#henry ur the only one i could find and you seem to be going through a thing rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

Note

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort

2K notes · View notes

crumbleclub · 1 year ago

Note

Anyway informing you that 1. Ur posts are so incredible and good and they're a treasure to see i prommy, and 2. Ur ficlet for dream theory revamp au is taking up rental space in my head. Having silly thoughts about Evan just acting completely dead after he learns the truth about henry. He doesn't play anymore. Doesn't talk. He can't even work up the energy to be Super Nice To Mike So He Doesn't Want To Die Again like he's been doing for all the time Mike has been back. Mike definitely notices, but whether he feels comfortable/capable enough of confronting Evan about it is up in the air. Oooo, or, or maybe Evan leans even *further* into the Be Super Nice To Mike So He Doesn't Want To Die thing bc he's lost Henry and Mike is the only thing Evan has left

AWWW POOR BB

From my perspective (since it's ur au lol):

Mike would be so weirded out by seeing his brother stop playing and talking, but I doubt he'd know what to say. He wouldn't guess that it was about Henry, and, since it wasn't immediately after his attempt, he wouldn't associate those things together, either. He might wonder if something else happened that he didn't know about– William being rougher with Evan since Mike was still healing physically, maybe, or some unrelated problem his anxiety could conjure up– and one thing my Michael will always be is nosy. Like, this is a situation where it's actually somewhat helpful– one should look into it if their little brother shows a clear trauma response, obviously– but he's nosy in every other situation, too.

Rather than ask what's up like a normal person, he'd probably start paying way more attention to Evan (and William, and everyone else Evan interacts with)'s behavior to figure it out. He might try to ask in very roundabout ways if he couldn't find anything elsewhere, but he'd try not to let it look like concern for Evan.

(That's not a conscious decision, or even related to his abuse of Evan or any resentment he might still hold; it's a completely unrelated conditioned response that mostly relates back to the whole incident with William using a dog as a lure and getting pissed when Mike tries to interrupt.)

The first response, Evan losing the will to be extra nice, could be percieved by Mike as either an extension of the trauma response Evan seems to be having that he can't figure out the cause of– which would drive him to investigate further– or as things starting to go back to normal, where Evan has a justified fear of his brother and they don't really talk much.

It would make him sad, though, which he wouldn't be expecting. He might have to examine either the fact that he does need some affection in his life to feel okay– which is typical– or the fact that he might, shocker, actually want to have a decent relationship with his little brother. Both of these things would be a pretty arduous process for him; he's emotionally immature, even for as young as he is, and this sort of thing isn't something he's had any guidance on. He would probably throw himself into something else whilst processing that on the back burner.

The second one– being even nicer– would be more surprising to him, because he's really just not seen that level of nice before? If Evan got too clingy, Mike wouldn't be able to hide his annoyance, and he might snap from time to time, even though he's had half a wake up call at this point about his own behavior– near death experiences make people reevaluate shit a lot, but he's not like. Magically well-adjusted– and doesn't have the energy to be all that terrible at the moment. That being said– even though Mike is really needing a mentor more for this than his little brother's kindness– this is one of the most vulnerable places he's ever been, and, if anyone were to ever successfully find a shortcut to breaking through Mike's defenses by the sheer force of being nice, this would be one of the easier times to try it.

On the bright side, Mike does not struggle with leaning on one person too much, so Evan wouldn't get stuck in a therapist role or anything. Probably the worst case scenario for his response to the second one would be having Mike start to answer any questions candidly, and receiving a bleaker view of the world in response.

#this might be all over the place idk #ask #dream theory au #dream theory revamp au #cw abuse

7 notes · View notes

inkdemonapologist · 4 years ago

Text

SESSION TWELVE of the BatIM Call of Cthulhu game, aka Continuing to have a Great Time At The Masquerade! : )

Joey and Bendy destabilised early on, meaning Joey went through the ENTIRE masquerade UNABLE TO STOP SMILING

getting some mixed messages here, Joey

Sometimes u dress ur characters up as rabbits for fun but then you have a lot of emotions about them losing their minds and then u gotta draw them losing their minds while dressed as rabbits... anyway Jack being mind-controlled did NOT help Sammy hold onto his mental stability at this nightmare party in case you were wondering,

ANYWAY HAVE, MORE OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES, UNDER THE CUT

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] Joey, make a POW roll also... [Joey] Oh, boy, [GM] ...because Bendy was also told to enjoy this party, and you guys just passed a plate of food, and he wants to eat! [Jack] FEED YOUR SON! [Joey] No!!! [Henry] HES A HUNGRY BOY! [Sammy] A GROWING BOY!

[Henry] Henry will look back to see if Moonlight is trying to follow them! [GM] He will see that Moonlight has grabbed onto the railing of the stairs and is hobbling slowly down them. [Joey] *extremely evil-sounding cackling*

[Jack] All Cthulhu Official Dice actually come weighted, to make you fail.

[Henry] Gotta try harder than that, bitch! [Henry] ....that wasn't in character. [Jack] It's in character, but he's only thinking it. [Sammy] That's the golden text you see on the wall if you use the seeing tool

[Henry] My Luck is 68, I don't know what y'all are doing! [Jack] We're spending Luck so that we'll fail! [Sammy] BEING UNLUCKY! I've barely spent any Luck, I'm just NOT A LUCKY GUY

[Henry] Oh, Avedon's here, [GM] There's a gunshot, and he tries to shoot Fowler! [Joey] Um, well, uh, whoops!, rest in peace Fowler! [Sammy] Yeah, that'll sort itself out, let's go! [GM] Moonlight seems to reconsider from telling people to grab you guys, to grabbing Avedon instead. [Joey] Oh! THANKS AVEDON, your sacrifice will, not be thought about in the slightest!!!

[Sammy] Is... weird question, does this room look like it matches the architecture of the rest of the house? [GM] [GM] [GM] ...make a sanity check.

[Sammy] It would be a like, Come on Jack, do you know where you are, shake it off, snap out of it, kind of thing. [GM] Why don't you make a... a.... oh boy, [Sammy] One of my REALLY persuasive social skills?

[GM] This probably just registers to Jack as, Sammy griping about a party, which isn't that strange. [Jack] Yeahhhh, he wants to leave. He always does that. I wanna stay at least a little longer! [GM] That just means it's Jack's job to find them something fun and good to do. [Sammy] Oh boy, [GM] I don't think Jack is being compelled to be aggressive about this necessarily, he just feels like he's Jack at a party, doing the things Jack normally does, and trying to have a good time! [Sammy] Ah, and everyone else is being weird, [GM] Yeah! Everybody's being really weird! You're at this nice party, and now you're in this weird room? The party's back there somewhere! [Jack] I mean not that he's opposed to bein' dragged into side rooms at parties by cute boys, but,

[GM] The table looks like a table that Henry has in his house, actually. [Sammy] Have I ever been in Henry's house? These are questions I didn't expect to need to ask tonight.

[Sammy] Jack, this is weird! You see this is weird, right?! [Jack] Well yeah, it is kinda weird that we're in-- what are we doing here? [Joey] Joey is going to grab Jack's arm, and point to the next door, and go "Party is this way!"

[GM] Peter looks worried... [Sammy] Sammy looks worried too! Well, Sammy looks angry, but in a worried way.

[Joey] Joey is going to scream frustratedly. [Sammy] Is there ink in this room? [GM] There is not. [Jack] Is there a party in this room? [GM] Definitely no, only the party you bring with you.

[Joey] Joey is going to scream again. [Joey] He's also going to kick the door. He might stub his toe. [Sammy] Through all this, Joey is smiling. I just need us all to remember that. [Joey] YES. Also his tail is furiously going. [GM] Bendy is also upset! There is nothing to eat here.

[Joey] Joey is going to try to feed Bendy some ideas, [GM] He doesn't want ideas, he wants food!

[Joey] So.... what happens if you fumble a sanity roll?

[GM] See, here's the silly part. At this point, right? At this point, the best place to do the tasks you want to do, involve either getting the stone out of the room with the safe, or having the staff that Henry is currently holding. [Sammy] So you would arrive, by completely different means, to the same place that we are! [GM] Clearly Joey is inside the safe.

[Jack] Bad and naughty Joey Drews get put in the safe to atone for their sins!

[Henry] Henry is going to channel his inner Joey Drew and round the corner and say "No, sorry about him, we're just here on inspection, we need to check the safe." [Henry] Which is probably a Fast Talk, which I hope it isn't, because my Fast Talk is a 5. [GM] Unless you wanna try to turn that into a persuade somehow? [Henry] I'll do Persuade! [GM] What are you doing to persuade them, rather than just lying? [Henry] *rolls* I failed... I'm gonna push it... [Sammy] *uneasy noises* IF YOU PUSH IT AND IT GOES BAD, IT GOES WORSE [Henry] AH! HAHA! I ROLLED A SIX! [Sammy] THAT'S STILL NOT LESS THAN FIVE! [Henry] WELL IM DOING PERSUADE! [Sammy] That means you have to NOT LIE! [Henry] ....Fuck. [Henry] Okay, uh, there's an emergency, we need the contents of that safe. [Sammy] THATS STILL A LIE??? [Joey] NO actually, THAT'S TRUE! [Henry] It IS an emergency!!

[Sammy] Sammy cannot believe that this is working.

[GM] Bendy does wonder what his plan is for getting out of the safe. This does not seem like a fun party place. [Joey] Um, [Joey] Joey says it's a surprise.

[GM] Henry, the safe does indeed open! And there's a Joey! [GM] Bendy says "Oh wow!" [Henry] Henry tries his best to keep a straight face, like yes! this is exactly what he came here for! [Sammy] (Sammy is NOT keeping a straight face) [Jack] (Straight? In this party?)

[Jack] He's probably saying something like, "What are you doing, he's one of us!" [Jack] And that could go either way. That could mean "No, he's chill, I will persuade you to stop!" Or that could mean, "We are also criminals!"

[GM, as the guards] Then why does he look like the Yellow King's messenger? [Henry] *not missing a beat* We get that a lot.

[GM] Something falls from the sky and lands in front of him. And it's a person! [Joey] Is he alive? [GM] Very much not. [Sammy] How... how Illusion of Living canon-compliant is this Joey...?

[Jack] So... it would probably occur to Jack that this is weird for a party,

[Henry] Joey don't touch it! [Joey] Why not? [Henry] There's runes around it. I don't know if you can touch it. [Joey] Joey's gonna touch it. [Henry] *long-suffering sigh* If you get zapped, I'll tell you I told you so!

[Jack] Jack really wishes we were just back at the party right now, you guys... [Jack] Only bad things have happened. [Jack] Pete's traumatised, Joey's goopy, the Lurker ate all of the snacks,

[Sammy] Can I try to break free from Henry? Sammy's gonna try to run over there. [Henry] At this point, Sam can go, if he wants. [Sammy] Okay, cool. Then Sammy's gonna go and put ink in his mouth! [Henry] Goddammit. I was hoping you were going to check on Joey!

[Joey] You can’t take all of the sanity hits! You have to leave some for other people! [Jack] Says you! You got so many temps!! And an indefinite!!

[GM] Bendy probably is complaining loudly about WHY DID HE WALK THROUGH THE RUNES??? [Joey] Oh! I thought he was going to complain about the party, or lack thereof, [GM] That’s part of not having fun at the party, he’s not into that! [Joey] Well, [GM] This is not a fun party activity!!

[GM] But he doesn’t think it will destroy either of them, if you do it right! [Jack] That’s a nice, way to end that sentence,

[Sammy] Let us hurry! May I take the stone? [Joey] Joey shrugs. [Sammy] Sammy will, uh, attempt to reach inside of... whatever this is, and find the stone. [Henry] Reach INTO your LOCAL boss, and you will find A Friend And Boy,

[Sammy] Is there anything in this room that I can pick up, and then hit him in the head with? [GM] Henry has a stick... uh....there’s a projector.... [Sammy] Can I pick that up? [GM] No, you cannot. [Sammy] It would be REALLY funny if Sammy dropped a projector on someone else’s head. [Sammy] HOW THE TURNTABLES!!!

[GM] ...Can you impale with a rocking horse...???? [Sammy] I don’t want to impale, I want to knock him in the head so he passes out!!! Rest your head, it’s time for bed!!!

[Jack] I don’t think Jack has any plans after this! [Jack] I meant that in the sense that he doesn’t know what he’s doing next, but the way I phrased it, now it just sounds like he’s hitting on Fowler, like, he doesn’t have anything to do after this, are you free? That’s not canon.

[Joey] I don’t know how this will go, [Sammy] Good luck! [Joey] But Joey would like to-- [Sammy] Sammy believes in half of you! [GM] w-which Sammy? wHICH HALF?!

[Jack] I know you said “note.” But my brain at first processed that word as “milk.” [Henry] *laughing* “Did you get my milk, Fowler?” [Jack] He drank the last carton and he didn’t buy more! [Sammy] “I’m going to the store, want me to get anything? *jumps into the lake*”

[GM] Combat Jack! [Jack] *exasperated* He’s not a Combat Boy! Jack is soft and warm, like mashed potatoes!!!

[GM] Norman is wondering to Henry if he oughta be concerned about you all getting what you want out of this. [Henry] .....Maybe.

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #joey drew #sammy lawrence #jack fain #when in doubt just keep drawing #tHE PERMASMILE IS MY FAVOURITE THING #we're getting close to end of scenario but boy howdy is everything getting [bass-boosted carmeldansen noises]

127 notes · View notes

ruby-whistler · 4 years ago

Note

Srry but i noticed in one of ur dream posts u Referred to tommy's cat as hope. I must correct u, that cat was born pussbou and died pussboi. /lh Also tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile btw just wanna say Also for ur posts about dreams trauma or wilbur manipulating him can u provide links to vods or other proof? Srry if i seem rude i mean that in a "genuinely curious way"

Aaa sorry if my ask came off as rude im just genuinely curious :(((

hi! dw, you don't seem rude at all, and i'm extremely happy someone with a different perspective has found my blog! i really appreciate that sort of attitude and am happy to answer :]

/dsmp /rp

the cat was called pussboy by tommy, but dream only called it "the cat" and then said that "it was hope", which is why it sort of became a symbol (his hope is dead, basically) - that's why i kind of made its name capitalized, because it was more of a metaphor than anything.

most c!dream fans call the cat hope because it's just really nice and really symbolic, and also really sad when you think about it. that's why the name was used in the essay, just to clear up the confusion!

tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile

i don't really think so? mooshroom henry was entertainment more than anything, and even if it was bad, when watching the stream i don't remember seeing him mourn that much - on the other hand, dream was very quickly and very obviously attached to the cat, with it being his only companion in months of isolation, along with the hope that even when tommy left it would keep him company.

keep in mind c!dream has been deprived of stimuli and human contact for so long it's officially classified as psychological torture at that point.

i don't mean to compare trauma or even compare deaths - because honestly, what c!dream and c!tommy have gone through individually is incomparable and i think neither should be diminished in favor of the other since they're both terrible situations.

that's why i disagree that it "was nothing compared to" - it had an obvious effect on c!dream, and was still c!tommy killing an animal specifically to hurt him, no matter what reasons he had.

when i'm talking about effects people's actions have had on c!dream, i'm not talking about those people. i'm talking about him. :) /lh

as for the trauma, a lot of people agree that a lot of the things he says or does are trauma responses, and hence it's very possible that he's had trauma before he went into prison!

this includes being repeatedly called a tyrant via propaganda by about half of your friends who decided to betray you, trying to keep peace and being pushed deeper into villainy instead, repeatedly being put in between a rock and a hard place in order to make sure the people you care about don't start killing each other, then being betrayed by your closest friends after merely trying to keep peace (sapnap & george) and just in general having no control over your life or image and grasping at straws to gain it back.

i know a lot of people with trauma who heavily relate to certain trauma responses, which aren't always just shaky breaths and flashbacks, but trauma often also manifests itself in extremely ugly and destructive ways, both inwardly and outwardly.

trying to control the people around you is also very often a response to going through trauma, as well as emotional repression which is... rather evident on c!dream during season two. it only seems to get worse with repeated abandonment.

in the end, during the vault scene, the way he acts really just isn't at all the way a healthy person would act, and a lot of his really bad mindsets come from the way he was taught by the world around him.

the character is very reserved however, and since we don't have his pov we can't really say for certain - a lot of people claim it in good faith because they have a lot of evidence for it, and i think they're certainly valid in that.

that is just before the prison, however. from what happened during the prison arc? there is no denying he's traumatized at this point.

he's been emotionally and physically abused by c!sam since the very beginning of being imprisoned, and being in solitary confinement for over two weeks is generally considered psychological (and maybe also physical?) torture. that alone shows up in a lot of symptoms of his mental deterioration while in pandora's during people's visits, and quackity's "sessions" just absolutely drove the point home.

what he's gone through during this arc is absolutely incomparable to anything others charactes have faced before, and it's just plain suffering being endured by someone who is, despite everything, still a human being.

as for the wilbur manipulation thing!! it's talking about the whole vassal scene (though even beforehand a lot of their interactions are pretty iffy), and here's a post about that :]

I also have a small question about the analysis u last reblogged cus it says "why dream needed lmanburg gone rightfully" and like. The house analogy is poor because for one cus the land is infinite. And 2 cus punz's yard was literally larger then lmanburg. And also stuff about dream being a mediator? Can u provide examples?

i wouldn't say it was poor. dream's said a lot of times that he didn't care in the slightest about the land - a lot of his problems with l'manberg arose with the fact that wilbur basically built it on lies and tried to disallow half of the server to come there. c!dream was mad about the division and the fact that wilbur wanted "freedom" to have authority in his lands - over others, as can be seen in this post also.

the table analogy was fitting not because dream was some overlord, but because these were literally friends he invited to hang out and live in a place he wanted to call home. claiming a part of it for yourself and saying people of a certain nationality can't come in is directly opposing those goals.

in the early days of the smp, dream's always been a mediator between his friends - sapnap and george, who would often get into fights and go around killing each other! he would always do his best to stop the conflict, which continued after tommy joined when he took him to court and then later tried to mediate conflicts he was a part of, which resulted in tommy killing him unprovoked, stealing his gear, and starting the disc wars when dream was trying to get his stuff back. later, during pogtopia, he is also most concerned with peace over everything, and this seems to continue indefinitely after.

Today i was thinking about how messed up the final control room was. Like. Dream arranged the betrayal and punz and sapnap killed tommy and tubbo who like. Were literal children and their pals (because the author, wilbur soot, is dead/j but srsly if u take the streamers words tommy said he was 9 during the revolution sooo)

Sorry im gonna ramble about how dumb canon ages are for a second cus like. Streamers can say the characters are one way or another (wilbur saying he is mentally 30-something, etc.) But in the end the characters act like they(or at least their streaming personas) do.

i... honestly don't find it that bad? they were in a war, and the final control room was basically just supposed to end it quicker. the l'manbergians made it clear they were going to fight to the death, so they really left c!dream no other choice. and it's not like he didn't give them chances to give up.

also yeah the 9 year old thing was retconned, because in that case c!dream would've been 14 and i don't think that's true.

c!tommy and c!dream were both young and once again, in a war. the final control room was an attempt to assure victory, which both sides would've taken if possible, but only c!dream saw he had the option.

i do agree the whole child soldier thing was bad but... complain about that to c!wilbur, methinks. he talked naive kids into fighting for his personal power. however, the age argument isn't really valid either way. they had enough agency to sign up for it, and whether or not c!wilbur pushing the intense nationalism onto them had something to do with that is another debate entirely.

Bacl to final control room cus like??? Also fun fact punz took 2 of wilbur's canon lives. And like that probably is what started wilbur's paranoia which later lead to his spiral and i. Many thoughts full of lmanburg today.

i'm pretty sure cc!wilbur said what lead to c!wilbur's spiral was a "dark, twister view of possessions" and "disregard for his fellow citizen whom he claimed to love so much", but i really wouldn't say it was the control room; if anything the sudden loss of power after the elections seems to me like the trigger for his spiral.

I watched the exile arc live and. I feel dirty almost for feeling little to no sympathy for c!dream (srry ive been forgetting to add that aa) because of his actions toward c!tommy and like. The whole probation was so humiliating and unfair and c!dream was planning to frame him for the crimes he and puffy did under the the guise of "pranks" and c!quackity was planning to seize the vice president role.

i mean... to be fair, if you didn't watch the prison arc much yet or only watch tommy's perspective i understand not feeling that sympathetic - however, i encourage you to maybe watch a few prison visits, since they could help you see the whole picture better!

i also watched it live, and i also thought it was terrible, but i share very much the same sentiment for the prison arc because. absolutely no one should have to go through either of those things, you know?

i don't think probation was that humiliating? he was just. being asked to not start conflict with the other factions for two weeks. of course, what happened as a result is in no way justified, but i don't think probation itself would've been bad at all. either way yeah the framing and c!quackity's behaviour was. very yikes, i agree.

Also c!tommy antis are dumb because they say "he deserved exile angry emoji" i dont see u saying that about ranboo. Just say you hate cc!tommy and go. Also people say c!tommy was just as toxic to c!dream and i??? No. One is the victim and one is the abuser and like. :/// man. This part is rambly srry

i wouldn't say they hate cc!tommy? cc!tommy has a persona who people think is annoying at first ( but then they subscribe because he is super entertaining big man! ) but a lot of c!tommy's actions are straight up toxic to certain characters, such as c!funndy and c!jack. he has a very dismissive attitude towards others and their trauma and it does affect the people around them very negatively.

examples; his repeated bullying and behavior towards fundy:

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

......

Fundy: “I’m wearing glasses…are you making fun of my eyesight?!”

Tommy: “Yes.”

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Wh – disappointed for wearing glasses?!”

Tommy: “You got glasses, like what are you wearing…”

Fundy: “What do you mean?”

Tommy: “Sapnap, Sapnap, over here. Fundy, Fundy, Fundy, I’m really sorry to say this – I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “…What?”

( credit for transcript: @/findingjoynweirdstuff )

he's also responsible for a big chunk of c!jack's trauma, both with actions and words, and that's why i think certain people might dislike the character, and i don't think that's wrong of them. anyone can dislike any character they want if they don't attack people for liking them, in my opinion.

also c!tommy was most definitely toxic against c!dream in the cell. it's of course understandable but that doesn't change the fact he was constantly hitting and insulting him (without dream doing anything back for a long while until he snapped) which is toxic behaviour.

i wouldn't say he was "just as" though, so i agree with you on that. they're different and they behave differently.

i made a dream blob keychain today. Is it possible to send images if u wanna see? Idk cus i havent used tumblr before. I think that's all for now. Thx for letting me talk :D peepoShy -curious anon (but fr a connoreatspants c!dream redemption arc would be cool)

yooo that's cool! i don't really,,, know if it's possible to send images? try it out and if it isn't i'll try find a way to turn it on.

also, no problem! just please remember this is a c!dream sympathetic blog, and me as well as my followers are uhh,, oftentimes emotionally attached / personally relate to the character, so if you could avoid sending hate on the character (not that you have or that i expect you to, just a friendly reminder) in the asks that would be great! we already see a lot of it unwillingly so, i'd rather not see more, but as long as the discussion is civil i'm absolutely ok with you asking more and with me answering more questions if you'd want to! :)

if anyone else would like to reblog this and add some things i might've missed with my answers, feel free to, just go easy on her (she uses she/her pronouns!) and keep it factual.

i hope u had a good or at least ok time at school today :D

thanks! i gtg now because exam tomorrow but i'm going to try write the redemption essay tomorrow as well because ohhh boy i have a lot of ideas about what all i could write around the concept.

also sorry this was long, i can't keep my tongue on the leash :[

#c!tommy critical #c!wilbur critical #my asks #curious anon #long post #history #tw torture #tw manipulation

32 notes · View notes

honeybeesiness · 4 years ago

Text

an unholy holiday.

word count: 2k.

slight nsfw warning! dw tho, there’s absolutely no smut and it’s 97% fluff. it’s just the reader being a tiny bit of a thottie ;).

‎

two limited edition sucre frenzy tickets.

The next day was your day with the beloved otaku Leviathan. Based off the kind of person he was, you figured that he would want to watch some anime with you or take you to a convention somewhere in Devildom (or the human world if you’re lucky). Binging the TSL series in the beginning of the year for the quiz against Levi proved beneficial to you (aside from being able to make a pact with him), as after that you became quite invested in the series to the point where you would want to name your pet Henry too. You knew Levi liked how you were fond of the series, because it wasn’t every day where he met someone that shared the same interests as him and didn’t put him down for it. With that being said, you were perfectly content with watching TSL or any other series that Levi chose today.

After breakfast that morning, you had gotten a text from the boy in question, who had not shown up for the meal.

💞weeb husband💞: meet me in my room

💞weeb husband💞: wear ur pajamas

You began to grow excited, as your suspicions were seemingly correct. It seemed like you were quite good at guessing what the boys had planned so far, given how you knew what Beelzebub was planning yesterday as well. Were you a psychic? Maybe you just had really good intuition. Or maybe you just knew the brothers so well that guessing came easy for you. Either way, you were smiling like a madman as you typed out a reply.

You: aight fam, i’ll be there asap

You: want me to wear my tsl jammies

💞weeb husband💞: yes

After his swift reply, you slid your phone into your hoodie and bid the others at the breakfast table a farewell. You headed on back to your room to swap into what you called your “TSL Pajamas”, which was just a worn-looking oversized brown t-shirt with the TSL logo on it along with a pair of comfy grey pajama shorts. After you got dressed, you slid down the hall and knocked on Levi’s door.

“Come in.”

And you did, shutting the door behind you. You grinned giddily at Leviathan (who was situated in his bathtub) before turning your attention to the rest of the room. Surrounding the bathtub that was Leviathan’s bed was a large array of snacks and drinks, most of which were your favorites. You didn’t think Devildom had human food like this, and you wondered if Levi went out of his way to get you these things. You were grateful, and you sent him a cheeky look, also deciding that it would be funny to tease him just a little. Embarrassed Levi was one of your favorite Levis, after all.

“Did you get all of this for me~?” You batted your eyelashes, slowly and sensually bending over to pick up a bottle of banana flavored ramune, which you examined while still being crouched. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the bluenette’s face flush a scarlet color, and that was enough to satisfy you for the moment. “Thank you.”

“LOL, they’re not all for you, you know!” He squawked, still mildly embarrassed, but soon his face returned to its normal hue. “Believe it or not, there are some foods from the human world that actually taste good!”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a packet of chocolate pocky (a classic) as well as another favorite snack of yours before sauntering over to where Levi was sitting in the bathtub. “What’re we doin’? With all these snacks, I would assume you have something in mind.”

“You and I are going to be having an anime marathon.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of one of his PC monitors whose position he changed so the both of you could watch. “I wanna watch TSL and I don’t listen to normies who say no.”

“No. We literally watch TSL EVERY time I come to hang out here! Let’s try somethin’ new for once.” You said defiantly, earning a huff and a mini pout from the boy in return. You were clearly contradicting what you had thought to yourself earlier, but we don’t talk about that.

“FINE. What do you suggest?” He grumbled, pulling his keyboard closer to his lap so he could bring up his Softbun account. You put one foot into his bathtub and his head immediately shot over to look at you, his expression a little bit wild. “What are you doing?!”

You put another foot in. “Getting comfortable, of course, so scooch over! Your fatass is hogging the tub.”

“Excuse me?!” Levi sounded offended, but he was smiling as he (hesitantly) moved over. You plopped yourself down, hanging your legs over the rim of the tub. It was a small, Levi-sized bathtub, and you eyed the boy as he blushed fervently at your close proximity.

“Hey, have you watched Beast Assassin yet?” You asked, pointing at the series on the monitor in front of you. The show was in Levi’s library, but you couldn’t tell if he watched it or not.

He gave you a look that told you that you had asked a stupid question. “You mean the hit series where the protagonist’s sister gets turned into a beast and the protagonist must go on a journey to find a cure for her? OF COURSE I watched it! What are you, some kind of pleb?”

“NO. Shut the hell your mouth, we’re watching Beast Assassin, but we’re skipping to the part where Airitsu first appears because he’s the best.” You snatched his keyboard off his lap and placed it on yours, reaching your hand over the side of the bathtub to move the mouse (which was placed on the floor next to the bed) over to Beast Assassin.

“What are you saying?! Are you crazy?! We can’t just start on the second episode without watching the first! It’s called “Episode 2“ for a reason!” Levi attempted to take the keyboard away from you, but as soon as he laid his fingers on it, the entire room went pitch black.

You were the first to react. “Eh?? Levi-san, it’s so dark! H-Hold me!” But you, in fact, did not hold onto him. You could hear the boy, scoff, though. “Are we havin’ some sort of blackout? Has this ever happened in Devildom, or—?”

“This is SO unfair,” Levi grumbled to himself, and you felt him move beside you. “Just as I was going to click on the first episode of Beast Assassin!” You aggressively shoved him on the arm for that comment, sending him stumbling out of the bathtub and flat on the floor. Since you couldn’t exactly see him, the only way you could tell that he was on the floor was through the sound of skin hitting the tile that was the floor of Levi’s bedroom. “Hey!”

“What, I didn’t do anything!” You “harumph-ed” and crossed your arms, but you were generally curious as to what Levi was up to. And, as your eyes began to grow used to the dark, you could make out his silhouette approaching his desk where the rest of his monitors sat. “What’cha doin’?”

You watched somewhat blindly as he reached over the screens to the shelves that sat behind the desk, grabbing something that you couldn’t make out. You, too, got out of the bathtub, and you stumbled over to where Leviathan was standing. As he sensed you approaching, he turned away from you and hunched over slightly so you couldn’t see what he was holding. You shoved him again, but much more lightly this time.

“If you don’t stop, I won’t be giving you any of these glowsticks!” Ah, so that was what he was holding.

“Glowsticks? You have glowsticks??” From your spot behind Leviathan, you could spot a faint glow coming from his frontside. He turned around to face you, his face lit up by pink and red glowsticks, but still remaining shrouded by the surrounding darkness. He gave you another incredulous look that told you that you asked a stupid question. “Don’t give me that look! I thought that you used them all at the last concert you went to!”

Leviathan squinted at you. “Bold of you to assume that, since I’ve taken you to all of the concerts I got tickets for in the past year!”

That was something that had completely failed to cross your mind. It’s not that you didn’t remember Levi taking you to all those pop idol concerts before (you did), but you were always more invested in the music and the choreography rather than what the audience was doing or even holding.

“Well, I’m sooooorry that I forgot! It’s just-”

“Enough of your excuses, woman.” Leviathan interrupted you with a flick on your forehead. “An otaku never is without their glowsticks.”

“You can’t say that ‘cause glowsticks aren’t even used for anime! ...Unless it’s of Lyricoids. You like Lyricoids, right? You better. Who’s your favorite?” You reached out your hand to grab at the pink glowstick, hoping to distract the bluenette with your chitchat, but he moved his hands away.

“Of course I do! I like Muka. Her voice is so melodic and graceful, and her songs are so beautiful and meaningful. The settings of her music videos are always so detailed, especially with the backgrounds and how the plot of the song is portrayed through the visuals. Muka also always looks amazing in any outfit since her figure is naturally curvy and mature, and the musicians and animators never fail to make her draw the audience’s eyes. I also really like how—”

“I like the OG queen herself, Riku, thanks for asking.” You interrupted somewhat sarcastically, having another go at trying to acquire one of Levi’s glowsticks. “She’s so bubbly and her voice is so versatile that she can sing and sound nice in literally any genre.”

“I agree, but,” Levi moved the glowsticks out of the way once more. “Muka is—”

There were several knocks on Levi’s door, and both of your heads swiveled in that direction. You also took that moment to swipe up the pink glowstick, and Levi glared at you.

“What if a serial killer busted the lights and is out to kill us.” You mused, scratching your chin. “He’s being awfully polite if he’s knocking on the door, though.”

You were on a roll with your stupid statements today, for Levi gave you another look, this one being much more annoyed. He didn’t bother to correct you, and instead said, “I hope he kills you first because you’re being so annoying.”

Your reply was immediate, and the knocking was heard once more. “Jokes on you, I actually want to die.” Pink glowstick in hand, you marched to the front of the room and opened the door. “Stab me, daddy.”

“...What?”

You blinked several times and held up the glowstick to the person’s face. It was Satan, and you shuffled awkwardly in your spot. “Oops.”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that.” Satan surveyed the room, and his stiff posture relaxed— if only a little. “Good, you two aren’t the only ones whose rooms are affected by the blackout.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “This happened to you too?”

Satan nodded. “And the rest of us as well. It is unusual, is it not? This never happened before.”

“Well, I hope it gets fixed soon, because Levi back here,” You jabbed your free thumb in the man’s direction. “is being the biggest prick. He said he actually WANTED me to die! And for what, being annoying? Sheesh, how harsh.”

Satan smiled a little bit, glancing back at Leviathan, who he was only able to see thanks to the glowstick he was holding. Upon hearing your words, Levi marched up and slammed the door shut.

You held up your hands in front of yourself in mock surrender. “Let’s just agree that we’re both being annoying.”

“But YOU’RE the one who’s being annoying!”

“Agree to disagree?”

“...Fine.” ‎‎ ‎‎‎

i have a headcanon where Levi uses crackhead/internet/gen z humor so i decided to incorporate that into the story :”). had a lot of fun writing this!

also, if y’all forgot, Levi legit sleeps in a bathtub 😤.

‎

and yes that is a Sayaka Maizono/Danganronpa reference in the beginning ;)

‎‎‎

Beast Assassin = Demon Slayer. Airitsu = Zenitsu.

Lyricoid = Vocaloid. Muka = Luka Megurine. Riku = Miku Hatsune.

taglist: @wetleafwrites :: @midnight-moodlet

103 notes · View notes

solomonish · 3 years ago

Text

Naamah’s “Match-Up” That I Made Needlessly Complicated!

IT TOOK ME A WHILE BUT I DID GO CRAZY AND STUPID

hewwo @baalism I made u......less of a match up and more just headcanons on how u date the people. i hope u like it <3 I divided them into tiers depending on how well I think they mesh w you too!! so here you go!

TOP TIER (NOT kissing up 2 u!)

SATAN

I think Satan is your #1 man because the two of you just seem to be.....kindred spirits. (I am calling you the same as Satan but like as a compliment?) Y’all got that academia vibe to you with your books and your museum dates and your air of mystery. You two are the hot nerd squad is what i’m saying

Plus Satan is a social butterfly! He’d not only like the quieter moments w you but also when you went dancing he could either be living it up with you or making new connections (although. if he was going to the club why would he stray from the main attraction? make it make sense)

And with him that trust would be super easy to get bc if you’re dating him, HOO BOY. He’s got some Issues but he trusts you to help him get through them! There is a lot of him that feels prickly and dangerous and if you don’t shy away from that and can help him through it then you have his heart! As long as you aren’t ripping his attention away from a thrilling chapter, he’s a great conversation partner too. His quiet nature at first is NOT shyness, it allows him to be observant!! You are one of the few who get the chatty inside ^u^

Plus he loves ur cat and will be on her side when she screws with your puzzles.

SOLOMON

THE ONLY REASON he is not number one is he’s a bit too much of a wallflower to be into the partying like Satan would be. Otherwise....hot nerd squad two electric boogaloo

Is a bit more down with the witchy outdoorsy stuff and the occult and the abandoned place exploration thing than Satan would be. I bet one of his favorite things to do is take u to an abandoned building and after being there for a while when you start to get bored, he enchants it to look like the inside of some old castle and you dance together or something :) memories for u

isn’t always super chatty but is great for listening to you rant. he makes up for his lack of chattiness by asking the perfect questions to get you fired up again, so your ranting takes up most of the time. loves to pick ur brain, so you can talk about anything. he’s like: i want to dissect that smart lil organ of yours. lovingly <3

keep your sudoku puzzles up or he will mistake your books for his and do them for you. the image of him sitting cross legged at an armchair like some grandpa is nice but those are your puzzles!!!! but he’s very good at being domestic, just make sure to ALWAYS cook or bake with him!

LUCIFER

Listen, I hc Lucifer as like kind of a wallflower, but even if i’m wrong, he’ll still not be partying with you a lot because he’s busy! of course doesn’t stop you from going out if you want just be safe pls he lovs u

will take a walk with you every day all the time. After dinner before he goes back to work, he’ll take a little stroll with you. when he has time he’ll go for longer ones and show you some off-beat or decrepit devildom areas but he will absolutely just go on little walks with you every day to catch up with you!!

lives for the domestic moments. you bring him coffee? he is glad to be yours! walks in on you doing laundry? how luck he is to have someone so capable <3 he’ll help you fold the rest of the load or will make sure to talk with you while it’s his turn to make dinner (but will make sure you don’t have to help! you deserve a break)

finds your interest in the arcane kinda funny because he IS the arcane but supports you <3 will listen to you list off what you know even if he also knows because he likes hearing what you’ve learned and you get so excited about it! he will return with his own spells and potions you might not know yet and you two could go on for hours about it.

HIGH-MID TIER

ASMODEUS

His interests align with your! Fashion, beauty, partying!! He loves it. LIVES for it. you two are an unstoppable force.

However....the academic/witchy stuff doesn’t suit him as well as the other stuff does? He’ll whine about you “being a satan” or “being a solomon” if you tread too far in one direction

he’ll work out with you though and buy you cute workout gear <3

a relationship with him is less emphasizing trust and more about intimacy (but you can still trust him yknow?) he makes your connection known by demonstrating it plainly rather than feeling like a safehouse, if that make sense? but he does love u to pieces!! remember that

BEELZEBUB

he wants to eat ur cupcakes this is my main reasoning and also NOT a dirty joke

if he goes partying w you he acts more as a personal bouncer and will circle the crowd like a shark for u <3 also great to bring you home if you’re drunk

he likes taking walks and hiking and being active with you! he does have to slow down so he doesn’t overexert your human body but he doesn’t mind because he’s having fun!

v sweet with the domestic stuff, just not great at cleaning. he just leaves crumbs over the floor he just cleaned :/ thinks u look cute in an apron tho

DIAVOLO

AHHHHH he thinks ur so interesting! so well rounded :0

also it’s good that you’re into witchy stuff! that made your transition to the devildom a bit easier huh?

absolutely loves how eager you are to learn because that’s what you need for the program to succeed! and you already know so much.....you would make.....a very knowledgeable..ruler....of the Devildom.....ahem.....

the above are used to physical affection but could back it up with some mistakes but Diavolo doesn’t get the chance to give affection so whatever ur comfortable with getting he will channel it all in to that!! gifts or words or whatever!!!

but if u give him a lil smooch he will be !!!!!!!! it just feels nice

AN ANOMALY

BARBATOS

I don’t understand this fucker (affectionate). IDK if I can’t place him bc I don’t know him that well or just because he refuses to be categorized but! he is here. perfectly in the middle. taunting me.

idk ur academic prowess is preferable because he wants someone who can keep up with him. and ur interest in spooky stuff works well bc he’s a demon and if he were a human he’d like the occult too.

can’t really go clubbing or take you very many places bc of work :/ he can do strolls around the garden though! or walk you home from places :)

good with the not initiating physical touch because he can shapeshift into whatever you need him to be. an anomaly indeed.

LOW-MID TIER

SIMEON

he respects you :)

finds your academic pursuits inspring! your interest in the occult is a bit off-putting at first but you all are in hell so who is he to blame?

loves to collect your witchy stuff with you <3 knows a lot about safe to eat fruits so he’ll be collecting things for a fresh strawberry pie while you collect what you need to summon lucifer without a pact even though he lives in ur house and you HAVE a pact.

you can bake the pie together though <3

BELPHEGOR

he does not respect you :)

finds your occult pursuits inspiring! your interest in excelling in academics is a bit off-putting at first - why would you choose to put more work in when you can jsut vibe and pass bc you’re an exchange student?

(ok i’m done making this the inverse of the above lol)

not the most chatty or the most workout-y or patying-y or anything BUT he can be a little domestic. you do the cleaning and he can cook once in a while! and he’ll make the bed! and then he’ll sleep in it immediately. but he’ll be wishing you were cuddling with him the whole time <3

LOW TIER

MAMMON

he’s got the energy but not the respect

unlike the way belphie disrespects you, mammon does it just bc you’re incompatible :/ but like in the nicest way possible

he interrupts when he’s chatty and he’s not the type to hang out with nerds and like. he’s too scared to get into the occult and abandoned buildings.

he does love you to bits! just....not in the way you want. sorry mams :/

LEVIATHAN

he can get chatty for sure!!

but he just does not have the energy to match your academic pursuits or your outdoorsy interests or clubbing or beauty or any of that.

ok MAYBE the enrd stuff but like only a little! too much and that’d make him a normie >:(

y’all trust each other a lot tho! just as henry and lord of shadow, like friends. not a significant others

OKAY i didn’t burn myself out!! i hope you like this and agree maybe? hehe this was fun

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #swd obey me #for baalism

12 notes · View notes

darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years ago

Text

Spark, Ignite, Detonate, Explode ~ Mammon x Reader

Trust is such a feeble thing to have in someone - It is build up and takes so long, and yet, it disappears faster than the blink of an eye.

It starts off with only something little, yet repeated, like the spark you get from hitting stones together to ignite the fire inside someone’s heart. And yet, few know that the heart is a fragile gunpowder bag, that one detonated, it shall explode and destroy everything in its proximity never to be restored to its former glory again.

Only ashes, ruin, waste and death...

---

“Yooo, how’s my fave human doin’?” Mammon’s usual lighthearted voice echoed through the halls as he rushed to your side, putting his arm around your shoulder, pulling Y/N closer into his side as they walked together to the next class. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Monnie. You, however, seem rather happy. Did something good happen to you recently?” Y/N lifted her head up to gaze at him with her usual, passive smile. “Yeah, actually, it did! I just got a great deal on an Akuzon item I sold! I got 500 thousand Grimm! Isn’t that awesome? I can go get new brand jacket and shades!” he laughed in glee, making her clap as a congratulation. “That’s awesome, Monnie! You gotta show me what you’ll be getting! I’m sure your next photoshoot is gonna be so great that your pics will get on the cover!” She grinned, which made him flustered, and yet, his grin was even wider. “Hahaha, of course! I am THE Great Mammon, after all! How ‘bout this - After my next photoshoot, when I get paid again, I’ll take ya out for dinner. How’s that sound, hmmm? Just us two, at Ristorante six, my treat.” he smirked, trying to look macho, but it only made her chuckle at his poor attempt. “No, that’s too expensive. How about going to the pub for a drink? We can go to The Fall, if you want! They have great music, and the drinks are good, and at a reasonable price!” Y/N winked at him, which made him blush harder. “You’re the perfect being, Y/N! Always thinkin’ of me!” he gave the girl a side hug, as they got in their shared desk in the classroom.

The girl, as she wrote her notes diligently, knowing very well that the white haired demon never bothered, and would always borrow hers, started idly pawing at the neck of her shirt, as was her habit, to play with her dangling necklace...

Only to realise there was nothing hanging around her neck.

A pang of panic shot through her veins as she hit her back on the chair seat, touching her neck, and inside her shirt, realising that it was gone. Frowning, she tried to remember if she even put it on in the morning, before getting dressed, but there was no memory of it. She was certain, however, that the previous day, she placed the necklace on her study desk, before going to take a bath...And since then, she has no more recollection of its presence.

Waiting nervously, bouncing her leg, tapping her fingers and biting her lip so hard that she drew blood without realising, making her friend concerned, yet not figuring out the cause for her concerns, as soon as the class was over, she sprung out of that place faster than the speed of light, rummaging through her whole room, yet finding absolutely nothing.

Taking a few deep breaths, to keep herself level-headed, she went to the brothers, who were having lunch, and took out her D.D.D., showing them a selfie she took, where the necklace was easily noticeable - Silver chain with an emerald stone.

“Have you guys seen it around? I’m afraid I might have lost it or misplaced it...” she asked, clutching the phone close to her chest in worry. “I haven’t seen it, sorry.” Satan said, thinking back on all the steps he took that day. “Are you sure it’s not in your room? It could have fallen behind the bed, desk, or some furniture, right?” Asmo asked, frowning a bit. “No luck...I searched every inch of the room, and nothing. I’m at my wits end...I tried using all spells I know, and still nothing. It’s almost like it’s not in RAD or the Dorms anymore...” her bottom lip quivered softly. “Hey, Levi, didn’t we see this necklace somewhere on the internet last night, when we searched Akuzon?” Belphie turned abruptly to his brother, who gasped, nodded, and ran to get his laptop. “Akuzon...? It couldn’t be...It’s was a very cheap necklace from the human realm...Well, it’s very old, and handmade, but still.” Y/N sighed, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Here, Y/N, drink a glass of hot chocolate, it will help you calm down a bit.” Beel raised, handing her a cup of hot chocolate. “Thank you, Beel, I appreciate it.” she smiled softly, looking down at her mug. “Ah, you were right, Belphie! Look, this is it, right?” Levi turned around the laptop for everyone to look. “Huh...? It even has the engraving on the back of it...How...Could this happen...? Yesterday it was in my room, I’m certain of that, so...?!” she freaked out, especially looking at the price at which was sold, and something clicked in her mind, making her gasp in realisation. “Ahhh, great, I’m late for lunch again. Beel, you better not have eaten everythin’!” Mammon’s cheerful voice seemed to make everyone go silent, and it was like a common thought in their mind. “Mammon...Can you tell me what exactly did you sell on Akuzon that you got so much money from it?” Y/N muttered, gritting her teeth, trying to keep herself grounded. “Huh? Why d’ya ask? T’was some necklace I found layin’ around. Why?” he asked, sitting down at the table to eat. “I can’t believe it...” her voice was soft, yet full of rage, almost destroying the mug in her hands. “Of course it had to be him...But to think he’d steal from the only person who defended him...That’s a special kind of scumbag.” Asmo groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really are the worst, Mammon. I can’t believe we are related.” Belphie glared at his elder brother. “Huh?! Whadya mean?! Shouldn’t y’all be happy for me, for getting such a great deal for a cheap necklace?!” he yelled at them, not realising the dark aura surrounding the person behind him, “He really is an idiot.” Beel’s eyes softened, looking with pity at the girl. “I can’t say that I’m surprised...Maybe just disappointed.” Satan looked at him in disgust, then shifted his gaze away, unable to look at him any longer. “Oi, what the hell’s wrong with y’all?! What’ve I done?! Y/N, help me out here, give ‘em a piece of your mind!” Mammon turned around to look at the girl, only then realising that she had tears streaming down her face, and her small form was trembling softly. “The Lord of Shadows would never do something to hurt Henry..But what can you expect from someone who would sell Seraphina’s UR+ figurine anyway?” Levi shook his head. “What have you done...? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU SOLD MY NECKLACE ON AKUZON, THAT’S WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU STUPID, SCUMMY, BRAINDEAD DUMBASS!” she yelled at him, pouring the hot chocolate on his head, making everyone gasp in shock at her reaction. “So what?! It’s just a cheap necklace! I can buy you 5000 ones just like that! Even the stone wasn’t genuine! I made you a favour by riddin’ you of it!” he got to his feet, arguing with her, not expecting her to get violent, grab him by his uniform blazer, shaking him with all the force she could muster. “YOU CANNOT BRING THE MEMORIES BACK, YOU DIMWIT! It was a goddamn family heirloom! It was the only thing I had from my family! My mother gave it to me before she died! How could you do this to me, Mammon?! I thought we were friends!” when her all her strength left her body, she started sobbing softly, which made the demon stiff as a board. “I-I-I...H-How was I supposed to know that?! C’mon, I don’t read minds, y’know?” he argued, but his voice was nothing higher than a mutter. “I told you...I told you before...I told you, god damn it...I told you my mum gave it to me on my birthday...And then she died...I told you I have no family to return to...I told you all the women in my family had the same nickname, and it’s engraved in the back of the pendant...I told you...But you never listen, do you? All you care about is money...Money...Money...And only money...You are such a disappointment...I can’t believe it...” her voice held a myriad of raw emotions, ranging from hatred, disappointment, confusion, rage, anxiety, nervousness, sorrow, nostalgia and many more - All that seemed to transfer to Mammon right away, as he started panicking. “Look, I-I’m sorry, okay?! I didn’t mean it! I screwed up, I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad at me!” he looked like a kicked puppy, but the girl didn’t care anymore. “I take back all the good things I said about you. I take back all the times I bothered to defend you from the insults and bullying of your brothers. I take back all the pity I had for your stupid puppy face. I take it all back. You are nothing more than a greedy disappointment. I am no longer your friend, I never want to see your face again, nor hear your voice, and I refuse to be anywhere near your. Goodbye, Mammon, we are never going to be friends again.” she roughly pushed him on the chair, making everyone look at the scene, speechless. “I respected you, cared for you...Fuck, I really loved you, Mammon, more than anyone would know...And look how you treat me. I guess that’s what I get for trying to babysit some braindead fuck up who cares for no one but himself. Disgusting.” she sneered, glaring at him with dead eyes, before turning on her heel and going to her room, passing by Lucifer, who looked at her with confusion. “Did something happen...?” he asked, unsure of what to do. “I won’t be going to class tomorrow.” she muttered, passing by him and going to her room.

For the remainder of the day, she answered no texts, nor calls, and ignored everyone who tried to enter her room, going as far as to put spells on her door so that if they tried entering her room would get transported in the underground pool, and the yelling and knocking on the door wouldn’t be heard, no matter how hard they tried.

All the time, she tried her best to track her the person who bought the necklace, explain to them that it’s not magical and that it’s just a cheap, old accessory with emotional attachment, and that she will pay them all the money back in return for it.

500k for a necklace...What a robbery...

And the respective witch asked for double, to compensate.

That’s double the robbery.

But what could she do...?

Y/N checked her bank account, realised that she has already 800k Grimm she held on, to buy everyone gifts at the end of the year, to thank them for being such a great family for her, but that was going to be for another time.

The witch said they should meet at the end of the week, so she had enough time to raise at least 150k...And for the rest of the 50k, she’ll have to borrow from someone.

At school, every time she saw him, Y/N ignored Mammon, or did a spell to push him away, doing exactly as she promised she would do, and it was clearly affecting him.

It went the same in the classroom, as they were deskmates...

“Hey. Hey, Y/N. Y/N, listen to me! I’m sorry, okay? Don’t be mad! I-I’ll make it up for ya, okay?! How ‘bout I take ya to a Karaoke night at The Fall, as we said? O-Or lemme treat ya at Hell’s Kitchen -...Or better, Ristorante Six!” he kept rambling, which made the girl tsk, take out the scissors she had in her bag, cutting her finger and drawing a blood symbol on the back of her notebook, slammed it with her palm, before touching his cheek, and so, no matter how much he tried to speak, he wouldn’t be heard.

And when eating meals together...

“Yo, Y/N, my favourite human! Look what I brought! There’s this super VIP place that makes the best pizza, and I got one of each taste, so ya’ll see which is your fave!” he chirped, trying his best to stay cheerful as he sat down to her left, only to see he stop chatting with Asmo, raised her plate, and sat on his right, between the 5th and 4th eldest brothers, completely ignoring him.

It continued when he started getting bullied again, for who knows what reason...

“Not so smug now that Y/N isn’t taking your side anymore, huh? Well, you deserve it, after all. You really fucked up with her, y’know?” Belphie glared at his brother, leaning on Beel. “I know, okay?! I keep tryin’ to make it up to her, but she doesn’t even hear me out! What can I even do?!” he asked, obvious desperation in his voice. “Nothing, at this point. She’s working all night to get the money to pay the witch who bought the necklace from you. I don’t know how you can make up to her.” Beel shrugged, munching on his goat cheese tartar burger. “I heard from Satan she has to pay double. If I had to throw away all the money I kept for safe keeping, then have to be forced to work and borrow more to get to 1M Grimm just to get my prized possession back...I’d have killed you.” Belphie scoffed, putting his pillow on Beel’s shoulder, ready to take a nap. “Oh...I...Had no idea...” the white haired demon muttered, hanging his head, feeling his heart being ripped apart at the suffering he caused the person he holds so dear to his heart. “You never know anything you should know, why are you surprised.” Belphie muttered, shrugging “Imagine all the food you could buy with that much money. Maybe I should bring her a burger too, it may make her smile. Haven’t seen her smile since that day.” Beel nodded, getting up, with his younger brother in one arm, while the other hand held a take away food bag.

And the only one who managed to give him any sort of advice was Lucifer...

“I’m at my wit’s end, Lucifer! What can I do?! Nothing I try works! I feel like I’m losin’ her more and more with each minute...And she’s already gettin’ her necklace back, there’s nothin’ I can do to make her at least stop ignorin’ me...” Mammon sighed, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, in Lucifer’s study room, his head held in his hands, gripping at his hair, barely stopping himself from outright sobbing. “Keep on trying. I’m sure she will appreciate the effort you’re doing, even if she’s angry at you now, and rightfully so. The fact that you realised your mistake, and the gravity of it, is the first step towards redemption and forgiveness. Don’t give up...There’s no one who cares for you as much as she does.” the eldest brother sat down next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. “Thanks, Lucifer...I guess it takes time to heal...” he muttered, nodding as a way to thank him.

For the rest of the week, he continued to try to apologise in all the ways, imaginable and unimaginable he could muster, trying his best not to get discouraged by her ignoring him and going out of her way to stay as far away as possible.

However, he noticed how Beel was right, and he hasn’t seen a single uprise in the corners of her lips, there was no glint in her eyes, no warmth in her presence, and no life in her movements. She was tired, and rightfully so, considering the amount of work she’s doing, while also going to classes...

She’s just a frail, little human, she’s going to overexert her brittle body and break! Y/N already sprained her wrist by falling in her plight up the stairs once, a long time ago, and he has already seen her overworking on studying and doing multiple things to please people...

He can’t let that happen again!

But what can he do, anyway...?

On the last day of the week, he desperately tried to search for her, only to overhear a conversation in the library, between her and one of her brothers, and his heart started breaking even more, if that was possible.

“Hey...Satan? Can I ask for your insight on something?” Y/N asked, sitting on the couch next to the blond, who was reading in the library, as per usual. “Yes, what is it?” he asked, closing his book, giving her his undivided attention. “I managed to track down the witch who bought my necklace, and she said she will agree to an exchange deal, if I give her the money back...In double. I need 50k for this afternoon, and I don’t have how to get so much in such a short time, so I’ll have to borrow from someone. Any idea?” she sighed, her lips turning into a self-pitying smile. “I see...Well, honestly, anyone you ask would lend you money, but since you have to hurry, then here’s I’ll transfer you the money you need in your account.” he pat her head, doing as he said. “Thank you, Satan, you’re a true life saver. I owe you everything.” she sighed in relief, hugging him tightly.

Him! She should have picked him! He would give her his heart on a platter to sell, if she asked for it! He would sell every possession he had, including his organs, just to make sure she got her necklace back! Nevermind that it was his fault, even if it wasn’t, he’d have still given you everything he had to make sure she stops destroying her health and start glowing with happiness again.

He missed her angelic voice when speaking to him, he missed the glint in her eyes whenever she hung out with him, or helped him hide from his brothers, he missed the soft kisses she gave on his cheeks whenever she congratulated him on something great he did, and he missed how little and warm her hand was, in his, fingers intertwined, whenever she’d walk side by side. He missed how cute she was in his arms, whenever he’d crash at her place and want to cuddle, and how she was a feisty firecracker filled with justice when he got bullied and insulted by everyone.

He missed her so much...

Now that he had her around him so much, he felt it impossible that she should disappear just like that...And yet, she did, and nothing in his life hurt Mammon more than Y/N hating him.

She’s now on her way to meet the witch, get her necklace back, and here he was, a failure... But a failure who felt like something wrong was going to happen, while he was pacing, and looking at the watch, he noticed it was about time the exchange was to happen...Yet he never picked up where it would be...?

He called all his brothers, one by one, and only Satan seemed to know where she was, so Mammon ran there as fast as the fastest demon could.

Y/N was skeptical, nervous, and afraid to deal with this witch, as she was radiating an evil and intimidating aura, and it was obvious she was heavily overpowering her with her magic.

“I’ve got your money...It’s on my credit card. I will transfer it right away...But please show me the necklace first.” she muttered, holding up her phone, showing the 1M Grimm account she owned. “Good...VERY Good, little mouse. Here is your little necklace...I will give it to you as soon as you transfer the money.” she smirked, making Y/N nod and bite her lip, but doing as she was told. “Here. Did you get it? It says it got sent.” she showed her phone screen again, letting the witch check. “Perfect~! What a good, obedient little human you are...I should have you around as my lackey more often. You’re much more reliable with bringing me money than that stupid Mammon.” she scoffed, using her hand to roughly squish Y/N’s cheeks. “Can I have my necklace now, please?” she tried to say, despite looking like a fish. “Yeah, sure, here you are....Oops! Oh, no, it broke! What a pity~!” she giggled darkly as she she destroyed the necklace, letting the pieces fall to the ground, along with Y/N’s paralysed form. “NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! You promised you’d give it back! I have you the money you asked for! Why did you do that?!” Y/N groveled on the ground, trying to desperately pick up pieces of the broken necklace. “You’d think someone who spent so much time with demons wouldn’t be so stupid! Didn’t I just say? You’re so much better than that failure of a Greed demon! You KNOW him! And you KNOW all the brothers! You are that exchange human Diavolo is protecting! Hahaha...! Imagine everything I could do if I held you hostage! I can force Diavolo to marry me, I can have Lucifer and Satan be my consorts, Mammon to constantly give me jewels and clothes, Asmodeus to please me, Beelzebub to bring me food, and Belphegor to make sure my room is always perfect! And that’s only thanks to your idiocy, you little, worthless human!” her grin was wide and scary, as she suddenly grabbed Y/N’s hair, roughly pulling her up, before using her hand to grab her slender neck and squeeze, as a threat and a warning. “Keep on dreaming...That will never happen...And leave Mammon alone, he’s not stupid.” Y/N tried to claw at the witch’s hand, only to get roughly slapped, then got a pain curse put on her, which made her fall to the ground, gritting her teeth to keep from wailing in agony. “Don’t tell me...This stupid little human is in love with that waste of space? Did you know what I fucked him? Long before you even existed in this life. He cried and screamed so much that night, it was pitiful, but also amusing. You’re nowhere close to even be in my league, but you think you can please the Avatar of Greed? You’re really pathetic and delusional, darling.” the witch’s banshee-like laugh resounded through the abandoned field, amplifying the curse, as her voice was only beaten by Y/N’s stifled cries of pain. “You will pay for this.” she managed to say, before she felt a sharp pain in her side, which proved to be a kick in the ribs. “I already did, darling, the moment your stupid Mammon sold your necklace, and you tracked me down, instead of letting him try to get it back. He’s already high in debt with everyone, but he wasn’t stupid enough to be in my debt too...But now, for your sake, I WILL get him, and all of the others!” her voice was dark and menacing...Only for it to suddenly stop, as sudden the pain from the curse.

And yet, a much darker, stronger, overwhelming, suffocating aura seemed to make the whole place look as the abyss just took over.

“There’s one thing to mess with me, Maddi, but it’s another to mess with the girl I love. I don’t care what ya put me through, but as soon as ya try to even look Y/N’s way, I’m killin' ya, and ya did much worse than that. Say goodbye to your life, ‘cause I’m truly pissed off.” next thing that the human eye could comprehend was a flash of black, then a screech, and the sound of flesh being ripped. “Shit, I made a mess...Not very like me...” he muttered, before dropping to his knees in front of Y/N, pulling her into a protective embrace. “I’m so sorry ya had to see me like this, Y/N. I ain’t like this, I promise. I couldn’t stand seein’ ya gettin’ hurt, especially knowin’ it was my fault and I caused all this mess. I did all that, and yet, ya still defended me in front of her...I don’t deserve ya, Y/N, you’re too good for me.” his voice was so soft, so full of pain and regret, that she couldn’t help but throw her arms around him, letting the tears she held on from fear. “I love you so much, Mammon, you have no idea. And you saved me now...Gosh, I was so scared...I’m so glad you got here...I’m sorry I got so mad at you, Monnie, and it was all for nothing. She broke it. I ruined everything.” she sobbed, holding onto him as if to dear life, and he could only cradle her, cooing soothing words into her ear to calm her down as much as he could. “It’s fine...I screwed up, ya did nothing wrong, I promise. I ain’t mad at you, I deserved everythin’. Trust me when I say it, no matter what, I will always love ya, y’got me? Never forget that. You’re my favourite human, and nobody’s ever gonna even dare to think about approaching ya with bad intentions.” he kissed the top of her head, feeling her heart beat at a more normal pace. “I forgive you, Monnie. You will always be my favourite person in the world.” she muttered, raising her head to look at him, wiping her tears with her sleeve and smiling softly. “Eyyy, that’s the smile I was waitin’ for! I missed it so much. I can’t stand ya bein’ sad.” Mammon confessed, his face burning with a blush, but not being able to feel Tsundere in any way, and instead, he held her hands, kissing her knuckles. “I’m really sorry about your necklace. I’m sorry I forgot what ya said, and that I stole it from your room. I promiseI won’t do that again.” he squeezed her hands, looking at her with a sincere look in his gorgeous blue eyes. “I know you’re sorry, Angel Eyes. It’s fine...It’s just a necklace, after all. It’s not good getting overly attached to material things...And I have you, I don’t need any necklaces.” she confessed, fighting to keep the pain away from the thought of the broken necklace.

As she smiled, she quickly took her hands from his, cupping his face and pulling him into a passionate kiss, letting out all the pent up emotions they both had stored in their hearts for so long - All the love, the softness, the gentleness, all that as if afraid the other was a mere illusion and they were afraid they’d wake up and everything happy will disappear.

Mammon knew what Heaven was, and nothing felt better than kissing Y/N and having her close to him, that much was certain for him.

Still in his demon form, he picked her up and quickly got back home, since, after all, he wasn’t the fastest demon for nothing, and brought her back to her room, preparing a hot bath to her, proceeded by lots of good food, snacks and drinks, cuddles and a movie marathon of any film she wishes to see. As long as she was in his arms, safe and sound, happy and smiling, then he couldn’t care less about anything around him.

One week later, unbeknownst to her, things started shifting in her favour, as when she checked to see how much money she had left, she found the whole sum back into her account, then, when she went to Satan to give back the borrowed money, he chuckled, saying the debt was already paid...

And obviously, that was all Mammon’s work, no doubt, and at this point, she knew she shouldn’t even bother trying to find out how he managed to do that, but she was still thankful and decided to order the jacket and shades he knew he wanted, packed in a beautiful yellow and blue package, resembling his eyes.

She left it in front of his door one day, knocking before running away, giggling childishly to herself, and her heart started racing at dinner when she saw him wearing the gifts from her, and he looked gorgeous.

“Woaw, Mammon, that’s a really nice jacket. Where’d you get it from?” Asmo asked, his eyes wide at the obviously expensive item he was wearing. “Quite a lot, but you gotta say, he it suits him perfectly, don’t you think?” Y/N stifled her chuckle, leaning back on her chair with a smug expression seeing everyone’s shocked faced. “Whaaaaaaaaat?! So you made up?! For real?!” Levi gasped loudly. “Yep. I can’t stay mad at him.” she shrugged simply, winking at the white haired demon who was the only who knew the secret. “Why can’t I say that I’m surprised?” Satan chuckled with his usual, passive smile. “What about the necklace?” Beel asked, looking at her with a worried look. “Ah...About that...It was broken by the buyer. Nothing else to be done, unfortunately, so they gave the money back.” Y/N gave him a side smile, coming up with a milder version of the story. “Uhm...A-About that...Uhmm...Y-Ya see...Lucifer’s real cool, y’know? He’s like, super smart, and, uhh...I managed to...Y’know...I-I-I...” Mammon kept stumbling over his words, walking behind her, putting the necklace around her neck that had no more marks from that witch. “I fixed it for you.” he muttered, trying to hide his face in her hair so nobody could see him. “Would you look at that? It looks as if it was never broken in the first place. Who’d have thought.” Belphie let out an amused breath looking at the two lovebirds. “How...? But...It was in so many pieces...Some that we didn’t even find...This is impossible...?!” she kept staring at the necklace, not believing her eyes. “W-Well...Lucifer helped me find the lost pieces...And taught me this spell to get it back to its original form. Wasn’t simple, but...I-I think it’s okay.” he spoke in flustered voice, making the girl squeal with absolute glee. “You’re the best, Monnie! I can’t believe it...! You’re truly the best!” she jumped from her chair, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down in another mind blowing kiss that made the poor demon completely forget himself. “Hahahaha, y-yeah, o-of course I’m the best!! I-I’m THE Great Mammon, after all! Haaaaa!” he tried his best to appear boastful, but the fact that he was flustered beyond belief, making his brothers chuckle at how cute they were.

What a surprise, the cutest human being such a great pair for the cutest demon ( at least by Lucifer’s standards, anyway. )

So maybe, after all, if you have enough will, and a brother who knows great magic, you can reverse the outcome of an explosion of that caliber.

116 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Things That Were (Branjie) - pureCAMP

A/N - … Hi.

I won’t get into it, I don’t think I need to. But here’s a return no one expected, at least.

I wrote this based on some Feelings I have and also Jinkx’s song The Auld Lang Syne Song from… Christmas Queens 3? It has this beautiful sad, wistful, nostalgic kind of feel and it made me nostalgic for love and that strange time between Christmas and New Years. Largely sad, mostly bittersweet. Dedicated to my love Ortega, and in part for the nostalgia fic challenge.

I appreciate any and all support I’ve been given over these past months.

You have a new memory from (1) years ago!

Brooke swipes across absent-mindedly. She doesn’t think much about it, they pop up all the time in the holiday season. There’s a little loading screen, decorated with animated tinsel, that flashes in her face before every ounce of breath is knocked out of her body.

This is what dying feels like. Brooke wonders if there’s a loading screen before entrance into the afterlife. She supposes it would allow the dead some time to adjust, at least.

It’s a perfect, filtered picture. The Christmas tree looks beautiful, even as the pine dies, all decked in shades of red and gold, glittering twists and lights that twinkle gently enough to lull you to sleep. It stands tall in the background of the photo, illuminating everything with a cosy glow. At the forefront of the image, Brooke is that kind of happy, sleepy, warm drunk. Full of Baileys, probably, and little mini mince pies and leftover chocolate from boxes opened and half-finished. There’s a glass of red wine behind her, slightly visible on the table. She’s cradling Henry to her chest, kissing the top of his head.

Vanessa is next to her. The remnants of plum lipstick still on her lips, grinning, Apollo in her arms. She’s beautiful. She looks and feels like how Christmas is supposed to - welcoming, kind, gentle, sweet. And Brooke knows that she’s drunk too, and right after this she burst into laughter and her foghorn voice shattered the cosiness and it was so right and so them. And she knows how her stomach had twisted horribly after they took it.

It’s perfect. She won’t share this one. It will stay in her archives. It’s really been a year, huh.

The cats look at her accusingly, as if they know. They probably do know. They know everything about Brooke. Every flaw, every fault. If they could speak, she knows they’d ask for Vanessa instead of her. Well, tough. Vanessa’s gone, Brooke thinks, almost aggressively as if she’s trying to telepathically tell them so. Vanessa’s been gone for a year.

Or has she? Vanessa isn’t the one who left. Vanessa isn’t the one who walked out without warning, who pretended the bliss was as blissful as it looked and then ran from it all. No, no, that was Brooke.

She shuts off her phone, clicks the button to make the picture fade to black. The switch from warm and bright to black is jarring. It’s probably how Vanessa felt, waking up to an empty bed.

“Brookieeeeee,” Vanessa sings. She’s grinning, cheesing so hard that her eyes have disappeared, nothing but the flicker of a fake eyelash visible from them. “Brooklyn Briiiiiidge…”

Brooke turns, laughing, and waves away the whistles and teasing mumbles from their friends. “Vanjie?”

She pushes her lips together and makes kissy noises, wordlessly begging. Brooke gently holds her chin, lifts her head, kisses. She tastes like cinnamon and nutmeg and chocolate, a festive concoction of things that Brooke usually hates but loves on her. Vanessa looks amazing in gold and she’s an Oscar from head to toe, sparkling, beautiful.

Akeria makes pointed eye contact with Brooke, then mimes gagging herself with two fingers.

Vanessa rolls her eyes, the fondness on her face so evident that it could light up the entire bar. “I love you.”

And Brooke kisses her. The kiss says what it needs to.

Christmas a whole year ago. Brooke made a series of decisions. Stupid ones, maybe. Definitely. She doesn’t know who she’s kidding.

Funny how she finds it so hard to kid herself. Apparently, she had no issue kidding Vanessa.

A little while after Silky comments that Brooke really shouldn’t still be living in the shithole apartment she rented at 20, she realises that as rude and bluntly honest it had seemed at the time, she’s right. She resolves not to mention this to Silky, in case her ego inflates too far and she flies away like Aunt Marge (she thinks this with love), and starts looking online. And it’s impossible.

So out comes the phone, because there’s only one person to go to for this. For anything. Because she’s always there and she’s always willing and she only ever wants some quality time as payment.

B: Vanjie [8.22pm]

B: Vanjerella….. [8.22pm]

B: Vanessaaaaaa [8.23pm]

V: brooke lynn hytes [8.24pm]

B: Not the full name… am I in trouble? [8.24pm]

V: do u wanna be? ;) [8.24pm]

B: Hmm… I’ll think about it… [8.24pm]

B: Anyway I need your heeeeeelp [8.24pm]

V: i gotchu boo [8.25pm]

V: what u need baby [8.25pm]

B: Cutie [8.25pm]

B: I’m going apartment hunting, help me look? Idk what to even look for [8.25pm]

V: exciting!!!!!! [8.26pm]

V: babyyyyy this is so exciting for u omg!!! I love moving [8.26pm]

V: i hope i can help!! im usually terrible at this but i think we’ll have fun!! [8.26pm]

V: although i gotta wonder what made u ask me instead of somebody smart like nina [8.27pm]

B: Ah shit, great point nvm I’ll ask her [8.28pm]

B: Jk. Asked u because ur always here visiting, may as well find something u like as well <3 [8.28pm]

V: u bout to make a bitch cry [8.29pm]

Vanessa was over in maybe ten minutes tops, Brooke remembers. It was like she could read Brooke’s mind, and she’d brought coffee for them both to keep them going and even a little bag of kitty treats from the place she’d stopped at (“a guy was sellin’ them outside and I felt a little sorry for him in the cold so I bought ‘em. They’re good, the ones you usually get!”). They were up for hours scrolling, and then searching in person just so that she could act as a second opinion.

Brooke stands up from the couch and walks slowly, heavily, towards the window. Her Christmas tree is silver this year, silver and purple, and as pretty and icy as it had seemed when she decorated it, it feels cold and desolate now. It reflects on the glass and for a moment it’s hard to focus on the world outside when the world inside is so disturbed, but she manages. Dark as it is, the lights of the city are never gone, and she has a beautiful view of a metropolitan paradise laid out beneath her.

Vanessa loved the view. She picked it, in a way. Brooke was unsure about the viewing, and Vanessa wheedled, tugging her arm and telling her she’d love it.

She did love the view. But it was Vanessa’s view, that she saw first, that she loved first. Now it just makes Brooke feel sick. Sick at herself. Like it’s not hers to look at, and she shouldn’t.

She looks away.

A change of scenery helps to calm the mind, Brooke thinks. Nina told her that once, she vaguely recalls, as she sobbed helplessly into the arms of the only one who would listen. The only one who didn’t think of her as a raging evil bitch, and more of a hopeless coward instead. It’s not much better, but it’s a small comfort given how much she hates herself for it. She’s more inclined to go with what the rest of them all thought after it happened.

It’s late, anyway. Maybe it really is time to read a book and push down the thoughts and try to sleep away the regret.

“Oh god, oh god. Vane- fuck,” She breathes.

Waves of pleasure shoot through her, beginning deep in her belly and sending shockwaves all up Brooke’s back. Her hands grasp at the sheets around her head, desperate, clinging, her mind and body totally incognizant of each other. Her body is on fire, and her mind isn’t even functioning correctly.

Vanessa’s mouth is hot and fast and her tongue is skilled, and every time she grazes over her clit with the swift, feather-light touches Brooke thinks she’s going to pass out. Her fists grab tighter and her toes curl and a gasp floats from her lips, accidental, unstoppable. She manages to tear one hand away and threads it into Vanessa’s dark hair, urging her to keep going.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck…” She manages.

The goddess between her legs doesn’t stop, not until long after the inaudible mumblings have stopped falling from Brooke’s lips and her breaths are finally starting to slow, and she wonders how Heaven is meant to be above them when she feels herself sinking into it right now. Brooke thinks absent that maybe Heaven is here and everything else is Hell because nothing feels like being with Vanessa feels, and when they’re naked and intertwined and breathless and warm maybe they’re closer to God than they’ll ever be.

She catches herself before three words make their way out.

“God, this fucking mattress…” Is what she ends up producing. It’s digging into her back, lumpy and old. She’s only just noticed, in truth.

Vanessa’s head lifts, her makeup smudged in a way that feels beyond sinful to look at. She licks her lips coyly, sucks off her finger, and offers a lazy, heady sort of smile.

“The mattress? That’s all you got, boo?”

She’s laughing, happy, delirious. Brooke laughs too. “I don’t have to say anything about you. Isn’t the state of me enough?”

It is. On her back, chest peppered with bruises not yet formed, chest rising and falling beyond her control, legs still twitching slightly. Brooke’s completely spent, blissed out, exhausted. Vanessa’s still worn out from hers and yet her tongue is musical and the melodies were handcrafted by all the muses of the ancient world.

Still smiling, Vanessa shifts so she’s hovering on top of Brooke and then leans down to kiss her, their bodies colliding, Brooke tasting herself on the lips of her lover. It’s nights like these that make her feel like the world is a good place to be. That everything is fixable, everything is brilliant.

“We should get you a new mattress, baby,” Vanessa tells her when they break apart. “And I’ll probably never leave.”

Brooke forces a laugh, but the idea isn’t laughable. Vanessa and Forever go hand in hand, somehow.

And they do go shopping for a mattress for Brooke’s place. They wander through stores and discuss mattress firmness and size and height and flop down until they feel as though they’re ready to drop, and then Vanessa lands on one and yells “BROOKIE!” so loud that her voice - that goddamn voice - almost shatters the glass. She’s laying down with a beam on her face like nothing Brooke’s ever seen, pure sunshine, and she clearly has the best taste in mattresses because when she buys it, Brooke’s never slept so good in her life.

The bed is cold. Brooke deserves a cold bed. She left Vanessa in one, so it’s the least she can deal with it.

They weren’t always at Brooke’s - sometimes it was Vanessa’s too, for the sake of variety. Looking back on those memories makes Brooke feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Which she is, of course, and she knows it. But even here, the mini Christmas tree is cold and isolated, and Vanessa gave it to her as an early gift last Christmas, and Vanessa chose the mattress, and Vanessa picked the view. Brooke stares at everything that Vanessa has touched in her life and wonders why in the world she let herself ruin something so good. It’s selfish and stupid and self-sabotaging and that angel of a woman deserves so much more.

She thinks about sharing the picture. She could caption it with that song, ‘Now I’m in the house you chose and the bed you bought to face your perfect view’, and that could be her apology. Because she knows all too well she’s too much of a blind coward to say it properly. And Vanessa won’t see it even if she does share, because they’re not friends anymore. Someone will get it to her - probably Silky - but that’s not worth it.

Brooke opens her phone again, and swipes away from the picture before she does something stupid. Then she opens her texts.

B: Are you busy? [10.11pm]

B: Oh shit sorry, just saw Yvie’s insta, u guys are out tonight. Ignore this x [10.13pm]

N: No no! They’re out, I’m home because I was working all day and I was too tired :( [10.19pm]

N: What do you need hun? <3 [10.20pm]

B: If ur tired it’s okay, I’ll talk to u another time x [10.20pm]

N: Shut up. I’m here [10.21pm]

N: I think I know what’s going on. Right time of year [10.21pm]

B: I’m just an idiot, idk [10.22pm]

N: Nope. Stay where you are, I’m coming over. [10.22pm]

N: Did she text you? [10.24pm]

B: She’s not that stupid lmao why would she [10.24pm]

Nina is the only one who bothered to ask what the hell was going on when it happened. It’s not like Brooke can blame the others, and she doesn’t either. If someone did that to her best friends, she would be the same. And she is the same - she hates herself passionately for it. But Nina has this untraceable kindness to her, this unfathomable tenderness that seems to have no beginnings, no ends, no limits. It flows so freely from her, like a gift.

She has no idea how much time passes by crying and looking blankly at her phone, or even any idea when she started crying, but the doorbell rings and Brooke answers it already in tears and Nina sweeps her into a hug like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and maybe it is. To love your friends is easy and natural, like taking a breath in clean air.

To love someone special is like inhaling in water, drowning, getting lost. And you have to be content with the helplessness in order to survive it, or at least strong enough to swim and keep it going. You can’t just sink. Brooke couldn’t handle drowning.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” She weeps into Nina’s arms, once her choking sobs settle into streaming tears. It’s not better, just different. “I wanted to be with her forever and that was so fucking scary.”

Nina rubs her back. “Breathe, breathe. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Is- is she okay?”

Stupid question. Brooke isn’t sure she even wants to know.

The hug finishes; they’re on the couch again. Nina pulls out her phone, frowning, and pauses like she’s thinking. She looks guilty, which is unusual.

“I would never normally show a friend’s text, y’know? It’s private, I don’t do all that betraying trust stuff. But I know she’ll delete these tomorrow morning and I think you should see them before she does.”

V: so its been a ear then hasnr it [10.56pm]

V: a year of fwithout brook [10.56pm]

V: honestly fuck her yknw what i man [10.56pm]

V: she fuckin broke mt heart man why did she do that [10.56pm]

V: i miss her an the stupid vats so muhc [10.57pm]

V: tha sonf auld lang syne plaed earlier in the bar bef4 eht club [10.57pm]

V: very apropaotye hahahahksjkdh [10.57pm]

V: may rhe acwanriance be forgot forever and fuckung ever [10.57pm]

V: is okay i can lobe w the bitternness [10.57pm]

V: i just kisd girls unt il it dont hurt [10.57pm]

Brooke sobs. Again, loud, shaking, broken. Because Vanessa is hurting so much even a year after it happened and everything feels so raw and it’s entirely her own fault for crushing the dream they were building.

“I miss her so fucking much, I don’t know why- I don’t know why I walked out,” She babbles, helpless and hopeless and hurt. “I’m fucking lying, Nina, I know why, I know why I did it. Why did I fucking-”

She knows all too well. Because Vanessa helped her pick an apartment and Vanessa picked her bed and Vanessa loved her cats. Because Brooke could imagine them getting married and growing old and it had barely been four months by the time Christmas and New Years were rolling around and everything seemed so serious and so intense, and that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun but it was scary in the same breath because speed was terrifying.

Brooke is bitter, but only at herself.

New Years Day. January 1st, a brand new year, a bright new start. The frost glistens freshly on the undisturbed morning, and all across the city, singles and couples sleep through the dawn, hungover or still passed out drunk, party hats akimbo, party blowers still suspended in smudged lipsticky mouths.

It’s early, enough that the daylight is blinding but pale and faded. Vanessa’s bedroom has the huge window that she never covers, and she sleeps through it like the dead. Brooke wakes up and looks around.

She looks at everything but Vanessa, but eventually her gentle snuffling is too much to ignore and she looks down at her beautiful sleeping form. She’s a disaster, hair everywhere and glitter still all over her face, and she’s the most breathtaking woman in the entire wide world. Something heavy and all encompassing sweeps into Brooke’s chest, and she can identify it by name. It’s only four letters, but it strikes a fear in her like an old god from a lost world. She needs to vomit. She needs to run. She needs an escape.

Before she even knows who she is again, any of the things that ended up staying half their time at Vanessa’s are stuffed into a couple of carrier bags and she’s in her dress from the party and out of the door into the cold winter air, panicked, unable to breathe.

It’s a heart attack, she thinks. Or a panic attack. It’s an attack that feels like it’s going to kill her, and she runs away, and she runs all the way home and barricades the door shut, dropping her belongings on the floor, numb and confused and cold. It’s the start of the new year and she begins it alone, hyperventilating.

Within a couple of days the worried texts subside and the angry vengeful ones start flooding in, and just like that Brooke’s lost the best thing that ever happened to her and all of her friends along with it. Because she got up on new year’s day and abandoned Vanessa fast asleep and that was the end.

It’s ugly and chilling, how much she cries into Nina’s gentleness. The only thing that stops her is, ironically, the thing that makes her feel worse, the characteristic ‘ping!’ of Nina’s phone, undoubtedly more drunk texts.

V: i hoper he fucjibg bubble bursts this tie of year [11.23pm]

V: every jhanduary first for the rest of hersitnkin life [11.23pm]

“I deserve it,” Brooke whispers hoarsely, “But she doesn’t. She never did.”

“Neither of you do,” Nina tells her sadly. “They don’t all hate you, they hate what you did the way friends always do when breakups happen. You both deserve to be happy. And both of you have been dreading New Year’s for this exact reason.”

It hurts to hear, and Brooke wishes she doesn’t have to listen, but her friend is so goddamn wise it feels stupid not to.

“Two days until it’s officially New Year.” Nina kisses her hand. “Can you keep living like this, Brooke?”

It’s not like she even has to say it for Brooke to understand. “She hates me.”

Nina shakes her head. “No she doesn’t. She loves you.”

“That’s worse.”

“You love her.”

“I know.”

“You got scared.”

“I still am.”

“Face your fears.” Nina holds her at arm’s length, forcing her to look right into her face. “This hurts more than what blundering through it would, surely? Fire doesn’t always mean you get burned, sweetie. Sometimes it just warms you.”

She makes no fucking sense.

“I can’t play with Vanessa like that again.” Brooke swears. “I can’t.

The transitional period between Christmas and New Year doesn’t feel like real time. It’s just liminal space, a waiting room of chronology, a suspension in space. If she’s honest, trying now causes no harm, because it’s like it didn’t even happen. Maybe she should, maybe she will.

Eventually Nina leaves, pressing a kiss to her forehead and promising that somehow everything is going to be okay. She’s like a fairy godmother, Brooke thinks to herself. Always knowing, always positive, and total magic to behold.

She’s awake all night long just staring at the time on the top of her phone, lying in bed sideways and wondering if she’ll do it. It has to be right. It can’t be when she’ll still be awake and drunk and angry. But it can’t be on the anniversary of her biggest fuck up, because that just feels like some kind of sick joke and that’s not what she wants.

The entire night passes. At six am, her finger hovers over the send button for a full three minutes. She counts the seconds.

B: I fucked up. If u’ll have me, I’ll never mess u around again. I didn’t know I could love someone so much and then u came along and everything sped up and I wasn’t fast enough. I shouldn’t have thrown away what we had when it was as close to perfect as anything can get. This message is all me me me I I I but if ur okay with it, I think new year should begin right this time. I’ll hold u and I won’t let go, and u don’t even have to hold me as long as ur here. Everything is up to u. I’ll learn to live with what I did if u say no. Because I totally get why u should hate me. I hate me too, kinda. U did nothing wrong. U were and will always be perfect. [6.03am]

B: Full disclosure is I was scared of how much and how quick I loved u. But it didn’t go away even when I hurt u. I was stupid to do that, and I don’t wanna do another year in the shadow of that massive mistake. [6.05am]

B: I won’t say it here, because thats cheap for u. But I’ll say it when I see u again. I promise, and I want to [6.13am]

She falls asleep with her phone in her hand after being awake all night long.

She wakes up four hours later.

V: ur dumb [9.51am]

V: theres a party at yvies for new years yknow [9.52am]

V: im not saying ill kiss u at midnight but [9.52am]

V: fuck around and find out [9.52am]

(tags: purecamp, branjie, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, lesbian au, things that were, fic challenge, nostalgia challenge, nina west)

#rpdr fanfiction #purecamp #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #things that were #fic challenge #nostalgia challenge #nina west #s11 #(you will always have a place here! -v)

37 notes · View notes

jane-fucking-seymour · 4 years ago

Text

Every Tudor Rose Has Its Thorns - CH 2 now live

AO3 Link here

“So… you think they’re alive?” Jim asks, tilting his head.

“At least one of them is a ghost, I think,” she explains, walking towards the alley next to the theatre. They had gotten their tickets refunded due to “technical difficulties,” despite knowing that the real issue was far beyond that. “But the visions I had when Catherine and Anne went up for their songs… it felt really powerful. It could be more than one. Maybe all of them, just based on the pure strength of it.”

“What, so you think the ghosts of the ex-wives of Henry VIII are… haunting the performers when they go on?” Jim asks. “One ghost doing that, sure, but all of them? Seems pretty unlikely.”

Melinda frowned and looked down at the programme, flipping to the page where the actors were shown. She tilts her head. “You know, they never say what the actor’s names are in here. They just say Anne and Catherine and the rest.”

“Maybe it’s an acting thing?” Jim asks, though he clearly sounds like he’s fishing for an answer. “Some actors do that, live as though they’re the characters they are.”

Melinda nods in consideration, but goes back to the original theory: that the ghosts are involved.

“I mean, it’s not surprising that they would be earthbound if it is actually them,” Melinda says. “Not after everything they got put through.”

“Do you think they caused the technical difficulties?” Jim asks.

“I didn’t sense anyone else around, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Melinda replies. “Why would they want to ruin their own show, though? It’s about their story, their lives being told-”

“No, they’re not ruining their own show.”

Jim and Melinda jump a bit as they hear a voice behind them. When they turn, they spot…

“You’re Maria, right?” Melinda asks. “You’re the drummer.”

“I am,” Maria nods. “I was hoping you’d still be around. I… I don’t know how to explain this, but I really think you should come with me.”

Melinda watches her for a moment before tilting her head. She slowly walks more towards Maria, gently taking her hand. There’s a slight jolt before Melidna is once again pulled into a vision:

She’s managed to avoid the guards, sneak into the premises, and get to her door. With a running start, she bangs through it, immediately looking down at a woman in bed. She looks deathly ill, yet oddly familiar…

Melinda can hear herself speak Spanish to the woman, crying as she holds her. She can see her arm gently push back some hair, gently speak comforting words to the woman she held, crying out her name as the former queen’s eyes start to dim and close:

“Catalina!”

Suddenly, Melinda was back to the present. Maria looks terrified.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt her, is she-”

“It’s okay, she’s okay,” Jim says, nodding. He keeps an eye on Melinda, though, just in case.

Melinda took a moment to clear her thoughts before she continued. “That was… the other side of the vision I had when Catherine of Aragon’s song came up.”

“Vision?” Maria asks, taking a step back in surprise. “Are you a witch?”

“No,” Mel is quick to dispel the theory. “But I do… have a gift. I can see the dead.”

Maria pales. Melinda narrows her eyes.

“How?” Melinda asks. Maria is quiet, so Melinda clarifies: “How are you alive and dead at the same time?”

She looks down at her hands before she looks back up at the couple. “I… I need you to come inside. To come with me to see the others.” She looks from Melinda to Jim and back to Melinda. “I promise, we’re not… we’re not bad. And we didn’t do anything to cause those issues.” She takes a deep breath. “Oh, I can’t believe Jane’s going to be right on this.”

“Right on what?” Jim asks, stepping forward.

Maria makes a face.

“She said she felt someone else on stage with us tonight. Someone cold. She’s been off ever since.”

That was enough for Melinda to follow Maria into the backdoor.

As soon as they walk in, Maria takes Jim and Mel to the dressing rooms. Melinda recognized the queens: Jane was sitting next to Anne, quietly discussing something. Catherine and Cathy were getting their things together. Anna and Katherine were on their phones.

It’s the latter that speak up first.

“I mean, I’m seeing stuff where people say their electronics went haywire due to a ghost,” Katherine says. “Even as common as we’ve been having it lately.”

“It could also be some faulty wiring, though,” Anna points out, scrolling through some searches. “Or maybe the wind that’s been picking up knocked something loose.”

“I swear, I felt a cold wind, and I…” Jane starts, but she freezes up when she spots Maria and her guests. “Who’s this?”

Maria clears her throat and steps forward. “Everyone, this is Melinda Gordon and Jim Clancy.” She looks directly at Catherine for the next part. “Melinda can speak to the dead.”

They’re all quiet for a moment before Anne speaks up.

“Oh really?” She asks, a hint of joking in her voice. Melinda grimaces at that; people usually are in disbelief, but the mocking tone some can get reminded her of the high school and college bullies. It’s not easy doing her job, after all.

“Yes,” Maria continues. “Actual ghosts.”

“How do you think she can help?” Cathy asks.

“How do we know to trust her?” Jane asks.

“I think I know the answer to both of those things.”

Before Melinda or Jim can answer, someone else has jumped to their defense: Melinda recognized her as Joan, the pianist. Right behind her was Bessie and Maggie. All three of them were in normal clothes now, bags left at the side of the door as they move towards the group and stand nearby.

“Maria,” Joan says quietly. “I saw you stumble on Catherine’s song today. You were looking right at her in the front row.” Joan looks over at Melinda, almost pitying her. “And you looked incredibly pale. I thought it might be a trick of the light, but I’m assuming you being here makes it not the case.”

Melinda nods, stepping forward. “I had a vision. I was in a bed, hurting, and someone barged into the room and held me as I died. It felt like the person wasn’t supposed to be there, but I needed her to be there.” She looks over at Maria, who is looking at Catherine. “I think it was you. You called her name as she died, didn’t you? You called for Catalina. That was who you were holding, as she died.”

Maggie frowns. “Not that I don’t believe you, but anyone who knows our histories knows that Maria held Catherine at the end. How do we know this isn’t a trick?”

“Because,” Joan says, “when that… vision… of hers happened, Maria looked completely out of sorts.” She steps towards the woman in question. “What did you feel?”

“I felt… connected,” Maria explains, moving to gently hold Catherine’s hand for support. Catherine, of course, holds it firm. “I felt like someone was connecting with me. And I… I heard Catalina’s cries. I heard what I heard when she died. Then I looked up, and it was Melinda.”

“Did you… see something… during Don’t Lose Ur Head?” Maggie asks, frowning.

Melinda shivered at the thought. “Yes. I saw someone being taken to the block. A young, red headed girl called for her mom-”

Anne stands up quickly, like a reflex, but Maggie quickly grabs her arm. It calms the woman somewhat as she sits back down. Jim stands a bit closer to Melinda as she backed up at the sudden movement, but with things calmer, she relaxes a bit more.

“Not quite how that went,” Anne says quietly, “but if Catherine and Maria believe you, I’m inclined to as well.”

“Sometimes my visions aren’t exact to what happened,” Melinda replies. “Sometimes they’ve got more symbolism in them then actual events-”

Melinda stopped, though, when a sudden chill fell through the air. She felt her head reeling with no warning; she put a hand to it and tried to breathe through it. Jim was calling for her, she knew this, but the voice became less and less her husbands and more and more like someone else.

The lights suddenly turned off.

And he appeared.

What hit her first was a wave of emotions - fear, jealousy, panic.. But mostly anger. A lot of anger. She couldn’t tell who he was exactly, as the Shadows around them were so thick, but he pointed to her and spoke; it cut through her mind like glass.

“You should not be here,” he said, and Melinda winced every time he spoke. “You should not be here.”

“Who are you?” She asks, but he screamed, and the Shadows rushed her, and everything went dark…

… only for the lights to turn on a moment later.

Melinda blinked; somehow, she had ended up crouched on the floor, hands on her head as she looked around. Jim was immediately at her side, checking her over.

“Are you okay-?” He started, but someone else’s voice cut through his question. This time, it didn’t hurt Melinda at all.

“Jane?!?”

The couple looked over to find Jane Seymour collapsed to the ground, eyes unfocused and glassy, breathing rapidly as if panicked. With a nod from Mel, Jim rushed over to see if he could help.

“What’s happened, why is that happening again?” Katherine asks, clearly panicked.

Melinda picked up the clue. “Again? When did it happen before?”

“It happened yesterday, too,” Bessie says, stepping forward. “She’s been having these type of spells for a while now.”

“Anna had some to start with as well, Cathy too,” Joan points out. “But Jane’s been hit the hardest with them.”

Melinda nods, looking over at Jane just in time to see her gasp for air. She coughed, being helped to sit up by Jim.

“Are you alright?” Jim asks, looking the woman over.

“Jane?” Joan is right beside her queen in an instant; now Melinda knew what she meant by they took care of their queens; Joan was Jane’s Lady in Waiting in their previous life, after all.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Jane mumbles, a hand to her head as she collects her thoughts. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s the damned ghost, that’s what’s come over you,” Katherine says, clearly angry. “What does it want and why does it keep on messing with our productions?”

Anne looked over at Melinda before stepping towards her. “Alright, I don’t quite believe you, but… what did you see? Before, in the dark?” Melinda seemed to be confused, so Anne continued. “If you’re having those vision things, I’d assume you’d have one when things go bad.”

“That’s not how it works all the time,” Melinda says, “but I did see the ghost. He was…” she swallowed thickly at the next few words, looking over at Jim. “He was surrounded by Shadows.”

Jim’s jaw set with anger for a moment, before he corrected his expression. Melinda continued.

“He said I shouldn’t be here. He was tall, that’s all I got from it.”

The lights flickered again and Melinda once again felt a wave of nausea. She blinked, squeezing her eyes shut. Catherine frowned when Anna did the same.

“We should leave,” Melinda said through shaky breaths. “Whoever it is, they’re going to try again.”

Anna is unsteady, but she powers through it to get to the alley. As soon as they’re out of the theatre, Melinda feels her head clear up considerably. She breathes a sigh of relief as she looks at Anna; she seems far better, too.

Maria steps forward. “Do you mind if we go somewhere a bit more private?” she asks, looking at the couple. “Our flat’s nearby. Might be the best place to discuss this more.”

“Sure,” Melinda says. “We’ll follow you.”

Maggie leads the group as they walk down the street, Jim and Melinda in the middle of the pack. Maria and Bessie hang at the back. They’re silent, before Maria speaks:

“You’re on the fence for this, aren’t you, Bessie?”

She sighs. “I don’t know what to think,” she replies. “But if you think she’s the answer to what’s been happening lately I think it’s worth a shot.” She shrugs. “Not like we had any success with anything else, so…”

Maria looks back at the couple, who are quietly walking, Melinda’s arm in his. “Yeah. I really think they are.”

As they walk, Jim looks Melinda over some more. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” Jim asks quietly.

Melinda glanced over then shook her head. “A little woozy,” she admits. “The visions are strong, and I think it’s because of who they are.” she gives him a small smile. “I’ll be ok. I’ve got you here.”

Jim tries to smile back, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. Melinda understands this, but her focus right now is moreso on Jane.

“She looks about as good as I feel,” Mel mumbles.

Jane looked as pale as a ghost, stumbling occasionally as they moved towards the queen’s flat. Joan was right next to her, watching her closely as they moved.

“Yeah, and Anna doesn’t look too well either,” Jim observed. Anna was at the front of the pack with Katherine, answering her questions and smiling with her, but Jim’s EMT training allowed him to see the occasional stumble and wince in pain. “It took a lot out of them, too, I think.”

“When we get to the flat,” Catherine says, having heard their conversation, “We can all take a breather there.”

Cathy watches the couple very closely for a moment before she just continues on with Catherine in tow. Catherine narrows her eyes at Cathy for a moment before moving on.

The sound of a child’s laughter rings through the area; it makes Melinda smile as she and Jim are let into the flat. From there, everyone comes together in the living room.

“The weird stuff hasn’t followed us home before,” Cathy says. “So we should be safe here.”

Melinda breathes a sigh of relief; her head already feels like it’s clearing, and some of her energy’s returned. “This place feels a lot better than the theatre.”

“Please, sit down,” Anna says, offering them two spots on the couch. Melinda and Jim sit down next to each other while the others settle down on chairs around them.

Catherine, with a small smile, starts the conversation:

“If you don’t mind, Melinda, I think it’d be best if we just get into it, okay?”

Melinda nodded, and Catherine continued.

“Maria seems to be convinced that you’ve got special powers,” Catherine replies. “And you definitely saw something at the theatre multiple times.”

Melinda nods. “It’s more powerful than what I usually deal with, to be honest,” Melinda says. “I just feel… a lot of energy, coming from all of you.” She looks around the room. “It’s not bad. It’s better than when you were at the theatre. From personal experience, that means the Shadows aren’t able to affect you here.”

“Shadows?” Cathy asks.

“They’re dark energy,” Melinda continues. “Powerful, dark, negative energy. It’s sometimes leftover energy from bad souls, other times those souls are… converted, into the Shadows.” She shivers at the thought, remembering when they took her over, remembering when they made her think and almost do terrible things…

“What’s the Shadows have to do with us?” Jane asks quietly, looking down at her hands. “Why are we being tormented?”

“And some of us more than others,” Anne replies. “It seems to be tormenting Catherine, Anna, and Jane more-”

“Is it, though?” Katherine asks. “You almost died on stage. Again.”

Melinda sat up at that. “You said that it happened before at the theatre, too. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

They all look at each other, uncertain. Jim speaks up then.

“We want to help,” he tries. “But we need all the information we can.”

“You have to at least believe that there’s truth to what I’m saying, don’t you?” Melinda asks. “You wouldn’t have invited me into your homes if you didn’t.”

Katherine narrows her eyes. “You said you got a vision every time you touched one of us, right?” When Melinda nods, Katherine stands up in front of her and offers a hand. “Well, prove it.”

Melinda looks at Jim and, with a nod his way, looks back at the hand. With some hesitation, she takes it, and-

-she’s suddenly not in the room.

She’s on stage, the exact one Melinda had been watching only an hour before. She’s singing something, on her knees, breathing heavily as she talks about being touched and enough being enough and people supposed to be different. Just as she finishes it, she hastily blows a kiss at the audience as she gasps for air and looks up, a single pink spotlight on her.

The crowd is silent for a moment, and it seems to save her life - she can hear something above her crack.

Her eyes go wide as the spotlight momentarily is blocked by something. Realizing what’s about to happen, she instantly backs up, straight back as a bar suddenly slams right where she just was.

She gasps, catching her breath, wincing as she feels something hit her hand as the bar makes impact with the ground. She ignores the pain as someone grabs her and rushes her off stage, the audience being evacuated…

… and Melinda gasps as she is brought back to the present.

“Holy crap,” Katherine says, eyes wide. “I… Maria was right.”

“What did you see?” Bessie asks.

Melinda catches her breath for a second. “She was singing, then she looked up at the spotlight, and a bar fell and hurt her hand,” Melinda says, pointing to the mark on Katherine’s hand.

“That’s what happened Thursday,” Katherine says. “That’s what happened when I was injured. And I never told anyone who I knew about it.” Katherine looks back at Catherine. “She’s legit, swear it.”

Catherine nods at the girl and then looks at Melinda. “I think it’s enough evidence to continue,” Catherine says quietly. “Now… what would this shadow want with us?”

“The Shadows work best through people,” Melinda says. “That’s how they became a threat to us back in Grandview, they influenced people to make their move.” She shivers at the thought, but doesn’t get too into detail; they’ve only just started to trust her, she didn’t want them to be scared.

Not yet, anyways.

Catherine nods. “So you think it’s possible whoever is doing this is trying to influence us?”

Melinda leans back on the couch. “Katherine was almost killed that time, and Anne was today… did anything else happen?”

“Yeah,” Anna says. “Catherine was almost electrocuted the other day.”

Catherine winces at the memory. “I was on stage and about to sit on the throne during No Way, and suddenly the damn thing broke apart. One of the legs splintered off and cut a nearby wire. If it wasn’t for Maria, I would have been shocked.”

Melinda nods. “Anything else?”

“There was that time Katherine tripped and knocked herself unconscious last week,” Anne points out.

“And the slip and fall Catherine had,” Cathy points out.

“And Anne’s phone literally blew up in her hand the week before on stage,” Maggie added.

Jim had been keeping count. “So it’s really only been physical ‘accidents’ for Anne, Katherine, and Catherine?” He asks, nodding towards the correct C/Katherines to clarify who he was talking about.

Cathy nods. “The rest of us… when those things happen, we start to feel weird.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively. “It’s like something’s there. Something cold. Something not pleasant.”

“You feel an anger, right?” Melinda asks, looking directly at Cathy. “You feel like you’re helpless, and you feel cold and angry and not yourself, right? And you can’t let that feeling go because it’s taking you over?”

Jane nods, but looks wary. “They seem scary the more you talk about them.”

“They are, to be honest,” Melinda says, looking down. “But it’s beatable. It is.” She looks up again, a gentle smile on her face. “With some support from others, we can beat it here.”

Cathy seems hesitant to say something, but after a moment (and a deep breath) she steps forward. “The ghosts that you can see… can you see anyone else?”

Melinda tilts her head, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you see any other ghosts,” Cathy repeats. “Can you see any other ghosts around us?”

Melinda frowns. “Who would I be looking for?”

“A young girl, probably,” Cathy says. “Or, uhm… maybe two women, or maybe a teenaged boy.”

Melinda considers Cathy for a moment before she nods quickly, looking around the room. She’s been at this long enough that she can filter out the queen’s and ladies in waiting’s presence well enough to find other people when she needs to, but right now…

“... there’s no one else here,” Melinda says, looking back at the woman. “I’m sorry, is it someone you know?”

Cathy sighs. “It’s nothing.” She gets up and leaves.

Catherine steps in. “I’m sorry about her.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Melinda says. “I just… who was she looking for?”

Catherine isn’t sure she should answer.

Anne cuts in.

“Well,” she says, getting up. “We should probably start preparing dinner.” She smiles to try to diffuse the tension in the room; it’s kind of working.

Melinda nods and goes to stand up with Jim when Katherine gives them a look.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kat asks, raising an eyebrow.

Melinda blinks. “Uh… didn’t you say you were preparing dinner?” she asks. “We were headed to the door.”

“But then you’d miss dinner,” Katherine replies.

“Sorry, uh, we weren’t aware we were invited,” Jim replies.

“We’ve still got a bit to talk about, if you’re interested in hanging around,” Maria says. “It’s likely this’ll happen at the show tomorrow, too. It’s been like this for a while now. And if you’re our chance of stopping it… well, I think we can all agree we’d want to give you all the time in the world to figure it out.”

“Besides,” Maggie says, smiling widely. “We need an extra hand in the kitchen. Anne’s not allowed in there since the Knife Incident.”

Melinda looked alarmed. “The accidents have been happening here, too?”

“No,” Maggie replies. “We just can’t trust Anne, Katherine, and Cathy to be on their own with a bunch of knives and a dart board anymore.”

Jim looks concerned and Melinda’s very confused.

“Which K/Catherine-” Mel starts, but the queens laugh.

Catherine motions towards the kitchen. “Come on, Melinda, you can chop up some vegetables and we can keep on chatting.”

Melinda nods, then looks over at Jim. “Are you ok with this?”

“Free dinner? Yeah, sure,” he replies, smiling back at her. “I’ll get to work on some research while you guys are talking.”

“I’d like to help with that,” Anna says. “If you don’t mind.”

Mel nods appreciatively. “The more the merrier.”

Jim gives Melinda’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Melinda nods in his direction. It’s an unspoken conversation between them - if Mel needed anything, she can go to Jim, and Jim’ll be there. On the flip side, if he found anything out, he could come into the kitchen to let her know. All that exchanged in two movements and no words.

Honestly, Catherine thought as she led Melinda into the kitchen, it was rather adorable how the two interacted. A happy, healthy couple who had each other’s backs. She wouldn’t know what that felt like - not really - but she’s glad at least someone seemed to have a love story out of a storybook. It was a nice change of pace from the usual.

Anna was thinking something very similar as she replaced Melinda on the couch. “You two are something special, aren’t you?”

Jim chuckled. “We’ve been at this for years,” he said, unlocking his phone. “I’m not usually this involved in it, but I’m glad to be when she asks me to.”

“You guys are really adorable,” Bessie replies with a grin.

Jim’s about to reply when Anna sharply inhales some air, frowning as she looks down at her phone. Jim springs into action.

“Can I see?” Jim asks, offering Anna his hand. With some consideration, Anna puts her wrist in Jim’s hand, watching as he looks it over. “Bessie, do you guys have a first aid kit?”

“In the closet,” Bessie nods.

“Does it have an ace bandage?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring it over, please, and some ice in a bag from the freezer if you have any,” he says, and Bessie rushes to grab the requested materials. When she’s not in earshot, Jim speaks to Anna quietly so no one else can hear: “You know, if it was hurting this much, you shouldn’t have let Katherine grab it so often on the way here…”

Anna huffs.

“How’d you know?” Anna asks, tilting her head.

“When we were walking here,” Jim said, “I noticed that you were wincing, but it wasn’t in time with the walk. Then I saw Katherine take your arm and that’s when you winced.”

Anna is impressed. “All that from looking at me?”

“I’m an EMT back at home,” he explains, taking the first aid kit and pulling out the ace bandage. He wraps it and puts the ice on top.

“Amongst other things, I take it.” Anna replies. “More like us than them, right?”

Jim looks up at her, and Anna smirks a little bit. Jim tilts his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anna smiles a bit wider and goes back to researching, leaving Jim confused.

Meanwhile, Melinda had been helping prep for dinner, watching as the other queens and ladies were preparing things as well.

“Are you sure it’s ok if we join you guys for dinner?” Melinda asks, cutting the vegetables as requested.

Catherine smiles. “It’s no problem at all. It’s been a while since we were able to cook for people, anyways.”

Melinda smiles politely back before looking around - she can hear some of the others talking in the other room, she can hear a child laughing again somewhere in the building, and she can already smell the dinner cooking. It seemed… peaceful.

“How many people know about you all?” Melinda asks, going back to preparing vegetables. “The truth, I mean.”

Catherine hums. “Not many. A handful.” She nods towards Cathy, who is putting something in the oven. “Cathy is the one to keep track of that.”

“It’s mainly need to know,” Cathy says. “We don’t exactly want everyone to know, it would scare quite a bit of people.”

“So do you have fake names for the board at the front of the lobby?” Melinda asks, genuinely curious.

Cathy nods. “Just there. It’s not in the programmes or anything. Just didn’t feel right.”

Melinda nods, wincing in pain for a moment before getting her bearings together.

Catherine tilts her head. “Are you ok? Here, eat something,” she says, putting an apple in front of the woman.

Mel shakes her head. “Not really that hungry, sorry,” she mumbles, a hand to her head. She sighs. “I was running a fever back in Grandview, too, when this all happened there.”

“What else happened while you were fighting these… Shadow, things?” Katherine asks, tilting her head curiously.

Melinda swallowed. “I… was consumed by it.”

Cathy tilts her head. “Consumed?”

Mel nods. “It wore me down. I couldn’t differentiate ghosts and visions from people and real life.” Her arms involuntarily cross as she remembers. “It was scary. I didn’t think I’d find my way back. I thought I was lost.”

“What got you back?” Catherine asks.

At that, Melinda smiles. “My son. And the memories of my family, my loved ones - it helped me break through.” She frowns. “We don’t have Aiden around this time, though. He was the reason why I could break through in the first place. He gave the opening. And he’s not here.” She frowns. “So… the big question is, what are we going to do if they try to take one of you?”

No one had an answer for that.

Meanwhile, Jim and Anna were sitting in the living room, looking through papers and websites to find leads. They had sat in relative silence for a while - a comfortable one, but silence nonetheless.

It’s broken when Jim makes a small noise of annoyance and puts down a piece of paper.

Anna raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “You alright, Jim?”

He looks over, a bit surprised by the question, but sighs and answers. “Look, Anna, the last time Melinda dealt with the Shadows… she almost didn’t make it out. It’s practically a miracle that she survived.” He sighs. “I know this is important, and I wouldn’t dream of stopping her from doing her work, but-”

“You don’t want her hurt in the process.” Anna finishes, a knowing nod.

Jim leans back a bit, slightly more relaxed. “Yeah.”

Anna thinks about it for a moment before she stands up and walks over to him. “Listen, Jim… I know we’ve only just met. But from what I can tell, you two have gone through much, much worse.” She points to his hair. “Your reflection is blonde, but you definitely aren’t. So, basically… this isn’t your first body, is it?” She looks him over. “It looks good, by the way, though I think I see what Melinda saw in your reflection, which I’m assuming is your second form? So I can see who you were but in reflections I see the body you’re in now?” She shrugs. “That’s what I’ve come to the conclusion to, anyways.”

Jim sits back, absolutely floored. “I’m extremely impressed that you figure this out so quickly - I couldn’t even figure it out for a while.”

“It was more of theory than fact, but I’m glad I was right,” she says. “Maybe souls can see souls. And maybe you’re not so different from me and my family, and maybe you’ve been through something similar. I get supporting your wife and all, but you take it to an inhuman level.”

“I’m not…” He runs a hand through his hair; guess it’s time to come clean, he supposed. “This body was someone else’s before it was mine. He crossed over, and I took his place as soon as he did.” He looks her over. “Originally, Melinda was thinking you guys did something similar to the bodies you have now.”

“We didn’t,” she assures. “I know you can’t completely trust me, but we didn’t. We showed up in these bodies.”

“Have you tried sending off DNA or fingerprints or death records?” He suggests. “We’ve seen weird stuff, Anna, maybe you all happened to die at the same time and you jumped in after that. I didn’t remember doing that at first, either-”

“We didn’t.”

The two look over to find Katherine. She’s standing in the doorway, two plates in her hands, Melinda right behind her.

“Kat-” Anna starts, but Katherine moves into the room, offering Anna and Jim plates. They both take them. Jim moves over so Melinda can sit next to him as Katherine continues.

“We showed up with them,” she says firmly, looking over at Melinda.

Mel nods. “These bodies… they’re here, but they’re not,” she explains. She frowns as she looks at Katherine’s hand. “I get visions any time I touch them, and their energies are so strong… it’s like the Shadows, but not threatening. Not dangerous.”

“That’s… not something we’ve seen before,” Jim says. “Payne might know something about that. He said to call him if anything gets wild, didn’t he?”

“I left a message for him already,” Melinda explains. She sees Jim’s worried look next to her and gently squeezes his hand, letting him know she’s okay. “We’ll have an answer tomorrow.” She looks at the group. “He’s a professor of the occult. Used to work in Grandview, now he’s researching off in the Himalayas.”

“And you think he’ll be able to help us?” Anne asks.

“I think so,” Mel confirmed.

“That’s all we can do for now, right?” Jane asks, looking around. “Just wait until Professor Payne gives us some more information?”

“I think so,” Catherine replies with a nod. She looks at the couple with a soft smile. “You two should get some rest. Call time is fairly early.”

Melinda blinks. “Call time?”

“Well,” Anne says, smiling. “You want this solved as much as we do, right? Might as well give you the best access we can.”

“So you’ll be our VIP guests for as long as you need to be,” Jane continues. “Behind the scenes access before, during, and after the show.”

“We figured it would help with the investigation,” Anna replies. “Maybe help you catch whoever’s behind it, since we’re all in agreement it’s supernaturally aligned.”

“And besides,” Jane says with a teasing grin. “If someone gets injured again, Jim won’t have an excuse for being slow to help.”

Jim chuckles at that and looks over at Melinda. “Well, I guess we’ll reschedule the ghost tour of the Tower of London.”

“Why would you pay for that?” Anne jokes, waving her hand dismissively. “You’ve already met them.”

#ghost whisperer #gw #gw fanfic #gw fanfiction #gw ff #ghost whisperer fanfiction #ghost whisperer fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical ff #six fanfic #six ff #six fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

kpopfanfictrash · 5 years ago

Text

For Me, It’s You

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by For Me, It’s You by Lo Moon

Rating: R

Genre: childhood friends to lovers!AU (THANK YOU @underthejoon for this amazing header, ur the best)

Warnings: angst, estranged parents, references to former underage drinking

WC: 4,015

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

You should not have come home this weekend.

Honestly, you knew better but allowed yourself to be swayed by the guilt of your siblings. There were the ones who insisted your parents wanted you here, who said things would not be the same without you and you fell for their lies – hook, line and sinker. Never mind that, when you texted your plane flight to your mom, it took her nearly a day to respond.

In complete denial, you chalked this up to timing. It was not. As soon as you arrived from the airport, you sensed the chill in the air. Your little brother – Dean’s list, summa cum laude, McKinsey consultant, Henry – was welcomed in with warm hugs and cookies. You barely received a terse smile and ‘welcome home.’

Even so, you deluded yourself into thinking things would be fine. You would lie low, make it through the weekend and return to the city unscathed. So long as you did not bring up your job, or the argument, everything would be okay. Sadly, you underestimated how disappointed your parents were. It took only two glasses of wine at Thanksgiving dinner for your mother to let you know exactly how she felt.

“When do you have to be back at work, Henry?” she asked, accepting the vat of potatoes.

“Monday,” Henry said, setting down his glass. “Working on a big client of ours right now – unfortunately, can’t take much time off.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Your mother beamed as she replaced the spoon in the bowl. “It’s nice to see you hard at work. Unlike some people your age.”

Everyone around the table stiffened. It was not necessary for your mother to say your name in order to make her feelings known. The point was clear in the way she set the bowl down, looked your way and waited a beat.

Refusing to take the bait, you looked down. You had not been hungry before but, upon hearing her comment, lost all appetite entirely.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” said Jia, your sister. Hastily, she shot a pleading glance at your dad. “It’s the holidays.”

“That doesn’t diminish the reality of the situation,” your father said sternly. Turning your way, his brow furrowed. “So, Y/N. Have you found yourself yet?”

Cheeks slowly heating, you pushed your plate back from the table. “I’m working on my drawings, yeah. If that’s what you’re asking.”

He made a dismissive noise in his throat. “All that money towards college – wasted.”

“Dad,” Jia said. “It wasn’t wasted.” She scowled, looking between your parents.

Jia chose to become a dentist; a perfectly respectable career path in their opinion. Still, she had always been protective over you and Henry. When you were younger, your parents often worked in the evenings, and it often fell upon your older sister to help.

“Let’s just eat, okay?” Henry glanced around the table. “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s be glad we’re all here.”

The table was quiet for a few minutes, everyone digging into their respective plates. Then, your mom sighed and said, “I suppose I’m thankful two of my children followed our example to form steady careers. At least I can sleep knowing I won’t be in the poor house when I’m old.”

“Mom!” Jia blurted out, looking appalled.

Henry jumped to your defense, too. “That’s not fair, mom –”

“I’ll tell you what’s fair,” interrupted your father. His voice somehow drowned out the rest. “Wasting all your hard-earned money on a fancy college degree, only to throw it away. Living disrespectfully, coming back to our house and having the nerve to –”

“I bought my own plane ticket, dad,” you interjected. “My website is doing really well, and I’m working on illustrations for this book, and I –”

“Don’t interrupt!” he exclaimed. “This is exactly the lack of respect your mother and I are talking about.”

With a loud screech, you pushed your chair away to stand up. “I’m done eating,” you announced. Stiffly, you looked at your mom. “Doesn’t sound like anything’s changed since the last time we spoke. Thank you for cooking. I’ll clean up after myself.”

With that, you turned around and strode into the kitchen. The arguing continued after you left, with Jia jumping in to combat your parents. Even Henry was angry, protesting he and Jia wanted you there, but you were no longer listening. It did not matter much, either way. You should have known better than to think today would go well.

The last time you spoke to your parents was in the spring, the day you told them you were quitting your job to pursue illustration full-time. They were not happy, simply put and after the initial, blow-out fight, you did not speak at all. Obviously, they still had a lot to say.

Retreating up the stairs to your childhood bedroom, you slammed shut the door and collapsed on your bed. Being in this room made you feel like a child and in many ways, you still were. It did not matter that you had been able to drink for four years and vote for seven. In many ways, you were only just beginning to progress on your own.

Downstairs, you still heard the debate raging on. It was always like this, when you were little. Even when you were not the one arguing, there was another fight to be had. You could not blame your parents for that, not really. It was the only way they understood discipline – loud voices and the overbearing idea of respect.

Eventually, things would calm down. You knew they would. Eventually, Jia would help your mom clean up and Henry would play piano in the next room. For a few hours, maybe, they would be like a family – except you would not be there.

Not this time.

Unable to replay the events any longer, you roll out of bed and unlatch your window. Prying it open, the cold air hits your face. Shivering, you stare into the night and reach out for your sweater. Your childhood home was built with a small, wrap-around porch over the front.

When you were a child, you often climbed out here to escape. When you were in your teens, you came out here to drink, or smoke, or journal about how your parents were ruining your life. It has been a long time since you remembered that part of yourself.

Glancing away, you see lights on in the Park house. They must be finishing Thanksgiving dinner as well, hopefully not in as dramatic fashion as yours. You cannot imagine it is, since the Parks adore their two sons – Jimin and Jiwoo. Besides, both of their children adopted traditionally successful career paths. Jiwoo is in medical school and Jimin recently passed the bar.

Exhaling, you glance again at the rooftop. The fighting can still be heard downstairs and so, pulling on your sweater, you climb out on the porch. Quickly shutting the window, you find yourself ensconced in blessed silence. No disappointed parents berating you. No siblings rising to your defense. Only silence, the wind and far-off sound of cars on the highway.

Settling onto the roof, you lean against the side of the house. The sky overhead is clear, a silver crescent of moon hanging above your head. As you breathe in and out, your breath frosts in mid-air. It is chilly enough you are glad for your sweater and still, your hands stiffen with cold. Pulling your sleeves down, you relish in the silence.

“Y/N?”

Head jerking sideways, your heart nearly stops when you see a face looking back. At the edge of the overhang, clinging onto the roof is a familiar – well, now unfamiliar – person.

Jimin.

“Is that seat taken?” he breathes, face red with the exertion of climbing. “Because it’s been a while since I’ve done this, and god knows how much your parents take care of this trellis.”

“Shit,” you blurt, realizing his predicament and scrambling onto your knees. Grabbing Jimin’s hands, you haul him onto the roof.

Jimin tumbles beside you, dusting dirt from his pea coat. You wince at the gesture, since the fabric looks expensive – probably is, given his new job. Collapsing against the siding, Jimin adjusts his grey beanie and looks sideways at you.

“Hey,” he greets, as though he climbs up on neighbors’ porches all the time.

Trying not to laugh, you smile back. “Hey.”

When you say nothing more, Jimin arches a brow. “Surprised to see me?”

“You could say that,” you say, glancing down at the cul-de-sac. From up here, the world seems more manageable. It always did. “It’s been a while since you came by.”

“Could say the same.”

Glancing at him, you see a small smile on his face. Jimin is quiet for a moment, staring out at the world and you cannot help but layer this Jimin with ones past. When you were younger, this was your place – he and you. Whenever your parents were too much, or you were mad at the world, you would climb out here to escape.

Jimin would see this and know it was his signal to come over.

It has been a long time since then, though. The wood of the house is cold on your back.

“So, why are you out here?” He asks this calmly, as though this were another Tuesday.

You shrug. “The usual.”

It has been seven years, give or take, since you two last talked. Really talked, that is – in the way that friends do. All throughout middle school and high school, Jimin was your best friend. Even Jia was wary of you. She did not understand the way you acted, the way you purposefully pushed your parents’ boundaries to understand all their lines.

Jimin was not like that. Jimin did not break rules, but Jimin understood. He saw you out here, night after night and grew curious. Eventually, he climbed up to meet you and what happened next cannot be explained. You became the unlikeliest of friends.

Subtly, you glance sideways.

Glasses are perched on the end of his nose. Jimin used to need glasses in high school but insisted upon contacts because of his dancing. When he quit dance for college, you heard a lot of things changed, but you never imagined his glasses to be one of them. The frames suit his face. You have always thought that.

Of course, you cannot say for certain this change took place during college. That was when you began drifting apart – it was not either of your fault, really. You two tried to keep in touch, you really did. There were phone calls, e-mails, but there was always something else demanding more urgent attention. Eventually, phone calls became texts, which turned into long bouts of silence where you forgot one another.

Maybe the silence was a bit purposeful on your part. Maybe you were running from feelings you deemed ultimately, fruitless.

“You haven’t been home for the holidays in a few years,” Jimin comments, still casual. His foot is stretched out before him, clothed in an Italian loafer which must be worth twenty of your commissions.

“Not really, no,” you say, surprised he noticed.

“Why not?”

“Ha.” Leaning your head to the house, you close your eyes. “I don’t know. It felt like a lie every time, you know? Coming home and seeing them. Pretending to be happy. It was easier just… not to come.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “You weren’t happy?”

“Wrong job.” You open one eye. “Wrong life, really. But it was one they approved of.”

“And now?”

Suddenly, you look at him. Jimin stares back, gaze soft in moonlight. It makes your heart skip a beat, a phenomenon you thought died a long time ago. It is maddening, how quickly he does this to you.

When you were in high school, Jimin was the golden boy. The dancer, the honors student, the friendly type who knew everyone – even the weird, quiet girl who drew fantasy landscapes in the margins of her notebooks. Once upon a time, you were in love with him.

You even dreamed of him loving you back, but those dreams never became reality. Jimin loved you, of course, but only as a friend. He had a strange sense of protection for the girl on the roof. You realized this not in one moment, but in a thousand little ones all strung together.

You realized it when watching him with his first girlfriend – a bubbly, cheerleader type much like himself. The stake was hammered in further with his second girlfriend, whom he left the first one for. It was obvious when he took you to parties, leaving you talking to his friends in the corners. Obvious when his group booked a limo for prom and you were not invited.

These moments crushed your hope for anything more. And yet, here you are, back on the roof and wishing something more existed.

“Now, I’m happy with my career.” Not looking at him, you exhale. “They hate it, though. They think I threw everything they gave me away.”

Jimin snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Yeah?” You smile before you can help it. Jimin was always protective when it came to your drawing. “I don’t know it is. I had a good job, a stable job. The type of job they wanted so badly to have but couldn’t. I get why they’re mad.”

“You weren’t happy, though,” Jimin points out, rearranging himself on the roof. Somehow, his hand falls closer to yours. “And your drawings are amazing. I’ve seen your website.”

“Oh.” You pause, uncertain how to respond. Strange butterflies take flight in your stomach and you wonder what else he has seen. “Yeah, well. I don’t think they really care about that. Not like your parents do, anyways.”

Jimin’s smile turns bitter. “I guess.”

Now, it is your turn to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Jimin ducks his chin against his chest. The pea coat bunches around his shoulders, making him look more like old Jimin – your Jimin. The high schooler who feared his future, who did not want to quit dance but did, because he had to.

“I mean,” he tries again, frowning. “My parents are proud of me on paper. The love listing my accomplishments to their friends, but when it comes to me…”

He trails off, leaving you to draw your own implication.

“Oh.” Your words soften, glancing away. “I get that. I think that’s how Henry feels sometimes. He likes his job, he really does – but with my parents, it’s not about that. It makes the success feel kind of… hollow, somehow. You know?”

“I do.”

Looking at him, you hesitate. “Jimin… why’d you come up here?”

Jimin is quiet for a moment, rolling the corner of his pea coat with his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, some of your usual sarcasm seeping through. “Maybe because we haven’t spoken in like, five years.”

Jimin’s lips quirk. The gesture disappears almost immediately, replaced with something which could almost be called sadness.

“I heard you moved into the city,” he says quietly.

Your stomach plummets. “Jimin, I…”

“Yeah?”

“I – I didn’t know you knew,” you say, finishing lamely.

“Really?” His laugh is hollow. “Even if we didn’t follow each other on social media, you really thought my mom wouldn’t tell me?”

Shifting uncomfortably, you fail to meet his gaze. “Well. I moved to the city last fall.”

“I know. Why didn’t you look me up?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Avoiding eye contact, you pick at your sweater. “It’s been a long time, I guess.”

“Too long.”

“Well, why didn’t you reach out?” you demand, looking up. To your surprise, you find Jimin has moved closer.

He stares at you determinedly. “What happened to us, Y/N?”

“What happens to most high school friends?” you stammer, still trying to be casual. “We moved, drifted apart, lost touch…”

“No.” Reaching out, Jimin takes your hand in his. He feels much warmer than you do. “I – oh. You’re cold.”

“N-no shit,” you say, teeth chattering. “I just grabbed this sweater.”

Jimin shifts closer, his right thigh pressing against yours. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

He stares at you for a moment, warmth finally tangible. After so many years without him, the smell of his cologne is almost too much to bear. No longer does he drown in it. You remember the year his mom gave him that for Christmas. The first few weeks of January Jimin fairly bathed in it, until his mom pulled him aside and told him she would throw it away – no matter the cost.

Remembering this makes you smile.

Jimin’s expression remains serious. “Why’d you leave… that night?”

There it is. There is the memory between you which you have been pointedly trying to ignore. The night Jimin kissed you and you ran away. It happened here, on this very rooftop. The night before you left for college, Jimin stole wine coolers from his mom and asked you to celebrate.

He was an absolute lightweight.

Jimin did not drink in high school, unlike you and so, after one wine cooler, he was already giggly. Laying back on the roof, you traced the stars with your fingertips and somehow rolled into his side. His arm slid around your waist, stable and warm.

Softly, he looked down – and kissed you.

It lasted only a moment. A brief miracle before you forced yourself away, leaping up on the roof and flinging open your window. You hurried in, shutting the blinds and ignoring his pleas. Jimin stood there for nearly twenty minutes before you heard him leave. He knew what your parents were like – knew what would happen if they heard him and caught you.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, still looking at him.

“Bullshit.” Jimin says this in the same tone he used to describe your parents.

Stiffening, you sit up. He still holds your hand in his. Despite the sternness of his tone, Jimin continues to trace your fingers through the sweater. He stares, biting down on his lip and you know he does this when he is nervous.

It is surprising how easily you remember. Surprising how easy it is to slip into who you used to be, the dreams you used to want. Perhaps they never really left at all.

“I was scared,” you finally say, barely audible.

“Of me?”

“No,” you say, before you can help it. “Never of you. Of what… I might do to you.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “You do to me? I don’t understand. How could anything you do be bad?”

The aching sweetness of this reminds you why you loved him. Or, why you love him. It is all so confusing with him here in the moonlight, with you here beside him, remembering ghosts of the past. Turning to face him, your knees graze each other like children.

“I didn’t make sense with you,” you explain. “Everyone knew it in high school, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud. You were always the bright one, the brilliant one – and then there was me.”

“Yeah. And then there was you.” Jimin speaks fiercely. “Grounded, real. Always telling me what you thought, not letting other people get to me for too long. You were the only person who really believed in me. No caveats, just belief.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists. “God, Y/N. How could you think you were bad for me?” Reaching out, he tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Pulling away, his fingertips graze your jaw. “For me, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

“Don’t say ridiculous things,” you say on reflex.

Jimin’s brow furrows. “Did you honestly not realize? The entire time we were friends – you didn’t know I was in love with you?”

Your breath catches at how easily he says this. “But…” Mind spinning, you sift through the memories. “You dated other girls. Took someone else to prom. You didn’t say anything until you kissed me!”

“I know.” Jimin’s expression is tortured. “I only dated those girls though, because you said I should! Don’t you remember? I’d describe my ideal girl to you – describe you – and you’d point someone else out. When I took you to parties, you’d talk to my guy friends. And you accepted someone else’s prom invite before I could ask!”

“What!” You blink, since this is news to you. “What are you talking about?”

“We had a pact.” Despite himself, Jimin nearly smiles. “Remember? We were ten, watching Footloose in my basement and you pinky promised to be my prom date.”

“We were ten,” you say, although you also find yourself smiling. “You didn’t really think –”

“I was planning to ask you the next day,” he interrupts.

Words die on your lips and you can only stare for a moment. “What?”

“Peter Graff asked you on a Friday.” Scooting closer, Jimin takes your other hand in his. “I remember. I remember stopping by your locker and hearing you talk about prom dresses, limo colors, what boutonniere you should buy. I… I had been planning to ask the next day.”

“Jimin, I…”

“I was planning to stand in your yard with a boom box,” he admits, lips curving into a smile. Dark hair falls into his gaze. “You know, like in Say Anything. Except not creepy. And on very low volume, so I didn’t wake your parents.”

“Good call.”

“I thought so.”

It is strange to hear your friendship described in this manner. Because you remember those moments, but through a very different lens. You remember the day Jimin described his ideal girl. You remember crying that night, feeling you fit none of the description. He is right – you were the one who pointed out his first girlfriend, telling him he should really ask her out. It seemed more logical than any other version of the truth.

“When you kissed me…” Swallowing, you force yourself to continue. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah?” Jimin bites his lip. “Then, why’d you leave?”

“You’d been drinking. I was leaving the next day. I thought maybe… you’d done it out of pity,” you whisper, finally voicing your fears from the night. “I thought you knew how badly I wanted you and it was just your way of saying goodbye. I… I wanted to keep that night the way it was. Perfect.”

“It wasn’t pity.” Jimin catches his breath. “Never.”

“Jimin…”

Lifting his hands to your face, he gently strokes your jaw. “I missed my shot that night,” he determines. “I’ve been a coward lots of ways, my whole life. I didn’t go after you like I should’ve. I haven’t stood up to my parents a million times. But I’ll be damned if I fuck this up again.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you.

His lips are soft, warm despite the bitterness of the night. He tastes like vanilla Chapstick and wine and you only hesitate a moment before kissing him back. The kiss is nothing like your first. That was a moment between teenagers, too scared to ask for what you both wanted. Now, you know what you want.

Greedily, your lips part as your hands wrap around his. At the first brush of your tongue, Jimin releases a groan. You kiss like this for a while, gently exploring the new boundaries between you. Whatever once was is shattered but something new exists in its place.

Finally, you drag yourself away and open your eyes. “Is this why you came here tonight?” you whisper, the world somehow seeming brighter. “To kiss me again?”

“Amongst other things.” His lips quirk when he laughs, shaking his head. “No. I came out because I saw you on the roof.”

He does not need to explain what it means. You only come out on the roof when you are upset. Unthinkingly, your heart starts to swell.

“You still remembered?” you ask, thumb brushing his neck.

“I meant what I said. For me, it’s you.”

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin angst #bts angst #jimin fluff #jimin drabble #bts drabble

898 notes · View notes

cloveroctobers · 4 years ago

Text

CHELSEA ELLE HODGSON —

IG info/Bio: @/chelseaaahodecor | 109k followers | hi babes! welcome to my life lovelies, please get comfy with this Prosecco im serving thru this screen! xx here’s my site if you need some light in ur life: ichelseahdgsondesigns.com 🏝💕

24 (25) years

From Buckinghamshire, England

Comes from a wealthy family

her father’s side of the family founded, “Hodgson investments” their company is built off of financial services

Her papo (grandfather) was arrested on tax invasion & served some time for doing so

Her father, Alistair now manages the company but under a different name

Her mother’s side of the family comes from old money...something about horses?

Her mother, Connie holds many events and seems to make $ from them but Chelsea isn’t quite sure what the woman does or if it’s fully legal

The family is all about protecting their image & if you don’t cut it, there will be repercussions

Feels a little like dynasty (I’ve only seen 2-3 episodes & never finished but get the point?) , maybe that’s why Chelsea & her sister enjoy watching it so much

Parents forsure held courtship events or either went to courtship events with their children (even Albie) & found suitors in hopes of marrying their daughters off (& finding Albie a new wife, only on Mrs. Hodgson’s part— mr. Hodgson seems nicer/easy-going)

Has older twin sibs: Albie-Crispin & Dolly-Georgiana

Often referred to as “the triplet” in the press

Well-known in their city

They’re all called by their first & middle name in their family household even tho their parents do not have middle names

Has a love/hate relationship with albie, he is selfish & has proven to do anything to drag others down to make himself look better

He’s a lawyer & has been married to his wife for about 7 years

Mrs. Hodgson, Dolly, & Chelsea all agree they do not like her but Chelsea puts on a smile whenever her sister-in-law is around while Mrs. Hodgson makes it known that she dislikes the woman, she thinks she’s beneath her son since her family does not make nearly enough $ put together between her & Mr. Hodgson

Dolly has a bf who’s a dental hygentist that she’s been dating for about 3 years but they’re both cheating on each other, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be married

She’s in office management

Chelsea fell in love with interior decorating from the moment she played with doll houses. Her grandparents made sure to send her the biggest doll houses they could find every Christmas. She’s always been in love with rearranging and picking certain items and best putting them into a space that works

She shit at drawing (she’ll leave that to the Architects) but she knows her furniture & patterns quite well

Has asked a few architects out on dates, some she worked with or stumbled across, only one seemed like it could have truly worked...I imagine him to look a bit like Henry Cavill with light facial hair (told you I’m a sucker for it, & Chelsea probably can tolerate just a bit not too much)

Yet Chelsea always has a wondering eye, she gets curious quite often which makes you wonder, is she really ready for love? To fully commit? One day she will be

It’s a competitive field and when she’s ready to battle she will but there are moments when she gets let down & has to pick herself up again

Has ADHD, goes to therapy for it & hates taking her meds. She’d rather stick to therapy sessions since it’s always nice to talk to someone

When she was younger she probably stole a friend or two’s bf & would definitely get mad if they did it back to her but they somehow still end up being friends in the end? Yikes

Hung out with the popular kids, was always at the parties making sure everyone was having a good time. Filling up the cups, directing where furniture should be moved, where the kegs should go, how many people should be there, etc...She doesn’t seem like the stuck up type like her mother but she is privileged & doesn’t realize it as much

Was a cheerleader & ran track, quit track to commit full-time to cheerleading since that kept her in shape enough

Dated here & there, had one bf where they would scream at each other and wouldn’t allow the other to leave or would be upset that the other didn’t come after them...yeah one of those couples

Broke up with her goth bf because he didn’t tell her he wasn’t coming to school for about a week; he had the stomach flu

Canon: Took a computer course in high school & in uni & found out she was at the top of her class for typing the fastest, she now loves the sound of her short pink ombré nails on the keys

Canon: Wanted to be a show jumper due to her mother’s side of the family & their history with horses

Goes to the stables every now & then, there’s one horse there that she’s absolutely in love with & loves to ride. Her father always offered to buy it for her but it’s not a animal she wants to own

Canon: loves finger foods + will get full off them at events quickly. She also doesn’t mind the tiny portions of food at expensive ass restaurants, it’s just enough for her

Takes hair supplements. Probably had long hair growing up that she always kept up in a bun or ponytail but decided to start chopping her hair off & getting layers & highlights which damaged her hair

Approves of plastic surgery

Is part of the itty bitty titty community & got a lift for them

Gets lip fillers for her bottom lip but isn’t a fan of needles + overlines her top lip

loves going to the dermatologist, the spa for facials & whatever else she’s willing to try & finding new skincare to buy

Tans & loves tropical hot summers

Buys an overload of bikinis even in the winter

Hates the rain, it messes with her mood

Loves a good lipstick & lipgloss combo, nudes & pinks are her to go to’s

Fav color is pink

Got herself a guinea pig after the show & named her “bubbly” after her baby in the villa

I feel like she would eventually get a tiny dog too

Has her own flat, that’s quite far from all of her family. She loves her dysfunctional problematic family but Chelsea likes her space from them too

Since buckinghamshire’s culture is more of a Middle Ages style, Chelsea made sure her home wouldn’t hold much of that style inside. It needed to be lively! Her family home was filled with dark wood & she can’t stand that

She loves going to the markets tho. She always seems to leave with something & either finds herself not liking it months later and ends up selling whatever item caught her interest

Her family tends to pop in whenever they want, especially her mother

Canon: talks about cat cafe’s when she’s drunk, says its her version of the chocolate factory + she’s the dancing drunk

Always down for a girls night out, girls trip & girls sleepovers

Probably goes to bed early around 10pm or earlier m if she’s not out having the time of her life, which makes her regret her choices the next morning

All her closest friends back home are a group of girls

Hangs out with Priya, Marisol, & Hope from the villa whereas the rest she’ll mostly communicate with them through socials or gatherings

Will host gatherings & expect them ALL to show up

Is dramatic when things don’t go her way

Loses focus more than gets bored in relationships? She’ll find other things or people to occupy her time which she doesn’t realize can be hurtful to others

When she does realize she hurts someone, she immediately wants to fix it

Canon: Is a blabbermouth. Cannot hold a secret for shit, also cannot tell a lie. Her body language gives it away first if she doesn’t spill it

Retail therapy is the best therapy if she doesn’t have a office appointment

Any spice girl song will be her karaoke song, she is always baby spice

Loves her Prosecco (me too sis!) & keeps plenty bottles in her wine fridge. She originally wanted a space with a wine cellar but got creeped out at the thought since it’s just her & bubbly living in the home

Has high cell phone bills, the girl loves a good chat

Cannot cook no matter how hard she tries. She’s been to cooking classes with an ex, watched videos, order from those food delivery sites to prepare food & it just never turns out well

Will spend hours in furniture stores, she’s had to be escorted out pass closing hours by security guards before & manage to make friends out of them. They all know who she is in majority of the stores she enters

Throws a party every time her following goes up. There’s never not a reason to throw one

Was upset that Carl unfollowed her once and figured Hannah made him do it. Which wasn’t true, Hannah was sure of herself now & doesn’t feel the need to be jealous, the man could follow whoever he wanted—she knew he barely stayed on IG in the first place. He thought it was too shallow

So when Chelsea called him one night sobbing he was utterly confused, he didn’t understand why a follow meant so much

He reluctantly followed her back

Thrilled to know Elijah, Lucas, & Carl all keep up with her. Oh & the rest of the boys ofc!

Chats with Jakub! They also hang out. They’re a bit of a odd pairing but they get along well, he’s basically another big brother to her but she actually likes him—

Afraid of the dark, keeps fairy lights lit throughout the night in her bedroom, keeps scent infused night lights in her hallways

Believes in feng shui

I feel like her voice is soft like jennifer Tilly’s?

Idk what her sun sign is? Is she a sag far as daydreaming cause she does that. I KNOW she has Leo in her chart, she’s dramatic, warm, likes to be admired & appreciated. Sun sign I need help? Maybe she’s a Sagittarius sun? + Leo moon + libra rising

Has a collection of celeb gossip magazines that she keeps on a stand next to her pink velvet chair beside her bow window

I think she will be the first islander that gets pregnant tbh & it’s by an architect (the guy I mentioned/envisioned that’s been waiting on her to realize he can give her the love she needs or prove he can balance her out) or firefighter or someone “manly” she wouldn’t end up with a islander I don’t think

she has a girl & names her, “adore”

Canon: Still wants 5 kids but we’ll see how that goes & if it’ll change, it’s been a bit difficult not drinking Prosecco but she’s got a lovely baby out of it

Crushes? Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Alfred Enoch, Alex Pettyfer, Joe Cole, Gregg Sulkin, Frank Dillane, Charlie Rowe, & Hero Fiennes Tiffin

Can listen to anything that’s got a good beat. But we all know she’s a pop & folk genre lover. She listens to: Astrid S, Maty Noyes, Cher Lloyd, Bebe Rexha, Allie X, Poppy, POST MALONE, etc.

Anthem? Gabrielle Aplin — Until the sun comes up

#litg #litg2 #litg s2 #litg Chelsea #litg carl #litg headcanon #litg headcanons #litg au #50/50 like Chelsea lol #she’s sweet but there’s things that she’s done that makes me side eye her #wouldn’t keep her around my man if she’s single tbh lmao #litg3 #litg s3

34 notes · View notes

phoebehalliwell · 4 years ago

Note

hi! first off i love your next gen fic and i'm OBSESSED with it! i was wondering if you could talk more about wyatt, chris, and melinda as characters and their relationships with each other? thanks!!

aaaa tysm! & i’d love to talk about wyatt chris & melinda bc i feel like that’s one of the most hmm what am i trying to say here it’s like we know chris and then we mostly know wyatt and we can infer how they interact together but then we know nothing about melinda in canon and how this third puzzle piece fits in to the rest of the equation and just sorta what they’re all like i also really like writing wyatt chris and melinda just bc they’re sorta like the most spread out i think they’re sorta the most “normal” pair of siblings like they’re scattered across northern california doing their own thing and they only interact with each other mostly a normal sibling amount as opposed to the cupitches who all live together and attend high school together and do basically everything together and the mitchell clan which has a psychic link between the twins and also henry and tam still live at home so like i feel like with wyatt chris melinda there’s sort of the most room for like. a subtler sibling relationship. like you don’t need to know all the details and the ins and outs the way you would with like phoebe’s kids because while phoebe’s kids are very much like a power of three wyatt chris and melinda are more of just three of their own people like if they discover some villain odds are they’ll do it themselves or with their own little team as opposed to about any other member of the family who, if they find evil, will almost immediately drag their siblings in. i also think wyatt chris and melinda is the sibling dynamic most rooted in like my own personal experiences bc like. idk it just is.

but let’s talk! so i’ve talked before about w/c/m and magic and wyatt & melinda’s relationships with piper and i think that’s just sorta a good jumping off point on how i view these characters bc like i know we know chris the most but it’s also p obvious that he’s the black sheep of the family so his personality doesn’t really work as a baseline for a child of piper and leo so instead i used my little noggin to think like hmm what do we know about piper and leo and what can we infer about how they raised their kids and we know that like they’re domestic like they’re such softies they’re such saps so like family dinners? big thing. i think that they would always make a conscious effort to like eat dinner together as a family every night, but then during that era when piper was just opening her restaurant (which by the way: let’s talk. formal? casual? california cuisine? italian? white glove? three dollar signs on google? do u need a reservation? What Is The Vibe. also the name halliwells. thots? i think that’s only a good restaurant name if it’s a hella kicked back place i think if it’s trying to be formal the name should be different feel free 2 share ur opinions.) like she’s working through y’know dinner bc that’s how restaurants work so she couldn’t really be home for family dinners so family breakfasts sorta became the new thing and since piper was always like bone tired the next morning it would be leo trying to make breakfast and then wyatt and chris would try to take up the mantle and then finally melinda when she was old enough and she was like the only one who was actually really good at it. i also think holidays are really big for the halliwells namely thanksgiving i have a personal headcanon that piper hosts this really big thanksgiving feast at magic school bc y'know it's like her family's p ingrained into magic school as a whole already it's implied in canon that leo teaches there i personally headcanon one of paige's jobs as finding witches and registering them at magic school, and helping with accommodations like there are dorms at magic school and all that especially bc uh the rate of orphan students is really much higher there than the average so like they really wanna make everyone there feel like family so like piper preps all this food at her restaurant and melinda helps with the cooking and wyatt gets really in to like decorating the main hall and all that chris not so much and he'll like grumble but he still tags along and helps out bc it's just like. fun to spend time with his family and all that thanksgiving is like arguably bigger than christmas in the halliwell household so basically what im getting at is there's this string communal bond there's this solid feeling of love and family that just definitely permeates thier lives like wyatt chris and melinda definitely have that sibling bind that gives them a strong power of three

but now that i've given two thicc paragraphs of preamble now ig it's time to actually talk about the sibling dynamic chris is the middle child which usually implies the role of the peacekeeper but we all know chris and we all know that's not happening he's definitely the most surly if anyone's playing the role of peacekeeper it's gonna be the empath i.e. melinda but like even then she's not so much about uhh keeping the peace as she is resolving the issue y'know i think outside of the home she seems like a really passive person someone who doesn't like making waves or creating unnecessary conflict but inside the home like she's grown up with these two assholes her entire life if someone's being a dick she's gonna tell it to their face she knows her brothers and as an empath she knows when it's time to you know just treat someone kindly and support them and she knows when it's time to go howsabout u pull ur head out of ur own ass and understand that there are bigger things at play here than just u moping around. i think that without melinda chris and wyatt would have just a lot more strained of a relationship due to well y'know everything but melinda doesn't let that shit slide and will set wyatt straight just as much as she does chris bc again she's an empath and she's very whitelighter-y she gets what needs to be said and without her i think something p unhealthy would grow in the space between wyatt and chris bc they’re just so different. like wyatt has immense power and like doesn’t care about he doesn’t really like Want it whereas chris would fuckin love not to be second place he’d love not to be viewed as the weak one and without a middleman like melinda i think the two would just have like. a really fucked up relationship. that and like melinda’s like an empath so you really don’t get to say whatever it doesn’t matter and leave an argument bc melinda’s already got a reading on you she can tell just how much you do care and she will try to resolve this on ur behalf w/o u there so if u want to prevent the misconstruing of words or the revealing of something too personal u gotta stay and u gotta work things out til there’s no bad blood.

i don’t think either one pair is closer than the others i think each sibling goes to another for very specific things like how you wouldn’t go to chris for advice on how to ask out ur crush just like you wouldn’t go to melinda for advice on how to sneak into the underworld w/o dad knowing i think the three of them all really have a symbiotic relationship where there’s not just one who falls behind or slips through the cracks. that being said, unlike with any other pairs of siblings (t/k/h and p/p/p) i don’t think any of their social circles overlap. like melinda’s friends and wyatt’s friends and chris’s friends are all three circles that do not touch. and i think that it honestly sorta helps their sibling dynamic bc it’s very much siblings in small doses; i think if they had constant exposure to one another their dynamic would not be what it is. oh also i think when they all hang out together their idiot quotient goes up like 250% like individually they’re all like small and detail oriented and what not and for some reason when they all hang out together they’re just fuckin stoopid

#charmed #charmed next generation #wyatt halliwell #chris halliwell #melinda halliwell #next gen #💌

18 notes · View notes

sugarcoated-eloquence · 5 years ago

Text

Foreboding (Targets: Part 2)

A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome to the shitshow, aka my blog. This is part two of a potential 4/5 part series that I am co-writing with the lovely @sweetestrequiems. Click here for Part 1. Each chapter is focused on a different queen or issue related to the queens. This specific chapter is Catherine Parr centric, but the other queens are all very present.

Please note the following ships are canon in this fic’s universe: Parrlyn, Aramour

{Trigger warnings: anxiety, mention of blood, slight violence}

I should also note some passages are written in German and Spanish and should be google searched to better comprehend the story.

Taglist: @sweetestrequiems, @theatergirl06, @silverpetals97, @six-fragile-dreams, @patdfobmcr-yt, @frogs-in-clogs, @mindless-pidgeon

Other than that..... enjoy! Below the cut.

It would not stop.

The constant feeling like something would go wrong.

Katherine Howard could not tell if it was the anxiety, or if it was something else. She physically felt okay, and everything seemed fine, but for the life of her, the girl could not put her finger on that bad feeling. Being so lost in her thoughts, Howard was found, brows furrowed, staring down at her food, rather than eating it. Of course, this raised concerns with her cousin, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Boleyn’s face began to reflect the concern when she raised an eyebrow. Seymour had more of a sad-looking face, but nonetheless, the worry was quite present.

“Katherine?”

“Hey, Kitty… you okay?”

The two voices snapped Howard out of her trance. She looked up, shaking her head seconds after her attention went to the two women. “Yeah, yeah! Just had something come across my mind is all. I’m fine, really. Guess I’m just getting the typical pre-show jitters everyone gets,” which wasn’t a lie, either. But, Katherine did feel a pang of guilt in having to be dishonest with Jane and Anne. Howard was one of the Queens who always got some pre-show anxiety, alongside Catherine of Aragon– (much to everyone’s surprise)– and Boleyn. It wasn’t a rare occasion, though, considering they had just about an hour before they had to head to the theatre. It wouldn’t seem like much now, but this feeling Katherine Howard was having was not a good one.

––––––––––

During the matinee, Katherine could not shake off that constant thought.

But she was not alone. The feeling had begun to haunt her cousin Anne.

Anne Boleyn’s eyes began to glance around the audience, knowing that Katherine was in the middle of delivering the roast of the century to Jane, Catherine Parr, and Anna of Cleves. A certain man had caught her eye up in the upper level; the second row in the left Circle Slip of the Arts Theatre, to be more precise. Something about that blond hair. And cold, blue eyes. Something about the way he was leaning on the railing while he sat began to bother Anne. Her attention snapped right back to the show when she heard Katherine say, “I can’t even begin to think of how I could compete with you all. Oh wait, like this!” to signal the start of All You Wanna Do. But even with her focus on the show, Boleyn’s glances kept going back up to that strange man.

“I think we can all agree I’m the ten amongst these threes!”

What about him bothered Anne Boleyn so much? She did not know.

Was it his face? No, he seemed to be fairly attractive. Was it the way he stared at all of them? Possibly, since he seemed to be rather uncomfortable when Aragon brought up Leviticus and Mary in No Way. He also looked disgusted during Boleyn’s spotlight in Don’t Lose Ur Head. He looked very, very abhorred with Haus of Holbein and Anna of Cleves. But his eyes when Katherine Howard was singing screamed danger, and Anne could see it. Her frequent glancing that first day saw him tense up upon a few lines:

“Tall, large, Henry the Eighth.

Supreme Head of the Church of England.

Globally revered, although you wouldn’t know it from the look of that beard.”

And the end of All You Wanna Do, as far as Anne could tell from where she was on the stage, had him gripping the railing tightly. Was anger the reason he furrowed his eyebrows, or something else? The distance was not helping her much. Overall, she was picking up a few assumptions just from the one matinee show. This guy was either a historian that pretty much agreed with Henry VIII’s horrible decisions in life, or someone the Queens knew personally. What Anne decided to think though, was the former. Maybe this guy was just a historian and unimpressed with the show, right?

That first show could have not ended sooner. But as the lights on the stage went somewhat dim to allow the six ladies to exit, Anne Boleyn paused and allowed the others to go in front of her. She kept her gaze on that very man, and watched him stand up, turn around, and head on out of the seating area. The fact that she was the last one to leave concerned Cleves a bit. Right before she could even reach the dressing room, the queen in red put a hand on the green queen’s shoulder. “Moment mal, Anne. Was stört dich? Du hast anscheinend nicht dein gewohntes Lächeln am Ende der Show gehabt,” the German gently gave the shoulder a squeeze. Boleyn found herself sighing. “What’s going on? You normally smile and you were barely holding one up today by the end of the show,” Cleves made herself translate what she had previously said.

“I don’t know, honestly. I guess I thought I saw someone that Maggie knew in the audience. It was weird. I’m normally not out of it either. Anyways, if Aragon took the couch, she’s going to regret it. It’s my nap time,” the cheeky grin came back to the ruby lips. A nod from Cleves, and the two were well on their way to the dressing room. Was Aragon on the couch? Absolutely. And Anne 100% kicked her off of it just so she could lay down and sleep after she changed back into her comfortable clothes. No space buns, no makeup– just a giant hoodie and some sweatpants.

––––––––––

The other dressing room was a little more lively for a good while.

Katherine Howard was up on her feet, bouncing around with energy. Catherine Parr had decided to join her this afternoon. What were the two doing while Jane Seymour took the time to answer some tweets and messages? Dancing. The two ladies were dancing, which was almost the catalyst for Jane setting her phone down and joining them. In fact, she just wanted in on the fun. The three danced around for maybe half an hour, before a yawning Katherine Howard took to the couch to take a nap herself. Parr and Seymour stayed awake, with Parr looking for her notebook and Seymour going back to the tweets and messages.

“Cathy, look at this,” tapping her counterpart on the shoulder, the blonde woman moved her phone to be between them both. “It’s us with our kids!” If there was one thing Jane Seymour loved about the fans they had, it was all of the fanart of them with their kids. A smile was brought to Catherine Parr’s face as she looked up to meet Jane’s eyes. “If there’s one thing I have always appreciated, it’s that they know we aren’t the only Tudors that kicked some serious ass.” The laugh both of them shared was quiet, as to not wake Katherine up from her post-show nap.

The calligraphy pen twirled around Parr’s fingers for a solid minute or so before she finally began to write. Each queen had their thing to do post-matinee if it was a two-show day.

Catherine Parr wrote notes about her performances.

Jane Seymour responded to fans. And to as many of them as possible, too!

Both of the Beheaded Cousins slept their time away.

Anna of Cleves did various things, such as meditate and listen to music.

Catherine of Aragon normally left the dressing room to find a quiet spot in the theatre’s backstage to pray.

This normal routine was going to be shaken up a little too much. So much that Boleyn and Howard were too tense to take their usual between show naps.

––––––––––

The same seat every damn time.

Who the hell was this guy?

And why was he now looking so bitter towards Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard?

Three weeks since the mystery man had first caught Boleyn’s eyes in the middle of a performance. But now it was a pattern. Two night shows and a matinee, and always on the exact same nights. Exact same seat, exact same everything. This was starting to piss Boleyn off, and scare Howard. He looked at them with more than just malicious intent in his eyes, to the point that Katherine sometimes blanked on her lines. It was to the point when Anne was singing, she’d put more emphasis on “Hold up, let me tell you how it went down.” just to spite him. This historian guy, or whoever he truly was, did not settle well with the cousins.

But on the night of a Sunday performance, the Queens all got a rude awakening they were not ready for. And the two to be given the first wave were none other than the Beheaded Cousins themselves:

Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard.

––––––––––

This tension was so chilling that it even caused Anne to fumble a few of her lines. Even the infamous “Yeah, I read.” was not the usual confident, snarky remark it usually was. Having made eye contact with the mystery man while trying to deliver the line was definitely part of it, and for a moment there was a stiff awkwardness in the air. They’d recover quickly, of course, but the general consensus between the group was that something was wrong, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

The man quickly left, before the end of bows, and somehow located an usher and told him he was an old friend of the girls’. The girls weren’t too akin to refusing to meet people, so immediately after stagedooring and meeting fans, they all headed backstage to meet whoever had requested a personal meet and greet. Kit’s the first through the door and she stops dead in her tracks. Those eyes. They were the same bright blue eyes that she saw in her dreams at night, the same eyes she stared into right before… well…

She swallows, backing up a little. Anne comes crashing through the door, chaos embodied, and happily dances around for a moment before noticing the anxiety seething from Howard’s small frame. “What’s wrong, love?” Kit simply points to the man, and Anne’s heart drops to her stomach as well. She too, can’t look away from those crystal eyes. The blond hair. The everything.

Anne can barely talk above a whisper could even tell it was him would make the situation less real. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe he was just another person. One can hope, but no luck there, Anne. She can feel Kit shaking, and reaches to take her hand, letting out a shaky breath and considering shouting for Parr.

The others trickle in quickly after, the ‘mystery man’ still just staring at the two cousins with ferocious intensity. The last to enter, though, is Jane Seymour. The metaphorical mother of the group, the caretaker, any other synonym you can think of. Jane is never one to cast judgement. She walks in, and despite the obvious tension, says a polite hello to the man. He simply nods in response.

Parr joins Anne at the hip, whispering to her. “Is he what’s got you all rattled, love?” Anne lets out a small nod. “It’s him.”

That statement reaches Jane’s ears and immediately her demeanor changes. She stands up a little straighter, setting her microphone down on the dressing room’s main table, and just looks at him. She moves a little closer, pushing the other girls behind her, and she can only say one thing.

“...Henry?”

He steps forward, and while the other girls move back, Jane stays planted to her spot. He smiles, trying to turn on the charm, reaching for her hands. “The one I truly lov—” He’s cut off by a slap. Yes, Jane Seymour just slapped a man. He brings a hand up to his red cheek, eye showing that it indeed, hurt. Cleves stifles a laugh.

“Don’t ever associate that word with me. You don’t know what love is.” A few tears well up in the blonde’s eyes, but refuses to let them fall. Not for him. “Love isn’t keeping your wife from holding her newborn child!” Her voice breaks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, centering herself.

“You all look so different.” The scruffy voice chimes, and immediately Kit visibly tenses up. She, unlike Jane, is unable to hold the tears in. Though they flow silently, they flow heavily. “There’s no need to cry, Katherine… or should I say ‘Kitty’, now?”

“Don’t speak to her. You do not have permission to do that.” Jane moves to block his view, but he simply repositions himself. Anne elects to go in for a dig. The devilish smirk returns, though small, and she gives Kit’s hand a squeeze before moving a tiny step forward.

“You know, mate, if you’re still having trouble… you know, with your little friend, we can get you a prescription for Viagra. Or Cialis, plenty of options.” She emphasizes ‘little’ by using her thumb and pointer finger to indicate his size. It makes Kit smile a little. The silence in the air was broken by a stifled laughter. That had to be the funniest thing Cleves ever heard Boleyn say outside of the wit written in the script. Aragon gave her a nudge, but even she agreed with the sentiment.

The blond man, finally revealed as the reincarnated Henry VIII, just narrowed his eyes. “How funny, laughter coming from someone who couldn’t perform.” Anne’s smirk went away, as she looked back towards Cleves with a hurt expression. Cleves’ grin was gone, with gritted teeth behind a closed mouth replacing it. Aragon let out a sigh. “That’s low for the man who so easily says he believes–”

“Catalina, don’t even get me started on you either.”

Not a single comment from Catherine Parr. She just stood there, feeling herself drift between a rational mind and pure impulse. Did this guy just come back to insult them, and get a second wind to take Katherine? Oh no, that was not happening. She saw it all, too. Jane’s reddening face from holding back the tears, Cleves’ rather tame anger, Aragon’s scowl… Kit’s pale face from the fear, and Anne being powerless. Jane Seymour honestly, had lost her mind way before Catherine Parr did in this scenario, but… there was always going to be a breaking point for the quiet one.

“So you and your whore cousin think you can just slander my name like that? I’d have you both back at the scaffold in front of the Tower if I had–”

“Scaffolds don’t exist anymore, you twat,” Boleyn hissed under her breath.

“Enough, Henry.”

This was where Parr had enough. The other Queens gave a glance at their surviving counterpart, who wasn’t even looking up at him. She was staring at the floor, but for now. “Cathy, you should probably not… y’know, say anything,” Boleyn barely managed to get that sentence out, considering the crushing feeling she had inside of her chest. All that got as a response was a laugh.

“The survivor, Catherine Parr. Tell me then, my love, are you just as stubborn as you were back then?” He got every other one to crack, but little did he know that he would be the one about to shatter like glass. “Because you should’ve been the one to meet an untimely fate like your counterparts here. Of course, new body means a second chance at being able to–”

Henry stops when he sees Parr’s shoulders shake a little. She’s… laughing?

That’s why she was looking down. When she did look up, one saw her smile shining on like a light. Safe to say, Catherine Parr was about to tear someone apart. “You’ve still got quite a loud mouth for an old man. Tell me, did you ever finally learn to take care of yourself, you bobolyne? Thinking you have any right to talk to the mother of not only your damned son, but also the woman who was loyal to you for twenty four years?! And even better, the one you so graciously called your sister after your marriage? You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

Jane felt a little insulted that she had to take a jab at Edward, but had the feeling it was necessary considering the situation. Hopefully Parr would apologize for it later on.

“Okay, okay… fair. Not bad, Parr. But why do those two get to wear shiny chokers while the rest of you have crowns? Does it further emphasize my point that Anne Boleyn’s just a hell of a tempting woman and that Katherine Howard–”

The smile from Parr’s face faded. The anger was present and everyone was mortified to see someone so quiet speaking up like she was. With vitriol in her voice, Catherine Parr officially lost her temper.

“You KNOW exactly what the fuck happened, Henry.”

Aragon felt herself go to cover Katherine’s ears as her goddaughter began to lose her composure. “You KNOW why they have to wear those. You know damn well the crimes you fucking committed against them both, especially Katherine! She was a child, Henry! A fucking child who got manipulated and used! I want to hear nothing from your mouth, you snoutband! You have nothing to defend yourself with!”

Wiping a tear or two away, Jane Seymour began to lean into Anna of Cleves for some form of comfort. Even the German was surprised to be hearing the resentment coming out of such a powerful and rather cool-tempered woman. Just as Henry went to open his mouth, he stopped.

“Oh no, no sir! You have no right to talk here! Anne Boleyn lost her head over what, your delusions that she was out and about with men when you were just going around like you weren’t married? And because of that, she has to struggle to change her name? Are you actually insane or some shit?” The northern accent Parr had was thick. She was angry, and her voice said it for her if her facial expression did not. “Jane Seymour never got to hold Edward because you took him straight away for his christening. And she had to sit there, alone, in bed! Suffering through illness until she died without saying goodbye to her baby boy!”

Boleyn goes pale. Where did this anger even come from? She had no idea, but Parr was scaring her.

“My damn godmother was near a saint with all of the bullshit she had to put up with! Twenty four fucking years, and it wasn’t Anne who ruined the marriage. It was YOU. Aragon did some insanely remarkable things despite how you treated her! And Cleves! You just decide to take Cleves and humiliate her because she wasn’t beautiful enough for you? You’re an absolute wandought, Henry! You brought a Spanish lady and a German lady out of their comfort zones all because you didn’t know how to use your damn brain!”

At this point, Aragon had managed to sneak off into the dressing room, with Cleves now being the one to hold Howard. Boleyn was now hugging Seymour, actually terrified of not just Henry, but Parr.

Henry began to go pale. He was not going to recover from this.

“Who am I missing… let’s see, Katherine Howard? No, I got her. Anne Boleyn? Also got her. Jane Seymour? Check. Anna of Cleves? Check. Catherine of Aragon? Oh, yeah, her too. Would you look at that… I’m the only one left. Surprise surprise, the fucking survivor surviving again and this time, she gets to give it to you the exact way she wants to.”

“Cathy–”

“Shut up you lot. My turn to finally talk.”

A flinch from the group. Aragon had to take glances in and out of the dressing room.

“Oh wow, Catherine Parr. The survivor. The one who draws lines in arbitrary places, blah blah! She had two other husbands, what good could have she done being a Tudor queen? I DIDN’T TAKE ANY OF YOUR BULLSHIT IS WHAT I DID. Those books that everyone rumoured a woman was writing? Surprise, you tallowcatch! It was me! I’m the famed author of Tudor history. And I published under my own name once your pitiful body finally died. That can’t be that bad, Cathy. What a sad excuse for a sob story, right?”

Katherine Howard began to tremble more than she already was in Anna of Cleves’ arms. Catherine Parr made herself stand face to face with Henry.

“Ah, right, because she survived she deserves the backing vocals. WELL GUESS WHAT, HENRY? I’M HERE TO STAY. I HAD TO GIVE UP MY LIFE, MY LOVE, AND WHATEVER ELSE I WAS DOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR SORRY ASS. You might have forced these women into submission but no, I am not going to submit to some sad old man. You took away their rights, you took away their children… and poor Katherine…” A laugh. “You took poor Katherine’s childhood. You turned her into a disgraced whore. She is not and will never be one. She is a victim of your bullshit.”

“Catherine, my love–”

“No excuses now, Henry. I’m through. Your love ran cold years ago. And call me love one more damn time. See what happens.”

“My love–”

The weight of the sleeves helped Parr send her fist flying into his face. He stumbled back, feeling a warm sensation drip from his nose. Blood. He… was bleeding? “You actually got the nerve to punch an English King? You’re a mad woman, Parr. I’ll have you thrown on that scaffold just how–” A second punch, and this time, there was an audible crack of sorts.

“You wear a crown, but you’re no king. You’re a disgrace to human life, Henry. And this is for all of the women you hurt, manipulated, abused… and killed,” a lunge forward. The third strike was to his jaw, and the fourth was a solid kick to the chest with her heel being the first thing to make impact. Henry, having been taken by surprise from every hit, stumbled right back into a pair of men. Shaking her fist off, some of the blood ended up getting on the floor, and part of it remained on her hands.

“I’ll be back, Catherine! Mark my damn words! Let go of me, you imbeciles!”

“Like hell you’ll be back!”

And just as she took a step forward, Aragon went to hold on to one of her arms. “Someone help me hold her back!” Aragon needed the help. Parr was under such a fit of rage she was dragging her godmother across the hallway. Seymour had to let go of Boleyn to try and hold on to Parr’s other arm. She slowed down, but still had enough adrenaline surging through her to keep going. Cleves just gave Howard a gentle kiss on the cheek before running over to help the other two ladies. No arms? No problem. She just held on to one of Parr’s legs.

Boleyn pulled her cousin into a tight hug, feeling a shaky exhale leave her body. “Kitty? Kitty, are you okay?” Just a nod. Howard was terrified to open her mouth after seeing the ungodly wrath unfold before her eyes. “I-Is… she mad at us, Annie?” Quiet and almost inaudible. The poor girl was terrified to even talk out of fear that Parr was not just angry at Henry, but at them too.

“Catherine Parr, what in God’s name has gotten into you?” Aragon furrows her eyebrows. “This is not you. What is going on? Talk to me, please.”

Anne reaches to take Kit’s hand. “She’s… upset. Not at us, I promise.” Anne had to admit, all of the ferocity coming from Parr scared her a little bit. The yelling reminded her a little of when Henry first stormed in and accused her. Of course, she would set it aside, but it was scary in the moment. She looks in Kit’s eyes, which are now full of tears, sighing and pulling her into another tight hug and rubbing her back. “It’s okay, babes… He’s gonna go away and we will be okay, I promise. The girls aren’t gonna let him get to us.” Kit just buries her face into Anne’s shoulder and lets out the remainder of what she wouldn’t let out in front of Henry. Thank goodness the men had taken him into another room until the police arrived.

Anne pulls out of the hug for a moment and then walks Kit outside. “You look absolutely knackered, love… maybe we should head home as soon as all of this is over. Do you wanna change into something else? C’mon.” They both decide to change, but do so in the staff bathroom rather than in the dressing room. On the off chance Henry was able to see into the dressing room, they didn’t want him to see anything. Anne also thought a door with a lock was the safest.

Once they finish hanging up their costumes, the two settle into the couch, and just hold each other. Anne hums a little of La Vie en Rose, and quickly, Kit falls asleep. Anne doesn’t mind. They were all done with the day, it had already put them through the ringer.

There’s an apparent veil of exhaustion amongst all of the women, except Parr.

Sure, Henry had been apprehended at this point and he was stuck with his hands cuffed behind his back, but that didn’t stop him from being inches away from Parr’s face with a very devious smile. “I’ll be back, Catherine. And you six will have to deal with me all over again. Especially Kat–”

“Like hell you are!”

Catherine Parr broke her left arm free from Catherine of Aragon’s grip, and her right arm from Jane Seymour’s. The right hand took a vice-like grip on his shirt collar before her left fist came swinging at full power, and thensome since the weight of the costume added force. That impact had a very, very nasty sound to it. Even Cleves flinched at it, soon seeing the blond man fall straight to the floor with a bloody face. “Get anywhere near us and I will have you laying your head on a prison bench just how you made poor Katherine and Anne lay down as you murdered them!”

The officers picked up the unconscious Henry, and kindly thanked Jane, Anna, and Aragon for their cooperation. Parr however, got a warning, but that was about it.

Giving it a moment, knowing they would be out of earshot at this point, Parr releases a rather annoyed grumble. “He’ll fucking pay for his crimes against all of you. I swear on my life he will rot in a prison cell for what he did. If he thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and come back here to take us for fools, he’s wrong,” she almost hissed at the end. The thickness of her accent was making Aragon concerned, since to see someone as rational as her goddaughter be in such a state was a rare experience. Cleves and Seymour both looked up with mortified faces. Ever seen revenge personified as human? No? Now you have.

And her name was Catherine Parr.

“What in heaven was that?” Maggie asks, getting up and peeking out into the hallway. A small laugh. The thud was actually loud enough to wake the cousins, and they both get up, confused a little, and sleepily walk to join her at the door frame. Anne rubs her eyes and yawns, looking at Henry, now being pulled up by two police men.

She glances to Parr, and then to Henry, and upon sight of Parr’s hands, she lets out a small, startled gasp. His blood was actually on her knuckles. Probably mixed with her own, if her knuckles had bust. Kit has a similar reaction, coupled with hiding behind Anne at the sight of the wicked man. “Cathy… let me help you get cleaned up. Mags, can you grab the first aid kit out of my backpack?”

“Let’s just go home, first.” Parr says, a little cold, while watching an officer take Henry away. She wanted to watch up until he was inside of the car, so she could ensure he was going away for good. The other officer asks her a few questions about the situation, and she tells him everything that happened, down to the fact that they would be filing a restraining order, and that Henry was not allowed to see their show again.

��–––––––––

The six women had gone home after waiting… maybe an extra ten minutes after Parr finished talking to the police officer. The car was dead silent on the ride back to the house, too.

“I’m actually mad about the fact that he’s actually attractive now,” Boleyn rolls her eyes as she walks in after Seymour. “I’m kidding, obvs. But how is he alive? We’ve been free for… who knows how long now and he comes back? What did he want, anyways?” Seymour turned to face Boleyn, giving the brunette a gentle pat on the head. “It sounded like revenge, but I think Cathy has the actual answer to that. We can talk to her when she’s a lot calmer, though… she’s very…”

“Upset, angry… name it, I am probably feeling it.”

“We all are, love…” Anne goes to her, gently taking her hands, looking at them carefully. One’s very busted up, and the blood has now dried and solidified. “Let me clean you up, c’mon.” She motions to the kitchen, and the two head in there, Parr sitting on the counter while Anne gets the first aid kit out. “I’m not ashamed of what I did today.” Parr stares at the floor, expecting some sort of lecture or argument to happen, but it doesn’t.

“You protected me. That’s all I could ever want.” Anne kisses her quickly on the cheek before pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a gauze cloth. Before she starts to press it to Cathy’s knuckles, she looks the girl straight in the eyes. “Don’t be mad for how much this is going to hurt, please.”

While those two work on that, the other girls drop their bags next to the door and slump into the chairs around the kitchen table, an apparent awkwardness in the air. Jane is the first to speak, and it’s absolutely filled with regret and apology. “Ladies, I am so sorry I lost my cool today. I shouldn’t have gotten so ‘up in arms.’ He just… I never…” She’s tearing up a little, and Kit offers a hand for her to squeeze as she tries to work through her words. She takes a deep breath, brushing some of her blonde hair out of her face.

“I never got to tell him all of that. All of the resentment.”

Cathy grumbles from the counter, agreeing with her statement. “He sure got a taste of all of my resentment.” Her cheeks were reddening, and Anne doesn’t know what else to do past wrapping the girl’s knuckles, so she lays a kiss on them, hoping that will calm her down. “Shhh… no need to get worked up over that toff, not again.” Her hand goes to hold Parr’s face. “Let’s be happy, okay?”

“Jane, we all had every right to react the way we did. Even Cathy had a right to bash his ugly face in.” Kit nods reassuringly, and the other queens mumble words of agreement, Anne and Parr silently making their way over to the table. Something about Parr’s energy was off, but the queens wouldn’t question it for the time being. They were all rattled, it didn’t take much to see it.

“I just feel that as the mother of the group, I reacted rather rashly. I think–” She has to hold back some tears. “I think I should’ve composed myself.” This ends with the ladies all essentially tackling Jane with a group hug, even Parr, though not really seeming to want to participate. It was getting late, anyways, and it was almost time for her to begin her nightly writing. It would help.

Anne clears her throat. “I think you did perfectly, Jane. He’s an absolute tosser for thinking he could face all six of us at once.” Kit laughs in agreement, and the two head upstairs. Parr quickly dismisses herself, Aragon trailing quickly behind after giving Jane a tight hug.

Cleves takes Jane’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Gute Nacht, Jane. Versuche nicht zu viel darüber nachzudenken.” Jane sighs. “Still don’t speak German, love.”

“Try not to think too much about it.”

“Catherine,” Aragon knocks on the open door, furrowing her eyebrows. “Mija, what got into you today? That isn’t you. Where… where did you even go?” A sharp look from the sixth wife to the first, before it softened up. It eventually became more of a look of shame as Parr’s eyes went to the bandaged hand. She really did do a number on herself, but that blond haired Tudor nightmare deserved it. She wasn’t wrong, was she? Or, had her morality become such an ambiguous grey area that maybe it was wrong for her to have sucker punched the man who beheaded Katherine Howard so unfairly.

The shameful eyes look up, seeing Aragon’s concern despite the slight scowl. “I’m sorry, Lina. I… no se. Yo lo vi y... Me congelé. Es como si todo el sentido racional dejara mi cuerpo y me quedara con impulso. Lo juro, no... siempre así. Tu lo sabes! Aunque asusté a todos, no?” The hurt in her voice was evident. Parr knew she became the morally ambiguous of the group, which was normally not the good thing. Aragon’s expression lightened up just a little as she approached her goddaughter, and pulled her into a side hug. “Sucede, amor. Pero no te enfades tanto con alguien tan horrible. Seguimos amándote, y siempre nos preocuparemos por ti. Ninguna de nosotras te tiene miedo, y eso te lo prometo.”

Those last words gave Catherine Parr just a little bit of hope. Catherine of Aragon gave one last hug to the woman before heading on out the door, but not without “Don’t stay up late.” being the last thing she said to the sixth wife.

Kit and Anne stand in the hallway, chatting before going to their rooms, which were across from each other. “Lock your window, Annie, please.” It’s evident that Kit is still very worried about Henry figuring out where they live or figuring out how to get in. Anne nods, despite the fact that they lived on the second floor.. “Of course.” The girls hug and in a matter of seconds, they are both behind their respective closed doors.

Kit leans against the door for a moment after closing it, but not locking it, and a few silent tears fall before she starts to change into her pajamas. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” She mumbles to herself, turning on her string lights and turning off the main light of the room. She debates what kind of music to listen to, mulling over it for a few minutes before turning on some classical. It was different, but it would work.

Anne, on the other hand, immediately goes to lock her window and pull the shades closed, which was slightly saddening because she did enjoy looking at the night sky before she fell asleep. She sits on the edge of her bed for a moment, deep in thought about Cathy. She had to admit, the girl she saw today was one she had never seen before, and one she was pretty afraid of seeing again. That fire, while endearing… shook Anne a little. She has to force herself to shake off the thought that anger immediately translates to a person being anything remotely similar to Henry.

“Right, then… bed it is.” Anne shuts off her lights and lays down, picturing that starry sky in her own mind. It would do.

Jane settles in with the current book she was reading, a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A story of true love, one could say, and the text was actually helping to calm the blonde down about the events of the day. Aragon peeks in for a moment, and Jane gives her a soft smile, an unspoken agreement that they would be okay.

Though it seemed as if everyone was settling down, Catherine Parr had a storm bigger than a hurricane brewing inside.

––––––––––

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Catherine Parr let that be the only sound to fill the silence. Normally, it would be music or something, but not tonight.

The calligraphy pen in her hands danced around her fingers, barely having touched the pages of the open notebook. Her vision was still blurred, much to her own surprise. Wrath was a powerful thing, and to have something take over the body for an amount of time would lead to consequences later in the night. In her case, it was a very horrid case of insomnia. While she dealt with insomnia most nights, she had the slightest feeling this was not the typical time to go to bed at 2 in the morning case. The pen began to slow down in her hand, and she held it still for the first time that whole night.

“It’s not the first time you write about how you feel, Cathy. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.”

It was not fine.

No matter how many times she told herself it would be fine, she could never believe it. Catherine Parr saw her hand shake, just the slightest, every time she wrote. Every memory from the last few hours was hazy, but simultaneously at the forefront of her mind. The usually clean lines of her penmanship were just the bit off from the feelings. Word after word, the anger began to flow onto the pages like water flowing down a river’s stream. So shaky, and so violent were the movements of Parr’s wrist. In comparison to the surprisingly smooth transition from thought to thought, her actions made her look a little crazed. One could even say she looked oddly desperate to finish writing.

Almost as if she was running out of time.

She was a writer in her past life. An author, really. The woman wrote books, psalms, meditations… name it, she probably has a manuscript of it somewhere. But this? This was not her. This frantic drive to write and write until the pages could take no more and the ink began to go through them was not Catherine Parr. In a way, it was almost symbolic. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

There it was again. The ticking of the clock.

Time was no longer a relevant thing for Parr. She just let the time go on.

Last she could remember, it was midnight. But nay, the clock spoke otherwise. A glance at it revealed it to be four in the morning. Her hand and wrist were cramped up, and the tears that she felt falling were drying on her face. The pages had become full of nonsensical phrases, mostly a result of the anger still in her system. But that anger began to fade from anger into a depression.

Why couldn’t she be stronger?

Why didn’t she do enough at the moment?

The pain finally struck her heart. Silence began to be her worst enemy, and something she thought she’d never do is what she did. Parr slams her hands on the desk, crying out, almost as if it were a scream or cry for help. The scream was enough to wake up Catherine of Aragon in an instant. A second and third one woke Jane Seymour and Anna of Cleves up. The fourth one got to Anne Boleyn. In a worried hurry, Aragon got out of bed and ran down the stairs to get to the door before almost ramming it down with her own body.

“Cathy? Mija, what’s the–… Cathy?”

What she saw was a torn woman in front of her. Her bandaged hand had a little blood seeping through the ends. Some of the curls were sticking to her face, and her eyes were all puffy and red. Aragon gently pulled Parr up and into a tight embrace. “Escúchame. Todo está bien, Cathy. Estamos en la casa.” Normally, Aragon had a commanding nature that gave off the feeling of someone being safeguarded behind a wall, but this was one of those moments she was willing to let her wall down. Parr’s grip tightened, with the tears coming back and rushing in like an ocean’s grey waves.

Catherine learned just a smidge of Spanish for her godmother. Enough to get by with a conversation or two, but she was not fluent in any way. “Duele, Lina,” a sniffle. “Todo esto duele y no hice lo suficiente para ayudar.” And there was something about her goddaughter using Spanish in such a defeated manner that made Aragon crack a little on the inside. Her own eyes were welling up with tears as she looked to the door.

Seymour, Cleves, and Boleyn.

All three of them with wide eyes and fairly concerned expressions. But it was Anne who saw the tears forming in Aragon’s eyes and threatening to spill. The two lock eyes and it takes everything in Anne to not crack too. She gives Aragon a look that says, ‘Let me try.’ Lina nods and gives Cathy’s hand a small squeeze, and Anne goes and kneels on the floor in front of her.

The other three stand in the hallway, knowing it was probably best to give the two a moment. “Did that not wake Kitty?” Cleves pauses, and then points in the general direction of Howard’s room, loud classical music streaming through her closed door.

Anne takes Parr’s hands. “Cathy, please talk to me… please, love.” It takes Parr a moment to look into Boleyn’s eyes, which are also filled with tears at this point. “It kills me to see you hurting.” A hand goes to wipe some tears from Parr’s cheeks. It lingers there, cupping her cheek, Anne’s thumb reflexively going back and forth to wipe more tears as they fall.

“It kills me to see you hurting.” Her statement is coupled with a small voice crack, and not one that you would usually find endearing. This was out of pure sadness and anger. She sighs. “I should’ve done more.” She looks at the floor, past Boleyn, though her head is now resting on the girl’s hand.

“He’s the one that deserves to be on a scaffold!” She starts to sob again, leaning forward, and Anne catches her, in a sense. Shaking with anger, she lets it out, nearly soaking Anne’s shirt in a matter of seconds. “He deserves to die! Why is he here?” Her breathing becomes slightly erratic, heaving breaths joining in with shallow sobs.

The three in the hallway silently elect to let the two work through it. It really seemed as if Anne was the only one who was going to be able to get her to calm down, even if only a fraction. Aragon lingers for a moment, and then decides finally to go back to her room, leaving the door open in case anyone needed anything. Jane does the same, but reads for a few minutes before going back to sleep.

Anne isn’t sure what to do, so she stands both of them up, having to support Parr a little, and just holds her, swaying back and forth slowly. “Shh… babe… he doesn’t deserve your tears…” Anne, you preach this, yet you’re a mess too. Albeit, a mess because Cathy is crying, but a mess nonetheless. “He… he’s getting his karma. He has to watch us thrive. And he can’t do a damned thing to us. We’re untouchable.” She was also telling herself this.

Parr nods quietly, latching on to Anne even more, as if letting her go would mean she’d disappear into thin air. Though she hadn’t actually said it, she knew she loved Anne. More than anything, and if punching Henry in the face was what she had to do to protect her, she’d do it every day for the rest of her life.

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” She speaks softly, voice scratchy as a result of the outburst. It was nearing five o’clock at this point, but it didn’t matter. With no hesitation, Anne replies with a simple “Of course,” pulling away slightly to look Parr in the eyes. Those tired, red eyes, still wet with tears formed over a man who didn’t matter one bit. Not in this moment, he didn’t.

The two make their way to Boleyn’s room, a twin bed being the only place for them, but it would be plenty of space. Anne lays down first, patting the small space next to her for Parr to join. It’s almost as if they’re out as soon as they cover up.

Kit sleeps through all of this. Perhaps it’s the music blaring from her speakers, or the exhaustion from the events of the day, but it’s the first night the girl doesn’t wake up screaming. The other queens are really surprised to see her downstairs in the morning, looking well rested and pouring herself a cup of tea, seemingly fine. “G’morning.” She yawns, and the others just kind of look at each other as if reality has shifted. “Where are Cathy and Annie?”

“In bed, still.”

“Ja.”

“I should check on them.” Kit says, setting her tea down. Cleves joins her, cringing a little when Kit knocks awfully loudly on the door and pushes it open. “Halt die Klappe, Kit…” Kit turns and looks at her, a puzzled look on her face. Cleves rolls her eyes jokingly, and then whispers again. “You’re too loud.”

The sight upon opening the door is a combination of comedic and sweet. Parr is absolutely sprawled out on top of Anne, snoring loudly and taking up most of the bed. One of her hands is on Anne’s cheek, as if she had fallen asleep holding the girl’s face. Anne is awake, quietly scrolling through TikTok with headphones in. She looks at the two in the doorframe and smiles, looking down at Parr. ‘We’re okay.’ She mouths, and Jane and Aragon peek in, a small laugh coming from the Spanish queen. It warmed her heart to see the two all bundled up and Parr seemingly at peace, even if only for a moment.

Parr makes a small noise and shifts, essentially pulling Anne closer and wrapping a leg around her. The ladies all smile, electing to leave the two alone. It was evident that everything would be okay, at least for now. Anne kisses Cathy on the forehead, letting out a happy sigh. Parr subconsciously replies with a small snore, and the two stay there, safe in each other's arms, for most of the day.

A couple hours seem to pass and it’s about… noon, when Parr starts stirring. Anne notices this, and begins to smile. At least she was waking up. However, things were not going to go to plan, because in comparison to Anne, Catherine was a whole lot taller, and took up just a bit more space. Thinking for a moment she was still in her room, Parr went to try and roll to the other side of the bed, but immediately woke up at not having anything underneath her. A loud enough thudding noise got everyone’s attention.

The other four queens almost immediately ran to the doorframe, and Anne was sitting up.

In typical Boleyn fashion, she was laughing.

Parr on the other hand, was not very happy. “Ow…” Looking up, she just sees the green queen essentially laying back down because of the laughter, and a glance to the doorway reveals four others holding back laughter. “Oh haha, funny that Cathy Parr fell off a bed now is it?”

Through the laughter, Boleyn responds.

“It’s marvelous, love!”

#tw: blood #tw: violence #six #six musical #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #catalina de aragon #anna of cleves #anne boleyn #katherine howard #kitty howard #The Beheaded Cousins Write #sixfic #six fanfiction #parrlyn #aramour

73 notes · View notes

inkdemonapologist · 4 years ago

Note

(So sorry for repeated asks) You've explored Sammy and Susie's relationship before, and I can easily imagine the crushing feeling of knowing you destroyed a good friendship for the good of an awful romance (I've watched this happen, alas :/). In your portrayal, Henry, Jack, and Susie are the only two people we've seen him remotely polite or honest to, and she's the only one he seemed genuinely sweet towards and comfortable with. Is this accurate? How does this affect him later?

(omg no I LOVE ALL UR ASKS, NO APOLOGIES NECESSARY these are always a delight, I am just quite slow and shy to answer xD IVE NEVER BEEN IN A FANDOM where people asked questions about my self-indulgent headcanons so this is a wild experience honestly xD)

Anyway at this point we've gone fully into headcanon territory I think!! I WAS ORIGINALLY GONNA ADD thoughts on how things would carry over to Escape AU but this post is already..... long..... so for now here’s just some headcanon thoughts on Sammy’s relationship with his closest coworkers!!

Susie and Sammy were for sure mutually impressed with each other but I don’t think Sammy was more comfortable with her than the others; I feel the tricky bit is the idea that being genuinely sweet towards = "being the most comfortable," rather than "doing his very best to present the most heteronormative response one would expect from someone with with positive feelings for a girl." I think Sammy is in general not a sweet person -- not to say that he can't be sweet, but that his most authentic expression of positive feelings is probably not going to look traditionally, sweetly romantic. I don't think the way he acted towards Susie was fake, exactly -- he really did like her a lot! But it was put on, trying to sustain her romantic feelings when he didn't share them.

I imagine Sammy and Henry were friends! Henry is a bit of a sheep in the way he lets people boss him around and apologises for others, but he's a sensible sheep who is good at his craft and Sammy respected him well enough. I think the two of them were kindred spirits as creators -- both kind of incapable of phoning it in or doing a half-effort job and horrifically overworked as a result. Joey's poor management skills were probably a point of like, mUTUAL FRUSTRATED BONDING -- until Henry left, and a confused Sammy had to reconcile the fact that he didn't have the guts to leave by deciding that he's just tougher than Henry, that he can take the demands of the industry that Henry couldn't.

Jack complements Sammy well and I kind of see him as the happy ending Sammy could have had if he'd not been so caught up with Joey and the Ink. Jack is grounding and cheerful, but -- crucially -- not in a grating or loud way, and evens out the intense music director. They both love music, respect each other’s work and value each other’s input. I do think it's telling that despite Sammy's reputation, Jack doesn't mind complaining about his music when he's not feeling it; I like the idea that he's quite comfortable with Sammy, one of the few people who isn't afraid of him, and Sammy in turn trusts Jack as someone who understands him better than most. Unfortunately, Jack's also a bit of a sheep who will put up with a lot of shit (literally), so Sammy kind of takes him for granted; he doesn't really open up to Jack so much as allow Jack to be closer than he allows most people.

(In comparison to the other two, I don’t think Sammy would see Susie as a sheep, at least not before the machine -- she may be naive, but she has a fierceness to her and isn't helpless. I like the idea that Sammy was genuinely taken with her strange combination of optimism and ruthless determination, and that this is one reason he found her so striking... and part of why being pushed to help Joey destroy her dreams really crushed Sammy, too, in a lot of ways).

I also feel like the person who might be missing from this list is, weirdly... Joey. Sammy’s seen him as an idealistic idiot from the beginning, but his worldview actually overlaps Sammy's a great deal, and they both must've appreciated having someone they could be open with in that way; unlike Henry, Sammy wouldn't have been put off by Joey's idea that some people are clueless actors who need to be given direction by the man with the vision -- Sammy agrees with that, he calls those people "sheep," and he's more blunt about it than Joey. Joey's excited to find both talent and ruthlessness in Sammy and would immediately treat him as Special, a Favourite who’s a cut above the rest; for all his cynicism Sammy is desperate for validation and would fall hard for Joey’s praise. Add to that the fact that Joey desired him without Sammy ever having to admit his own feelings and their initial relationship must've been, well, a dream come true. It’d quickly become apparent that Joey can’t follow through on most of his promises, but unfortunately, once Sammy is in with anyone he has a tough time backing out; ironically, he fits into his own “sheep” category quite neatly.

#I know you have questions you always do #we all write on the walls #[answers about 30% of the question thats asked and then goes off on a tangent about sheep]#Joey x Sammy #sammy lawrence #the canon crew

35 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

Note

hi! i’ve just been getting into the LIWs and i kind of want to make my own content for them, but since there’s pretty much no canon and most of the fics about them are angst (that never fail to rip my soul from my body) can i please have a rundown on what you headcanon each of their personalities are like outside of angst? sorry if you’ve already been asked similar questions.

Hi there! Sure, I can give a quick rundown! I hope it helps, and I’d love to see what content you come up with!

Bessie

Okay, so Bessie is very reserved and reclusive. She’s tough, sarcastic, and blunt, and WILL point out something you’re doing wrong. She has this outer layer of sorts, which is made up of thorns and quills that she’ll stick people with if they get too close, so she tends to come off as rude and standoffish. Growling, snapping, and scratching are not above her when she’s intimidated.

However, she’s actually really soft and caring, you just need to give her time. She’s extremely protective of those she cares about and absolutely will fight someone messing with them. She’s also a complete and utter dork if you can get her out of her shell, but is embarrassed very easily and has a strong sense of shame.

Additionally, Bessie has a layer of guilt and deep sadness to her. There’s very obviously depression there and it makes her do very stupid things, but she’s secretive, so she doesn’t tell anyone about what she’s doing.

She’s guilty about what she did with Henry and how that affected Aragon, and has learned to believe that she was never the victim and wanted the treatment the entire time. The abuse she faced also causes her to have a strong repulsion towards sexual subjects, even stretching as far as her hating seeing herself naked and going on shower strikes for weeks at a time (she just washes her hair in the sink and then Febreezes herself down), and become very sensitive about the way she looks and any comments made about her body. This only fuels her self destructive tendencies to destroy herself.

Her personality and the way she acts around other people varies on who she’s interacting with. She considers Cleves her best friend and can tell her almost everyone (just not her little habits, although she does sometimes slip up and almost tell her). She and Jane are also pretty close- she enjoys shopping with her because it’s peaceful. Maria is also someone she’s close to, as Maria practically raised her up until she had to leave court. However, in this life she’s older than Maria and mothers her for a change. Then there’s Cathy, who she considers her “sisterly significant annoyance” because the queen seems fascinated in her. Kitty is a pretty difficult case. When Bessie looks at her, she seems a real victim, a helpless child who got punished for something she didn’t want- an opportunity to tell the real story. Something she didn’t get. So she tends to keep away from Kitty to avoid feeling guilty or jealous. And then there’s Aragon, who she’s probably the closest to. She has an on and off love-hate relationship with the queen (with her doing most of the hating). At first she would always refuse Aragon’s helps with anything, but slowly warms up to her and sees her as a mother figure once again, although she doesn’t ever tell her that out of embarrassment.

Also she hates her son, FitzRoy, because there’s bad memories attached to him.

Also also she hates the sound of babies crying. Because suchba hatred should be considered a personality trait.

Also also also- All You Wanna Do makes her EXTREMELY uncomfortable

Maria

To put it simply, she is the fun sister everyone wants. You know the one- the sister that gives toddlers a bottle of alcohol and laughs about it up until the toddler starts to drink it and she then screams, “NO STOP—” That kind of sister.

Maria is chaotic, but not in a gremlins sort of way. More like “plays the PornHub intro whenever someone walks through a door” sort of way. She’s very fun and sweet and loving, especially towards Maggie and Joan, who she considers as her young sister figures. She doesn’t have much of a sense of shame and will laugh about pretty much everything. She also will do something stupid to show off, like eating a bunch of pepers despite having an acid reflux (another hc i have). Additionally, she’s very nurturing and really good at comforting someone when there’s sad because she is really warm and soft. She particularly has a soft spot for Bessie.

But despite all of this, there is lingering guilt. She’s very guilty over what happened with Bessie and believed she could have stopped it or saved her from Henry’s treatment if she had just done something or tried a little bit harder. She never really forgave the king and queen for “taking Bessie away from her.”

Relationship wise, she’s closest to Aragon and Bessie. She tends to stay away from Anne, who she blames for Aragon’s divorce and death because of the divorce. Aside from that, she’s on good terms with everyone else and considers them friends.

Maggie

Maggie is a little tricky because I’ve been switching her personality around. But I’d describe her as “looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you.”

For one, she’s very fidegety. Like, she always seems to be moving, and if she isn’t moving then she’s wringing her hands in her shirt or bouncing her leg or flexing her fingers. Second, she’s nice and sweet, but empathy is a little difficult for her, so she’s not the best at comforting people that aren’t Anne. She finds it hard to put herself in their shoes because she doesn’t want to imagine whatever they went through, so verbal comfort is not her strong point (unless, again, you’re Anne). She’s also somewhat of a kleptomaniac and will take something she likes without even realizing the other person wouldn’t like getting their things stolen.

And then there’s her trauma. Maggie has a lot of trauma regarding Anne’s death and witnessing it so close, to the point where she sometimes sees the decapitation when she closes her eyes. This causes her to be very clingy towards the queen and will hold onto her to make sure she’s real and safe. Anne will sometimes let her touch her neck just to prove it to her further.

Obviously Anne is Maggie’s best friend- these two are practically joined at the hip. However, she’s slightly jealous of Kitty when Kitty starts to get close to Anne because she believes her friend is gonna be taken away from her.

Also she doesn’t like Don’t Lose Ur Head because it brings back bad memories

Joan

Wooo boy this girl is a roller coaster from start to finish-

If I could only use three phrases to describe Joan they would be: Anxious, jealous, and people-pleaser

Let me explain

First of all, saying she’s anxious is an understatement. When something bad happens, Joan’s mind immediately goes to the worst case scenarios and she starts to prepare for her life to be ruined. Like, her messing up during a show? She expects the director to fire her after she gets offstage, which then leads to the other ladies in waiting kicking her out because she doesn’t have a job and can’t pay her share of the bills, and then she starves to death on the streets with her only form of income being her selling her blood for money to some guy in a box. It’s that bad.

She works religiously, to the point where she skips meals and sleep entirely just to make sure she’s up to date with everything. She makes her job ten times harder on herself, but she’s so in the loop with this process that she doesn’t know how to just make a normal schedule instead of tackling everything at once. This does not help that fact that she’s an insomniac and has a severe caffeine addiction.

Then there’s her being a people-pleaser. Despite her seeming to work all the time, she’s also very desperate for attention and affection from others. However, her attempt to make friends usually blow up in her face because she either comes off way too strong or is completely awkward and stutters the entire time. This, of course, worsens her RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria- another hc I have) and makes her believe she’ll never be enough and that nobody likes her. So she tries harder and does anything she can to make the others like her.

She’s very sensitive to rejection (hence the RSD) and does not take it very well. It can completely shut her down and make her give up on everything completely. She can’t fathom the fact that some people just won’t like her.

She also feels very insignificant compared to the others. Unlike them, she had nothing interesting happen in her life. She was just a maid and lady in waiting. Not a queen, not a secret mistress, not a best friend to the queen. Just a worker. So she starts to believe she doesn’t matter to them at all and they’re all just better than her.

There’s also some problems with her memories (which I hc due to the fact that there’s little to no information on her) and can’t remember much aside from her time as a lady.

And then there’s the jealousy.

Joan is EXTREMELY jealous of Kitty and how she’s a daughter figure to Jane. She doesn’t understand why Jane likes this girl she never knew in her past life more than she likes her. And it makes her very angry and upset, to the point where she sometimes snaps at people or says something she doesn’t really mean. She lets her envy get the best of her.

Relationship wise, hers are a bit shaky. Joan has a hard time making friends and tends to be rather lonely most of the time. However, she likes to think she’s close to Jane, even if Jane doesn’t pay much attention to her. She also looks up to Aragon and how confident she is. Sometimes she’ll follow Anne around, too, as she had been a maid in waiting to her.

And I think that wraps most of it up! I may have missed a few things, but that’s good for now. If you have anymore questions on these girls, feel free to ask!

#ask #ladies in waiting #six the musical #bessie on the bass #maria on the drums #maggie on the guitar #joan on the keys

30 notes · View notes