆。˚🦋˚。⋆。
Kate: "Terrible?"
William: "The crime for which I killed the Marquis of Avalus, and what I did to the policemen and prisoners at the Tower of London."
William: "He kept my abilities in the dark. It's not fair."
Kate: "....Because he thought it was 'justice' to keep secrets?"
Kate: "He wrote that in hopes that it would be a compensation for you."
William: "Brian has no atonement to make for his sins."
William: "I think he was just trying to do the right thing from start to finish."
-----FLASHBACK-----
Brian: "You'll regret it one day! There's no way you can be happy with someone like that....!"
-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----
Kate: "....I agree."
There is surely no such thing as unadulterated justice or pure evil anywhere.
The answer to the question of what things mean is as varied as the number of people who know what they mean.
Yet his willingness to remain true to the justice he believes in.
It is very dazzling and precious.
Kate: "........Because of this article, the cause for meddling with William and the Crown has been shaken."
Kate: "That's why you came here, right?"
William: "Right."
Kate: "Then....we should thank Mr. Brian for atoning for his sins."
William: "Would you still be a fan of his again?"
Kate: "Yes, of course."
William: "That's good to know."
William laughed as happily as if it were his own.
William: ".....Now, its time to rest."
William: "We don't want you to go back to being sleeping beauty again."
He stroked my hair as he puts me to bed.
William then covered me up with sheets.
(Ah....now that I think about it)
Kate: "Lastly, can I ask you one more thing?"
William: "Sure."
Kate: ".....At the Tower of London."
Kate: "If I hadn't jumped in to protect you, were you prepared to get stabbed....?"
William: ".............."
William: ".....Who knows?"
Kate: "Ah....!"
------Options------
I'm sure you know.
That's a sneaky way to answer.
Are you lying?
------------
Kate: "That's not fair. That's a sneaky way to answer."
William: "It's my kindness to leave you with the pleasure of unravelling it."
William gave me a kiss on the forehead and quickly left the bed.
Kate: "....Come on."
William: "Ahaha! Your pouting face is cute."
William: "Goodnight, Kate."
William waved his hand and left the room.
Kate: ".....Awww!!!"
Just like that day when I was left behind, I was left on the bed.
(.....Hmph whatever)
(Even if William was going to get stabbed at the time)
(I'll protect you from now on)
The scent of roses wafted across my nose, just like that day.
My mouth slackened with ticklish glee.
............
In a room inside the palace.
Man of the Privy Council: "I'll close my eyes to your blunders. You will retire and live out the rest of your days in peace and quiet."
Man of the Privy Council: "If you want to get sniffed out by that monster and have your head cut off, I won't stop you."
Man of the Privy Council: "Grimsley."
Scornful, or frightened-eyed colleagues who don't want to get involved and get killed.
Grimsley, the man that was called, glared irritably.
。⋆。˚🦋˚。⋆。
Grimsley: "....Why should I be forced out of my job for the sake of one evil person!"
Grimsley, who was unanimously forced to retire, expressed his anger in the corridor.
From his moustache-covered mouth, one can hear his teeth grinding.
Grimsley: "What's that Rex up to!?"
With cold, reptilian eyes, Grimsley shouted at the squire.
Attendant: "F-Forgive me, sir....but he's still missing...."
Grimsley: "Tch....'If you want to cut of my head, I won't stop you' huh? Those cowards...!"
Grimsley: "How many times has the Privy Council interfered with Crown operations? And in all that time, have they ever laid a hand on him!?"
Grimsley's smile turned from one of rage to a thin smile.
Grimsley: "....We're going to clean up Britain's dump."
Grimsley: "Then I will be invited back to the Privy Council. Her Majesty will be pleased."
Grimsley: "Now that I'm off the Privy Council, I don't need to listen to them."
Grimsley: "Switch to a professionally hired assassination and continued with the plan."
Attendant: "Yes....!"
Grimsley: "It was impossible to get citizens to kill a monster assassin with strange abilities in the first place."
Attendant: "But...he has successfully carried out numerous assassinations, all by himself, without leaving behind a weapon."
Attendant: "Even if you hire a professional will you really...."
Grimsley: "The prisoners have reported on the man's abilities."
Grimsley: "They said 'the moment he saw my face and I heard his voice, I lost my physical freedom'."
Grimsley: "If one approach him without him seeing 'you' and 'without him hearing you' you're more likely to be able to move without being manipulated."
Attendant: "....I see."
Grimsley: "Cursed' huh....you monster?"
A few days after I woke up, Lord Grimsley's downfall caused a stir in London.
Then a few more days passed in a blissful calm----
Victor: "CONGRATDULATIONS! For your return William and also Miss Kate's recovery"!
Mr. Roger gave notice to end treatment that evening.
Victor had worked hard to organize a cocktail party and it was a success.
。⋆。˚🦋˚。⋆。
Harrison: ".....Do you really have to break crackers every time?"
Victor: "Hmm why not? It's the best way to get everyone's attention."
Harrison: "Haa. No. Hey, don't put your arm around me....!"
Liam: "Katie, are you feeling okay? Here, I brought you a chair. You can sit down if you like."
Kate: "Thank you, Liam. I'm doing fine now!"
Alphonse: "You have a bad luck for coming back to the world of sorrows, don't you?"
William: "Thanks to our skilled doctor, I suppose."
Kate: "You're right. Thank you, Mr. Roger."
Roger: "Well, you owe me one. I'll have to think long and hard about what I'm going to get back!"
Roger: "Incidentally, El was the one nursing you before William came. Right?"
Elbert: ".....Nursing. I won't call it that."
Elbert: "I spent most of my time staring at you."
Kate: "Staring....?"
Alphonse: "It's like you to be honest and tell the truth, but you're scaring Kate, Elbert."
Elbert: "...........sorry."
Kate: "No no no....! I'm not scared. Please don't apologize."
(I wonder if Lord Elbert still thinks I might be what he's looking for...)
Each of the Crown members has their own curse and destiny.
I now understand the weight of the fact that I had only taken them at face value.
Kate: ".....Thank you very much for looking after me."
Elbert: "..................Your welcome."
I felt that Lord Elbert's melancholy had eased just a little,
I sip my champagne, too, feeling a little relieved.
(Good drinks, good atmosphere. As usual, with all the Crown)
(Among them is William)
That alone makes me so happy that my mouth relaxes on its own accord.
Stealing a glance at the profile standing next to me, William immediately felt my gaze.
William: "....Is something wrong?"
Kate: "I'm just glad that William is here."
Kate: ".....So I'm happy to look at you from time to time during the party, don't mind me."
William: "Hmm? Then I'll count how many times you were looking at me."
William is sipping a glass of bright red wine, that Victor poured for him.
(If William hadn't come back, it might never have been opened)
I suddenly think about this when I see Victor's happy face.
Kate: ".....I have to thank everyone."
William: "Thank?"
Kate: "Mr. Roger, who treated my wounds, of course."
Kate: "Harrison, Liam, Mr. Alphonse and Lord Elbert too."
Kate: "If they hadn't helped me, I wouldn't have been able to go to the Tower of London."
Kate: "And also Mr. Jude and Ellis. They both helped me to go and see Mr. Brian."
(If it hadn't been for the two of you who came with me that night....maybe things would be a whole lot different now)
William: "They've told me roughly what they know."
William: "Let's just say that I would advise careful negotiation to avoid paying a terrible price."
Kate: "Hehe. I'll keep that in mind."
We look at each other and smile.
It's no surprise that we can laugh and talk about those frantic nights.
That's why I feel happy, so loving and so happy right now.
Victor: "Heeyyyy Williiiamm!! Can you play us a song?"
William: "....The party-loving Queen's aide is calling for me."
Kate: "Hehe. Okay."
William sat down at the grand piano and immediately began to play a pleasant melody.
Ellis: "Are you happy that Will is back?"
Kate: "Kyaa!?"
。⋆。˚🦋˚。⋆。
Ellis: "Are you happy that Will is back?"
Kate: "Kyaa!?"
Kate: "Oh Ellis...yes, I am."
Ellis: "Hmmm...How much?"
Kate: "A lo----"
(Ah)
----FLASHBACK----
Ellis: "What if Jude encounters his happiest moment, while I'm away?"
(Happiest moment....?)
Kate: "So then, what happens when that moment arrives....?"
William: "Ellis will kill him."
----FLASHBACK ENDS----
Kate: "Well, right now, I don't think I'm the happiest person....!"
Ellis: ".....Oh. I see."
(That's was dangerous....)
(If I was alone with Ellis and we were having that conversation, I might accidentally slip up....)
When I looked around for help, I saw a grumpy Mr. Jude, who looked like he was forcibly brought here.
He was leaning on his chair in the corner, reading a book.
Kate: "What are you reading?"
Jude: "None of your business."
Ellis: "It's a paper I got after pressing Mr. Brian to atone for his sins."
Ellis: "I got the journalist to divert the manuscript to him before it was published with his contacts."
Kate: "I don't know of any crime he committed against you....?"
Jude: "200 for making me have an altercation with a police officer and 200 for running away without apologizing to the local authorities."
Jude: "300 for each kick. I kicked him twice so 600. So in total 1000 pounds."
(It costs money to get kicked....It sounds like a joke but I guess not...)
Kate: "Are those papers that expensive?"
Jude: "I have yet to figure that out. Don't worry. If I'm scammed, I'll charge him extra."
(Good luck...Mr. Brian. I hope you come out of this alive)
I prayed for him in my heart.
----At that moment, the melody William was playing came to an end.
The silence that followed naturally drew everyone's attention to the piano.
William: "----Now."
William: "It wouldn't be like us to end the party with a few drinks and laughs, right?"
William: "There are still important topics that need to be discussed, which are worthy of celebration. Isn't that right, Victor?"
Victor: "Of course, William."
Victor: "A perfect main course for those of us who 'conquer evil with evil'."
The air, light and bright like champagne bubbles, is instantly repainted.
Dark and heavy and trembling sweet like the falling of a night's curtain.
Victor: "We all know that Lord Grimsley is the mastermind behind the whole affair."
Victor: "The Privy Council retired him from politics for his blunders, but did not refer him to the Court or the police."
Victor: "They don't want to use him as an opportunity to jeopardise their position."
Victor: "Neither the courts nor the police can investigate the Privy Council on the basis of a mere press report."
Victor: "Besides, there appears to be pressure on the police to stop pursuing both William and Grimsley."
Victor: "If this continue, the two articles that Brian wrote will be swallowed up by darkness and forgotten sooner or later."
(...."Indirectly, the Privy Council has left innocent people to die while overlooking the organised crime of the Golden butterflies)
-----FLASHBACK-----
Skinny boy: "Give it to me! give it to me! We made it, we deserve a little something!"
Director: "Hey you! Take him away!"
William: "Where is the boy who was screaming just now?"
Director: "Temporarily in the 'junkyard'. It would be great if we could sell the body to a surgeon who wants it, but it's in such a bad shape."
----FLASHBACK ENDS-----
The thought of those who sacrificed their lives because they could not even ask for help makes us all feel sorry for them.
(But they just pretended not to see it)
(They have overlooked the oppressed, the cries for help, just like me)
(But this time----)
I turned to look at William.
His bright red eyes were cold and deadly.
(Grimsley committed a sin)
William: "The reason the Crown has so far stayed out of the way of the Privy Council is that they have not directly harmed the public."
William: "But this time, Grimsley 'of his own volition' gave the order...."
William: "They trampled on the freedom of the innocent and even tried to make them commit the crime of murder."
William: "Those in the center of state power treat the lives of citizens as if they were tools and no one is willing to bring them to justice."
William: "If this is missed, it cannot be a deterrent to evil."
William: "It's time to poison them."
My body trembles with fear.
It is time for William to sin again.
Conquering evil, for the sake of it.
(I saw that moment with my own eyes)
(I have to write down all his sins)
As the Self-righteousness king, he is guilty of depriving people of their freedom and dignity.
A story that someday becomes a spoonful of poison.
Victor: "Her Majesty the Queen seemed to think the same when I had an audience with her this morning."
Victor: " 'You may treat yourselves to all the evil that you can handle' she said."
William: "----Then it's as Her Majesty commands."
Victor: "....Hahaha."
After looking round at everyone in the Crown, Victor's jewel-like eyes caught mine.
Victor: "Kate."
Kate: "....yes."
Victor: "Soon your month stay here will be over."
Victor: "When the time comes, I'll ask you again."
Victor: "Your will, your choice."
Kate: "Yes, Victor."
Queen's royal decree, assassination of Lord Grimsley.
Documenting that mission was my one-month only stint as a fairytale master---
My last job.
Madness Route - Chapter 21
#ikemen series#otome#cybird ikemen#cybird otome#ikemen villain#cybird#ikemen villains#ikemen mc#ikemen villains william
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Guys I was in the zone tonight and I wrote this I’m so happy!
Psychoborrower
Chapter 6
Kochamara grabbed me before I could make any move to escape. Under any other circumstances, I would have been wildly flailing around in fear for my life, but I was too fed up to be afraid. My mind was overcome with hopelessness and frustration.
“What do you even want from me? I’m useless.”
“Yes, you are. But you could be so much more! Everyone around you is in your way, holding you back, trying to keep you from getting what’s rightfully yours. I understand how you feel, kid. I’ve been through it all. But you know what you do? Fight back! Take what’s yours and leave the ones who doubted you in the dust! Now tell me… are you really about to let the Psychonauts tell you what you can and can’t do just because they’re taller than you?”
I paused. What even was this argument?
“I… it’s a lot more complicated than that. And anyway… they’re right about me.”
“Come on, where’s that fighting spirit? A good soldier never backs down! If you join me, all the power you’ve ever wanted will be yours!“
I glared at him. “Look, I might be depressed beyond belief right now, but I still have the common sense to not listen to you. You’re kidnapping children, stealing their brains, and using them to build weapons of mass destruction. There’s nothing you can say to make that sound justified.”
It was hard to read his expression with the superhero mask covering his face, but I could tell he was angered by my back talk. Mainly due to the fact that his grip on me was tightening like he was about to crush me. To my relief, he had enough restraint to stop before breaking my last astral layer.
“Well, it’s a good thing I had a backup plan in case you decided not to cooperate! Hope you like being used as a supercharged mental battery, kid!”
He flew up to the top of the broadcast tower, where there was already a mechanism in place for a tiny person to be hooked up to it.
Right. Ford said the entire staff knew about me, so of course that included Coach. He planned ahead for me.
After placing me in the machine, Kochamara sent out another broadcast. But as they traveled up the tower, the waves of mental energy shot through my head, amplifying them to a stronger intensity while also causing me extreme pain.
“The good people of Lungfishopolis will be pleased to hear that the former monster known as Stompy has not only been captured, but has also decided to atone for his previous crimes! This selfless citizen volunteered himself to power Kochamara Tower, allowing our broadcasts to reach everyone faster than ever before and keep our city safe from threats like Goggalor! Unfortunately, the tower was not built to run on a biological battery, so the boy will surely die. But his noble sacrifice will not be forgotten! StompysayskillGoggaloratallcosts.”
I could feel the energy slowly draining from my body. Even though I couldn’t actually be killed in the mental world, this was still a humiliating way to go out. Captured as a result of my own insecurities, used to spread propaganda and lies, and indirectly hurting the closest thing I ever had to a friend.
I just wanted it to end. I wanted out. I wasn’t supposed to be involved in any of this, and I wasn’t sure it was possible for me to ever go back to the life I had before Whispering Rock. I could’ve had a chance at life, and I threw everything away for my selfish, childish dreams. There was nothing left.
As I felt myself fading further, memories began to flash in my head. Memories of when I first arrived at camp.
I was so naïve then. I was scared out of my mind, but at the same time, filled with boundless optimism. Mostly because I was fully under the impression that I was getting away with my plan to sneak in undetected.
It felt like I was already a Psychonaut. I was on a super secret mission to go undercover at this camp and learn to use my powers. I had them all fooled.
The counselors saw my potential and trained me every single day. It was a long and bumpy road, but I could feel myself getting stronger. Every punch, every blast, every new technique that I mastered made me feel like I was truly going somewhere.
And the way they looked at me whenever I overcame a challenge… Sasha, Milla, even Coach Oleander, they looked like they were so proud of me. Like they saw a real Psychonaut in me.
Was any of it real?
Then, a sudden vision hit me. A memory that I didn’t think was important.
It was my first summer at camp, and I’d just finished Milla’s course for the first time.
“Congratulations, Flint! You’ve just earned your levitation merit badge! Now, let’s dance!”
“Oh, uh… I’ve never done that before.”
She frowned for a split second, then took my hands.
“It’s easy, darling! Just follow the beat, okay? You’ll do fine!”
I followed her lead at first, and then, as I got into the rhythm, she let go, and soon, I was dancing on my own.
It never seemed important. Borrowers don’t have time to dance and throw parties. Just survive.
But I had fun.
Another memory hit as I could feel myself regaining strength. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I went with it. It was helping.
I remembered finishing up my daily training session with Sasha. I made major improvements that day, so he offered to get me ice cream.
“I’ve never had that. Also, I wanna stay invisible.”
He chuckled softly as a park bench and an ice cream stand suddenly appeared.
“One of the perks of the mental world. Of course, it’s not quite the same as real ice cream, but I think you’ll appreciate it nonetheless.”
I took an ice cream cone and sat down on the bench next to him. Even in the mind, it felt unreal that I was able to have any sort of sweets. They were unnecessary to borrowers as they had no nutritional value. Ice cream is also difficult to borrow since it melts.
I took a small, hesitant bite, and immediately felt a cold rush zap through my brain.
“Ah! What was that?”
“That would be brain freeze. Give it a second, it should pass.”
Sure enough, after the initial shock of how cold the ice cream was, I had no problem eating the rest of it.
It was light, and sweet, and not very filling. But I liked it.
More energy returned to me, and I finally understood what the memories meant.
From the moment I learned that the counselors knew I was a borrower, I had myself convinced that they didn’t care about me. I thought they were only training me because I was persistent and they felt guilty kicking me out.
But those memories proved that wasn’t true. They weren’t just training me. They were trying to make me happy. They just wanted to let me be a kid for once.
I couldn’t let Oleander tear them away from me.
My aggression built up, overpowering Kochamara’s broadcast, and I released it one huge blast, blowing up the tower.
I shut my eyes as I plummeted towards the ground. This hit would knock me back into the physical world, but I didn’t mind. I stopped Kochamara. Even if it was just one little step in the grand scheme of things, I did something. That was enough.
I braced for impact, but instead, I landed on something soft. I opened my eyes to see that Raz caught me.
“Whew! That was close! Wow… you just saved me a whole battle! I owe you one.”
“Heh… Don’t worry about it. C’mon, let’s get outta here and save your girlfriend.”
“Hey, hold on-”
By that point, we were already on our way out so he couldn’t argue further.
We were back in the air bubble beneath the lake, and it was then that it hit me: we were stuck.
While the monster was chasing us before, it pushed the bubble along with it, leaving the bathysphere submerged in water. With Raz’s curse, we couldn’t get back to it.
Suddenly, a mysterious voice spoke to us.
“Tiny child, you have freed me. Thank you.”
I turned back to look at the monster. Surely it didn’t just talk.
“Ah- Yes, that was me talking just now. Thank you, both of you. I know that I’ve done horrible things, but now, I no longer have to answer to the voices that once controlled me. I am indebted to you. However you wish to be repaid, consider it done.”
I was at a loss for words. Apparently the giant mutant fish could talk. Shouldn’t have been that surprising, and yet, I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Raz noticed this, and decided to speak up.
“Could you show us where you brought Lili?”
“By the drowned spirit of Oblongata, it is done!”
Then, to my horror, the monster latched its lure onto Raz’s head, lifting us up and shoving us into its mouth like it did with Lili.
“RAZ WHAT THE FU-”
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Undead Unluck Week 2024
Day 7 - A Song You Associate with UU: This Is Your Sign by Citizen Soldier
youtube
I said that Favorite Arc was the hardest and cruelest choice among these prompts, but that was shortsighted of me. This is the hardest choice I've had to make this entire week. My Undead Unluck playlist on Spotify is over 140 tracks of songs that in some way made me think of UU, either thematically with the series as a whole, with specific characters, with specific events, etc.
However, I was able to make that decision about 90% easier by narrowing it down to a single band: anyone who's been following me for a while should be unsurprised that I knew from the beginning I'd be going with a Citizen Soldier song, but I've got 14 of them on that list, and they're all great as UU songs. Despite how much I've talked about it, though, I don't think I've ever explicitly shared what about them works so well
Citizen Soldier's lead singer, Jake Segura, is a clinical therapist, and views his music as a form of group therapy. Many of his songs deal with themes of depression and suicide, either from the perspective of someone crying out for help or the one responding to the call
UU literally starts with Fuuko attempting suicide, and the overarching goal of the story is Andy's elaborate assisted suicide. Tatiana's request for Billy to send her to see her parents, Chikara's wrestling with whether his parents would want him to atone for their deaths, Rip permanently wounding his eye during his botched suicide attempt; nearly every character contemplates, desires, or attempts suicide at some point or another
But they are all also saved from their lowest moments. Andy appears as Fuuko stands on the ledge, Billy gives Tatiana a homemade treat, Fuuko showed Chikara that his life had purpose, and Latla stopped Rip just before the blade hit his neck. Even Andy's desire for death has clearly faded since meeting Fuuko, learning that his real desire is to live surrounded by people that he loves
If you're standin' on the ledge and you hear this song play I'm tellin' you, this is the evidence If these words find you alive and it's still not too late I'm tellin' you, it's no coincidence
This Is Your Sign is about those chance meetings, that feeling that the world is against you and that you might as well give up only for something to suddenly change and give you the push that you need to hang on a little longer
This is your sign, a shootin' star, a satellite in space That who you are is so much more than all your darkest days This is your sign, it's just the start, and everythin' could change This is the moment you'll remember you decided to stay (you decided to stay)
The people, the sights, the experiences that make life worth living are the privilege of the living. Choosing death means giving up on possibility, trading everything that could be to escape what is. If Fuuko had successfully committed suicide, she never would have befriended Tatiana or Mui or Chikara. She never would have had her whirlwind romance with Andy, she never would have gotten to wear beautiful dresses, she never would have gotten a second chance at attending high school, and the world itself would have been destroyed. Juiz would have failed to loop, and the Union wouldn't have made it to the final world. UU takes the concept to its logical extreme, but the ending of Fuuko's world would have literally been the end of the world
If you're wishin' you were dead and hear my voice, this is fate 'Cause this is meant for you, yeah, every single word If it seems nobody cares and you're alone in your pain No matter where you are, this is the miracle that you deserve
Citizen Soldier's songs want you to know that something better is coming, that if you keep going you'll eventually find something to make it all worth it. Sometimes it takes a miracle to remind us of that, but ultimately it's our decision to fight on. Someone or something can come into our life, but we have to be the ones to save our lives
Barely holdin' on and scared to death There's a reason that you're hearin' this and you're not dead yet If you're waitin' on a reason why (the reason why) This is your sign to save your life
Andy was Fuuko's inspiration, but she was the one to embrace her Unluck for Andy's sake. She was the one who decided she didn't want to die anymore. She was the one who decided to loop to do for everyone else what Andy did for her
Undead Unluck and Citizen Soldier both helped me through hard times. They both equipped me with tools to cope when I was down, with weapons to keep fighting for the life I want
There are so many other songs I wanted to talk about today. Irreplaceable, Through Hell, Stronger than My Storm, Hallelujah (I'm Not Dead), and many more. If you need a soundtrack for Undead Unluck, you really can't pick a better band than Citizen Soldier
If I've convinced you to give them a listen, I hope you'll find at least one song that helps you the way they've helped me. I hope whatever you're going through right now, that this will make it easier. I hope that anything I've said in this post, this week, or even the last four years has helped you in some way. If you yourself have been waiting on a reason why, then please let this be your sign
Thank you to everyone who participated in Undead Unluck Week. Thank you to everyone who helped show me that my current favorite is as well-loved as I always knew it could be. Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed my posts this week. You've all helped me to enjoy life, and I hope I've done the same for you
As I said yesterday, and in every chapter review for the last several months: until next time, let's enjoy life
#undead unluck#fouryearsandananime#uuweek2024#uu spoilers#citizen soldier#long post#suicide mention#mental health#Youtube
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Capitano: Leather-bound Memories
ONCE, long before he'd received the vision dyed red by his own actions, he'd taken to recording everything in the first of many journals, a gift from a mentor and a dear friend to celebrate his return from afar with claymore in hand. His brother, oh his dear forgotten brother, had chosen to stay behind to torment Rozalyne like he had since the three were far younger while he'd returned to the city of Freedom, to the friends that awaited them in the land they'd settled in so many years ago. He remembers how welcoming Rostam had been when the duo arrived, helping to obscure the reason why they'd crossed desert and valley in search of a better life.
He remembers the first words carefully recorded in that journal, cover engraved with the crest of Swords wrapped in wings. Some he'd forgotten with the tide, others seared into his soul as he adorned himself in the gleaming suit of white before riding off to battle, to the beginning of Celestia's Long War. He remembers the marching machines, the way those abominations spread their ranks thin on every front as Rostam descended into those dark depths. He remembers the endless fighting, the blade long discarded as his armour was tinted black by his actions.
He knows, of course he knows, that the original journal is lost to time, to grief and anguish. He'd replaced so many journals, so many friends, in his long lifespan. Sworn to atone, he refused to allow himself to pass until they were free, discarding the attire of the Proud Knight of Favonius to clad himself in the garb of the Mourning Archon. Once, Pierro had handed him another, pleaded with him to join and ensure no one else would fall in the way the citizens of Khaenri'ah had, a request from the Tsaritsa herself he'd said.
And so he dedicated himself to a singular cause for five hundred years. Yet he never truly turned his gaze from his home, the land where he'd laid his brother to rest so long ago. He'd lost track of how many Grandmasters he'd watch ascend to and eventually retire from the position, continuing to train all who picked up his banner in the old ways, instilling the same values in them that Rostam had once done for the man who'd disguised himself as Roland with his advice.
On his shelf there remains a journal, a dossier almost, the name and family of everyone who'd ever led the order that Rostam had taken great pride in so many lifetimes ago. Perhaps that journal holds his disgust for how Varka had failed his successor, taking so many knights with him and allowing that Monster Alberich's order to corrupt the gleaming symbol. Perhaps if one were brave enough to steal a glance, they'd see just how quickly he'd stricken that undeserving fool from the role of grandmaster. Those that flew the banner of the first, of the bloodstained knight, knew better than to interfere with those that their Lord favoured as the RIghtful Ordo Favonius.
#honour above all surrounded by the squall ;; il capitano#[ IS THIS? AN ACTUAL BACKSTORY CORVIIS? ]#[ yes. yes it is ]#long post
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✨🍸 hiya! 20+ writer here coming in with a very specific & smutty request for my fellow 20+ writers. i have a particular character i’m looking to flesh out and i’d really like to play her in some nsfw plots. lazylit, m/f for this particular request, open to (potentially) doubling if there’s another pairing you want to incorporate into this. the smuttier the better, here, and dead dove material is always very welcome!
the character: ivy. about nineteen. she’s the daughter of a protestant reverend, but rebelled against her religious upbringing and ran off to the big city to live a life of bohemian sin as an artist & model. she’s clever and mischievous and a bit of a tease, but (though she won’t admit it) feels a terrible guilt over how she left home; to compensate, she has an unfortunate habit of seeking validation from men through sex and plays endless games, stringing people along. at her worst, she’s opportunistic, manipulative, and a bit spoilt; at her best, she’s ride-or-die loyal, fearless, and witty. think laura palmer from twin peaks or maxine minx from the x trilogy. perfume and vodka, fur coats and fishnet stockings, doing lines of cocaine off the bathroom sink. she’s the girl you want when you’re sabotaging your own marriage with a scandalous affair or robbing a liquor store at gunpoint, but not the girl you ever settle down with. ivy’s current faceclaim is havana rose liu, but i’d be open to changing it if there’s someone else you’d prefer to see.
as for who i think she’d pair well against:
the hanged man! i’d love to incorporate some class/social tension into this & write ivy against someone radically different. a drifter or a vagrant or a petty criminal, some ragged and disheveled man she meets in the street. maybe we go in a more dubcon direction, and she’s drunk and he takes advantage of an opportunity? maybe she wants to shock people and cause a stir, so she drags him along to some fancy party as her unlikely date? maybe she sees an opportunity to ‘atone’ for her sins and tries to be his benefactor, giving him money and coke and a good fuck? in any case, i absolutely adore the idea of some extreme contrasts here: bring me your dirtiest & most down-on-his-luck old bastard and ivy will make all his wildest dreams come true.
the hermit! bit of a cliché, but i’d love to write a plot where she’s hitchhiking on her way to the city and gets picked up by a driver. maybe he’s rather amoral and wants some sort of ‘compensation’ in exchange, and she reluctantly (or happily) obliges. maybe he’s an honest citizen and kindly offers to let her stay the night in his quaint little farmhouse, only for her to end up mischievously seducing him. or maybe they’re stranded by a flat tire or engine problems, and have to spend the night together at a seedy hotel. anything’s possible! either way, i’m imagining lots of neon signs, night drives, sex in the parking lot behind the waffle house, etc.
the devil! here’s the chance for all sorts of dubcon and dead dove things. as a rule, ivy makes impulsive decisions and takes a lot of risks, and naturally that might lead to some perilous situations. she’s not scared of much, but maybe she should be. does a drug deal go bad? does she try stringing your character along and get punished for it? who knows! equally, i’d be interested in a scenario where the tables are turned—maybe a would-be killer abducts her, only for ivy to try her hand at manipulating him. who’s the real danger, who’s the victim, etc.
the hierophant! or we could go the exact opposite direction, with your character being incredibly moral and wanting to help and/or reform her. a good samaritan, a priest or minister like her father was, or maybe some hapless innocent boy who hasn’t (yet) caught on to her tricks. ideally, it doesn’t work and she corrupts him instead. look, i’m a simple girl with simple tastes and i can’t resist a good old-fashioned priest x harlot dynamic.
thanks for reading!
give a like and anon will get back to you
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Two days later, it is with a pour rain that Cesare and his army enter the walls [of Forli]. Despising these inhabitants who delivered the city without resistance, the victorious soldiers abandon themselves without shame to the plunder and rob the citizens [...] Pragmatic, Cesare begins by punishing the soldiers guilty of the exactions. By this act, he would atone the citizens to his cause.
Ivan Cloulas - Cesare Borgia (Son of Pope, Prince and Adventurer)
#cesare borgia#ivan cloulas#book#books#quote#i'm sorry but...#I'M DYING#jfeijfiejfijer#i can't deal with him tbh#~~cesare begins by punishing the soldiers guilty of the exactions#he would atone the citizens to his cause#THE PRINCE#btw i feel like machiavelli freaking out over him#~~bye#my man
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When you faint in his arms
notes: just the contrast between how dottore treats his test subjects vs. how dottore treats you shfbsnjfks. idk shit about biology and medicine my only source for this are the couple of times I had to call an ambulance because of dehydration paired with demonic cramps from hell
contains: dottore x gn!reader, reader is dehydrated
warnings: fainting + associated symptoms, human experiments (not on the reader), murder, murder threats, needles, medical procedures, dottore is a warning but he treats the reader well, reader watches dottore perform the very questionable experiments
After spending a long day outside in the cold on Fatui business, you visit Dottore in his lab because he had invited you to tell you more about his research
You will never be able to separate Dottore from his questionable human experiments but he was willing to compromise on the test subjects and switch his focus from innocent citizens to the worst of the Snezhnayan prisoners once he realized that made you a lot more willing to discuss that part of his work with him
There is still snow on your head and coat so once Dottore sees you enter his lab, he wraps his large coat, that had previously been draped over a chair, around your shoulders
He kisses your forehead and notices how cold your skin is so he pulls you into a warm embrace as if that alone was enough to warm you over the course of 2-3 minutes.
"Would you like to sit down in front of the heater for a while? I can postpone the experiment for half an hour", he offers but you shake your head and grab his hand.
Dottore prepares a chair for you before concentrating on his experiment. The subject in question is a middle-aged man who whimpers "Please I have a family" on the metal table. "Nice try but you killed your family last June and all that's left of them is a couple of limbs. Your file shows the whole photographic slideshow you made of the process", Dottore grabs a bottle from his shelf.
"Please, lord, forgive me, I will atone for my sins", the man cries, sending his prayer to the heavens but receiving no answer.
"What's in the bottle?", you ask. "Pure alcohol", Dottore turns to you and shows you a model of the human head that's on his desk, "and this is where we put the needle." You were questioning for a moment if he got that right or if you were misunderstanding something. "On the inside of the nostril??", you raised your eyebrows as one of his clones shrugged. "It's a little complicated", he explains.
You stood up and walked closer to Dottore as he filled the syringe with the pure alcohol and inserted the needle into the subject.
He seemed very concentrated on his work, yet he noticed something was up with you even before you did. In a matter of minutes were feeling dizzy and nauseous. Your legs felt like they were going to give in any minute now and you grabbed onto the table with the experimental tools for support. You were feeling cold, way colder than you had outside in the snow and your limbs were shaking.
"Y/n, what's wrong?", you suddenly had Dottore's whole attention and he looked at you with a serious expression. Your vision got blurry and you lost your sense of balance, tumbling backwards. Thankfully Dottore caught you before you could get hurt by the fall.
Fading in and out of consciousness, you couldn't respond to anything the harbinger said. You didn't witness how he snapped at his assistants and clones to grab the medical supplies and prepare a room for you to rest in.
He just left the subject on the table and told some of the remaining assistants to finish the experiment, excusing himself to one of the side rooms to run some tests on your condition.
A part of him worries that seeing the experiment had caused you distress; that it was too much for you to handle and that he was the cause of the state you were in
When he found out the cause of your condition was dehydration and exhaustion from all the work you've done for the Fatui, he scolds you for not taking better care of yourself but his voice is laced with worry. The assistants exchange some questioning glances because they never thought they'd see the cruel scientist tend to another person like this.
The "medical supplies" his clone brings consist of a single first aid kit and a couple of medications that are dusty and were buried in the lowest drawer of his supply chamber. Yeah.....Dottore has not used that in ages.
Needless to say all the infusions were expired
Basically snaps at his assistants to get the necessary equipment and threatens to turn them into ruin machines if they aren't back in 5 minutes at maximum.
So basically these people are running for their lives through the palace trying to find your medical supplies.
Meanwhile Dottore sits on a chair next to the hospital bed he put you on and wraps his coat tighter around you as he notices how much you're still shaking. "It'll be better soon", he says quietly and caresses your cheek to comfort you, "I'm sorry for yelling just now. I hope this didn't make it worse."
He'll let you lean onto him and rubs your back gently.
All the softness in his expression instantly disappears when his assistants enter the room again. "Good. You'll get to live", he sends them an icy glare and tells them to get out of his sight as he grabs the medical supplies.
He gestures for the clone he brought to the room to sit closer to your bed as he prepares the needle for your infusion. "This may sting a little", he explains and guides the clone's arm to you, "you can squeeze his hand if you want to. Like this." He squeezes your hand gently and rubs your knuckles with his thumb before placing a kiss onto your hand.
You do as he told you and Dottore attaches the IV to your arm.
He then relocates you to a more comfortable bed in one of the empty bedrooms for the test subjects that his staff has tried to make more comfortable for you in the past 20 minutes.
Dottore takes his mask off and gives you a forehead kiss. One of his assistants barge in with a question related to the experiment and Dottore hisses "Can't you see that I'm busy, solve it on your own."
After the assistant leaves with a muttered apology, Dottore takes off his tie and vest and lays down behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest.
"Are you feeling better now?", he asks, making sure you're almost fully covered with the two blankets he got for you. You nod and he nuzzles your neck in relief. "You should rest a little, love", he kisses your cheek and holds your hand as you drift off to sleep.
Dottore always keeps an eye on the IV and your condition, removing it when you were stable enough and no longer needed it.
He hears a groan from you as you open your eyes to look into his red ones. "Did I wake you? Apologies", his voice is quiet and he presses a kiss to your lips, something he had been yearning for for hours now, before getting you a glass of water. "Make sure you drink enough", he tells you and waits while you finish drinking the whole glass.
There's a little window in the room that gives view to the lab so when he sees the lights go out, Dottore presses a kiss to your forehead and cheek.
"I'll have to make sure everything proceeded accordingly today, I'll be back in a bit. I'll be there for you if you need me though, so don't hesitate to call for me", he gives you another kiss to the lips before exiting the room
He comes back a couple of seconds later with his clone and he pushes him down onto the edge of your bed. "Here, you can hold this one if you want."
Dottore's segments all have his mindset and feelings so the ones he made after getting together with you are all desperate for your affection because Prime Dottore gets most of it. The difference is, the clone never got held before so he's very stiff in your arms but obviously enjoys every second of it.
He looks very disappointed once Prime Dottore comes back and sends him away.
Dottore gives you a deep kiss before carrying you away from the lab bridal style. He'll bring you to his room so you two can rest in a more comfortable place. He'll have someone bring you your favorite food.
"Take better care of yourself next time", he tells you and leans into your touch as you run your fingers through his hair, "I love you."
He rarely ever said these words unless he felt you wanted to hear them or when he was worried about you.
"I love you too. Thank you for taking care of me today", you reply with a smile and pull him into a kiss. He melts into your touch and kisses you back, sighing as he pulls you even closer to him.
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BRUiSE+
☻ / pairing . . . uzumaki nagato x fem!reader.
☻ / type of love . . . romantic.
☻ / synopsis . . . nagato has moved to konoha following his attack on the village to atone for his sins. though the citizens are not that open to completely forgiving him, affecting not only him but his wife, ( y/n ).
☻ / content warnings . . . n/a. not proofread.
☻ / commentary . . . not my best work and possibly one of my shortest things i’ve ever written. but i haven’t written since september and it’s slowly coming back to me. this is an hc of mine that nagato lives post his attack and atones for his sins in konoha !!
"I am SO sorry, I didn’t mean to...I...” The nervous woman stammered out, falling to her knees to help pick the produce that had fallen on the ground from the display she accidentally knocked over.
“What are you doing?! Get your dirty hands off of my produce!” A man of tall stature yelled, pushing her roughly aside. The man picked the produce up himself, not even sparing her a second glance as he murmured insults under his breath, “Damn moron, shouldn’t be allowed here anyway.”
( y/n ) slowly climbed to her feet, her eyes still focused on the ground as she let her head hang low. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. “I’m...really sorry,” She apologized, her voice trembling. She bit down on her quivering bottom lip, feeling so small.
It had been this way since she moved to Konoha from Amegakure months after everything had happened. The hurt, the pain that still lingers throughout the air. The mass destruction that washed over the town that day that the citizens worked to this day to reverse.
The hatred filled the hearts of the citizens as they muttered insults she passed them by on the streets. The parents pulled their children close to them at the sight of her. The harsh words spewed at her. The disgusted looks and menacing glares.
All because of someone she holds close to her heart and the dream he wished to keep alive.
Snapping her out of her trance, a pale hand took hers. She looked up, seeing a head of deep red hair giving her a calming smile.
“Nagato...” She said barely above a whisper.
The one she loved the most, her husband. The one she promised she would love and follow for the rest of her life. Through sickness and health, and sadly now the world is seemingly against them.
Nagato was the cause of this. He understood that not everyone would forgive him for what he and his former organization had caused them. He believed they had the right to feel the way they feel about him. But he never wanted that to affect his wife.
( y/n ) had nothing to do with his crimes. The two were not married at the time of his attack. He married her after he began to atone for his sins, starting his life in Konoha with her anew.
But they hold her accountable for his mistakes.
Nagato bowed lowly before the produce stand owner, “I understand you do not view me as trustworthy. I caused you and your people pain and suffering. And I have and will continue to work to right my sins in the best way that I can. We’ll even buy all the produce that is damaged.”
He stood back up, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. His purple-ringed eyes hardened, sending chills down the spine of the stand owner, “My wife has had nothing to do with any of my crimes and sins. And I will not tolerate you or anyone else continuing to treat her like she is a criminal.”
“N-No, it’s okay, Nagato, really. I knocked over the produce I deserve...”
“( y/n ), you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be talked down to. It was an accident and you apologized sincerely,” He interrupted her. She clung to his arm, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “But...”
“But nothing, I refuse to let people continue to talk to you like dirt.” He pressed a kiss to her head, “I love you way too much for that.”
The guilt inside of him continued to well up, seeing her cling to him. He oftentimes believed she’d be better off without him. But he wanted to be selfish, to never let her go. She was part of the reason he wanted to better himself, to make this change, to live this normal life here in Konoha. He couldn’t let that go.
She snuggled into his side, “Thank you, Nagato. I love you too.”
☻ / back to navi.
#naruto#naruto shippuden#uzumaki nagato#nagato uzumaki#nagato#nagato x reader#nagato x y/n#nagato x you#naruto x reader#nagato oneshots#nagato scenarios#nagato imagines#naruto oneshots#naruto scenarios#naruto imagines#narutoedit#☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.
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Rayaari headcanon - let us be sad with some angst and hurt/comfort
(inspired by a lovely anon)
With the rebirth of Kumandra and the return of their lost loved ones, everyone tries to sweep away the last six years, in a desperate attempt to move on with their lives and not waste any more time dwelling on the past.
But the scars, both physical and mental, still remain, and trauma endured cannot simply be washed away. There is a disconnect between people now - especially between those who had to endure the threat of Druuns hanging over their heads for years, and those who have awoken to a new world and changed people.
The most heart-wrenching discovery for Raya is that she doesn't always know what to say to her own Ba. It's been so long since they spent a lot of time together, and she is a very different person now compared to the 12-year-old little girl he threw into the water. Sometimes, she's worried he won't like the person she has become.
She also has more arguments with him than before, especially whenever he treats her more like a small child than the young woman she is today, who has survived hardship he never wanted her to experience. They don't always see eye-to-eye with each other regarding trade, politics and what is best for Heart, with his optimism and her realism clashing. If they don't resolve their disagreement quickly, Namaari will find Raya crying softly in their bedroom; she hates fighting with her Ba.
Raya sometimes sees children from her past, who were turned to stone in the original Druun attack and been frozen in time until now. It feels a lifetime ago that she was the right age to play with them, and when she sees them laughing and playing games, she wonders was I ever really that young?
She carries a weapon on her at all times, unable to shake off the feeling that something might go wrong. She learnt this the hard way when she was thirteen: a market deal in Talon had gone wrong, and she was attacked by two large men when she was only a child and without a weapon or knowledge how to fight back. Her ability to run fast had saved her that day. Since then, she has vowed never to be caught weaponless again.
One morning when Namaari tries to wake her, she accidentally pulls a knife, holding it up to Namaari's neck. Raya is almost sick with the idea that she could have seriously injured Namaari just through instinct, but Namaari just holds her hands until she calms down, rubbing her thumb back and forth. 'I trust you with my life,' she tells Raya.
Raya also still has moments where waves of anger wash over her, striking her unawares and in an uncontrollable manner. One time, Namaari makes an innocuous comment about Benja that sets Raya off, words of anger and blame falling from her lips with malicious intent. She feels awful after having done it - she never meant for Namaari to become the target of her bad emotions that day, and she can see how far it sets back their fledgling relationship. Namaari spirals into several days of guilt before they reconcile again.
For Namaari sees the trauma Raya carries, and can't help but feel responsible. She adds this to the weight of the guilt she has already carried for the past six years, and then bottles it up inside, with the opinion that she doesn't deserve Raya's sympathy, or indeed sympathy from anyone.
She has been raised to place the safety of her people before herself, growing to accept and embrace the risk to her own life every time she had to go out on a mission beyond the Fang borders and into Druun territory. It is something she has always been willing to do if it means keeping the rest of Fang safe, and in this new, safer world it is difficult to shake off these feelings of self-sacrifice being a worthy endeavour.
Indeed, she sometimes thinks that it would have been nobler to have turned to stone herself at some point over the years, but she is also too pragmatic to believe that would absolve her of her sins.
Her way of trying to atone therefore is to help as many people as possible now. Her self-sacrificing thoughts are channeled into working herself to exhaustion, as she tries to juggle fixing Fang's city and palace, expanding her citizen's homes back out into their previously Druun-infested lands, and offering up her services to any of the other lands who need extra support in rebuilding.
All of this responsibility and guilt weighs her down enough that she sometimes gets hit with extreme panic attacks. She manages to get herself to a private location the first few times it happens, but then it strikes in the middle of a sparring session with Raya, and she just sinks to the floor and covers her face with her hands.
She can faintly hear Raya asking 'what's wrong?' and feels a hand being placed on her trembling shoulder. She opens her mouth to tell Raya to go away, but instead chokes out 'Please stay?' It is the first time she has managed to ask for help.
Both of them have scars scattered across their bodies, each with a different story to tell, and some even caused by the other person. Raya is concerned at first that Namaari will find hers ugly, but Namaari soon puts those fears to rest by peppering them with tiny kisses. A couple of Namaari's old injuries give her trouble still, so Raya returns the favour by giving her massages when the pain behind those scars grows too much.
Trauma and loss is not a new concept to either of them, even before the arrival of the Druuns. At night, sometimes Raya sings a song that she can remember her mother using as a lullaby. Namaari doesn't like to discuss her father, but occasionally, safe in the dark, she will mention a story about an adventure they had together.
Over a long period of time, they are both able to release themselves of some of their fears and traumas; others, they learn to live with, or learn how to help the other cope. The most important thing, they find, is being together through it all.
#rayaari#raya and the last dragon#raya and namaari#raya#namaari#ratld#more h/c will be on the way since i had a sick/injury prompt!#so was aiming more for just angsty vibes with this one#although I couldn't let our girls *just* be angsty#had to have some comfort at the end#lots more angst stuff to come#but gotta balance that with the fluffff#all the headcanons#can't stop won't stop
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Everything below was made by Me, Eye, and Ethan over the course of like 3 days
Thank you (with additions from sleepy my beloved)
Like
Okay
So
Wilbur isn’t the oldest
Techno is
But it’s a war run empire, they take pride in their troops and armies and triumphs
The soldiers come first
So Techno is the commander in chief , the general
Wilbur, second born
Is heir to the throne
To the diplomatic side of the empire
and Tommy Gets shit
He doesn’t even understand why Phil had another kid
Of course there is the situation where Techno or Wilbur dies, or one of them steps down, but it won’t happen
Was he really born to be the understudy
he was born as a backup
Tommy was an accident but they’re not gonna let the public know that
like he's the Zuko
Phil doesn't really pay attention to him so his mother picks up the slack
Wilbur is 21
Techno’s 23
Tommy’s 17
However I have a really good idea for prince Tommy, just like what if he doesn’t like the way that people treat him? Like he doesn’t want all these yes men he wants to be he wants to be told now, he want somebody to tell him he that’s against the rules he just wants him like structure he just want someone to hate him he want someone to not like him and say no and tell him that he’s stupid which is why he does all of the stupid shit that he does
Ever since he was like 4
Everyone has said yes
He wants to defy them
He wants to just do something to make someone say no
That and he lowkey
He wants ~~Phil~~ Wilbur to pay attention to him
Is a Little Shit who causes so many problems on purpose to try and find someone who will push back against him
He wants someone to give him structure and discipline but overall he just wants his family’s attention
He’s broken shit, thrown temper tantrums, he’s started fights and he’ll he’s even snuck out and stole things
He’s never been stopped
People consider him snobby and spoiled
He's a brat
He gets everything he wants, but he doesn’t really want it, he just asks to see if they’ll tell him no
Tubbo = Stable Boy
Ranboo = Prince of another country (probably the americas)
Ranboo could definitely fit the role of an overseas royal prince who Tommy sees as a regal, spoiled, uppity little shit. Like Tubbo, who Tommy sneaks everywhere, has met Ranboo and likes him. Tommy can't possibly see why, he's unbearable.
Bench Trio = Best freinds
I think that Tommy and his brothers were always very very close
they just have jobs and shit
They took over Phil's shit
they probably drift apart as they get older, Wilbur and techno have duties and Tommy starts his quest for attention, they grow apart from their little brother without realizing it
Tommy and his mother (kristin) are always and have continued to be close
she definitely chides him, and tells him quietly to not do things for all of his "misbehaviors"
but there is only so much that she can do, because she has the duty to not make a scene
that and she's not who he's looking for attention from
You may be asking "How is crime recognized, identified, discussed, and atoned for?" more specifically, "Is it a 'you stole my bread so without asking anyone I'm cutting your hand off' or is it the US court system" ~~You may also be Ethan~~
The answer is:
like the UKs
But more like
Okay so the Supreme Judicial system, but Phil (and then Wilbur) has teh final say
Court system, but with Phil overseeing everything
instead of a judge
HOWEVER, that's in the national level
in smaller villages, its more of the cut your hand off system
because the judicial system isn't regulated
So bonus questions:
Punishments and the identification of whether a crime counts as a crime?
soldiers can call crimes out, and citizens can file reports
Phil's not really shit, he just doesn't show Tommy any attention because he's busy with the other two
Just honestly doesn't even care about most shit Tommy does
Like, doesn't pay attention to it until it affects him, he's busy running a country and training the boys to running a country
I don’t think they (the brothers) realize how badly everything is affecting Tommy
The only one who knows anything about the full extent would be his mom, and she’s in a similar boat to Tommy
Phil doenst really see her much either
Not like she could “Make a Scene” trying to get Phil to pay attention to his youngest, to actually love his child, he’s barely around
Kristin and Phil spend time together at night, but during the day everything is for the cameras
its like the UK royals, how they do shit just for the people
And Phil doenst want to hear about the kids at night, he wants to spend time with his wife
Tommy has stolen a car and will do it again
Just fucking hopped in and took a joyride
With Absolutely No Repercussions
Do you think Phil ever tries to hire like, a nanny or something? In the aftermath of the Car Incident? Yes, and it never worked
Tommy, like 15 at the time, pissed as hell as a random ass woman tries to tell him to go to bed at 8:30 pm
Tommy wants somebody to tell him no but not somebody hired to tell him no mannn
Tommy goes to like parties - like ragers
he has a network of really famous friends like young actors and shit
dude is a party animal, underage drinking, rumors of drugs, he’s the PR Teams worst nightmare, but they’re not going to say anything
The press makes up SO MUCH SHIT
The press once said that he had done cocaine when it was really one of his friends
Tommy adopts two dogs (hello Betty and Walter) without asking either of his parents
Betty is short for Elizabeth
He brings them in off the street
Literal abandoned street dogs and he goes, mine now
He like, walks down the street with sunglasses on, and just doesn't look at anyone as he walks the dogs, who have like black nice leather leashes
The paparazzi always finds him walking the dogs
like a modern celebrity
Mans can and will call the paparazzi on himself - because he is a drama queen ETHAN Tommy voice "hello pa pa. I have hired two new staff, pa pa." "Huh?" "they have found work in this palace as emotional support animals, pa pa." "....ok." tommy voice "he didn't even blink, elizabeth the fourteenth" END OF ETHAN MAKING FUN OF THE BRITISH
By the way just to clear things up with you all, Tommy addresses Phil as "Father"
most of the paparazzi's pictures of Tommy are him flipping the camera off
He poses for them
just sees a camera and fucking sticks his tongue out and flips them off
He’s wearing some atrocious outfit while walking his dogs and he just has a full on fashion photshoot of poses for them
If his dad won’t give him attention at least they will
Tommy befriends some of the staff
he hates a lot of the butlers tbh
thinks they're stuck up
but likes to gossip with the maids, and sit in the kitchen as the chefs cook lunch "Heyyyy, chef!" "Your highness, what is it, are you hungry?" "Can't a man just talk to his chef? Befriend his castle staff?" "Ah."
that and the kitchen gives betty and walter treats
Top ten Prince Thomas microaggressions
Number One: he calls Phil "your highness"
For context, kings are referred to as Your Majesty
He calls Wilbur Your Majesty
It was a joke when they were younger, a habit from then on, but now it’s to spite Phil
Tommy spends an ridiculous amount of money on clothes all at once, purely to see if Phil would yell at him for using the family debit card for it
He never wears the clothes
He doesn’t particularly like any of them anyways
Instead he donate them all anonymously
Tommy may be a brat but he isn’t wasteful
By the time Tommy’s 12 he’s started acting up, and it escalates slowly until he hits 15 where things just start snowballing and he gets worse and worse
he's definitely nicknamed by the press as some sort of party animal or fratboy
a spoiled brat
He’s 16, and he knows his place in the family, he is forgotten and glossed over, but he won’t be ignored, not if he can help it
The Public gives him the attention he wishes his father would give him, he walks his dogs with the paparazzi tailing after him, just hoping that maybe one scandal or one horrible picture will eventually be enough to make his dad actually See him
he'll tell the paparazzi what they want to hear
and give every magazine a story to tell
they notice him
he just wants somebody to tell him no, somebody tell this boy no without being paid to please
Tommy probably has like, pierced his ears or smth. Gotten tattoos.
he has holes in his face yes.
he pierced his ears and his nose
He has a tattoo on the inside of his finger that matches with Tubbo and Ranboo
Maybe the picture of him plastered from last weekend will make his dad reprimand him
Maybe the weed found in his backseat will get his Dad to ground him
Maybe the bottle of fucking pills he was “holding for a friend” but got caught with Will get some sort of reaction
and its not like he's only doing it for attention
he starts it for attention, but he loves it he does
he has fun, he loves his friends, he likes the parties and the air
but, he also loves the attention, he's not gonna lie
Tommy who took adderall at a party once but it didn’t do anything for him, he seemed to function a little better actually
Tommy who knows Techno has adhd and takes adderall for it, Tommy who puts two and two together Bc he’s not fucking dumb
Tommy realizing his dad never cared to even get him diagnosed or treated
and Techno does notice, he does figure it out, but he does either a "hey..." or a "m8 I'll just get you your own if its helpin you focus" and tommy is furious
Tommy's life here is just
'trying to be yelled at HARD MODE'
Just wants to be screamed at, lowkey
I think, Wilbur avoids the tabloids
And the press
And the news
However, his advisors often read him the shit about Tommy - or anything about him
But they never see the pictures
They don’t see the picture of Tommy drunk on a strangers balcony
They don't see how bad it is
Tommy however? LOVES reading what the press has to say about him
Phil sees it however,
And he’s so disappointed
He gives Tommy so many talks but it never works
Because it doesn’t get him to love Tommy, to care about what Tommy does
Not like their mother
And he never makes a scene, not in the way Tommy wants to
It's all about "YOUR RUINING OUR IMAGE"
not: "YOUR RUINING YOUR LIFE"
He never asks if Tommy is ok
He never asks if he’s safe
Tommy's mum however, SO MANY AWKWARD "STAY SAFE" TALKS
He doesn't just fucking jump off shit because of her, he's slightly less reckless so that he can come home alive to her
I just think that Wilbur, no matter how busy, would find time to concerned yell at his baby brother if he were to find out about the pills
Weed and alcohol? Not great but ok.
Pills though?? He is full blown concerned Wilbro there
His brothers care. Their father is busy. He's a jerk sometimes too.
Wilbur does put out the fire a bit
He’s glad Wilbur had his best interest in mind
But man
The news headlines
They do him dirty
Shit like “Prince Tommy Caught Doing Cocaine at Frat Party” really fuck him over
They really just try their best to make him look like shit 95% of the time
Tommy loves it, just a little
Bad press is still press
He laughs at the headline Bc he knows he wasn’t doing cocaine, but Phil doesn’t, wilbur and techno don’t know that
It’s a tense week after that headline is released
His mom doesn’t even know if Tommy would have actually done cocaine
They just don’t know
Kristin asks him
She’s the only one who believes him
I think Wilbur wants to believe him, Techno too
But it’s hard to, especially when you’re not even sure you know your own brother anymore
Wilbur says something along the lines of being disappointed in Tommy, if he thought Tommy was trying to be better
Tommy scoffs and says he is trying, but that it’s real rich of Wilbur to be or entering to care now
This isn’t even the worse headline
One time a blonde kid got picked up from the same party Tommy was at on a stretcher, he had had an allergic reaction
Some shitty journalist saw and automatically assumed it was Tommy
They ran with the story that the prince had fucking overdosed for at least a week
The things they say are close to the truth but not quite
The PR Team tries their best to help but
They don’t even know what’s true or not
Tommy goes on a bender for a week, and walks into their office with coffee and pastries to apologize
They all know that presents mean a rough week of damage control
But Tommy imports them these Bomb ass donuts so
Fair trade really
Also heaven forbid tommy gets seen with a girl
It’s the worst shit
Tommy gets caught, drunk off his ass, pushing a couch out a window
(To be fair the people were moving soon anyways, they didn’t need the couch, it was a going away party)
And the next morning, recalling what he did
He orders up those pastries and calls the coffee place
Swings by to pick up the coffee and picks up the pastries all within the next two hours and delivers them on the third with an apology note
It’s fucking DAMAGE control
Thinking about Tubbo and Ranboo being Tommy’s DDs when they can
They are
When Tommy’s handler isn’t around
Them doing wild shit together but not Wild Shit
Tommy teaches them how to do burnouts and donuts in a fucking lambos in an empty mall parking lot
Ranboo goes everywhere incognito, Tommy practically flaunts his rank, Tubbo is considered a nobody and doesn't have to do anything but show up in casual clothes. He has a uniform for stablework.
Ranboo's parents are approving of his friendship with the fledging prince, as they hope he can wrangle Tommy to regality and he's building positive relations between the two kingdoms.
Phil is disapproving, worried Tommy will taint Ranboo and his rep and cause a tense air between the two kingdoms. Tommy loves Phil's worry, he practically bathes in it, it's the attention he so craves.
Tommy definitely will hold Tubbo's hand when he walks with him, because the headlines all scream Tommy is the gay?? and while he's very incredibly straight, he finds this hysterical.
Ranboo isn't always in Tommy's kingdom and rather spends most of his time at home. He might be second to heir or the crown prince himself, but he does have to spend time in his own country. Tommy face calls him a lot and he and Tubbo are ecstatic when he announces he's going to visit
I imagine he's second to the throne because that means he can focus on building relations instead of training to be king.
Older sibling Fundy, gets chronic illness, and Ranboo has to take over the throne for a bit
One of Tommy's worst stunts was hitching a ride to the Americas/Ranboo's kingdom without telling anyone.
Whether by boat or plane, he was gonna go visit his young king friend no matter what.
I say "young king" but he's still a prince. Just filling in for fundy
But all eyes turn to Ranboo and Ranboo is stumbling with attention he'd never known. Tommy has to help, doesn't he?
He expects such a punishment for stowing away to visit, but the headlines are... positive. Prince Tommy's friendship with Princr Ranboo becomes.... legendary, practically. Tubbo is always excluded from the news, even when he comes with.
Never too fantastical for classism
But no, the headlines see Tommy's visit not as the young, rebellious prince stowing away, but as a young boy risking his skin to visit his stressed friend.
Tommy is appalled.
And Tommy just groans and shows him the phone
And Ranboo laughs and goes
“There there Tommy, I’m sure dragging me to a frat party will be enough to ruin the good press.”
“Maybe get a dui, you’ll have diplomatic immunity so no jail time?”
“Boo, I wouldn’t get jail time even if I wasn’t em-mune, I am simply too poggers.”
“Sure man, let’s go with that.”
Tommy’s like “maybe I need to actually start doing hard drugs”
Ranboos just like “no -“ just “Please god no, your brothers will kill both of us.”
The Boo is terrified of Techno and Wilbur
Not as royals though, simply as Tommy’s older brothers
Like he knows about Tommy’s issues with validation and feeling unloved, he knows his Brothers are often very busy
But he also sees the way they look at Tommy, and the way they look when people talk bad about Tommy
He knows if something were to happen and he was to cause harm to Tommy or cause Tommy to cause harm to himself
It probably wouldn’t end well for him
Wilbur and techno try as hard as they can
But they’re SO busy
That they can’t do much especially when Tommy’s so persistent on doing his shit
Tubbo is great with the horses he tends to, and Tommy adores them. Ranboo is an excellent, regal rider and Tommy and Tubbo are more rough and ballsy, so races are fair and fastpaced.
Ranboo once got bucked by a royal stallion and Tommy and Tubbo never let him live it down.
I imagine Tubbo lives on the property, as some servants do. He either doesn't have a family, has a bad one, or his family doesn't live close to the palace.
So Tommy 10/10 sneaks to the servants' quarters and he and Tubbo sneak out to ride the horses.
I feel like Wilbur makes more of an effort after the pills and cocaine incident, he tries to ask Tommy about the headlines
Purples is Tommy’s friend
Rich family, old money
Throws a lot of the parties Tommy goes to
Purpled and punz :handshake: Tommy
Frat Boys
I think you guys are underestimating the time that Tommy spends at the castle
Like he still has school, and usually 3 days out of the week he follows around his brothers like an endearing little shit
But those 4 days where he’s gone (which includes weekends) plus nights, he’s doing shit
Also, yiu know Pongo right
101 Dalmatians
That’s how Tommy walks Betty and Walter
They are like standing completely proper and walks straight
ah yes, the royal bitches and also betty and walter are there too
the paparazzi taking pictures of Tommy and the dogs
and Tommy turns, taking his sunglasses off, and smiles big and wide "They have names you know? You should stop callin' them 'the royal dogs'."
One of the guys, he's familiar with the prince turns on his camera and asks "what're their names Prince Tommy?"
"Betty and Walter. Give them some respect."
Tommy visits Ranboo sometimes. Ranboo was looking for him one day and just found him standing in a long hall, staring at a portrait.
It's Ranboo, just barely younger, hands folded behind his back, the perfect picture of regality.
Tommy is staring at it because he knows that at home, there is a portrait of Wilbur looking like that, and one of Techno, and one of Phil and Kristen, and one of himself.
But somehow this image of Ranboo is.. haunting
Not because it doesn't match with the Ranboo he knows, but because it does.
It haunts him because he can stare at his portrait for hours and never see himself, but this is so plainly Ranboo that it's chilling.
Ranboo stands beside him, hands folded behind his back as they always are when he is in nice clothes and his eyes are visible. Tommy glances over and Ranboo is facing him, but staring up at the picture. It's still him.
The clothes are different and his hair is longer now, but Tommy can't tell the difference past that.
He knows that Ranboo is what his family wants him to be
He knows that Ranboo is him if he hadn't strayed, the same past
Ranboo knows exactly what’s going through his head right now
And he knows exactly what he needs too
They get fucking piss ass drunk in Ranboo’s room order takeout and FaceTime Tubbo
They can party tomorrow, Tommy doesn’t need to be in public right now
ANywyas
Tommy and his mother have a wonderful relationship
she teaches him literacy and history, they have a tutor teach him maths
they eat breakfast together every morning
the whole family does
but his mum tries to eat lunch with him at least 3 times a week
he goes out for lunch the days he doesn't eat with his brothers or mom, out to some resturant, sometimes, they trash it or party, sometimes he just brings Tubbo, no big group, and they just chill
With Ranboo in line for kingship (the way royalty works is that if the ruler dies, it will always go to the next in line of blood, never by marriage. Even if every heir was dead, it would still not go to the ruler consort but instead to a family member of the late ruler), rep is so much more important
he can't really be seen with Tommy sometimes
not on the bad weeks
not when Tommy just destroyed a bnb or set off fireworks with his friends, or was caught throwing chairs into his friend's pool
Tommy likes sport cars
big car guys
He has an exorbitant amount of fancy cars
its truly like
disgusting
how many cars he owns
Wilbur makes fun of it Bc the kid is just now legally old to drive
But Wilbur has so many expensive instruments
Some of which he doesn’t even know how to play yet
to be fair
Wilbur doesnt go breaking his instraments
Techno, techno has swords, which makes sense Bc he’s a general
But the amount swords he has just hanging on his wall
Never meant to be used
It’s so many
I feel like Tommy has a few cars that he doesn’t even let get scratched tho much
His babies
he has his expensive cars that he wrecks
and then his expensive cars that he treats like gold
They’re named
Clementine is this horrendous orange car that he absolutely loves
Its a bright orange ferrari
(He loves it Bc it was a gift from Phil, one of the first cars in his collection)
(Tommy doesn’t know that the idea was his mother’s, his father didn’t know what to get him)
all of his cars have padding in the back for his dogs
Tommy hates purse dogs, the girls with them are always fake and horrible
but he wishes his dogs were that small
Easy to transport
but they got all gangly limbs like him
and stand up to his hip
Henry is his sleek black classic mustang convertable
its what he drives when he doesn't want to be followed by the papp
It’s what he drives when he takes The BT to lunch
its not that the paparazzi doesn't know its him
they know
but he's not in one of his bright fucking obscene cars
The press and Tommy have a weird sort of understanding
He creates their headlines and they let him have moments to himself
If someone breaches that
They risk getting blacklisted
that car was what he drove to his grandmother's funeral in
im not naming his grandmother, but all royals live like forever
Clementine barely sees the road I think
She’s kept in top condition
By Tommy’s own hands
But she probably doesn’t get driven to the parties
Or the brunches
Or the clubs
She's used pretty much exclusively for black tie events
Tubbo is his driver for those Bc he trusts no one else with the car
And he has to exit her before she’s parked
So Tubbo valets and then meets him inside
It’s also how Tubbo gets into the black tie events
so its modern right
so its like thousand-dollar suits instead of capes
so, Tommy just refuses to wear blazers and suit jackets
he always wears his button-ups rolled to his elbows
Maybe, maybe you’ll get him in a vest
But most of the time it’s a button up, rolled up sleeves, and the tie is most likely incorrect or untied
The only reason it’s correct half the time, is because Wilbur makes him let him tie it
Tommy won't wear the jacket because he prefers to roll his sleeves up - he's able to do anything, party or just like rough housing with his brothers, or helping out the staff
Wilbur won't wear a tie, or a button up most days, opting for a high-end sweater and loads of jewelry; its just much more his style.
Techno won't wear a vest because it restricts the places he can hid weapons, and he almost never keeps his tie tied.
Tommy trying to walk past Wilbur to leave with and untied tie
“Wait! You know you can’t leave like that, come here.”
Tommy’s groans and slumps over but walks over to Wil anyways
“I’m just gonna untie it halfway through the party, you know i will.”
“Well, I’m not letting my little brother walk a red carpet with an untied tie, you know I won’t”
The second half said in a mocking tone of voice, very clearly mimicking Tommy’s whining
It’s a soft moment, they stand there together, brothers
And as Wilbur’s pat the finished tie, they make eye contact and both of them have undeniably fond looks on their faces, damn they’re brothers n shit
“Thanks Wil.”
It’s quiet, it’s soft, it’s Tommy
“Of course.”
Just as soft, just as quiet, wholly Wilbur
Wilbur clears his throat breaking the soft atmosphere of the room
“Now go, you gremlin. Don’t be late”
Wilbur ruffles Tommy’s hair, careful not to mess it up too much
Tommy rolls his eyes And quickly heads for the door “Bye Wil! Love you! Don’t wait up!” Wilbur quickly yells after him
“Love you too! Don’t do anything stupid!”
“Oh Wil you know I can’t promise that!” Wilbur just rolls his eyes and returns to his book
Yeah Tommy stays away from tobacco I think
Just weed
and I wouldn't be surprised if like hits peoples vapes sometimes, but doesn't smoke cigs
for sure, its stressful
Wilbur smokes cigarettes though
and he can't act out like Tommy can
and Phil loves him..
Techno and Wilbur watching Tommy rebel in the ways they never got to
They feel kinda sad, that they never got to be kids like that, sad that Tommy feels like he has to act out for attention
he gets to do shit
like he gets to be a real teen
the whole, dumb rich 17 year old experience
like yachts, and expensive hotel rooms, and sport cars
And sure they probably wouldn’t have been going to frat parties or crashing brunch places, but they see him with BT
See him have actual friends
And they’re happy for him
But it hurts a bit
And Tommy's hurting too
It's a lot
but its like
even if Phil wasn't shit
its a lot of attention
like everyone is watching them at all times
Techno and Wilbur have to stay refined in the eyes of the press
Tommy gets to put on a show for them
Yeah yeah
Do you know how much a drunk picture of Prince Tommy is worth?
Too much
Some random guy on his first paparazzi job, gets a pic of Tommy, shirt mostly unbuttoned, tie tied around his head, drinking out of a beer bottle, and flipping off the camera while stumbling out of the most expensive hotel in the UK
The guy never has to work again
Purpled son of some billionaire, and Ranboo a literal prince is with him
They are both laughing at him
Tommy swung on a chandelier that night
A picture of that ends up online, some socialites Twitter
The amount of people in her dms for that picture?
Ludicrous
Like just the random pictures from Snapchat stories
Magazines pay thousands
Yeah the amount of double takes people have done going through their friends Snapchat stories like
Just tapping through
“WAIT WAS THAT PRINCE THOMAS????”
So, Dessert Drinks
It’s alcoholic beverages that have like chocolate or gram crackers or maybe candy in them
That are meant to taste like a dessert
So there’s chocolate cake margaritas, or like s’mores drinks
They’re Tommy’s favorite things in the world
Everyone thinks that he’d like the like strong, burning, whiskey esk stuff
But no
He wants the sweetest thing you got
Like he’ll drink straught vodka, but not if he doesn’t have too y’know?
He also like wine strangely enough
The like really expensive wine
Bc it reminds him of Wil
They have it down in the cellar
Techno is the whiskey dude
Or like 1942
Which is just a really bougie tequila
He just likes the shit that burns
Tubbo will drink literally anything
He’ll eat anything too
It definitely comes from the spot that he didn’t have that many choices like Tommy, but he genuinely just likes anything
Which is why Tommy really likes to treat him out to fancy fucking restaurants
One of Tommy’s favorite past times is spoiling his loved one
Fucking loves giving presents n shit
It's his love language
Ranboo doesn’t pay for anything when he’s visiting
Tommy insists on paying
Tommy has millions from the throne, he will use it
Plus he uses his daddy’s card so like, Phil can afford to spend the money
Oh he has one of those black cards doesn’t he
And by he I mean Phil
But you know, Daddy’s card
Black amex all the way
Boujie motherfuckers
Tommy's drunk like persona is different depending on the environment
When its Wilbur and Techno having to deal with Drunk Tommy
He’s like an excitable puppy, he would switch from rowdy to sappy real quick for his brothers
So they’re trying to get a drunk Tommy to bed but Tommy’s 100% clinging to them
Just full of affection
Techno tries to leave to go study and drunk Tommy just looks so fucking sad
Kicked puppy
He’s very much turning on the little brother charm, full scale pouting, whining, nicknames and all
making grabby hands, sitting on thr ground, fluffed up hair, shirt all wrinkled
"Fucking - fine. What are you gonna do without me, hm?"
He’s a god damned puppy and it’s hard to believe this is the same kid who got in a bar fight last week
he hangs off the chandeliers of boogie hotels
he also trashes his friend's rentals
on the other hand, he hugs his brothers
and steals Wilbur's crown
when he wears Will's crown it goes over his eyes
Still does after all these years
He’s grown but Wils head is simply too big
Tommy has his own crown of course
he just doesn't wear it as often as Wilbru does
Wilbur wears his all of the time
Tommy wears his when
A. he's drunk and with friends
B. at formal or royal events
he likes wearing it when he's partying
still thinking about drunk Tommy and his brothers having to deal with him
He makes techno give him a piggy back ride
He can walk fine, he just wants a piggy back ride man
Can you blame him?
They all really miss being little
They miss being able to be kids n shit
when their mother took care of them
and their father did all the king shit
And when Techno would give Tommy piggyback rides in the garden
When Wilbur had all the time in the world to learn how to play guitar
Even if it comes from Tommy getting drunk off his ass they’re glad they can still find the childish joy that they once had y’know?
Techno gives Tommy a piggy back ride to his room, and Tommy steals Wilbur’s crown and they talk and it’s nice
And as everything winds down Wilbur plays his guitar
And it’s so similar to when they were younger man
...
but then,,, Wilbur gets called down for an emergency meeting
and Techno has to make sure the guards are doing their rounds
and Tommy's left all alone in The Prince's Chambers
and people wonder why Tommy likes partying
fills the time, doesn't it?
He wakes up cold and alone and hungover
And he calls Tubbo and they just fucking day drink man
It’s a bad two days
Yeha but basically after this night he and Tubbo get fucking drunk as hell and they don’t come back to the castle for two days
And Tommy is barely sober during those two days
After those type of days happen Tommy always goes completely straightedge for a week
He doenst need to develop an addiction y’know?
Plus the chaos doesn’t have to happen drunk
He’s pretty irrational sober anywyas
half of the parties he's at he's not even drunk
sometimes he'll get high
but he just likes the adrenaline
and just hanging and being fucking assholes with his mates
POV you are an emotionally wrecked prince who is hanging onto this present as proof that your dad knows who you are at least in the slightest and you find out it’s not actually a gift from him but something your mother told him to get you
He didn’t even think twice just called the dealership and asked for the car, didn’t even know which one it was
mmmmm Tommy wrecks Clem that night
It’s not a good night for anyone
Got drunk as hell man
No dd
Car crash
I don’t think Clem is totaled
And Tommy is ok
But she’s scratched and dented and it’s just a representation of how Tommy feels
Something about Clementine being symbolic of hope and the idea that his father knew him
And with that crashing down
Clementine was bound to crash too
Tommy gets out with some bruises and Clementine can be fixed
But it happens on a public street so it’s everywhere
Tommy wrecks Clem
Then fucking goes on a bender
just destroys shit
parties so he doesn't think about it
and then he fucking crashes
Wilbur and Techno and Kristin all know what the car meant to him, what it symbolized to him
So when there’s a headline and a picture of Tommy staring at a wrecked Clem, they don’t know how to feel
maybe he mentioned something about upgrading Clem to Phil, or offhandedly at family dinner
And Phil asks something like “Right and when did you get this one?” Very rudely y’know
And Tommy’s like, it’s the one you got me for my birthday last year, and Phil just says something about how he has to be more specific because he doesn’t even know which one that is
And Tommy feels everything crumble around him and he just tensely says, “never mind...” and goes back to his food
The other three watch the whole exchange like, “fuuuuuuuuuck”
And then as soon as dinners over Tommy’s out the door man
He’s gone
he doesn't take the dogs, which means he's causing damage
He doenst even take Tubbo
they can hear the handler hand Tommy the keys
Tubbo comes to Wil to ask if he knew where Tommy was and that’s when they realize Tommy’s going out to cause real damage
And Tommy’s phone is turned off
They can’t contact him
Tommy gets handcuffed
he won't get arrested, but he'll get brought back in a police car
he fucking like crashed into a poll on purpose
like it was less on purpose and more like he definitely wasn’t not trying to hit something
And then they fucking breathalyzer him and he’s drunk as balls
Straight vodka type night
there's a bottle in the cupholder
He gets out when he wrecks and you just see him dead eyed staring at the scratches on her hood
The dent in her door
The cracks in the windshield
And he just takes a swig of the bottle
He lets the police take the bottle and handcuff him, taking him back to the palace
Clem is towed back too
He doenst care man
this is bigger than party to distract Bc it’s all he’s thinking about even drunk n shit
So I feel like he’s absolutely crushed
he spends like a week or two in a depressive episode won't leave his room, won't talk to his dad
and then he asks his mom "why didn't you tell me?"
and she just purses her lips and and shakes her head
and he's out
he needs to leave
he doesn't need her pity
and he just goes to Purp's and parties
because he just wants to have fun for one night before he learns that everything is a lie
His brothers are there as much as he lets them be
Tubbo too
Ranboo would try to make it over after seeing the headlines
he gets on a jet
and goes as soon as he sees the news
cause Clem was Tommy's baby
He loved that fucking car man
And then
Boom
One dinner is all it took to ruin everything
Phil's just left like "what'd I do?"
Techno is straight faced
Wilbur rolls his eyes at Phil
And Kristin just looks stressed
She’s still staring the the door Tommy all but ran out of
none of them finish dinner, Kristin waves the butlers over to clear the plates
They don’t, and Phil is just so confused and frustrated and he doesn’t know what happened
Top 10 Prince Tommy Headlines: 10. Mourning or Disrespectful: Prince Thomas caught smoking outside grandmother's funeral 9. New Connections? Prince Thomas and Prince Ranboo seen outside Palace walking Royal Dogs 8. Protective Older Brother; Crown Prince William shielding Prince Thomas from cameras while walking down London streets 7. When Will He Stop? Prince Thomas continues his week-long bender 6. Another Frat Party: Prince Thomas found stumbling drunk after rowdy night at The Ritz London 5. Boy Crazy? Prince Thomas and Mystery Boy seen dancing at Crown Prince William's Birthday Ball 4. Is Prince Thomas's Rampage Over? The Prince seen hungover, nursing a coffee at London Branch Costa Coffee 3. Time to stop; Prince Thomas caught doing cocaine at socialites party 2. A good friend - Prince Thomas flew to the United States to help Prince Ranboo with new responsibilities
1. When is enough, enough? Prince Thomas crashes after driving drunk, arrested.
10 Tommy doesn’t smoke cigs so mans was just getting high at his grandmas funeral
he was real close with his granny, it was a sad day
It was because his father said something like “oh, I didn’t know you were coming Tommy”
It was his fucking grandmother Phil
Tommy just puts his sun glasses on, and sits as far away as he can
Number 5, the boy is Tubbo, Tubbo thinks it’s fucking hilarious, Tommy is pissed
Some of those headlines seem like they’re from the car month
Obviously number one is
But then the bender headline
Then the coffee one
And then the Wilbur one
They seem like a series of events
big month for the press
Tommys hungover and he calls Wil asking for him to pick him up
And Wilbur drops everything Bc he’s just glad Tommy’s coming back home
wilbur fucking glares at the cameras
Tommy's used to it
And then the press tries to mob them and Wilbur Almost breaks decorum
Like almost fucking yells at someone who gets too close
and Wilbur never does that
he's so in-line
he never breaks the rules
but goddamn if they take one step closer -
He’s been especially stressed, and all he wants is to get his baby brother home man
He’s been smoking a lot more since the wreck
He just wishes he could make everything better
Tommy relishes in talking to the press
Wilbur will clart someone who gets to close to his baby brother
The press who’s never seen Wilbur as anything other than composed and charming suddenly being faced with a very angry older brother who smells slightly like cigarette smoke
Wilbur in the Pogtopia coat but it’s some designer piece that’s expensive as hell
It’s his smoking coat
And it’s what he picks Tommy up in
So he smells like smoke
And not the tasteful cologne he usually wears in public
just like a dark overcoat
really expensive wool
Wilbur using it to cover them from the cameras
when they were younger, like 16 and 12, Wilbur would hide Tommy
like no one got a picture of Tommy until he was 14 or 15
Kristin really hid the boys when they were kids too
Tommy trying to peak out and make faces at the camera
it was illegal to get pictures of them younger than 10
like immediate blacklist
And also maybe some legal issues
Wilbur pulls Tommy's hood up over Tommy's head
And it’s very older brother of him too, he pulls it over to protect his face but then cinches the strings to be a little shit
Those Wilbur and Tommy brother moments comps exists in the universe too
But it’s just shit like that
Tommy has a great support system
He really does
His brothers love him
His mom loves him
He has two amazing friends and a bunch of other great friends as well
And sometimes he feels like a brat for throwing all these fits over his dad y’know?
Wilbur always tries to like, keep an arm around him when they're doing red carpets
And keeps Tommy sitting next to him at Royal events
but also like, steals food off his plate
and ruffles his hair
Tommy whispers the fucking worst jokes about the dignitaries and nobles and Wilbur has to keep a straight face
god thats tommys favorite thing to do
he tries so hard to get Wilbur to laugh and lose his shit
The fucking big boobs bit
But it’s Tommy whispering it to Wilbur completely out of context and randomly at a gala
ALSO
THE WHOLE EXTENDED FAMILY BULLSHIT
TOMMY HATES IT
LIKE WHO THE FUCK IS THIS LIKE AUNT TO HIM?
HE DOESNT KNOW HER
But Royal Families are always big on that shiit
They try to hug him n shit
And Tommy depending on how Brave n shit he’s feeling (how fed up he is) will either politely excuse himself or straight up say no and step back with a glare
he's honestly uncomfortable around the strangers
who say they're family
like he's too sober for this
He needs a god damned drink
But he’s in a vest and a nice tie and his crown is sat proper on his head
And he can’t have a drink
god he's like a little doll, he plays by Phil's rules
the crown comes on and he's the proper prince
He fucking hates it
he sips on Wilbur's wine, and does the whole "tequila for water" thing sometimes
Flask in his sleeve
Techno catches him with the flask once and is just impressed
god is that a look on Techno's face
He sees Tommy slip it from his sleeve and somehow sleight off hand take a drink
And it’s just a raised eyebrow and a head nod that says
Good for you
Bc techno also needs a drink during these events
Sometimes Tommy will spike his and Techno's drinks
as Wilbur regally sips on wine
Wilbur fucking also secretly wishing he had a flask during the drier events
Wine drink just isn’t enough sometimes
Wilbur puts on his best face
and pretends he wants to be there
and gives out a warm smile, and raises a glass
god he fucking hates it sometimes
and sometimes he loves it
but man, does he hate it sometimes
Tommy complains and Phil makes a passive aggressive comment about how
“Oh but don’t you love parties Tommy.”
Wilbur sits between them
The table goes
Techno Kristin Phil Wilbur Tommy
Tommy just sneaks another sip of the flask
he doesn't have time to deal with his dads shit
Slumps back in the seat
He probably wouldn’t even try to hide it after that
Not like Phil is actually looking at him
He can let the press have it
He doenst care
just like leaves the flask next to him
under teh table
and jsut takes large swigs from it
Tommy maybe having a group of his friends crash one of the stuffy events
Not an important one
So fucking dedication ceremony to some inane building
He just invites a wild group of socialites
It’s nice
It’s not as wild as a normal Tommy Innit party
But it’s not a stuffy fucking boring ass royal meeting
they just bring some fucking whiskey into the back room and chat shit
Tommy fucking has a group of friends crash this gathering
It’s not wild
But it’s not stuffy
It’s nice
Tommy even drags Wilbur back for at least a little
and that takes a whole lot of work
It really does, Wilbur isn’t even a little tipsy off the wine, and Phil been by him the whole time and it’s just been hell, he can’t get wiobur away from the “socializing” hes doing
but when Wilbur is a bit tipsy he just becomes more charasmatic
truly a king
Less someone putting on a mask for their father
A little bit more authentic
he's a natural, sipping wine with one hand, and shaking hands with the other, crown propped beautifully on his head, million dollar suits hanging off his frame
It’s nice to see his brother in his element
its a bit sad
but its nice
A little yeah, Wilbur’s
Wilbur’s leaving him, not really but
Wilbur being king is-
It’s going to be hard
Different
More than it is already
Wilbur will always love him
But eventually he’ll be too busy for Tommy
Just like Phil is
And it hurts
But that thought is what makes Tommy take a drink of his flask and drag Wilbur to the back room
Wilbur doesn’t have to forget him yet
Tommy looks real regal too
Wilbur wishes that Tommy could see what he sees
But he knows that Tommy’s self worth issues would take more than a nice hug and some warm words to fix
Tommy looks regal, and the gold crown really fits with the whole golden boy aesthetic
and he laughs, and makes conversation with everyome
and everyone eases up around him
Wilbur wishes that Tommy saw what he sees
also
Tommy and Ranboo's texts have been leaked once
Wow so many dog pictures dude
but also
:sparkles:state secrets:sparkles:
That was hell to clean up
it fucking was
it used petnames (which the public is never supposed to know about the nickanmes of royals fun fact)
and said shit about Phil
and detailed Fundy's illness which isn't public
and talked about meetings that Wilbur forced Tommy to attend
Tommy was terrified
Ranboo too
He was so scared someone would be angry at him for it
He doesn’t think he could handle be yelled at for this thing that wasn’t even his fault
like of course he could've not said it over text
but one of his best friends lives an ocean away
and his life is just all about secrets
dont make this something too
:sparkles: hackers :sparkles:
if someone god a hold of Tommy's IP, or Phone, or Phone number
or
dms
they could be using instagram, twitter, or snapchat to have some of these converstaions
dms can get leaked real easily
Mmmm you ever think about Crime Bous
Because all I can think about is when Wilbur does get out of the house, and just like every event they go to
Tommy isn’t a fucking party boy then, he’s just Prince Thomas, Crown Prince William’s baby brother
And they always get photographed and shit
But they have a great time
They’re always smiling when they’re together
Sans Wilbur being a really protective older brother, and when their grandmother died
It’s nice to just go get lunch together at that one specific cafe they’ve been going to for years
Or just walk the dogs together
Just hang out and be brothers
They sit at the same table every time, and Tommy has gotten a Raspberry Lemonade since he was 8
When they walk the dogs, Wilbur holds Walter and Tommy holds Betty
Sunglasses on, big wool overcoats, and pants that were sewn just for them
And they’re seen walking out on the streets during big events a lot too
To like take a breather
Tommy has made a habit of allowing the press to ask him questions whenever they find him
Wilbur on the other hand always knows exactly what to say to press that come up to them
He always shoos them off with a polite “we won’t be answering any question right now thank you” and a blinding smile
And Tommy’s making a face at the press from over his shoulder
Either like sticking his tongue out or making some sort of face at Wilbur
As he gets older, he stops doing it as much because it gets a bit tiring, everything is tiring
But he does it every once in a while, usually a sharp grin over Wilbur’s shoulder accompanied by a middle finger
when like press sees that Wilbur smokes like a lot
hm
big thin
and I feel like Wilbur would straight up be like "its not a big deal, its completely legal"
and hes like smoking 8 cigs a day, but its fine
He doesn’t have an issue
It’s just a little stress relief
King at 21 is a lot to handle
and maybe the stress is so much that it becomes a problem
but hey its his relief
its legal
he's fine
That’s Wilbur’s mantra most of the time
he falls asleep in Tommys bed a lot, waiting for the teen to come home
wilbur does
he finishes a pack, and sighs, rubbing his eyes
The empire is on the brink of war, it always is
He looks in Tommy's room, its empty
And he sits on the bed, waiting
10 minutes later he's asleep
The sheets don’t smell like Wilbur, and Wil thinks that’s what makes it’s so comforting
They don’t stink of nicotine or Wilbur cologne
The smell like Tommy
and while that smell like expensive booze, and coconut shampoo
its perfect
and the dogs are in Tommy's room too
he's a little less alone
Betty is the cuddler
She’ll come up and sleep next to Wil
but she wont do it to just anyone
its a bond, its trust
its the fact that Tommy likes Wilbur
she growls at Phil
she nudges at Kristin, LOVES kristin
anyways
its lonely and sad
because Tommy usually doesnt come back
Tommy snakes back in early in the morning and tucks Wilbur in
Though most times Wilbur falls asleep in Tommys bed
Uncovered
Completely dressed
He’s lucky bettys fur is sleek otherwise his very expensive clothes would be covered
I think Wilbur more often then not will wake up with Tommy in his arms, and that makes him very happy
like, Tommy comes it at 5am, and just snuggles next to Wilbur
It’s makes Tommy sad to know his brother is waiting up for him to never come
But at the same time he’s always so happy to see him when he gets home
I imagine sometimes butlers come to get Wilbur for work, and Tommy makes them leave so that Wilbur can sleep in "Hello your highness, we came to fetch King Wilbur for his morning briefing" "He's sleeping." "Well, I can see that Your Highness -" "So let him sleep." "Prince Thomas -" "Let. Him. Sleep. Okay?" "Yes, Your Highness."
I've decided that Tommy is the big spoon
in these vulranable moments, when Wilbur is weak, Tommy kind of holds him
like obviously there are a lot of tims, where Wilbur wants to hold his baby brother
however, Tommy kind of holds Wilbur, like wraps himself around Wilbur, and puts Wilbur's head in the crook of his neck
this happens when Tommy comes home to find Wilbur in his bed
either this, or Tommy curls into a ball and rests his head against wilburs chest
Tommy has daddy issues
Wilbur has the weiht of the world
Techno has ptsd
Phil: fuck you my kids are completely fine!
Wilbur’s nicotine addiction
Tommys abandonment issues
Technos fucking PTSD
Once, when the empires war was getting really, really bad, and Wilbur had to decide life or death shit
He smoked a whole pack in a day
And then just kept going
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking
why wouldn't they stop fucking shaking
Tommy stopped partying that week, he isn’t ignorant, nor a fucking dick
He was Wilbur’s right hand for as long as he needed him
Despite how badly he wanted to party until he could see straight
His brother needed him
His king needed him
And he will gladly serve Wilbur as long as he would have him
He stood right behind Wilbur
Every decision
He was right behind him
Even if it meant constant decorum and constant royal dress, Tommy was there
And that was a grounding fact
If Tommy hadn’t been there Wilbur thinks he may have lost it that week
Sometimes the only thing that kept Wilbur’s hands from shaking terribly was holding Tommy’s hands
When the advisors and court had left
Tommy would take Wilbur hands and make him do breathing exercises
Wilbur wasn’t allowed to look anywhere other than Tommy’s eyes
They would get through this
Together
They would, Tommy would make sure of it
Tommy in the room also made everyone a bit nervous and loosen up around Wilbur though
Because sometimes they act like they can boss Will around
And Tommy is stone faced, and has the media wrapped around his finger
The court knows that all it would take is one “scandalous statement” from Prince Thomas to end their careers
Wilbur could fire them, but he’s stressed
Any other day, he’s a fucking FORCE to recon with
But Tommy? He’s here to ensure the best or their careers would end
And you know that Tommy has at least 3 sources in the biggest news outlets in the empire
He could get ANYTHING out there
Wilbur’s throne is the biggest in the middle
Two thrones smaller aside him
Within the like office / study / planning room
Tommy's hasn't been used until just then
Tommy finds it quite uncomfy
But he can deal
Also Tommy drops the nicknames for the week or so
No “Big Man”
It was “Will” and “William”
Your Majesty at one or two points
But that felt a little too formal for both of them
Too alienating
Tommy learned a whole fucking lot of fucking politics that week
Not that he didnt listen in his lessons it’s just that
Well
He can’t not listen if he’s not there
It’s different IRL too
Seeing all the decisions
It’s terrifying
And he’s exhausted
Dressing nicely and talking for 12 hours a day about politics
And life / death decisions
So many cuddles dude
Just permanently cuddling if they’re not presently working or “coping”
And I think
That although Wilbur is the one who’s going through it
When they cuddle, Wilbur likes to hold Tommy
Just in the sense that Tommy’s here and safe
In the midst of all the death around Wilbur
He needs to know that his person, his kid is alright
Plus having this one thing this one routine helps him feel a little on control during this out of hand time
:sparkles: Prince Tommy PR leak :sparkles:
I talked about how Tommy was close to his grandmother
and how he was smoking outside of her funeral
maybe it was during that time in his life
really dark place in his mind
smoked and drank every day
Wilbur smoked a lot during that time yet
they probably drank together a few times
like straight up vodka
Just they’re so young and so tired
and so its like, pictures of Wilbur and Tommy (and just Tommy) drinking in the parlor, and in the like, bar area of their private living area, dark eye bags, red eyes, just straight from the bottle
Both of their ties were undone, no jackets, sleeves rolled up to their elbows, Wilbur's top 3 buttons are undone, they're both like manspreading
like they're just at their lowest, particularly Tommy, but Wilbur was having an adjacent bad time
Tommy's hair is a fuckin' mess
HOWEVER, they're both still clean shaven, neither of their shorts or trousers are wrinkled or stained
They may be going through it, but the royal image waits for no one
How does the castle react? Immediate lock down.
Interrogations or some shit
none of the princes are allowed to leave
they have to do clean up
they write scripts essentially for Tommy and Wilbur to adress the press
they need to send out a memo that they don't agree with underage drinking
its all structured, scripted, and written by advisors (and their father)
major damage control
which is just not what Tommy needs right now, because he's like trying to work through his grief
and Wilbur has a fucking fight with his father about that
Phil does not care
They fucked up
Someone else fucked up
And now they’re going to be big boys and fix it Like Phil's going to Tommy's room to get him to look over what his quick press tour and Wilbur jsut stops him in front of the door "He's fucking grieving - Let him have a moment will you? Don't you know how close he was with Gran?" "You messed up. He messed up. Now you're gonna be big boys and fix it." “You’re horrible sometimes you know that?” “I am your father” “Then act like it, your majesty”
meanwhile Tommy: in bed, hasn't slept, major depressive spiral, cuddling Betty, Walter standing guard at his door, holding onto a blanket that his grandmother gave him
just - can't even cry anymore
just empty
Literally just despondent
Staring at the ceiling as Betty noses his face
like good luck getting to get up, let alone read shit
He hasn���t showered in days
He is very much not presentable
like it's only been a week or two since his grandmother's death
and he still is processing
He is no where near done grieving
#tommyinnit#wilbursoot#wilbur soot#philza minecraft#philza#technoblade#tubbo#ranboo#SBI#sleepy bois inc#sleepyboisinc#LILLYS NEW AU#THE KING THE WARRIOR AND THE PRINCE#long post
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So, roleswap au still lives in my head rent free despite having gone through some several changes since @headfullonlythoughts1 and I first talked it over several months ago. I figured it's time to update that first post and let the new followers know it exists! The premise is quite simple. the canon Agency is in the mafia and the canon mafia is Agency. The story goes like this:
Fukuzawa Yukichi, assassin, killer, chosen to lead the Port Mafia.
Dr. Mori Ougai, upstanding citizen and war veteran, chosen to head an organization that belongs neither to the day nor the night.
Each collects the same subordinates, in different ways, but the important thing is that it only takes a moment, a single change, to cause ripples in the water. To twist what should be into what is.
Fukuzawa never quite realized his own disgust at his enjoyment of the kill. Kunikida's perceived abandonment by the powers meant for his protection to the clutches of his father, the Azure King, festered into hatred and bitterness towards the corruption of the city. Ranpo, too clever for his own good and not necessarily overburdened with morals, sees no issue with displaying his intellect for his own gain, especially after being taken in by Fukuzawa. The war broke Yosano into more jagged pieces, and she refuses to cheapen the lives of the mafia—her family, however, is an entirely different story. The Tanizaki siblings have a home here in the mafia, and Junichiro enjoys his Ghostly missions for the test of his skills that they are for him. Kenji was simply picked up for being a little too blunt to know he was wandering in Mafia territory, but he serves his Boss with the same dedication as the rest. Dazai fled the Agency after being framed for Oda's death, and unsurprisingly, has no qualms about the bloody work the mafia carries out. In contrast, Atsushi, picked up by Dazai for the weretiger bounty, is not nearly so comfortable with the blood the mafia surrounds him with. Kyouka had difficulty controlling her ability, accidentally killing several people, and thus was sent to be under Fukuzawa's command and thereby his ability as well.
Mori merely wants to atone some for the madness he suffered and inflicted during the Great War. Hirotsu was treated by him while he was still in the mafia, and in the confusion of Fukuzawa's succession, ditched for what were certain to be greener pastures. Kouyou drifted in after her man abandoned her and stuck around for her own reasons. Oda figured after his assassinry career, putting himself in a place full of people's problems would make it easier to write about people. Dazai was initially picked up by Mori, as it's only reasonable that a doctor should try to treat an injured child with no family. Chuuya went to the detective agency to find out more about his past, with Dazai's help, and stayed for the people. The Akutagawa siblings stuck around because it's food and a roof and they're helping out in repayment for said food and roof. Tachihara decided not to follow his brother, but instead prove himself in his own way and protect the city from here.
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In your head did Roy and Riza fall for each other right away or was it a slow burn? If it's the latter then when did they realize their feelings?
Literally don't even look at me, I don't know.
Rating: Gen | Words: 1,368 | AO3
They were always friendly with each other while Roy studied under her father, but they didn't define themselves as friends. She cooked, he was polite and helped with chores when he had time. He accompanied her to the market to help carry the groceries home. They talked when they were near each other, but they didn't go out of their way to make time. They didn't stay up all night deep in conversation, nor did they go for aimless walks in the woods together. They worked together if she needed his help, and chatted lightly. He did not consider for a moment altering his path to accommodate her into his future (they simply weren't that close), but he enjoyed her companionship when he happened to have it as they lived their separate lives, side by side. He is four years older than her, after all.
She missed him more than she expected to, when he left for the academy. The house felt less alive, and somewhere in her heart, she did too, although she couldn't place why.
Roy was the closest thing she had to a friend, and her father knew that. And even though he was angry with Roy for choosing to go into the military, he still told Roy that Riza possessed his flame alchemy, still stood by his decision that Roy should be his successor, if Riza found him suitable.
And she did find him suitable. It was in those weeks of Roy studying her tattoo, helping her sort out her father's estate and go through his belongings that they truly bonded. She needed a friend so badly, someone to share her grief with, and after all it's pretty hard to sit in a room with someone for hours on end and not eventually talk to them. Riza told him about her mother, about growing up in this empty house that was no longer a home, how her skin burned where the tattoo needle carved arcs and channels into her back. Roy listened, and he hurt for her. He told her how his parents died when he was young, how his aunt was his only family, how he hated the conflicts at the borders and how he wanted to protect the citizens of Amestris as a state alchemist.
Riza stood in the backyard, arms curled tightly against her chest as she watched Roy test his arrays. She knew every failed transmutation meant more hours spent sitting on the couch rifling through alchemical texts looking for anything that might help him as he pored over his notes, occasionally cross-referencing her tattoo, careful not to brush his fingers against the skin. It was dull work, but when he finally got it right, when a brilliant arc of flame lit up the late evening sky, she felt his excitement as strongly as she felt her own sadness. Because this meant he was leaving soon, and somehow he had taken up a spot in her chest that she hadn't even known was empty.
Something felt different when he left to take his exam. She felt, suddenly, like they'd meet again. She couldn't explain why. She walked him to the train station and he hugged her and it was such a natural thing even though they'd never hugged before, and in that moment she wanted something but whatever it was, he did not give it to her. He could not have.
Riza went home and enlisted in the military that same day. They made an exception for her age, because she would be 17 early in the semester. She met Rebecca at the academy, and though they became fast friends, Rebecca never managed to convince Riza to go on any double dates with her on the weekends. Riza would politely decline, and Rebecca would pout, but never push the issue.
-
She didn't expect her next encounter with Roy Mustang would be through the scope of her sniper rifle. She'd heard that the state alchemists had been brought in, but she didn't want to believe that he would be among them. She knew she was deceiving herself; she had seen the smoke, she knew it couldn't be anyone else. Still, when she shot the Ishvalan descending on Roy and his companion, she felt bile rise in her throat, and it had nothing to do with the man she'd just killed.
And god she was angry. She was so, so angry. But with whom, she couldn't say. Roy, her father, the military, this fucking desert, all of it. It didn't last long; Roy found her in camp later, and she could see in his eyes what she'd been burying in herself. The anger fell out through the bottom of her chest, and the vacuum it left behind nearly choked her with grief. That night she curled up in her cot and, for the first time since she'd set foot in Ishval, she cried.
For six long months, Riza worked adjacent to, but rarely with, Major Mustang. On the days she was assigned to watch over his sector while his unit worked, she kept her senses sharper than usual. Perched in her sniper tower, she refused to avert her eyes from the hellfire of the flame alchemist. Every day she swallowed the emotions that soldiers couldn't afford to have, and every night she laid awake in bed, trying to understand how she’d gotten here.
On the official withdrawal day, he found her again (he'd gotten really good at that), burying an Ishvalan child. She wanted to hate him, she really did. But she knew she couldn't hate him as much as she hated herself. And she still needed him. She asked him to mutilate her back, to destroy her father's life work, to set her free. It was a deception. She could never be free. Her mistakes already caused suffering beyond her capacity to atone with her short, worthless human life. But he agreed, though it caused him great pain, and she knew at that moment that he was still an honorable man.
She returned to the academy to finish her final year, and the months passed in a haze. Her back healed slowly, but her emotions fought to remain as raw as they had been for the past eighteen months despite her best efforts. Rebecca didn't even try to ask her on dates anymore, nor did she ask about the war. Riza told her only the safe things to say, and left out all the rest. She didn't bat an eye when Riza announced she planned to apply for an adjutant position in eastern command, under the illustrious Flame Alchemist, who had risen through the ranks quickly and was in want of an assistant as he built up his team. Rebecca did and did not understand this decision, and wisely refrained from asking, not that Riza would have known how to explain.
When she received Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang's summons a mere day after she'd submitted her request, she knew she had the job. Still, apprehension settled deeply in her gut as she knocked on his office door. She withdrew into the strict professionalism she had grown into so easily in the academy; it had always suited her natural demeanor anyways. She had anticipated his surprise, but she was not prepared for his forwardness: she would be in charge of his back. To protect him, or to remove him. Riza did not misunderstand the blatant admission of trust. The ache in her chest eased a little.
When Riza thinks about it years later, she doesn't really know when she fell in love with him. There was no pinpoint, no flashbulb moment. It came quiet, certain, steady and sure. She had always been his, and though it took a little longer for her to understand, he had always been hers, too. She'd never asked, because it was not the appropriate thing to do, and he had never told. But when she met his eye across the office, when he brought her a second cup of coffee on a busy morning, when they said their goodnights as he dropped her off on those days they'd worked past dark, she could feel it.
Their love, simply was.
#my writing#fmab#fma manga#royai#roy mustang#riza hawkeye#otp: even into hell#fma headcanon#sort of...#first of all anon you have fucking ruined me#second of all i now want to freaking write this exact same thing but from roy's perspective instead#how dare you do this
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hello would you like to talk about shigaraki having a redemption arc?
Hello there darling.
While I would like to talk Shigaraki and his 'redemption arc', I think we need to distinguish two things first of all: the identities of Shimura Tenko and that of Shigaraki Tomura; as well as the concept of redemption and atonement, which I think might both apply, but about that in a minute. This distinction is necessary because of one fundamental detail: I think Shigaraki Tomura will go through atonement, while Shimura Tenko through redemption. There is no particular why I think that might happen, but by definition redemption means ‘saving or being saved from evil’, while atonement ‘make amends for a wrong’ - and as we know that the villains will be saved, in the end, they will go through a redemption arc; however, their villain counterparts (Dabi; Shigaraki; Toga) will have to necessarily also go through an atonement arc - not necessarily because they need to, but because their identities as a villain have determined their ‘worth’ in the eyes of society for so long, that straight up accepting and get used to the villain having caused so much ruckus in the past years, coming back full-fledgly to society might be a drag.
This is even more highlighted in Shigaraki, especially as his ‘fusion’ with AfO has exposed his utmost “weakness”: his past and him identifying with Shimura Tenko deep down. I don’t mean weakness in a literal sense however, but more of an emotional aspect which is both the source of Shigaraki’s strength but also what keeps him grounded and what is his biggest obstacle (as well as AfO’s): it just means that feelings other than hatred and anger are harboured so deep down that not even Shigaraki could acknowledge them, but that nonetheless presuppose the existence of someone who is not the Shigaraki Tomura created by AfO, and who for better or worse, could be so much more than being reduced to a puppet in search for a meaning. This is why, his identities, their respective feelings and their desires are interconnected but separated - the same but different, in the way only someone who is deeply traumatised could fully express. Here lies the beauty of Shigaraki’s character: a soul that is fractured in pieces, each opposed to each other and each representing a different faucet of his personality, that in AfO’s hands is slowly dying, and losing consciousness. One of them however, is the identity of Shimura Tenko, that Shigaraki knows as himself and another person at the same time, and while they might go through a redemption arc, their collision and existence at the same time might be a overkill both for himself and for a future society. After all, Shigaraki Tomura is the product of that society that he so deeply wants to discard, change and recreate, to decay and destroy - but the only way he knows of doing it is through himself. In a metaphor, I think this is the most fitting parallel of them all: Shigaraki Tomura has to die, exactly like the rose-colored society citizens and heroes have lived so far cushioned by AfO and the HPSC respectively - so that Shimura Tenko and a new, just society might rise.
Which brings me to why Shigaraki has to go through an atonement arc before, and when that is done - Shimura Tenko will likely go through redemption. This will likely look as if Shigaraki Tomura will fight and help defeat AfO, and then forsake the identity of Shigaraki and instead recognise himself as being Shimura Tenko (looking exactly like the child he still recognises himself in, deep down).
As it might be inferred, Midoriya will be crucial in that. He is the only one who has realised that there is another identity hiding inside Shigaraki, beside that of AfO - and that is indeed, expressed by the purity and the innocence of a kid, which is why Izuku is also drawn as a kid, who wants to offer him a hand (whic is another on-going theme with Shigaraki).
He is not dying the existence of Shigaraki and his crimes, but rather getting at the origin and the core of Shigaraki, and that is not a Shigaraki at all, but a kid whose best friend was a dog, and who has been forgotten by a society which had sworn to protect him and his dreams: again, a reminder of what Midoriya might have become if the circumstances had arose. But since the travel in which Shigaraki has embarked is one which difficulties, and quests he has to go through in order to evolve (which in this case, instead is a regression in a state of childhood, and safety) and crimes for which he has to atone, before being able to forsake his identity and move forward to accept the hand Midoriya Izuku will be sure to extend him.
I hope this at least clarifies a bit what I mean with my thoughts, and I am sorry this got this long. Thank you for the question!
#god does any of this make any fucking sense#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#shigaraki tomura#shimura tenko#midoriya izuku#afo#bnha spoilers#bnha speculation#mha spoilers#:sba#sunn answers#teamkacchako
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