#i could make a fake-story in my head about one of the Doctor's maids being the sister of my character | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arrivisting · 4 years ago

Text

wip amnesty: versailles

Did anyone else watch Versailles?

[crickets, probably]

I loved the first season of that show. The WIGS. The DRAMA. The GILT. It helped a lot that @gofuckinggentle and I watched the first season together in Paris, after a day-trip to Versailles, and in the after-throes of Les Mis/George Blagden passion. It was tremendous fun: the right show at the right place, at the right time, with the right person (<3). Season two was a tragic waste of potential and made me furious, and season three was unwatchable. But I adored season one - it was just the right mix of silliness, EMOTION, history, and fake history. I went off the deep end reading Bourbon history and began a lot of stories set after season one (and then season two happened and murdered them). Here is one:

We're leaving, Philippe said to the Chevalier, and we’re never coming back. He meant it at the time.

There are different types of wounds. Philippe’s no doctor, but he saw enough of them on the field to know; some you live through, and some you don’t. Some heal clean, without needing much fussing. Others need hot iron or tar to stop the bleeding. Still others fester, musket-holes where fragments of grapeshot, mud, and cloth linger; unexpected scratches that suddenly belch pus when you press on the hot and heated skin.

You die fast, or you die slow, or you get better.

At Saint-Cloud, Philippe gives orders to open up only his rooms, and then, after a moment’s thought, the kitchens.

“Are we not planning to entertain?” the Chevalier asks. “Silly me, I packed silk, not sackcloth and ashes.” When Philippe stares at him, appalled, he shrugs. “We’re expecting the king, aren’t we? Sooner or later.”

“I’m in mourning. Tell him I don’t want to see him.”

“That won’t work.”

“I won’t see him.”

“You’ll have to,” the Chevalier says. “I mean, for the funeral–”

“I won’t see him,” Philippe shouts. He shuts his eyes for a moment. When he speaks again, he’s in control of himself. “I only want to see you.”

The Chevalier blinks, then smolders at him. The effect is more affected than genuine, but that’s what Philippe wants from him right now. “Ah. Shall we christen the place, then, my love?”

Around them servants – his servants, not Louis’ - have been opening the shutters, removing the holland covers from the furniture, bringing in armfuls of new linen. They’re all not looking at him so pointedly it feels like he’s being stuck with pins. Someone he pays to attend to the niceties has begun hanging black cloth over the mirrors. Philippe should care about the example he’s setting.

“Take off your coat,” he says, and the room clears. Eventually.

Louis doesn’t come to Saint-Cloud. Which is a pity, really. Philippe would have liked to bar him from his rooms with pikesmen. They could see how he likes it.

“You wouldn’t,” the Chevalier says, languidly amused. The way he says it sounds like he’s saying you should.

“I wouldn’t,” Philippe agrees, giving it just the same intonation.

“You should order your mourning clothes,” the Chevalier adds, like he thinks Philippe won’t take offense if he slips it into the conversation in the same careless tone.

“We’re not discussing that.”

“But you like new clothing–”

Philippe says nothing, but he takes the Chevalier’s chin in his fingers and pulls his face close like he might kiss him just to shut him up. Then he tightens his hold until the Chevalier’s smirk turns into a grimace. “We’re not discussing that.”

“We’re not discussing that,” the Chevalier repeats, and when Philippe lets his grip relax he shakes his head, tossing his long blond curls over his shoulder. After a moment, for effect, he gets to his feet, brushing invisible dust off his cuffs in the way that means he’s piqued and he wants Philippe to know it.

Well, the dust could be real. Saint-Cloud has been shut up for months while the court festered at Versailles in the marshes. Philippe will allow him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“All the same,” the Chevalier says softly. When he speaks that low, Philippe is allowed to pretend not to hear him, and the Chevalier to pretend not to have spoken. “You will need to do something, my darling.”

Louis doesn’t come to Saint-Cloud, because he’s too awful to give Philippe the satisfaction of having his entrance barred, or to suffer the displeasure of crooking his little finger and not having Philippe obey. Instead, because Louis is awful, he sends Bontemps himself, and two royal heralds in most stiff and ancient costumes, little portraits of Louis set around their necks.

“Oh,” the Chevalier says, sucking in his breath with intent. “How charming.”

Philippe batts his nose fondly, like he’s chastening a lapdog. “Shall I get you one for your birthday?”

“A necklace, or...?”

“I prefer the one on the left, don’t you? I know how you feel about redheads.”

“Your highness,” Bontemps says, sounding and looking pained and disappointed. Luckily, Philippe doesn’t share Louis’s transparent yearning for a father-figure, so it has no effect on him. If he’s wished that Louis had some similar need for a brother – well, that’s the past, and he left that behind at Versailles. “His majesty wishes you to know that the funeral of Madame will be held this Sunday. You are expected.”

“I am busy,” Philippe says, and gestures at his surroundings like they speak for his overwhelming state of preoccupation.

Bontemps glances at the lake – calm as a mill-pond, a clear mirror for a clear sky – and at the chateau – shut up like an abandoned property, or a house under siege, a house in mourning – and at the Chevalier, who wiggles two fingers at him.

He says, “You must attend, your highness.”

“I must do nothing, unless my brother commands me. Does he command me?”

He wouldn’t dare.

“He does,” Bontemps says.

The journey to Paris is miserable. Philippe only manages to vent a little of his spleen by loudly ordering Cosnac to expect his return to Saint-Cloud within the next week. Bontemps, block of wood that he is, doesn’t change expression, but he manages to radiate the tranquil assumption that as soon as Philippe is back in Louis’s orbit, his plans will change.

If Philippe has to spend the next two hours shut up in a landau with his brother’s valet, he’s going to stab someone. “And it might be you,” he tells the Chevalier, who has started exuding an irritating smugness that his sotto voce avocations about the need for action have been proved correct. If he has to spend that two hours with the pair of them, bouncing over the ruts in the dry, cracking road with the Chevalier fondling his knee and Bontemps staring straight ahead, he’ll definitely arrive in Paris in more of a murdering mood than a burying one. “I’m riding.”

“Don’t you think you’re arriving under enough of a disadvantage without arriving in dishabille?”

Philippe ignores him.

His thighs are burning by the time they reach the Palais Royal. He’s dusty, the pervasive white dust of the road thick on his boots, but it’s not like he’s going to be receiving in these clothes, in any case. The guards at the Palais are wearing black. He’s going to need to outfit his own men properly. He should have done it at Saint-Cloud.

He hadn’t wanted to bring death into the house where he and Henriette had been young. That’s no excuse for ignoring etiquette.

“My rooms,” he says curtly over his shoulder, tossing the reins of his horse to a waiting groom in the second courtyard. Louis isn’t there to greet him.

He should have draped the damn horse in black; he should have ridden in with a black cloak that covered its hindquarters, a black feather in his hat as long as his arm, and a face nearly as long. That’s what everyone expects from him. Drama.

“Of course, your highness,” the waiting equerry says. Philippe doesn’t know him. Versailles has sucked up all the best personnel from the residences, the way it’s sucked up all the money from Louis’s coffers, all the freedom from France. “My condolences, Monsieur.”

It’s better that Philippe doesn’t know him; doesn’t know any of the bowing black-clad guards and servants and maids he passes as he stalks down the familiar corridors to his own suite. They’d been young here too, once.

There are white lilies and roses in clusters in their accustomed vases in the first of his rooms. Philippe stops dead for a moment.

They’re fresh; cut this morning, from the perfection of their petals. Their scent hangs heavy in the air, spring itself despite the late summer outside. It’s sweet and thick, and so familiar his throat closes for a moment and his fist clenches on the flower he’d reached out to touch, crushing it.

Did someone have them put out on purpose? For a moment, Philippe wonders. A mourning lady-in-waiting who’d admired his wife, perhaps.

Louis?

He shakes his head, angry at himself for the thought. It’s an order Henriette gave with a decisive clap of her hands a decade ago, and never revoked. Part of the pattern of this place, the pattern they all follow, weaving something greater together. The court hasn’t been at the Palais-Royal since his mother died, but the curtains are still drawn open and closed each day by the staff that remain, in case Louis should come: the gardens cared for, the flowers placed in his rooms as part of the usual preparation for Monsieur’s residence.

“There you are,” the Chevalier says, sounding aggrieved. “Do you know, I had to be quite firm with the guard on your doors before they would let me pass? You shouldn’t have ridden ahead like that and left the poor old fellow and I in your dust – Oh, good, you’ve found something suitable.”

Philippe turns around. The long black train of his mantle swirls around his ankles. “I’m being thrifty,” he says, the word in his mouth an unpleasant thing. “Am I quite out of fashion?”

The Chevalier smiles. “You look magnificent,” he says, and touches Philippe’s cheek with a fingertip. He smells like musk and ambergris, the scent of him usually enough to make Philippe’s stomach warm, his cock stir. Strong, powerful. Male. “Down to your shoe buckles. Jet?”

“Black diamonds,” Philippe says, giving him an appalled glance for the suggestion. “Oh, of course; you weren’t here for Mother’s funeral.”

“This is what you wore then?”

“I didn’t have time to order new clothes,” Philippe says, and the Chevalier glances at him, but forbears to mention the past three weeks at Saint-Cloud, enough time to turn out a full trousseau for even the least endowed of heiresses. “That will have to be attended to. There will be –” he swallows – “Ceremonies. Formal visits of condolence from members of the family, dignitaries of the court.”

“And then the funeral,” the Chevalier says. His eyes have gone soft, honey-hazel, salt-caramel. Henriette’s eyes were darker.

“And then the funeral,” Philippe says, and closes his eyes. Admitting that feels like one of Louis’s victories; a humiliating defeat. A painful thing, lodging in his throat like a stone. It was easier in Saint-Cloud to pretend that Henriette was still at Versailles, where he left her. Alive, only in the next room. He doesn’t want the Chevalier to look at him like that.

“I’ll be by your side,” the Chevalier says, and his voice has gone soft, too. Gentle. It’s not a common tone for him, although he’s not incapable of careless kindness when it suits him. Genuine tenderness is rarer still.

“I shouldn’t have brought you,” Philippe says, and opens his eyes. “You can��t be by my side. Not for this.”

The Chevalier looks like he’s been slapped. “Philippe –”

“We have to be serious. I have to be serious.”

“I only want to help–”

“You can’t.” Philippe smiles, unhappily. “This time is for family.”

“God help you, then,” the Chevalier says, in a tone Philippe's more familiar with, and takes a step back.

Henriette is dead. His wife died in Louis’s bed, the way she lived, choking on black bile and her own blood and then the air itself, thick with the smell of lilies.

As soon as Philippe is officially in residence, the visits begin. They continue with monotonous regularity for the next three days. Philippe is scrupulously well-behaved with most of the useless courtiers, lies rolling around their mouths like marble. There are a few who look genuinely sorry. He’s icily, regally Bourbon with the ambassadors from Spain and from Venice and from Genoa, from the German princelings and Scandinavias. With the cardinal from Rome. He’s a little less well-behaved with the two-tongued lying bastard from the Netherlands who condoles with him, saying how the stories of Madame's beauty and grace gone before her; what a loss she must be to France!

"She is a great loss to me," Philippe says. "She had already brought the greatest possible glory to France."

"Truly, your highness," the Dutchman says, and turns the sweaty colour of one of his pale cheeses. Philippe can only hope that he reports the conversation to his master verbatim. If William of Orange doesn't understand his meaning now, he'll understand it soon.

"Philippe," the Queen says, and kisses his cheek. Of course she looks good in mourning. She's Spanish. She's at her most comfortable in a black mantilla and clutching a crucifix.

Marie-Therese fills the formal role of queen admirably in court ceremonials, but she draws back her dignified skirts from the day-to-day of the court, the theatricals and the dances and the back-biting. It was Henriette's responsibility to be the female energy of the court, at the heart of each banquet, dancing the lead of each masque and court ballet. Louis overflows with meaning, produces it in excess, and one wife alone isn't enough to channel it for him, to fill all roles female for France the way Louis fills all male roles.

It'll be the Montespan's job, soon, if Philippe knows his brother - and he does. The women themselves are interchangeable to Louis. The work goes on.

"Sister," Philippe says, and kisses her cheek in turn. The lace of her veil is gritty under his lips.

Marie-Therese regards him soberly when he draws back. She doesn't like him. Philippe's always known that she doesn't approve of him, even before she made it clear in the regency conseil chamber.

She looks tired. Her face is drawn more tightly than usual, her dark eyes heavy. It would touch Philippe, if he thought it was truly for Henriette. "My husband sends his regards."

"Funny, then, that he sends them through you," Philippe says.

Marie-Therese stares at him. People think Louis has poise, but he's easy enough to upset if you know his weak places and aren't afraid to put your fingers in them - which, in all fairness, most people are. Louis has nothing on his wife. "He has been otherwise engaged."

"I do believe I could put money on just how he's been engaging himself," Philippe says. "How is dear Athénaïs?"

"She is well," Marie-Therese says. "And the Chevalier de Lorraine?"

"Prostrate with grief."

"Henriette is a great loss."

"It was her left side," Philippe says. "I was trying to help. It was her left."

Marie-Therese’s face, still and regal as a wooden Madonna, doesn’t change. He can’t read in her face whether she believes him or not. He wants to shake her until a real emotion comes out. “It’s in God’s hands now.”

“You of all people should know better than to confuse the king with God,” he says.

“Your highness,” Masson says. Her hands are clutched behind her back. She really is absurdly plain, brown from the sun and strained from whatever books she spends her time on. The male attire makes her look plainer. “Monsieur.”

There’s some kind of irony in the fact that Louis has made a pet of this girl dressed in boy’s clothing, but treats Philippe with such colossal scorn over his female finery. What’s her actual name? He can’t ask her that. Louis has forbidden it. The king states she is a man, and – voila! She is a man. “Monsieur Masson.”

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.” Her eyes are earnest and blue in her simple face. Far too earnest for Louis’s court. “The damage done by the poison was simply too much. I wished so much – but I did all that could be done for her highness.”

“I’m sure you did,” Philippe says lightly. He holds his hand out to her to be kissed and looks pointedly to his left. “I thank you for your service.”

She doesn’t move.

Honestly.

“Etiquette,” Philippe says, “for male members of the King’s household, states that you go to one knee when dismissed by a son of France, mutter ‘It was my honor, your highness,’ kiss my rings, and get to your feet in one smooth motion. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Come now.”

“I came to make my report to you,” the boy-girl says, hands still clenched behind her. “About Madame la Duchesse’s death.”

“I was there. I know what happened.”

“Yes, your highness,” Masson says. Her eyes are still too sorry. He remembers them from that night.

What a horrid, intimate vigil it had been.

Henriette’s left hand in his, her blood gurgling in her throat; Louis on the other side of the bed, holding her right. She’d reached for him first, of course. Philippe had been the afterthought, her gesture to him the last attempt in a lifetime to balance the equation belatedly.

“You left the court after her highness’s death -"

“I was there while she was alive.”

“Yes, your highness. What I meant is that you were not there to receive my report on her death.”

“You report to Louis.”

“I must also report to you.”

“Well, that’s a new line,” Philippe says. He recrosses his legs, one gleaming shin in its black silk stocking replacing its partner in the ascendant. “I assume he told you to come here today. When is my dear brother planning to make his own sympathy call?”

Masson says nothing. What can someone outside their particular knot of Bourbon blood and loyalty and fear say? It’s best to say nothing at all. Philippe would approve, if he didn’t read her adamant loyalty to Louis into her strained face.

Louis trusts her. How unfair that she seems to be worthy of it.

“Well?”

“I conducted the autopsy on Madame la Duchesse, on the king’s orders. The stomach was flooded with a fermented bile, and the organs of the abdominal cavity were in an advanced state of gangrene –”

“Stop,” Philippe says.

He’s going to be sick. The room swims. His shoe-buckles glisten up at him, the dark diamonds in their silver settings performing marvelous feats of multiplication, dividing into twos and fours and eights.

Masson is holding his arm and saying, “Keep your head low, your highness. Take a full breath. And another. Do you have any scent?”

He needs her to stop touching him. No wonder she came into his apartments with her hands behind her back. Those hands had cut Henriette apart and opened her for study, had exposed the shadowy places in her heart, the secrets and the sadness.

Masson’s advice helps, and after a few lungfuls Philippe has a hold on himself enough to wave her aside. “Finish your report. It was poison?”

“Antimony,” Masson says. She’s still too close, still watching him as though he’s her patient, but she drops back into her report. “As we had suspected, but my tests have now confirmed it. She would have felt pain in her right, your highness, as well as her left. I could not have saved her once the poison was ingested.” That helps, somewhat; and not at all. “That is my private report, known to the king and the queen, and to Marchal and Louvois. His majesty has had it given out that her highness died of a colic in an attack of cholera morbus.”

“Of course he has.” Louis can’t be blamed for it if Henriette died a natural death. “He sent you to tell me this.”

“He wished you to know.”

“How thoughtful of him.”

Masson is still looking at him with earnest, diagnostic eyes. Philippe offers his hand again, in distance and in dismissal, and this time she manages an almost acceptable bow before leaving.

#wip amnesty #My fic #versailles

17 notes · View notes

reversecreek · 4 years ago

Text

hi it’s me... clicks across the linoleum of the dash wearing high heels w a spray tan like i’m a member of jersey shore suddenly..... best summary of willa is that she got moira rose as her #1 chara on a What Character Are You Most Like personality test out of thousands of options.... says so much. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here 😋 like this or hmu fr plots!!

* ashley moore, cis female + she/her | you know willa deneurve, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, most of her life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to watch me by the pom poms like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole sticking gold stars over old polaroids until you can barely see faces, dressing as marie antoinette at your high school prom & delivering fake laughter to a bratz doll you’re pretending is a talkshow host thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 1st, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

willa ws born to honestly like….. the perfect family not to honk my own tit bt……………. they were jst rly quite wholesome. her mum celeste was this larger than life person who could never b contained by the four walls of any room she was in. she hd the presence of a gold glitter chess piece on an otherwise mundane wooden board. her dad marlon used to always joke that he had absolutely NO idea how he landed her bc he was just this like. rly average guy by all accounts n purposes….. blended into the sea in high skl……. had a few close friends but was never rly Notable or made a proper impression anywhere…… he always retold it as him coasting thru life until he met her in college. kind of like he’d been half awake before. they just Clicked n no-one cld believe she’d chosen him bt she was jst. completely head over heels n didn’t care what anyone had to say bc that was That

willa always very much took after celeste…… there’s this one quote i remember reading that goes vaguely like “my mom and i would sit and listen to leonard cohen and joni mitchell lyrics together. from a young age i remember her being like "i’m playing this song and when it’s done i want u to tell me what’s happening in it” n she would give me a fake glass of wine when i was 8 and i would listen and b like. i think there was an affair.” which so much summarises their dynamic…… she ws just so like. dramatic n fun n always encouraged that in willa too. her mum was like. everything she aspired to be…… got scouted by a modelling agency in college n shot one campaign before blowing it off simply bc she was bored. starred lead in a play. spent a few weeks travelling asia selling handmade candles shaped like koi fish or curled up foxes or elegantly stretched hands. dated a parisian movie star during a break she and her father took n was featured in tabloids on his arm at the premiere. sm fun n exotic stories willa literally cldn’t get enough. whenever she’d tell them to willa as a kid her dad wld roll his eyes like ohhhhh here she goes again but it’d all b playful n he’d smile bc he honestly cldn’t get enough either. the stuff dreams are made of luv (lizzie mcguire stans rise)

(car accident & death tw) so u know when ur walking down a flight of stairs n then out of nowhere u miss a step n u get that lurch in ur stomach like ur in free fall? yeah. i won’t go into it too much but one night they were driving back from getting frozen yogurt and then suddenly they weren’t. she doesn’t rly remember much about it except for completely ignoring the doctors trying to give her the news and just saying “dad chose pecan. who chooses pecan?” n repeating that over n over n over until it didn’t rly register in her ears as english any more.

willa was uprooted from irving at 11 to go n live w her aunt in NY. this was like. a huge adjustment honestly….. her aunt blanche hd always been a little unconventional bt extremely glamorous. she lived in an old defunct theatre she’d bought out n came from a lot of money. willa’s mum’s side of the family hd always been well off bt celeste opted to live a little more Ordinarily shall we say after settling whereas blanche ws jst balls to the walls dripping w eccentric excess…. wld say she was never naked bc she ws always wearing black opium by yves saint laurent…… probably the living embodiment of la vie boheme….. she’d been admitted a yr early to a rly prestigious parisian design school n is an AMAZING seamstress. a corset she stitched a broadway star into got commissioned fr an actress’ red carpet walk at an indie film festival. rly just lived such a life rich w lots of stories n lots of talent too…… had that star quality essence tht her mum had n that was smthn willa found quite comforting everything considered.

(grief tw) u would think maybe a situation like this (one involving so much sudden change) wld cause a kid of tht age to withdraw into her shell bt willa only came out of her shell MORE. she coped w her situation by spinning it into a celebrity origin story inside her head. the tear jerker tale someone tells during their x factor audition to get the judges rooting for them. mentally streamlining things. repackaging all that hurt as a surefire ticket to success bc it had to be useful for something right? there had to b a point to it right? willa decided the point was she’s a star. KFHSGKFHGFKHGKJSFHG. get it girl….. she ws literally just like ok well clearly i’m destined to be famous n i’m the main character of this story. this story called earth. it’s all about me.

rly heavily immersed herself in her high skl theatre scene……. loved experimenting w fashion n literally wore the most outlandish things like. she treated the hallways like her milan f/w debut every new school yr…… a lot of the things she wore were actual like. costumes frm her aunt’s collection…… she has a multi-story closet u have to climb ladders to reach things in like a very rustic library…. it rly wasn’t uncommon for willa to turn up one day corsetted like a pirate with billowing sleeves or sporting the baby blue gingham of a swedish milk maid. it’s like she literally jst…… became a role. always. every day. the world ws her stage. the cameras were always rolling. her aunt only encouraged this tbh n honestly? icon. we love to see it. willa partied a bunch n rly lived a lax lifestyle where responsibility was concerned…. her aunt ws her best friend…… made rly gd friends with performers in the drag club scene n loved the glitz of that….. lots of wild nights turned grossly bright mornings

snagged an agent fresh into her first yr of college (she gt accepted to a pretty competitive theatre program at [redacted] in NY bc i haven’t looked into what that wld be yet <3 i’m merely a helpless british lass <3) n booked a few commercials n things….. when i say willa wld enter audition rooms like she owned the place i’m rly not exaggerating…. once she turned up to a casting call for MEN n just walked right to the front of the line scraping a random chair along the way n then took a seat w her legs crossed popping a bubble in her gum as they all glared at her like wtf is literally going on who are u. she received several complaints n she was just like “ur all acting so jealous of me….”

i feel like she got a pretty big role in a theatre production in her last yr at school. haven’t decided what yet. maybe smthn rocky horror or even mimi in rent. this was meant to b some like huge moment for willa like yes girl finally making it ur on ur way this is what u wanted n she WAS happy abt it but once it was wrapped she jst had this strange like Huh feeling in her chest……. n a la celeste w all her exciting stories was just like well i’ve done that so what’s next? i think she’d graduate n then jst suddenly decide to move to irving in a fit of impulse. to all her college friends she’d be like “ugh a beach retreat is so necessary honestly the city is sooooooooo toxic this place cld literally enlarge my pores if i wasn’t so rigorous with my skincare routine” bt like 🤔 what u seeking girl? results pending.

SO basically i feel like she finally moved back to irving little over a yr ago. she hd a brief stint starring on a reality tv show tht filmed in one of the larger beach houses where her dog gained a handful of fan accounts dedicated to him……. u maybe will see why in the first bullet point of her personality section………… FKGHKSHFGGKFSHKHG. honestly she ws received pretty well too (mostly bc she’s so fking dramatic n like a caricature of a person) bt it wasn’t anything to warrant actual Fame (despite what willa herself might think). she’s mostly jst like. chilling honestly. accepting scripts n flying out fr auditions still. she’ll nab the occasional part bt she’s looking for that One Thing that rly feels like her big moment….. otherwise i cn just imagine her treating irving like a little dollhouse compared to the roaring mansion of NYC n having fun playing around in it. strikes a pose w a hand on my hip…. and now to personality.

PERSONALITY:

got a very large n lithe greyhound n named him marlene dietrich bc she was a black n white hollywood starlet famously known for her affairs n “bedroom eyes”. willa was like ugh. icon status instantly. didn’t rly foresee the responsibilities tht came w owning a dog tht loves exercise n complains abt him being like “ugh he wants to run soooooooooo much 🙄 like where are u literally going”. having said tht loves him dearly n he can often be seen wearing little clothes. a baby’s bonnet. a quilted leather waistcoat. a custom dog boa. he’s very glamorous. willa calls him a gay icon despite no evidence to support this theory. she also says he can sniff out evil in ppl so she brings him sometimes when she’s first introduced to a friend’s new bf n if his nose quivers a certain way she’s like “marlene has spoken. it’s done”. her friends r like omg? what’s done? willa gets up n walks away without elaborating. marlene’s little paws clicking along the floor w attitude.

literally dressed as marie antoinette for her high skl prom even tho there was no theme pertaining to this. jst loves the spotlight. can fake cry and WILL to get out of a parking ticket or teach someone to watch their tone or even simply for the theatrics of it all. the Most dramatic………….. rly fits being an actress like when people find out what she does it’s very like oh that makes sense.

says she doesn’t get hangovers. she’s just like “i revoked that it doesn’t happen to me”. alludes tht this is bc she’s an all powerful deity that was Chosen to be Blessed bt really she’s jst great at bouncing back n acting fine even w a blistering headache. it’s about believing the performance so much that u even convince urself.

has an extremely elevated sense of self importance bc this is kind of the equivalent of several layers of bubble wrap to cushion her frm the world. strives to b extraordinary bc ordinary honestly feels like a death sentence n there’s nothing she’d want to b seen as less. despite this weight she puts on that she rly doesn’t tend to let ppl’s opinions affect fr the most part like she’s quite firmly set in this I’m Literally The Most Gorgeous And Beautiful Angel Star Creature To Walk This Narsty Little Earth view

probably an incredibly big fan of dramatic short lived love affairs. she wants the glamour of it all. the scandal. the randomly breaking up w someone in a public place n sliding on sunglasses after delivering the words over a freshly ordered coffee (tht she’ll leave without drinking bc that’s star power babey she waits fr no man or no hot beverage)…….. has no preference gets w any n all regardless of gender……… romanticises things so they hv a better spin or story in her head n doesn’t rly take things seriously like jst has fun in her fantasy world…. she’s like ugh chuck i know u wanted to marry me but i’m a beautiful bird in a cage n u literally need to undo the latch n set me free……. the guy’s like……. my name’s chase n we’ve only been on two dates….. willa’s like…… please don’t take this so hard i can tell ur besides urself but people r starting to stare……. gets up n leaves. no-one was staring. chase is confused n honestly probably semi concerned fr her welfare.

always has to b the hottest n most glamorous person in a grocery store…. probably goes to them when she doesn’t even need anything jst holding a basket nonchalantly over her forearm glancing over at a cashier in her wizard of oz corset seamed interpretation on a dorothy dress thinking he wants me soooo bad it’s not even funny….. seduces him over the check out counter jst for him to ask her to come back to his so she can lean back scandalised n cry “IS THAT THE KIND OF WOMAN U THINK I AM, PAUL?! YOU’RE A GHASTLY LITTLE MAN, YOU ARE….” with all the gusto of a telenovela. attracts the shocked glances of all surrounding elderly.

speaks fluent french. probably on her brief stint on tht reality show i mentioned earlier was like “ugh can you believe Deneurve of this guy?” n in her head was like this catchphrase is sensational it’ll catch on fast the twittersphere is abt to implode but it didn’t become a thing except for in a small isolated community. despite this she’s like “yeah it went viral….. go figure. just another day in the life.”

honestly like a lot of fun bt also a huge handful at the same time. keeps her real Serious emotions in a locked box bt is always overflowing w melodramatics n rly giving her all at the drop of a hat where Performing is concerned. probably Loves parties n sees them as another form of production in which she wants to b the lead. rly just. loves herself. except does she? 🤔 lifts my hand up like rihanna n winks. find out next time. lucky by britney plays as i slowly disintegrate in spiderman rp…..

WANTED CONNECTIONS

unrequited flame: willa burns thru people like matches. bright n fast. honestly i feel like she struggles to take romance seriously so it cld be fun to play around with someone who’s been singed by that in the past…. mayb they hd actual feelings whereas willa was just messing around n having fun…. living la vida loca so to speak…….. we can discuss a time frame or specifics to expand upon this but. sexy angst perhaps.

those she knew from childhood: willa moved to NY at 11 n i feel like it was very sudden n soon after the accident. maybe she didn’t even say goodbye. maybe they were rly close n all of a sudden she didn’t show up to school the next day n when they rode past her house on their bike the sign said sold and that was that. honestly very dramatic of her even at a young age. we love a disappearing act. houdini who?

acting rival: honestly jst feel like this cld be funny. willa’s so dramatic she’d be like i literally want them dead they’re a despicable little gremlin fr trying to steal my spotlight. cld be as simple as having auditioned a few times fr the same parts or something.

childhood sweetheart: i think it cld be rly cute n sad if there was someone that kind of echoed the dynamic her mum n dad had except she was the celeste n they were the marlon…. (open to any gender)…….. so like. willa was always very larger than life commanding attention in a room n they were more to the sidelines but they just kind of got each other n brought out the best in one another. added angst to the fact tht willa wld maybe want to avoid them as much as possible now bc it dredges up feelings she doesn’t want to confront where her parents r concerned n also in a way any possibility of them winding up together feels like sellotaping an expiration date to both of their foreheads in willa’s brain

someone who was either a fan of or also on the reality show willa was: i imagine it like a reinvention of the hills honestly except based in these irving beach houses…. probably didn’t run that long bt there was a bunch of drama on it mostly staged…… maybe they were willa’s love interest bt it was all fake fr the cameras…… it wasn’t like. a huge deal n didn’t rly catch flight so much where popularity’s concerned bt. cld be fun to play with <3

patti frands: jogs in high knees to translate that into party friends as i adjust my spectacles. willa’s very sociable bt she’s also like kind of full of herself n obnoxious so do with that what u will. KFHGKSHGKGHFSKG. she knows hw to have a gd time tho like growing up she was rly into the gay club scene n the drag scene in NY so like. let’s hear it fr the gays who know how to do it right <3

someone equally over the top: i luv the idea of willa having someone who just like runs with made up scenarios n roles she makes up on the spot n them hanging out is like a 24/7 improv session tht they reel random surrounding strangers just fr the fun thrill

the other woman: willa is quite detached n selfish so she wld easily be the other woman in a relationship n not care about it n this cld make for good spice <3

#irvingintro #death tw #car accident tw #grief tw #i think tht's all of them #smiles at u all w hand on hip #this intro's so beefy bt wht else is new truly just can't control myself apparently... shocked. aghast. shaken.

8 notes · View notes

imaginesforallkindoflove · 4 years ago

Text

Not me writing this in one hour and it is past one am now.

Anyway enjoy a mythical fix it fic with Arthur Morgan and my self insert. It is only platonic feelings yall, and Arthur lives :) sorry for any mistakes i wrote this without glasses on my phone and very late at night. Maybe I should sleep??

Arthur didn't know how he escaped death.

He was doomed. He had known since he started to cough, and the doctor he saw in Saint Denis confirmed that. He was sure he was done for. When Micah left him to die on that mountain, when he started to make his way with intense difficultly toward the edge, feeling the warm sun welcoming him, as if God or any higher being was there with open arms, forgetting him. He remembered how he closed his eyes, clutching at his hat and snatchel. He had forgotten to give someone something to remember him by. But... somehow he was happy with that: he will be faded into history. No one will remember him. Maybe that photographer, Albert Mason... or that widow, Miss Balfour... Or that strange and French painter...

French... Like the little maid they picked up from the burning Braithwaite mansion. Hosea took her out with him, arguing with Dutch and some others -mainly John who told him she deserved to die for being with the people who kidnapped his son- as she was just some girl servant trying to survive. The old man cared for that little maid, he really seemed to be fond of her. She was so shy and quiet, so frightened by that new life and by them. Sometimes he watched her, making sure no one was bullying the poor girl. She made fiends with Kieran and Sean... Molly even liked the girl more, doing her hair and being like... a mother figure of some sorts. All her friends were dead when he thought about it.

Arthur entered her life pretty late, but he defended her from Micah, that rat. The way the man was staring at her was disgusting and he knew he had to step in. After that event, she stayed with him when he was around the camp. Calling him words in her language he didn't understand... She was a breath of something new, of love, of... renaissance and redemption, a gift perhaps for him. Arthur had lost his son a long time ago but he found in that girl a little figure of a daughter. He took her fishing and hunting and riding... He took her to Saint Denis and bought her a fancy dress for the hell of it. He taught her how to ride a horse. He had taught her a lot of things...

He hoped she had made it out.

She never had commit a crime. If Milton or one of his agents laid a hand on her, he swore to whatever was hearing him that he would haunt them.

She didn't deserve to die, unlike him.

However, to his surprise, he opened his eyes and breathed deeply.

His lungs...they felt free of anything blocking them. They didn't feel like a burning fire ravaging a forest. He could breathe normally, without coughing himself to blood. He was still very thin and pale but... he was alive. A voice was speaking a few meters away from him. He knew that strange voice full of slangs he didn't know of... Who was it?

He eventually found the strength to stand up, walking with wobbly legs toward the voice. The person seemed to tell jokes or funny stories, because a second voice laughed and chuckled. Oh god, he knew that voice too. He reached a door and opened it, stumbling on the ground.

"Arthur!"

It was her. She was alive. She was alive. That little maid had run off to him and hugged the poor man hard, he moaned in pain and she released him with a pained look on her face. His hands travelled to her face and he caressed her cheeks lovingly, just like a father would do.

Her brown hair was neatly tied up like Molly had taught her, she was wearing the dress he had bought that day in Saint Denis and she... she looked so joyful and so relieved to watch him breathe.

"Na... Naomie..." He finally said, a smile creeping on his face.

"I thought you would die!" She exclaimed, tears streaming down her face quietly.

"I am not... I don't know... What happened?"

"Well... it was the least I could do to thank you mister Morgan."

Behind her was again a strange and unknown man he had helped a few months ago. He didn’t remember his name clearly, but the man had tasked him to find rock carvings and the ending was like a dark fairytale. He didn’t question it, because he felt like an idiot. The man with the birthmark smiled warmly at him.

"Glad that young and elegant miss found me on time. Actually... I had a bad feeling about you mister. I decided to... visit when I encountered poor little Naomie crying and riding while clutching your body for dear life. Luckily for you, I had medicine to treat your illness and we cared for you while you were delirious." He explained proudly.

"He is fantastic!" The girl exclaimed.

"Yeah yeah... I am sorry but I forgot your name-"

"Francis Sinclair."

"Right. Thank you mister Sinclair..."

"I will leave you two to your found happiness. Don't forget to leave in a week or two or else the law will catch you both and I am afraid I won’t be here to save you this time if it happened." Francis Sinclair stated before bowing and taking his leave. "Mister Morgan, this is a thank you for helping me." He declared before disappearing again.

Arthur sat down to write in his journal, then would sleep for hours and ate a lot over the days. He felt much better but the words of Sinclair was still fresh in his head: they had to leave soon. He looked in his snatchel and found all of his money. A few dollars were missing tho but he didn't care.

Naomie entered the little home they shared and unlike any other day, Arthur decided to ask her about what happened after he left the camp for the last robbery with the gang. The young woman sighed deeply, seeming embarrassed.

"I would rather not speak about it."

"I want you to tell me what happened. I need to know. I have the right to. I was dying then I came back to life. Naomie, please." He begged.

"Dutch had two keys for the money box. I... stole his, that one poor miss Grimshaw was keeping. I took the box and hide it somewhere. Then, Pinkertons came and they took Abigail. Tilly and Jack escaped and Miss Grimshaw was nowhere in sight." She started. "So... I felt like it was time for me to leave. I took the box and ran as fast as I could. I came across a barn and I remembered that you had a horse stored there... I lied that you were my father and the man believed me."

"You took Alexander out? That big horse?" Arthur asked, impressed.

"Yes." She nodded. "I found mister Sinclair next. He led me here and I hide the money again. Then he suggested I go looking for you and I did! Something... Animals were on the road, waiting for me. I think it was a coyote and a stag... they led me to you. You were still breathing and no soldier was present so I took your body and ride as fast as Alexander could." She stopped to take a breathe. "Then, I brought you back here. Mister Sinclair gave you some medicine and you felt much better immediately!"

"You saved me." The man breathed out. "You saved me."

"I would have been so lost without you... you are like... like a father to me." She looked at him. "And I have lost so much people in my life. I couldn't afford to lose someone else."

"You... You did good. So good. Come here." He took her in his arms and she looked so small compared to him. Then he released her and started to become serious. "Francis Sinclair is right. We should pack it up, and go somewhere else. Somewhere where no one will find us. And not an island. I was thinking... California?" He suggested, suddenly reminding of the doctor's words. "With this money, we will be able to have a good life. I will find a job... maybe as a deputy or some shit and you... you will have a good education. I will make sure of it."

"Really?" She sounded so excited.

"Or maybe Canada? Maybe we will find Charles and the natives... I hope so." He mumbled.

As he started packing Alexander outside, Arthur saw something strange. He stopped what he was doing. It felt so... dream like.

A stag and a coyote were present, watching intensely. The coyote was siting, its black fur not matching with the golden ray of the sun but its piercing eyes were staring inside the former gunslinger's soul deeply. Meanwhile, the stag was magnificent, dominating the forest with its giant antlers and stood tall, looking at the man too, and he seemed to approve his new life.

Slowly, Arthur tipped his hat off to them, and he didn’t have any peculiar reasons to do that. But... he wanted to thank them. For some reasons.

Arthur Morgan was redeemed. He had acquired his redemption and was reborn through his ashes.

*Many years later...*

They didn't feel like they aged a lot. But here they were, settled in California for many years. It was the end of the first wold war, and Arthur Morgan didn't participate in it, as he didn't fill any of the requirements for the US army. He was glad he didn't go to war, or else Naomie would have been left alone and he would have hated that.

However, he cared for the young and old soldiers. Some came back disfigured, scared by endless fights and traumatic experiences. He tried everything he could to help them, and even invited other rich people to do the same. He worked in the police now, and was a respectable deputy chief. Soemtimes, he laughed at his condition. When they arrived, he still was doing some bounty hunts then a deputy offered him to take a place and here he was.

He entered the home he shared with his now legally adopted daughter, with a smile on his face. He hung his coat himself, as maids and other servants were hurrying to prepare dinner and doing all kind of chores. He paid them well and was kind to them. Hosea would have done the same, he thought.

Some years after they settled in, Arthur Morgan was able to contact most of the people he helped, even Mickey the fake war veteran who died three years ago. He helped him, finding him a simple job and home. Charlotte was well too, a little old by now but she had nephews and nieces as well as grand nephews and grand nieces to take care of. Albert Mason reached to him first, inviting him to his new exposition whereas Charles Châtenay came back one day, knocking on Arthur's door.

He didn’t had contact with any of the old gang members, except maybe Mary Beth. He would buy her books and read them avidly, feeling proud on how far she had come. One time, he even had tears when she wrote a serie about them. The characters looked and thought as them, and he felt proud again. He grinned when he thought about that brave captain Monroe who would sometimes visit them. He had found a wife and had children on his own. Also, they would often tour in those states to visit the graves of their fallen members as well as the native son of that chief. Arthur felt the need to see them every two years. He didn’t want to forget about them and would write any new memory in his diaries.

They didn't age, he quickly noted. They both stayed in the state Francis Sinclair found them. Perhaps that mad man gave them something, but he was glad it was not toxic or anything.

Naomie was a good student, scoring high in female universities but couldn't access to more as she looked too young for anything and was a woman. That was the only downside, he believed. She was mad of course, but with time, she seemed to be more interested in so many things and began to write numerous essays and books under a male name.

They were comfortable. They were safe. No one was asking about their shady past. He hoped John and his family were still alive as well as Karen, Tilly and Charles. He missed Charles a lot. However... He hoped Dutch was feeling miserable, as miserable as himself was when he thought he was dying that evening.

One day, a man working for him came finding Arthur in his office, saying a young black haired man was searching for him.

"What is his name again?" Despite being high in society, Arthur stayed the same.

"He said: "Lancelot Milton". A rubbish name if you ask me sir. Do you want me to do anything about it?"

"I swear if this is another man asking for my daughter's hand, I will put a bullet through his skull." The man spoke as he went to see who send for him.

He opened the door and saw a man tending to a beautiful horse. He was wearing a familiar hat, Arthur thought, and from the back, the strange man reminded him of someone he knew but the memories were blurry. He cleared his throat and the stranger turned. Then the older man knew and it took his breath away. The eyes, the face, the hair...

"Hello, my name is Jack Marston. I believe you knew my father?"

#n speaks #my f/os #f/os #self shipping #self shipping community #my s/i #platonic fo

7 notes · View notes

sserpente · 5 years ago

Photo

A/N: Requests from two anons and @eislyn-vis. I changed the scenario a bit but now there’s a different kind of Red Riding Hood concept.

Words: 1954 Warnings: angst, fluff, attempted rape, mentions of smut

“Come on, brother, it’ll be fun. How will you ever redeem yourself if you don’t spend time with us and prove to them you’re more than just the God of Mischief?” Thor bellowed, patting Loki’s shoulder so hard he stumbled forward. The Trickster rolled his eyes.

“I have no need to be redeemed, Thor. You are fully well aware it were not solely my actions that brought chaos to New York.”

Thor’s smile faltered a little. “I know. Maybe tonight, you can convince the others of that too.”

“I will not costume myself and drink myself into stupor, brother.” Thor had painted his face entirely white and added dark blue circles under his eyes. Fake blood was dripping down the corners of his mouth and whenever he spoke, Loki caught a glimpse of those way too big plastic fangs. He looked absurd.

“You don’t have to. Just come along, have a drink with me and celebrate Halloween with us.”

He stared at him, considering his invitation briefly. He could always cause some mischief among the crowd. Surely, a real living snake in the punch would elicit some kind of reaction.

“Fine,” he finally replied. “One drink.”

Thor’s grin was triumphant when he grabbed his brother by the neck and dragged him with him into the living room. Loki was already regretting he had said yes when he shoved a green drink in his hand and then joined Tony, Natasha and Steve. Dirty looks were shot in his direction as soon as they lay their judgemental eyes upon him.

He rolled his eyes once more, carefully sipping on his drink. It was not too bad, for a Midgardian brew. Annoyed, he let his eyes roam over the costumed crowd—he was not interested in a conversation with the Avengers anyway—right until he caught sight of a petite woman next to one of the doctors. Alas, you were petite to him, your red dress barely covering your delicious backside. You were wearing a red jacket that came with a hood, too, presumably made of leather. What were you supposed to illustrate? Red traffic lights Loki had discreetly ignored the first time Thor had sat him behind the wheel of a Midgardian vehicle?

“Who is that?” He found himself asking. Fascination was boiling in his veins, an interest he could not quite name as of yet.

Thor frowned. “Who?”

“That woman over there… the one wearing the red dress.” You had combined your outfit with black heels and equally black tights. Quite frankly… you looked ravishing. When was the last time he had felt immediate sexual interest in a woman?

“Oh, that… that is (Y/N), she’s a young scientist. Works with Banner. Why?”

Loki pursed his lips. “Never mind. What is she dressed up as?”

“Red Riding Hood.” Natasha said, folding her arms suspiciously. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes once more. He had no idea who or what Red Riding Hood was. All he knew was that he needed to hear your voice. He doubted you would be willing to speak to him though—after all, you worked with the Avengers. You knew what he had done.

Loki downed his drink quickly, choosing to spend the rest of the night watching you. For a moment, he even considered casting an illusion, transforming himself into someone else but then decided against it. If he were to get to know you… then he should have a chance for you to like him just the way he was, no tricks involved.

He almost snorted at the thought. Whoever would? According to Midgardian myths, he was the incarnation of evil. According to his life, he was an outsider, a villain, a monster.

Pressings his lips together to a thin line, he stood to pour himself another drink. Perhaps he should drink himself into stupor after all.

How come he had never seen you around before? Granted, Loki usually spent most of his time in his cell, pardon, room in the compound and he had not been here long enough to be acquainted with the entire team as of yet. Still… a young beauty such as you… he should have noticed you.

He was met with a hungover Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff in the kitchen. Cleaning maids��apparently, so Loki had been told by Thor, they were getting paid for their services—were taking care of the disgusting mess the party guests had left. Loki really did not understand all the fuss about Halloween.

Repulsed, he stepped over an empty glass bottle on the floor and poured himself a cup of coffee. Unlike the two mortals in the kitchen, he had remained entirely unaffected from last night’s alcoholic adventure.

At three am, when there was still no end of the party in sight, he retreated, stopping by Stark’s library before returning to his cell—bedroom. He quickly found what he was looking for and ended up falling asleep to the fairy tale of little Red Riding Hood wandering through a dark forest to bring her sick grandmother cake and wine.

“You left early last night, brother. You didn’t disappear with the lovely (Y/N), did you?” Thor entered the kitchen with a sneaky grin on his lips. Tony’s face fell, his eyes locking with Loki’s.

“Did you touch her?” Hmm… interesting. Of course they would not want him anywhere near an innocent young woman—but he sure loved getting on the billionaire’s nerves. If only he could say yes. He would have loved to have felt you underneath him last night.

“And if I did, then what?” He replied instead, scorn swinging in his voice.

“He’s bluffing.” Natasha stated unfazed. Tony ignored her. “(Y/N) left the compound to go for a run in the forest nearby ten minutes ago.”

“Stay away from her. If I even see you near her, I’ll see to it SHIELD locks you up again.”

“Because that worked out so well the first time you attempted to do so, yes?” Proudly, Loki lifted his chin, staring him down until he had to blink.

“(Y/N) is an honourable, decent woman. She’d never waste her breath on you.” The God of Mischief swallowed. There was a chance Stark was not lying. Still, he had all the information he needed.

“Worry not, Stark. In case you are concerned for her honour, however, I would strongly advise you stay away from the girl yourself.” He teleported himself out of the room before Tony could respond, finding himself on an idyllic forest path. Romanoff’s information had been vague but it was enough for Loki to locate you.

Casting an illusion on himself, his heart almost leaped out of his chest when you ran past him, dressed in a tight sports outfit complimenting each and every one of your curves. Ironically, it was red.

By the Norns, was this not pathetic? Making himself invisible and watching you sweat like a mad predator? What other choice did he have? Stark’s harsh words rang in his ears, making him wonder if they were true after all.

Oh, nonsense. If you were truly honourable, perhaps you would give him a chance despite his past. He would simply… where had you gone? You had been there only a second ago!

Loki flinched when you screamed. Alarmed, he rushed to your side, abandoning his invisibility charm. A strange man had sneaked up on you, holding a small knife to your throat from behind and dragging you off the safe path into the undergrowth.

He could only imagine what it was he wanted from you. He gnashed his teeth. How dare he even think about touching you against your will. Possessiveness crawled through his body, along with a strong urge to protect you. Loki had never even heard your voice and still… He was not cruel. Surely, he would have helped any woman from getting raped before his eyes, yet with you he felt that if he failed saving you, something inside him would break. His heart? No, his heart had long been broken. But there was a connection. A connection he could not quite describe. He wondered… would Frigga know? His mother… the woman who had raised him had always known advice for any predicament he had found himself in, up until he had found out what he really was.

Without any hesitation, he grabbed the stranger by the throat and hurled him against a tree, the knife falling to the ground and landing mutely in the green moss.

“What the…”

He looked up, realising who had attacked him and swallowing thickly.

“You have three seconds before I rip your head off.” He growled, making him stumble to his feet and run faster than you had ever seen a man run before. Relief washed over you.

“L-Loki?” Your eyes widened when you recognised him, hovering above you, his dark glare downright murderous. You frowned.

“And there I was thinking that I would be the big bad wolf in this scenario.” He replied with an amused grin, remembering the fairy tale he had read last night.

“What are you talking about?” Still frowning, you let him help you up, electricity rippling through you when your hands touched.

By the Norns, standing this close to you only made him realise now how tiny you were compared to him. He could just lift you up with both his hands, bring your delicious quim to his face and bury his tongue between your folds all the while you hung in his arms completely helpless, forced to accept the pleasure he was offering you…

“I am afraid you caught my attention at the party last night.” Now that was an understatement but at least, it was not a lie.

You raised an eyebrow. Oh… your costume, of course… “That does not explain why you followed me into the woods.” Ah. Yes.

“I shall be glad I did. Stark was very vehement about me staying away from you.”

“Tony tends to get a little overprotective from time to time.”

“I do not like being told what not to do.”

You blinked. You had never actually spoken to Loki before. You were aware of his presence in the compound, of course—yet the stories the Avengers had told you had made you hesitate. You had not exactly avoided him, still you had to admit you had not been overly keen on joining Bruce in the lab when he was present.

Loki had shattered your opinion of him like a piece of glass. If he truly was as evil as the heroes made him out to be, then why had he just saved you from a rapist? Your heart was still beating like a steam hammer, adrenaline cursing through your body. You didn’t even realise you were bleeding until Loki reached for your neck and gently pulled you towards him.

“He injured you. I should have killed him after all.” He muttered tenderly.

“I-I’m okay.” Loki looked up, your eyes locking. He had not imagined it then. There was a connection. But you were suspicious of him, he could tell. The hesitation radiated off of you like liquid heat. At least, he felt no hatred and disgust.

Making you flinch, he brushed his thumb against the bleeding wound the man’s knife had caused. One second passed before it disappeared, leaving behind unblemished skin Loki was itching to taste with his mouth.

“Thank you…” You murmured, unsure of how to react to his gentleness. What was it he had said? That you had caught his attention last night? “I, um… I’m heading back now, will you… will you join me?”

Loki nodded slowly, suppressing a triumphant grin. “With pleasure.” It was a start, at least.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

409 notes · View notes

saiilorstars · 5 years ago

Text

Next Stop, Everywhere

Chapter 23: Things Change

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Female OC

(Minerva’s face claim: Victoria Camacho)

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter summary: Minerva finally comes home to see someone very special to her and hopefully raise her spirits a bit.

// Story Masterlist //

The Doctor entered my room with another dessert in his hand, a hopeful look on his face as he approached my bed.

"Doctor, I said I wanted vanilla pudding," I informed, giggling when his hope turned into irritation. It was far too much fun irritating him like that. Since I'd been stuck in bed for a good while, I had to find a source of entertainment somewhere.

"Are you serious?" He frowned.

I nodded, "I said clearly that I wanted vanilla..." But my certainty faded when I started to think about it. This had been happening for a while too. "...or...maybe I did say chocolate...hm...no, wait, pistachio?"

The Doctor sighed and sat down on the chair beside my bed. He wasn't very surprised about my doubt, neither was I by this point. "Don't try to think too hard. It could hurt you."

"Sorry," I reached for the vanilla pudding, "But thank you for tolerating my indecision."

"It's alright, although I'm seriously not okay with you rejecting the banana pudding," he gave me a sharp look.

"I told you, I like banana in everything...except pudding form."

He shook his head, "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, "It's just its yellow color sort of reminds me of like the goop of your brain or something...ew."

"Seriously?" he raised an eyebrow, "That's your excuse?"

"I'm sorry if I don't want to eat a pudding brain," I said as innocently as possible, "It's what it reminds me of."

"Your comparisons are wrong," he pointed.

"And so is this," I waved the vanilla pudding, "I think I did say chocolate."

"Minerva just eat the bloody pudding," he snapped, "Or I'll force it down your throat."

"Ouch, you're rude today," I said innocently as I took a spoonful of my pudding.

"Sorry," he immediately apologized, his genuine sorriness making me feel bad because this wasn't such a big deal. Like I said, I'd been bedridden for some time now and I needed to find fun somewhere.

"I was just joking around, Martian, don't overreact."

"Is there anything else you need?" He stood up and fluffed the pillow behind me, "Are you thirsty? Do you want a milkshake?"

"I'm still eating my pudding," I reminded, waving my spoon as he stepped back.

"Right, right," he nodded, "Are you sure you're okay? Nothing hurts?"

I smiled, shaking my head, "Nope, I feel fine. Just fine. Why do you keep asking that? Martha does the same thing. So I lost my memory, but I'm okay."

For some reason, my memories of the last couple months had been lost. I could barely see the faint images of the Family shooting the Doctor, Martha and I in the TARDIS. And a watch...and Kaeya's necklace. But that was it. After that, I couldn't remember a thing.

About a week ago, I woke up in my room in the TARDIS without a clue of how I'd gotten there. It was a bit scary at first, not knowing what happened to me but the Doctor and Martha had quickly established I was alright despite the small memory loss. They explained two months had passed since we were shot down in the TARDIS. We'd gone into hiding in the year 1913, the Doctor posing as John Smith who was a school teacher. Martha and I had been assigned as his 'inherited' maids. Figures we'd end up serving the Martian. But according to them, we had been discovered a month early and chaos had arose. In the end, the Doctor returned and helped save us again. It sounded right, but I couldn't remember.

All I had as a memory from that adventure was a big ole burnt spot on my neck, which Martha continuously said was the origin of my memory loss. But no matter how many times I asked why she thought that, or what caused the burned spot, she wouldn't answer. I would even ask the Doctor and he would just wave it off or avoid the answer altogether. I knew there was more than they weren't telling me, it was especially obvious in the Doctor.

He seemed guilty, he seemed thoughtful, distracted. There were times where we were talking and suddenly I'd find that he wasn't listening to me; his mind was somewhere else. I wondered what made him think so much. I asked Martha about it but she seemed mad so she tended to divert the answer. She just said that it was his fault and he should know by now. That only made me more confused. I had one distracted friend and another angry friend. I suspected something else had happened in 1913, but neither of them would say more about it and I just couldn't remember anything.

But one thing that I clearly saw was how guilty the Doctor looked. I didn't understand why but I assumed he felt the memory loss was his fault for bringing us to 1913. As much as I told him it wasn't his fault, he claimed he wasn't guilty and that he was alright.

What a liar.

And due to the Doctor's guilt, he had taken the job of aiding me this last week very seriously. While he couldn't cook anything, I was always brought a good meal three times a day, made by Martha. He never left my side unless there was something truly wrong in the TARDIS that needed his services. Every five minutes, he always asked if I was alright and if I needed something. At first, I did care for his extra attention, but when I noticed how unhappy he was, how distracted and absent he was at times, it made me realize how wrong something was. I wanted to know what it was to then know how to fix it and then do it so he could be happy again.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," the Doctor took my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts, "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry about what?" I frowned, liking our hands interlocking but the fact he looked sad took it away.

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing yet, sorry," I shrugged.

He sighed, nodding and patting my hand, "It's alright. You don't have to be sorry for that."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Because you've been a terrible liar this past week."

"Everything's fine," he pulled a small smile, easily fake.

"You're lying," I whispered, watching his eyes intently. He did the same thing no matter how casual he wanted to act. It was fairly easy to catch when he couldn't even meet my gaze for more than a few seconds. "You're broken inside."

"How do you know that?" he tried acting like what I was saying had no relevancy.

"Because just like you could read my eyes, I can read yours. And right now, they're telling me they've seen something that broke you. You're not okay and it actually hurts me that you don't have the sufficient trust to tell me."

"I trust you, I do."

"No you don't, because we tell each other everything and right now you're choosing to hide it. Why?"

"There's just some things I'm not ready to say."

"Is it about Kaeya?"

"What?" He sounded edgy about that so I knew it had something to do with her.

"Kaeya's alive and you've made no remarks about it. No smiles, no happy dances, no nothing. She's the love of your life and you're not even smiling that she's still breathing somewhere in the world."

That was what confused me the most! A week ago, I informed him the love his life was alive and was returning for him. That was actually the only memory I had from 1913; Kaeya's message. As soon as I woke up in my room, her words ran through my head: "I am alive". While it broke my heart that she was coming back, it did make me just the slightest happy that the Doctor hadn't lost his love in the war. I thought he'd be extremely happy, giddy, jumping off the walls out of excitement...

...but there was nothing.

I would've thought he would've started his own search for the princess just to meet even earlier. But instead, he had stayed with the boring ole human that was me. He took care of me, even more than Martha I dare say because she had to go and sleep...but not him. He stayed, literally 24/7 all last week, just because I lost some memories of two months, and the necklace I had worn left me a bit weak. Bad as it was, I liked he chose me this time, even if it was just for a small moment.

"She's not the love of my life.." the Doctor said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"But you love her, don't you? You never stopped even if Rose was able to sneak her way into your hearts. You loved her too but it doesn't compare to Kaeya's love." I was a bit bitter but I think it's understandable.

He frowned, "I didn't love Rose."

"Yes you did. She loved you. I know it." It's not like her attitude or threats had anything to do with the fact she loved him...

"Well, perhaps she did but that doesn't mean I loved her. I mean, okay, yes, I admit it...I did have some affection for her, I was attracted...but love? No. I didn't. I don't."

My eyes widened as I processed his words, "...you...you don't?"

"No," he was smiling about this for some reason, "I don't. I never did, Minerva. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Doctor, you didn't exactly portray just friendship with Rose. You held hands, you were always together...and when I was there...there were times where you two would just...forget that I was even in the same room with you and you'd give each other these little looks that...that just yelled 'love'."

"Minerva, I will never finish apologizing for that time that you felt ignored, really...I am so sorry," he reached for my hand and took it into his. "And yes, I do admit there were times where I did consider Rose being...more than a friend...but something didn't feel right about that."

"Cos she's human?" I asked quietly, looking down as I thought about myself. What if he didn't want me solely because of that trait, that thing that made any fantasy about us being together for a lifetime impossible?

"Cos there was no actual spark."

"But you were attracted to her!"

"There's a difference between attraction and actual love. Yeah, alright, I was attracted to her in the beginning. I won't deny it. But...I don't know, there was just something that made it not happen."

"So...you never loved her?"

"No, I never loved her."

"Oh..." And I was smiling stupidly. Even if Rose wasn't here, it did make me feel somewhat better to learn that she had never gained his love. It was stupid, but...it made my heart skip just a littler faster to know that she had been wrong. The Doctor never loved her.

Of course then I remembered about Kaeya...

"But you still love Kaeya," I whispered, snatching my hand away from his as discreetly as possible.

"I..." he shook his head, "...let's talk about something else, yeah?"

"Why aren't you happy that she's coming back? I mean, she loves you, you love her, why aren't you happy?"

"Cos...cos, um..." He opened his mouth yet closed it as soon as he opened it. Instead, he just...stared at me. Normally, I'd be all giddy and smiley but this was another look he'd been doing all this week. While it did make me blush, I knew there was something more behind it. Something he didn't want to tell me...

"Cos what?" I asked, hoping that this time would be the lucky one that would give me all the answers I wanted.

"Have you ever felt like your head is just so...jumbled up?" He said instead. It was rather confusing how our conversation steered towards the new topic but I followed.

"Um...I suppose, with my family?" I shrugged, noticing how grim he had turned. "Why do you ask?"

"Cos that's what I've felt lately. Like, I think I know what I want, but..."

"There's doubt?"

"Maybe, I don't know," he sighed.

"What are you so jumbled about, then? A suit to wear?" I teased, getting a small laugh back.

"Ha, ha," he rolled his eyes, "I am being serious here."

"That doesn't sound like you, Martian," I smiled, "It must be serious, huh?"

"Very," he stared again for another minute or two.

I coughed, looking away as I blushed for his lingering looks, "What's it about? Kaeya?"

"Um...half."

"Half? What does that even mean?"

He just smiled sadly, "I'm just confused, that's all. But, enough about me, I don't want burden you with more things."

"Oh c'mon, I've told you my whole life story and you think you're burdening me with a small problem?"

"It's not small, it's really important," he sighed, "Consider it as something between life and death."

At that, I grew silent. I looked down to my hands and fiddled with my fingers as a recurrent thought ran through my mind, "Doctor...um...there's something that's been, uh, in my head for a couple of days now..."

"Did you remember something!?" He sounded alarmed for some reason, nearly jumping out of his seat.

"No," I looked up, a bit concerned. What did he looked so...jumpy about that?

"Oh...okay," he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he slumped back on his chair, "What's going on?"

"You told me that I risked my life in 1913, and I can't even remember what I did..." I sighed, "...and it's made me think, cos...what if whatever I was trying to do succeeded and I died?"

"Don't think of that, please," he shook his head.

"It really terrifies me that I can't remember being close to death...I was gonna die..."

"N-n-n-no, don't cry," he reached with a hand to wipe the tears that I hadn't even realized were going down my face.

"I'm sorry," I sniffled, half-smiling.

He didn't even say a word before he got on my bed, moving right beside me to give me a hug, "Okay, I know this is gonna make me sound so bad as a friend but...your life has been threatened a lot of times since you've met me. What's the difference now?"

I chuckled a little through my sniffles, "Because this time I can't remember it. What if I had died? I would've died in 1913, my family never knowing what happened to me...my grandmother..."

"But it didn't happen, it never will because I won't allow it," he moved his hand down to my waist and brought me closer to him, "Human or alien, I shall not."

"Yeah, thanks for whatever you did back there," I patted his hand, "But it's made me think, it's really had an impact on me. I don't want to die and leave my grandmother without the knowledge of my death. She doesn't deserve that."

"So what do you want to do about it?"

Silence.

"Minerva?"

I bit my lip and looked up at him, "I...I want to visit her..." I whispered.

He stiffened, silence falling for a mere minute before he became ecstatic, "Really!? You want to see her!?"

I nodded, "I don't want to die without seeing her again. I miss her so much, Doctor...I need to see her. Do you think I can go?"

"This must be a trick question, of course you can go!"

"So I can get out of bed now?"

"Yes, but no excess of movement," he warned letting go of me and standing up.

"We can go right now?" I barely breathed at the idea of seeing my sweet old grandmother again, "Yes?"

"C'mon!" he pulled me to my feet.

"I have to get changed," I ran to my mirror to get a good look at myself, "I have to fix my hair," I grabbed a piece of my hair, "Brush it, no! I've got to shower! And then brush it! And then find something acceptable to wear. No excessive heels, she hates it! She doesn't like brown either, but it's okay because I hate brown dresses! They make me look ugly!"

The Doctor just laughed, "Brown would look lovely on you and I'm sure your grandmother would agree."

"You don't know what you're saying, brown on me does not look good. But anyways, something serious here," I turned to him, my excitement all gone and replaced with seriousness, "Do you think my grandmother forgave me?"

"What?" he frowned and walked up to me, "What happened to the big smile on your face? Bring it back," he poked my cheek, making me chuckle for a moment.

"I'm serious. When I left, she was destroyed. She lost Olivia, and it wasn't too long ago that she lost my grandfather. Then I filed against my parents, against her daughter. I filed, despite knowing what it would do to her and when I won, I left her. She told me I could stay with her if I really wanted to leave my parents...but I ignored her and I left. I did that to her...I can't imagine she forgave me."

He set his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye, "Minerva, you are her granddaughter. The only one she has now. She doesn't have anything to forgive because she's not angry with you. She just wants to see you."

"But you can't be sure of that..."

"You're forgetting I had grandchildren of my own. I could never hate any of them, despite what they could've done. I loved them, and I always will. That's exactly how your grandmother feels about you."

"But is she proud of me? Would you be proud of them if they did everything I did?"

"I would always be proud of them," he smiled softly, "Just like she would always be proud of you."

"Thanks," I whispered, letting him hug me, "What would I do without you?"

"...your life would be a lot easier."

I pulled away, "And miserable," I walked for my closet, the thought of him never being in my life was just so unimaginable. I would never want to live in a world where he never met me. I couldn't.

"I'll call for Martha, then," the Doctor cleared his throat, walking for the door, "She can help you get ready."

"Yes because your sense of style is..." I looked him over, while I wanted to say how handsome he looked, I couldn't very well say that. Apart from my blushing, I would never hear the end of it from is smug lips. "...not so good."

"Says the girl in her nightie," his eyes looked me over with smirk.

"Shush," I hugged myself, "And get out."

"Oh go on then, I'll go call Martha to help you with your clothes. Take it easy, yeah?" I nodded and he pressed a kiss to my forehead, getting a blush from me.

"Yeah," I whispered, both of us smiling at each other in silence for couple seconds before he walked out.

I took a long sigh, knowing it wouldn't ever happen but still...I liked our closeness. Suddenly the idea of leaving the box of wonders and the Martian didn't seem so easy to do...

~0~

"Voila!" Martha clapped, forcing a little twirl out of me, "You know, maybe apart from being a doctor, I could have my own makeover show on the side."

I chuckled, "I'd be your number one fan." We both chuckled until I looked myself over. "Do you think she'll like it?"

"Mhm," Martha nodded.

"Thank you Martha," I hugged her.

"No problem," she pulled away, "I think you're grandmother is going to love it..." she stepped beside me, the usual innocent face she had before she made certain remarks. "...just like the Doctor will."

Ah, those remarks.

But actually, thinking on those two...something had changed. Martha was always telling me that I should tell the Doctor how I felt, but she had ceased to do that since last week. Instead, she focused on just turning his head. I thought it was extremely strange that she would stop altogether like that. But I also believed it was for the best; there was just no point in making a fool out of myself especially now that Kaeya was on her way back.

Martha had gotten right on the job as soon as the Doctor had told her I finally decided to see my grandmother. She had picked out an emerald-green, long-sleeve blouse that was tucked under a black skirt. I wore tights underneath with ankle-length black boots, my hair let down with only a black headband keeping it from my face.

"I really want to make a good impression on her," I sighed as I went for the door.

"Minerva, you're her granddaughter, impression kind of made already," Martha laughed as she followed.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm serious. When I left, I was just fourteen. I haven't seen her in three years, nearly four! I've grown, and I've...neglected her. I ignored her calls and when I did take them I hung up. Martha, I'm very, very, very nervous."

"I noticed," she moved besides me, "The world's noticed."

I bit my lip, "I just really hope she's forgiven me."

"She will, she will," Martha swung her arms around my shoulders and we walked off.

~0~

I stood in front of my grandmother's door and I'm pretty sure I've been stuck like this for a good fifteen minutes. The door was right there but my entire body was frozen in place. There were too many things running through my head and none of them were making me feel better about this. "You know what, I changed my mind," I turned around and moved to walk away.

"I don't think so," the Doctor blocked the way in time, almost looking like he had expected me to do something like this. "Knock."

Martha crossed her arms and nodded, "We're not going anywhere."

I sighed and turned back to the door, "But...what if she doesn't wanna see me...I just got up and left...I can't do this," I shook my head and turned around, determinedly making my way down the front steps of the porch.

They both grabbed my arms, actually lifting me up from the ground and pulled me back to the door. Martha knocked on the door while the Doctor took a tight hold of my arm.

"Martha! Don't do that!" I exclaimed, completely horrified.

"Too late," she smirked.

"But she might not wanna see me-"

"Would you shush it up already?" the Doctor snapped, "She is your grandmother and she definitely wants to see you. That guilt you have is nonsense."

"But-"

The door opened up suddenly, leaving me completely silent.

"Hm, so that's how you keep her quiet, then," the Doctor blinked, looking like he had the answer to the world. "Good to know."

I elbowed him in the ribs.

My sweet, old grandmother looked from the Doctor, Martha and I. She kept her eyes trained on me and when I met her gaze, I couldn't believe she was actually standing there. "...Minerva?"

The Martian let go of me and stepped back, Martha following seconds later.

I bit my lip, the tears stinging in my eyes. She didn't look so angry with me so that was a good sign. "Grandma?"

She hadn't changed a bit! Her short, grayish hair was neatly tucked in her short curls. Her piercing jade-green eyes remained youthful and colorful despite her actual age. She was a bit taller than I, but only by a few inches. Her skin was a bit wrinkled, but not as bad she always used to claim.

"It's you!" She exclaimed, opening her arms and coming up quite fast for a woman her age. She encased me in a big hug with such a tight grip. "It's you! It's you! My Minerva! Oh, it's you!"

Even though I was partially frozen for a few seconds, the sniffling still found a way out. "It is..."

"My granddaughter, my sweet little Minerva. It's you..."

My arms finally found their way around her for an equally tight hug. "Hi grandma," I whispered, resting my head on her shoulder, her sweet familiar caramel scent filling my nose.

"I can't believe you're back! Oh!" She laughed and pulled away, her hands on my arms as she looked me over, "Oh my Lord, you're so big! A proper, young woman. And ever so beautiful!"

"You're not the only one who thinks that," Martha muttered, a small grunt coming out of her seconds later. The Doctor had elbowed her. It seemed my little habit was contagious because now all of us did it to each other.

"You're so beautiful, Minerva!" And I got another hug from my grandmother. I would definitely keep accepting them!

"So are you," I mumbled. I had missed three years of seeing her and it was just now catching up to me.

But she just laughed, "Oh please, I got old!" she started wiping my tears off my face, "Now don't cry. Don't you ever get tired of that?"

"I ask her that all the time," the Doctor said, "Ow!"

Martha elbowed him.

"Oi, I was just agreeing," the Doctor mumbled.

"Well don't!"

My grandmother stared at them with amusement, "Are these your friends?" I nodded silently. She took my hand and walking us further through the porch, "Are you responsible for returning my granddaughter to me?"

"He's the designated driver," Martha pointed at the Doctor, "But I helped too."

Grandma just laughed, "Well thank you both! You have no idea how happy I am to see her back." She looked at me with a soft smile on her face, "So, so happy."

"Told you she'd be," the Doctor smirked.

"Martha," was all I said for her to elbow him.

"I'm gonna be quiet now," he murmured afterwards.

"That would be a first," I smirked.

"Hello there," Martha stepped up, holding her hand out for my grandmother, "I'm Martha Jones, Minerva's current best friend."

"Isadora Lozano," she shook Martha's hand, "And what happened to the other boy? The nice one, Mickey?" She glanced at me.

"Um...he's left for a trip..." I answered, sighing. That would be as much as I would be able to say about Mickey, unfortunately. "..a very long trip."

"Oh, good for him, then," she smiled and looked at the Doctor, "Hello, Isadora Lozano."

"Nice to meet you, I'm-"

"The Doctor," she flashed a grin, turning into a smirk at the surprise we all shared. "Ah, might be old but the memory is still on check."

"Have we met before?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow, studying her.

"Once," she nodded, "Seems like it hasn't happen it yet, huh?"

"How do you mean?" the Doctor smiled, easily confused yet suspicious. By the way she spoke one would think she knew of time traveling...

"Minerva, how old are you?" she asked, still looking at the Doctor.

"Seventeen." There was something going on in my grandmother's head but I probably wouldn't be able to figure that out right now.

"So it hasn't happened yet!" she snapped her fingers, "Right then, come on inside."

"Why does it sound like she knows of time travel?" Martha whispered as we followed.

"Because I think she just might," the Doctor breathed in.

I would've been more concerned but I was in my house, my real house. It hadn't even changed a bit. The living room was up first, two couches set up in the middle and two couch chairs on opposite sides with a table in the center and a television set up on the wall I walked over to a corner, seeing old toys of mine still laying there. Then the pictures of our family were still where I remembered them. Despite nothing really changing, it felt like a lot had. My grandfather's loss was still as fresh as ever and with all the pictures around that consisted of him...it wasn't helping. There were even pictures of Olivia and I...

Oh, things had definitely changed.

"You remember Stacey had a little sister, Tamara," Grandma said, seeing me pick up an old doll of mine, "She loves Lucy."

"Who's Stacey?" Martha asked.

"And Tamara?" added the Doctor.

I stood up with my doll in hand, turning to them, "Stacey was a childhood friend I used to play with all the time. And Lucy was, well," I waved the doll, "She was my favorite doll as a kid."

"Stacey has a little sister, she's about five," Grandma cut in, "She comes around because she claims Minerva's toys are the best."

"Well I did have good taste," I tucked a strand of my doll's hair. It was brunette just like mine. "She really likes Lucy?"

"Oh yes."

I walked back to them, setting Lucy on the couch, "Then I'll bring it over later. Do they still live in the same house?"

"Yes, two houses down, across the street. You know, Stacey left for college a couple months ago. Have you picked one out, yet?"

I made a face. That was certainly a topic I wouldn't have chosen to talk about right now. "Right...about that, I haven't graduated yet," I rubbed my neck.

"Why not? It's nearly October, you should've been done three months ago."

"I've gotten a bit distracted but I promise I am working."

"Let's just say Minerva's focus has shifted a bit in the last couple of months," Martha smirked.

"Martha, come over a sec?"

She stepped back, covering her stomach, "No you're gonna elbow me."

I mock-glared at her for a minute before returning to my grandmother, "I promise I'm still working. It'll just take a bit longer."

"I trust you," she pointed a warning finger at me, "But let's not talk about school, I wanna know what you've been up to. What have you done lately? Are you okay? You're healthy right? You've been sleeping well? Where've you gone lately?"

I chuckled at her curiosity, it was as big as mine, "I'll tel you, don't worry."

"Uh, Minerva, if you want, we can leave for some time," Martha offered, the Doctor nodding in agreement, "We can take a look at the city, San Diego was always a place on my bucket list."

"I don't know..." I did want to speak to my grandmother alone but I felt guilty for leaving my two friends alone in a place they've never been to. Well, the Doctor could handle himself...actually scratch that, Martha could handle herself.

"Oh go on," the Doctor grinned, "I'm sure Martha and I have lots to see in this place. Never been around here, mind you..."

"Please don't go ruining things," I pleaded, half joking yet another half dead serious, "This place isn't like the city, city. It's a small suburb. There are children in the streets, playing...don't start a riot."

"Minerva, you say such things," my grandmother chuckled.

"Oh grandma..." I smiled at her, discreetly showing the Doctor I was dead serious of my warning.

"We'll be out then," Martha walked around the couch, hugging me as I stood up, "Good luck," she whispered with an encouraging nod.

The Doctor came over next, giving me a hug as well, "You deserve it, Clever Girl."

"I still feel guilty," I whispered as we parted.

"All nonsense," he pressed a kiss to my forehead then looked past me to my grandmother, "Mrs. Lozano, you have a very stubborn granddaughter."

I glanced back at her, not even gonna argue on that one just because it was her. If it had been the Doctor all on his own I would've elbowed him already. But not my grandmother, she was just...she was here...I was here. We were here together.

"Sophia's stubbornness," she added, "Lord knows that's how she and her brother got into arguments."

"That's how these two get into arguments," Martha informed of the Doctor and I.

"Oi," we shot her a look.

"And we're off," Martha raised her hands in surrender and walked for the door.

"Don't be a danger," I warned the Doctor, gripping his hands so he wouldn't run off and then claim I never said such thing, "I'm serious."

"I will behave," he pulled for his freedom.

"Yeah?"

He sighed and put on a grin, "Yeah."

"I'm holding you to that," I gave him a warning look, "I'm serious."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, we'll be back later," he chuckled.

I cracked a smile, his laugh just contagious to me, "Alright," and I let go.

I watched them go until the door was shut. I took a deep breath and turned to face my grandmother who wore a smile, which if really focused enough looked more like a smirk, "Grandma?"

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"Hm?"

She raised an eyebrow, it was the same look she gave me as a child when I wouldn't do my chores.

"It's nothing, grandma," I looked around with discomfort. I fixed my skirt in an attempt to distract myself.

"Minerva, you may be almost grown up but I can still tell when you're lying," she took my hand and sat us down, "C'mon dear, it's been nearly four years since we've talked and now that I finally have you in front of me, I see that you're smitten!"

"Oh no..." I looked away from her, this was definitely not what I wanted to talk about with her as our first topic.

"Don't be embarrassed dear, you're forgetting I was married once. I also loved someone."

"I don't lo..." I paused when I really focused on that subject. Last time I remembered, I knew for a fact that what I felt for the Doctor was not love. It was just the first stage, a simple crush. Simple affection. But now that I think of it, as of now, I can't really say that anymore. I felt like, somehow, I was getting closer to being in love. It was like my heart had taken in a fresh new layer of feelings, but why? Why would I suddenly feel like that?

"Hmm?" My grandmother's smirk had turned into a playful, teasing smile, "What better way to start catching up then by explaining to me what's going on in your heart?"

I bit my lip, debating whether this was really appropriate. I mean, this was my grandmother! I'm supposed to talk about cookies and teach her modern phrases...not...not talk about men.

"Minerva? I'm waiting," she gave me a sharp look, "I'll understand you sweetie, if that's what you're worried about. I may not be your mother but we understand each other perfectly, so speak."

"Grandma, I...I never felt like this before. He's just so..." I sighed, smiling softly, my grandmother chuckling, "...unbelievable, to put it at best. He's impossible. Unlike anything and anyone you've ever met."

"Oh and he's got you locked in, doesn't he?" her laughter continued.

"Yeah," I answered quietly, blushing as I pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, "It's that obvious, huh?"

"Just a bit, dear," she patted my hand, "You're very smart, I know you are, but it is quite easy to see."

"Yeah, well, it's easy to see except for him. I'm just a friend," I shrugged.

"And that breaks your heart, doesn't it?" she rested a hand on my arm, sighing when I nodded, "You want to hear a story about your grandfather and I?"

"What's it about?"

"How we met!"

"How does it go?" I scooted closer, curiosity bursting out of me.

"Well, we were just friends. Your grandfather always said that what he liked about me was that I always pushed to learn and do things, not stick to the housewife stereotypes. Most women were preparing for marriage and I...I wouldn't have that," she chuckled lightly, "That's the reason he started talking to me, you know. He said I was like none other, completely different!"

I smiled, "That's what I'd like for the Doctor to see. I'm not like any other human. I'm not Rose, I'm not Martha, I'm me. I'm different."

What I really meant to say what that I was different from all human females. I wanted the Doctor to see that I could keep up with him most of the time whereas Martha or Rose usually couldn't. I wasn't trying to seem better than them because they were good in their own ways, but I just wanted him to see I was different. But nothing could compare to Rose or Kaeya...

"Rose, that was, um, your best friend's girlfriend, right? What was his name, Mickey!" she snapped her fingers, "Yeah! And it was Rose Tyler, daughter of Jackie Tyler."

"Yeah, that's them," I sighed.

"What's happened to them, dear? I usually tried Mickey's number but now it says it doesn't exist."

"They're gone, grandma. They're happy, but they're gone." Well, I mean, Rose wasn't happy...

"And back to the point, you are most definitely not any of them. You're Minerva Joycelin Souza Lozano, the most intelligent, not to mention gorgeous, granddaughter I have."

I smiled warmly, "Grandma, I'm your only grandchild...now..."

"And you expect me to believe you're the opposite? No!"

"It's just...it's hurtful. Cos, he gives me hope, you know, like there's a chance that he could like me back, like, today...he told me he didn't love Rose. I always thought he did love her...I was so sure he loved her and today he tells me he doesn't, that he never did cos something didn't seem right. It would give me hope that one day he could look at me and see someone he could like more than a friend...but then there's Kaeya...the woman he loves for sure. That hurt cos that princess, yes she's a princess," I explained when she gave me that look, "She's so amazing, she did things that I could never do. Even Rose was good. And me...well...let's be honest I won't ever measure up to either of them so I'll never be good enough to earn his feelings, and it breaks my heart, grandma. It just...shatters it to pieces..."

"Oh no, don't cry," she took me into her arms like she did when I was a kid, giving me a sweet hug, "I don't like seeing you cry. I spent years looking for you and all I wanna see is your big, happy smile."

"Did grandpa ever break your heart?" I looked up at her, "Before getting married?"

"No, I was lucky I suppose," she smiled softly, "I was always happy with him."

"It sounds nice," the absence of my grandfather began arising as well. How could it not? I was in his house, with his wife, on a couch we always sat on for games, television and eating.

"I don't like hearing you talk like that, though. You are amazing!"

"Everyone says that but I think it's more to keep me quiet."

"But you are," she pulled away, "And I know he sees that too."

"How? You just met him," I wiped my tears from my face.

She chuckled, "Just trust me. I know the looks and believe me, your grandfather used to give them to me," she sighed with content, "And the Doctor does seem to have the same looks for you."

"Really?" I asked, the little gleam of hope inside rising at her words.

"You just trust your grandmother, alright?" she kissed the top of my head, "I know what I've seen and I've seen a lot."

"Grandma, do you...do you know the Doctor?"

"Mmm?"

"Grandma," I gave her a sharp look, "When Martha's mother met him, she made a whole fuss about what his name was and what he was doing with us, but you...you haven't asked the usual questions."

"I can't tell you, not yet," she patted my head, "But anyways, why don't you tell me what you've done lately, huh? Tell me about you. What have you been doing?"

"Um...just, travelling,' I shrugged, "We went to New York..." In the past. "...to, um, a replication of a guinguette, uh, to China-"

"To China?" She blinked incredulously before laughing, "What were you doing in China?"

"Um...the Doctor surprised me with the festival of Lanterns..."

"Ooh, 'surprised' you?" she raised an eyebrow, a hint of smirk growing on her face.

I blushed and looked away, thinking of what exactly happened during the festival. Looking back at it, I had no idea where I garnered such courage...

"Minerva?" My grandmother nudged me.

"Huh?" I snapped my head back to her, blinking rapidly as I remembered where I was.

"Anything interesting happen there?"

"Um, we had a riddle contest," I shrugged, deciding to leave out who with, "And I won."

"Oh, good," she chuckled, "Smart one, you are. Where else did you go?"

"Just...to so many places, grandma," I sighed with content, "It's all amazing out there."

"You just love to travel don't you?"

I nodded, "One could say it's my life."

"That's what Aaron says," she shook her head, "Somehow I think you're more level-headed than he is."

"How is Uncle Aaron?"

The Doctor had promised to find my uncle for me, but for some reason it was being a bit more difficult. Apart from all the distractions our travels caused, it seemed like Uncle Aaron was a bit hidden. And it did disappoint me because apart from my grandmother, he was the only one I wanted to see again.

"Last time I heard he was in Brazil," my grandmother paused and got to thinking, "No, wait, that was two weeks ago. I think he's in Switzerland...no..."

I chuckled, "He's everywhere!"

"That he is," she looked at me, "You and him are so alike in personalities it's no wonder Sophia had arguments with you."

I looked down, fiddling with my fingers, "...yeah. It seemed like I always disappointed her."

She set a hand on my arm, offering a smile of comfort, "Not to me you weren't. And never to her."

I sighed, wishing that could be true. Deep down, all I wanted was for my mother to forgive me.

~0~

My grandmother and I sat at the kitchen table with a plate of sliced apples in front of us. I declined her lunch offers so many times that she gave up trying to cook something and settled for a simple snack.

"Minerva, why didn't you want to take my calls? Did I do something wrong?" She asked once we were sitting together at the table. I knew it was the burning question she'd been keeping hold of ever since she opened the door to find me on the other side. The way she looked made me feel so incredibly guilty. Here was this sweet, old woman who had done nothing but care for a child that wasn't even hers and how do I repay her? By making her feel like she did something wrong.

"Grandma, when I left home, things were ugly," I began, swallowing hard, not wanting any memories to resurface through my head but that was just impossible. "I just wanted to forget everything for a while. And Uncle Aaron helped me. But when we separated, I started getting phone calls from my mother, well more since uncle Aaron and I were together. The times I did pick up she did nothing but remind me of what I had done to Olivia and her...so when you called, I thought it'd be the same. Cos all mom wants me to do is come back home so she can keep an eye on me like I'm some child with disastrous tantrums that harm people."

"You know very well my opinions over Olivia's death. It was not your fault, sweetie. And truthfully, that is something I shall never forgive Sophia for. She forgot what being a mother was. But you sweetie, you," she put a hand under my chin, lifting my gaze to hers to see her warm smile, "You are innocent. And understand that I will never fault you for Olivia's death."

"I'm sorry," I said before I started sniffling, "I thought about you all the time though. The Christmas I spent with the Tylers, Jackie Tyler made this delicious Christmas dinner, though with turkey..." We both made a face at the food, which she broke with a laughter, causing me to do the same. "...still don't understand that British custom. But anyways, all I could think of were your snicker-doodles. Those sweet, warm cookies you used to make for me and grandpa every year. This past Christmas, actually," I chuckled at the memory, wiping my face of tears, "The Doctor went out and brought some snicker-doodle mix which we attempted to bake."

"And how'd it go?"

"Well, he's not...very good with baking," I remembered the kitchen being splattered with half the mix, shortening our cookie production in half but still actually filling, though I bet the TARDIS wasn't too happy to have her kitchen covered with cookie mix, "So we had about half the cookie mix as cookies. But even baked by my hands, they don't taste the same. Yours were just delicious...I bet they still are."

"Well if you stick around I'll bake some for you," she pointed, "In fact, stop by your birthday and I may have a batch for you done."

"My birthday?" I blinked, forgetting all about that day seeing as it was not important.

"Your 18th birthday! How can you forget?"

"Grandma, I'm already a legal adult. My birthdays have kind already lost significance to me," I shrugged.

It was true. Most teens looked forwards to the big 1-8, but me? I'm already an adult to the law so there was no specialty behind the date. It was just October 31st, another day.

"There is something you have to understand, Minerva. You are my granddaughter, you can be 50 and I'll still see you as the little girl who wanted to play dollies with her grandfather," I chuckled at all the times I had forced my poor grandfather to play with me and my massive mounts of dolls, my grandmother even joining in with a laugh, "I'll always see the little girl I tucked in nearly every night. And so, your birthdays are always going to be special."

"Oh grandma," I shook my head, I had the best grandmother!

"Don't 'oh grandma me', when you have your kids and grandchildren you'll see what I'm talking about."

"Oh dear Lord, let's not talk about that," I tool a slice of apple into my hand.

The thought of being a "mother" actually scared me. My mother wasn't the best and so for me to actually consider becoming a mother to a baby didn't seem like a very good idea. I didn't really have my mother growing up so I didn't know the do's and dont's of motherhood. I could get it all wrong like my mother did and I would never forgive myself for making my own child suffer. I never wanted to do that to anyone, much less someone that came out of me. The best way to prevent that would be not to be a mother.

"Speaking of mothers..." my grandmother slowly eyed me.

I sighed, placing down my piece of fruit, "Grandma, she doesn't want to see me."

"No, no, I've talked to Sophia, she says she does want you home."

"Yeah, to order me around like I'm still some five year old. Besides, she wants to keep me locked up because according to her I only hurt people and she will not allow it."

"She said that?" she frowned, the disappointment flourishing in her eyes.

My grandmother saw all the faults of my mother, and she sided with me in this whole Olivia fiasco, but the fact still remained...Sophia was her daughter. And despite saying she'd never forgive my mother, she would always try to make peace between my mother and I because this was her daughter we were talking about.

"Let's face it, my mother doesn't love me. And she'll never forgive me," I leaned back on my chair, "Ever."

"Sophia does love you," she tried to come with a good comeback but I stopped it with a scoff, "In her own way..."

"She had fourteen years to show it and she failed. I love her, I do. She's my mother, I can't possibly hate her...but I won't pretend. She's made me angry, sad, guilty, everything...she doesn't want me home and quite frankly I don't want to step foot on that house."

"And your father? You know, truthfully, Nick hasn't been the same since you left the house. He used to be energetic, focused, even jokeful...but he's different now. He barely talks to anyone anymore, barely makes a noise. I think he misses you a lot."

"But he's never called me...why?"

"Maybe he was afraid? I don't know, but maybe you should go visit him now that you're back. I bet that'll put a smile on him..." she got thinking, "...hm, haven't actually seen one in years."

I would like to visit my father, but I was afraid of what he'd say to me. Unlike my mother where she completely lost it and outlashed everything on me, he sort of just...shut down. Honestly, he wasn't the best father to me either but the day we lost Olivia was the day I completely lost him too. He stopped talking to me, nearly everyone, he just let my mom take over and speak for everything.

I wouldn't visit my mother because she would yell at me. I wouldn't visit my father because...I was simply afraid of what his words could be.

~0~

"Growing up here wasn't that bad," I remarked to the Doctor and Martha as we walked down the street, me holding my doll Lucy in my arm.

The pair had returned with a couple arguments, Martha claiming the Martian had nearly gotten them thrown out of three city shops for ridiculous reasons. She claimed it was the last time she went shopping with him. In an attempt to calm both parties down, I offered to show them around the neighborhood I had spent most of my life in and my grandmother promising to have some type of dinner started for us. She was so sweet!

So I brought the pair along with me to give my doll to Stacey's little sister. The neighborhood seemed to change in its different occupants and the size of the children. However, it still remained a quiet, calm, suburb neighborhood. Children were playing outside on the front yards, some parents outside watching them. I did recognize a few of the families from my childhood days and some of the children that were a bit older now. But everything was calm, everything was just...lovely. It made me realize how much I missed it all.

Back in my parent's house, which was right smack in the city, everything in the house was either too quiet or loud. On the quiet days, both my parents would be working, at times Liv would be free to play with me, but usually it was just me and my toys...alone. When it was loud, it was either because my mother was yelling at me for something or just yelling at the employees. With my grandparent's house, it was always wonderful! There were laughter, there was baking, there was children besides me. I always had one of my friends over, usually Stacey to play with. There was never anything wrong...

"The neighborhood was always fantastic," I sighed with content, "Still is apparently. All the apple trees are still in place, " I chuckled suddenly, remembering one dang tree that I had a grudge from a kid, "There's one apple tree in the backyard of my grandparent's that I could never reach as a child, even when I was fourteen. It has the biggest and most delicious apples and I couldn't reach them. But," I started smirking, "Now that I'm seventeen, I'll probably be able to get them with no problem."

"Something that's changed?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow.

'Oh yes! But a good thing," I nodded.

"I'd like to raise my kids in a spot like this," Martha remarked, arms crossed as she studied around, "Barely any cars pass by, which is odd because we're in San Diego!"

"My grandparents like the peace," I shrugged, "They said this way they get to stay near their daughter and granddaughters, yet still live in a comfortable place," I turned on Stacey's front yard, opening the small gate and walking in, the pair behind me, "Gosh, I haven't seen nor talked to Stacey in four years!"

"Now would be the time to make it up," the Doctor suggested.

"Maybe," I shrugged, knocking on the door.

A couple seconds later, a bright ginger opened the door: Stacey's mother, Eliza, "Minerva? Minerva Souza? Is that you?" Her blue eyes blinked in shock.

"Hi Mrs. Donovan," I waved shyly.

"When did you get back?" she stepped out into the porch and hugged me.

"About a couple hours ago."

"Well it's very nice to see you again! Oh I'm sure Stacey would love this!"

"I'd love to see Stacey when she makes a trip back," I admitted.

"I'll be sure to let her know!"

I smiled, "...but for today, actually, I came because I heard a certain little girl had some attachment to one of my dolls," I waved my doll at her.

"Oh, I see," Mrs. Donovan nodded, stepping back inside and calling out for the little girl, "Tamara!"

"Coming, Mom!" a soft little voice called, a five year old brunette running up to the doorway a second later, "Hey, it's Lucy!" she pointed at my doll.

"This is Minerva, dear, you don't remember her," Mrs. Donovan shook her head, "She was only one at the time. Tamara, this is the owner of Lucy, Minerva."

"Hi Tamara," I waved, "You like my doll?"

She nodded, her eyes wandering to Martha and the Doctor behind me, "Mom..." she sheepishly moved behind her mother's legs.

"Oh, sorry," I had forgot about those two for a moment, oops, "Mrs. Donovan, Tamara, these are my friends. Perfectly safe and perfectly kind," I looked at Tamara who was peeking around her mother.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hi!" the pair grinned, waving at her.

"Tamara, I heard you liked my doll," I stepped up, bending down to her level, "And I was thinking, since I'm nearly eighteen, I don't really need my dolls anymore."

"You don't?"

"Nah, I want clothes! Well..." I glanced back at Martha and the Doctor, "...I want to travel, actually."

"So...Lucy..." Tamara stepped around her mother, her hands behind her back, her eyes glued to my doll.

"...can be yours if you like?" I wiggled an eyebrow, making her laugh and nod, "Well then, here you go." I held my doll to her.

She took it and grinned, "Thank you!" she threw her arms around me, "I'll take good care of her, you'll see! I'll brush her hair, I'll give her food, I'll put pretty clothes on!"

"I know you'll take good care of her," I chuckled, pulling away and standing up, fixing my skirt, "Well, that's pretty much it. If Stacey happens to call..."

Mrs. Donovan nodded, "I'll tell her, don't worry."

"Thank you," I turned around, walking away with my two friends, "That felt nice."

"She was adorable," Martha remarked.

"She was just one when I left. She could barely walk...talk..." I sighed, "Makes me realize how long I've been away."

"But you'll be back from now on," the Doctor reminded, "Anytime you wanna visit, just tell us."

"I think I just might," I nodded, never wanting to let my grandmother's hugs slip away from me again. Never again.

~0~

"So how's that apple thing going?" the Doctor called while I desperately hopped to reach for an apple off my grandparent's apple tree in the backyard.

I stopped hopping for a second to glance over and see him leaning against the doorway of the kitchen's back door, "Do not laugh," I pointed before continuing to hop, "You know, I'm seventeen, nearly eighteen," hop, "So why can't," hop, "I get," hop, "A damn," hop, "APPLE!" I waved my hand frantically, one of my nails just barely grazing one apple, "It's been four years!" I rounded the stupid tree, "I'm suppose to grow."

"You did," he walked towards me.

"Clearly not enough," I huffed, crossing my arms and looking up at the apples above me, "My grandfather used to get them for me and I thought now that time has passed I should get them on my own..."

You could tell he was biting back a teasing laughter, "So..."

"Shut up," I let my arms drop to my sides, "I'm getting an apple if it's the last thing I do!" I turned around and began my jumping, "Just," hop, "One," hop, "Apple," hop, "Plea-AH!" I nearly yelled when the Doctor's arms went around my waist, lifting me up, "What the hell!?" I looked back at him.

"Just hurry up, will you?" he grunted, "Those brownies and pasta sure are making you he-"

"Finish that sentence and you die right now," I warned with a deadly look.

"They've sure made you lovely," he finished with a big grin.

"Nice save," I reached for an apple, finally getting one, "Hey! I did it!"

"Um, I'm the one that's technically reaching for it since I'm lifting you so really, I did it," I didn't even have to look down to see he was smirking.

So instead...

"Ow!"

I made an apple fall on his head.

"You did that on purpose!" he cried.

"Whatever do you mean, Martian?" I reached for more apples, having about six of them when the Doctor finally set me down. I bent down and picked up the apple that had mysteriously fallen on his head, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he rubbed the top of his head, "Those apples are gigantic!"

"And delicious," I bit into one, turning to side so he could grab one from the pile I held.

"You know, Isadora says dinner will be ready soon. She says she's making your favorite by the way," he munched on his apple, "We should go inside."

I wagged a finger and moved around him, looking around for a place to set the rest of the apples, "I want to watch the sky for a moment."

"The sky? What for? There's barely any visible stars right now," he looked up to the dark sky, very correct with the amount of stars we could see.

It was night and while there were stars, they didn't compare to being in the TARDIS and actually see them in their true form. But I had a different reason for wanting to watch the sky tonight.

"I really want to stay here for a moment," I spun around, hoping to see something, even a bucket, for the apples, "It's really important, Martian."

He sighed and shook his coat off, placing it on the grass, gesturing for me to place the apples on it. I nodded my thanks and dropped to my knees, placing the apples in a neat pile.

"What's so important about these small number of stars, hm?" he took a seat on his coat, using his arms behind him to support him.

I sat beside him, my legs pulled to my chest, my arms draped over my knees, my head looking up with a sad smile, "My grandfather and I used to watch the sky at this hour, on this spot, with a pile of apples beside us...it's been a long time..."

"You okay?" he glanced at me.

"Yeah, I just figured if I visited my grandmother, I could do this for him. It sort of became a tradition, you know. My grandmother and I would bake minty-fresh brownies and snicker-doodles. My grandfather and I would gather apples and watch the stars, little as they were, but we were always here. It's funny how things change," I sighed, resting my chin on my arms, "Once upon a time a grandfather and his granddaughter watched the sky and now...now the granddaughter watches alone."

"And he watches you from above."

"You think so?" I blinked away some tears before I looked at him.

"Yeah," he nodded, "And, if you want, perhaps I could watch the stars with you?"

"I'd like that," I nodded, knowing it would never be the same with my grandfather and I, but perhaps this could be a new tradition, and it still made me feel all warm and happy.

"Every time we come back, we'll watch them whenever you want. How's that sound?"

"It sounds really nice," I mumbled.

He grinned and laid on his back, tilting his head as he studied the sky, "Well, if you focus really hard, you can see the constellation of Aquarius."

"Seriously?"

"Oh yeah, it's right there," he pointed up, like it would actually make a difference.

"Where? I can't see it!"

"C'mon," he moved a little to the side and patted the ground. Reluctantly, I laid down beside him, my heart beginning to pick up on its beats by our closeness, "It's right here," he pointed again.

"Doctor, I can't see anything," I frowned.

"Dear God you need glasses!"

"Says the man who only wears his to look cool."

"Which I do," he pointed, making me roll my eyes, "But it's right there," he picked up my hand and pointed it up to the damn constellation, "Look!" I would look, if I could stop focusing on his hand over mine, "Can you see it?"

"Sure..."

Not really.

"I suppose it's a bit hard to see with all these lights," he frowned, lowering our hands, yet still holding onto it.

"It doesn't compare to the desert," I sighed, remembering that fateful desert, "The one where I saw a man with your box of wonders."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, remember I told you about it?"

"In fairness, I was a bit distracted."

"Yeah, fixing a part of the console that wasn't broken, Honestly, I don't know why she hasn't locked you out already," I shook my head, "But anyways, it was the same box of wonders, at least that's what it looked like with all the smoke coming out of it. Then there was that man, which I'm pretty sure was you from the future. I'm just sad I couldn't get a real look, but Doctor: bow-ties. That's what I saw."

He made a face that showed his horror, his free hand going to his tie, "You liar."

I chuckled, "I swear I'm not. That's probably the only thing I saw with a good eye. I was more focused on your words...you were talking about me."

"I was?"

I nodded, "Mhm. You said you had to get back to Minerva. Doctor, we're still traveling together even after your regeneration."

"Well of course we are, were you planning on leaving me anytime soon?"

"...no."

I hadn't exactly mentioned to him nor Martha what my plans were for when Kaeya returned. And now that I thought about it, if the next Doctor and I traveled together, it meant things worked out...and if things worked out, then the whole Kaeya mess worked out and I wouldn't have to leave. Good...cos I really didn't. I really wished everything would work out in a way that I could perhaps...stick around?

"Good," I looked up at the sky with a big smile, for some reason feeling a big amount of hope, "One regeneration later and we're still together..." I blinked, realizing how that may have sounded and quickly spoke to fix it, "...no, wait! Not us as in together 'us' but as in...well..." I glanced at him, hoping I wasn't making this all too ridiculous, "...why are you looking at me like that?" he was just staring at me with a soft smile.

"What?"

"That look," I pointed, "You've been giving me that look for the last couple of days. It's like you're remembering something, or..." I shrugged, severely confused.

It was true. Since the fiasco with the Family, he and Martha had taken turns to take care of me and in all the times the Doctor was with me, he'd give me that same look. Sometimes I was just saying things and all of a sudden it was like I had said something grand or hypnotizing because I received that soft look with that soft smile that made my heart skip a beat or two and it was driving me mad because I didn't know why he was doing it!

"It's nothing..." he said quietly, his smile barely starting to fade.

"You're so weird," I rolled my eyes and looked up to the sky again, ignoring my blush with great struggle, "You're lucky I can tolerate it."

"Oh ha ha."

"No, I'm serious, what are you gonna do when Kaeya shows up and turns out she doesn't like your weirdness?"

Silence.

I glanced at him, concerned I had hit a topic that was off limits. I noticed there was a change when I spoke about Kaeya lately. Apart from barely showing actual happiness that the princess was alive, he almost seemed...angry. But what could he be angry for? That she survived? If not that, then...what could make him mad at a woman who supposedly was innocent and noble? Last time I remembered he couldn't stop rambling on about her and now he barely wanted to even touch the topic.

"If she doesn't then oh well," was all he had to say.

"Doctor, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Because I'm gonna believe that?" I took my hand out of his and became firm, wanting to know what had changed in the past two months with the Family.

"Alright, you wanna know what happened?"

"Yeah!"

"I came to the conclusion that no matter how much you care for someone, they are not allowed to hurt any of their friends," he turned to the side, facing me completely, "She hurt someone and I'm sort of in the process of debating whether or not to forgive her."

"Who did she hurt?" My voice became a low whisper as I turned as well, leaving us face to face.

"Someone important. No matter my feelings for her, I don't allow that. Period."

"What's gonna happen when she returns?"

"I...don't know," he sighed, "I honestly don't know."

"Well, a word of advice, if you love her, if you really love her, then it should be easy to forgive her because essentially you'll just want to be with her and be happy."

"It should be easy..." he mumbled to himself, pondering for a moment.

"Oi! You two?" Martha called, "Quit your little moment and get inside! Dinner is done and I can smell mint browniiies!" She sung the last word and hurried on inside.

I sat up, heaving a heavy sigh. "Just a thought, Doctor," I stood up, and picked up the apples, "Love is supposed to make you happy, not all depressive and thinky and stuff, otherwise it's just not love." I shook my head, did I just say...thinky? Oh that Martian was really rubbing off me!

"I'll think about it," he assured, "Really..."

"Well in the meantime, thank you for watching the sky with me," I looked up, "I know he's up there, though watching us now. Things change..." I shook my head and headed for the house.

"But sometimes change is good, isn't it?" He followed behind.

"Sometimes," I whispered, thinking of how my feelings had changed for him. Though I couldn't tell if it had been a wonderful thing or a curse because my chances were so slim.

~0~

"Do you like it?" My grandmother continuously asked as I took a visit of my old, well not so old as it had been refurnished after my departure, room.

"Grandma, it's so pretty!" I gawked, spinning around.

"I had it done in case you came back...fit for a proper young woman," she turned to me.

"Oh grandma, thank you," I walked up and hugged her, hugged her really tight because she was just so grand, "Thank you so much for caring this much for a granddaughter who doesn't deserve it."

"Don't say that," she mumbled, resting her head over mine, "You are my granddaughter, I am your grandmother, I will always care for you."

"Thank you," I pulled away.

"Wooow," Martha's voice made me turn around, seeing her and the Doctor stepping inside the bedroom, "Mrs. Lozano, can I be your granddaughter?"

"Oi! She's mine!" I stepped in front of my grandmother, "Get your own!"

Martha raised her hands in surrender, "Noted."

"Minerva, don't be so rude," my grandmother scolded, "If you keep that attitude up, you won't get any brownies to take with you."

"I'm sorry," I quickly said, the brownies had to come with me.

She chuckled and headed for the doorway, "Speaking of, I better go check on them. Will you three be alright?"

"It's okay, Mrs. Lozano, I'll take care of the pair," Martha smirked at us.

Then the Doctor elbowed her.

My grandmother just laughed and went on her way.

"She is my grandmother and you will not make those types of comments around her," I pointed.

"Yeah, yeah, I really like your room," she walked further inside.

"Very...intellectual," the Doctor remarked.

"It used to be a room for a kid," I looked around, sighing, "It's changed alright."

Instead of my small, twin bed, there now stood a queen size bed, a blue cover with white roses sprawled around. There were two nightstands beside the bed, one of them with a lamp and the other a clock. Across from the bed there was a large, white chest of drawers with an oval shaped mirror in on top of it. To its right, at a corner was my closet. To the far left, there was a bathroom which had its door closed. Beside it was the chest drawers and a medium-sized vanity desk. And beside the bed, to its left, was a bookshelf, all its shelves filled with books.

"There used to be toys over there," I pointed at a random corner, "Oh! My dollhouse over there," I pointed to another corner, "And then my dolls over here," point again, "Then my costumes over here! Oh! And my bed always had stuffed animals."

"You were the complete five year old princess, weren't you?" Martha narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Maaaaybe..." I smiled innocently.

"That's why she's sassy," the Doctor mumbled to her, "She got everything she wanted..."

"Don't insult me, Martian," I warned, moving up to him, "I wasn't spoiled by my grandparents."

"Parents?"

"They were never there so the least they did was get me all the toys I wanted."

"Wasn't enough, was it?" Martha asked softly, understanding it wasn't so glorifying to have all the toys I wanted.

"Never," I sighed and walked away, stopping at my bookshelf, "Sometimes, when Olivia wasn't home or she just didn't want to be with me, I would play with this amazing doll house...and I'd be all happy, rambling on with my dolls...until I looked around and saw I was alone. Then I stopped playing, cos I thought, what's the point? What's the point of this amazing doll house if I have to play by myself?"

"But you know that's not gonna happen anymore, right?" the Doctor walked over, gently turning me around, "You've got us now."

"You won't forget about me even when Kaeya comes back?" I whispered, terrorized by the appearance of the princess that could literally happen at any moment. Even if I did decide to leave, I didn't want him to completely forget about me. I still would expect some kind of visit from him, even a call?

He looked at me for a good minute, making me nervous that he had to actually think about it, "Never," he whispered, "Absolutely never."

I smiled with relief and went to hug him, resting my head on his chest and feeling his arms wrap around me. A couple seconds later, Martha joined us and together we hugged.

Things could change alright, but I would always remember when it was just the Martian, my doctor best friend, and me.

#ocappreciation #doctor who #10th doctor #doctor who fics #10th doctor fics #dw imagine #doctor who imagines #10th doctor imagines #oc: Minerva Souza #fic: next stop eveywhere

13 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 6 years ago

Photo

✶ ┈ PART TWO !

summary: loki meets the grandmaster and you intervene. the agreement (it’s really not an agreement, okay, more of a cause of circumstance) of parading as a married couple happens and neither of you are very excited about it. pairing: fake!wife reader x loki, set in ragnarok. a/n: hehehe here’s another 1.7k of these two. READ PART ONE HERE.

The third time you meet Loki, he’s strapped to that contraption the Grandmaster uses to intimidate the new fighters.

You’ve had a long week.

You’d woken up in a trash heap, bruised and sore and somehow alive. You’d decided, wholeheartedly, not to think too much about it -- not that you had an option. After stumbling over an entire mountain of inter-galactic trash being deposited by the varying collapsing stars around the planets atmosphere, you were quickly descended upon by a terrifyingly pretty woman with a tight braid and white symbols painted down her cheeks.

She smelt like booze and swaggered like a practiced warrior.

You didn’t trust her.

“You a fighter?” she’d called out, tilting her head.

“Where am I?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Sakaar,” she chirped, “Now, are you a fighter? Yes or no?”

The moment that followed was tense -- a bit like a standoff.

“... Depends.”

“Hm.”

She’d caught you in the neck with a tracker then, a smirk on her face the whole way. In one swift move, she’d thumbed open the control device in her hand and sent you convulsing to the ground.

“The Grandmaster likes the pretty, clever ones.”

Her condescending smirk was the last thing you saw before you blacked out.

You woke up in the same chair Loki’s strapped to currently, bleary eyed and confused -- that man, The Grandmaster as he called himself, had decided rather quickly that he liked you. Perhaps it was your sudden decision to praise him and his choice of make-up.

(That was a great way to make friends in the bathrooms of bars -- surely compliments are universal.)

“Who are you, then?” he asks with a slow smile.

“I’m a Doctor,” you say slowly, “I study astrophysics.”

The smile drops immediately.

“Boring.”

He’s about to wave his hands, then, send you off to some horrible fate, you’re sure.

“A-And I tell stories!”

(That wasn’t really a lie -- you had a minor in classics. If you recited the plot to Hamlet to any of the colorful people in this penthouse suite, you’re sure none of them would realize it. Perhaps being entertainment would be worth keeping you around until you figured out how the fuck to get back home.)

“Stories, huh?”

So, here you are now, swathed in Sakaarian socialites, faux-smiles plastered to your face as you giggle into your neon colored drink. Your gown is something deemed fashionable for this planet, all colorblocked and tight with high slits and low dips. Along your cheeks is the same stark white branding as the brazenly mean warrior-lady you’d first met on Trash Mountain. You realize, half-way through the application by one of the Grandmaster’s maids, that it’s a mark of ownership. It’s rather disgusting, the whole fact you’re someone’s property now -- but, you suppose that it’s keeping you alive and in this current state?

You really can’t complain.

Until you see Loki.

You choke on your drink.

You stand swiftly, leaving your martini and the gaggle of others behind as you move quickly upon the center of the room. The Grandmaster reels for a moment at the obstruction amidst his usual induction -- and your jaw drops.

“You.”

Quickly, the look of surprise morphs into one of anger and Loki’s eyes widen. You feel like you’re suddenly had all the words you’d thought about screaming in his face these last seven days pulled from your brain and all you can do is snarl and shriek:

“... You!”

Your finger jabs his chest, prodding at the green and gold armor there with such ferocity it’s no wonder you’re not stabbing him. For the first time, Loki gets a good look at you -- it’s clear you’ve somehow managed to worm your way into this “Grandmaster”’s circle; it’s commendable. For a Midgardian.

The Silvertongue, with every passing moment, is beginning to see his opportunity to do the same slip away.

“What? What’s the matter?” the Grandmaster coos, circling Loki to place his arms around your frame. You stiffen. Loki watches you swallow your anger. If he wasn’t strapped to a chair, maybe he’d find your discomfort amusing. However, Loki can’t help but avert his gaze.

Your anger is well deserved, really. He did throw you out of the Bifrost.

“... Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

Both you and Loki blink at the Grandmaster.

“... I’m sorry?”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

Your face twists into disgust as Loki blinks between the two of you -- confusion splits his features into an attempt of a charismatic laugh.

“Good sir, I believe you’re mistaken --”

“No,” he raises a finger, “I’ve seen this before. And you told me of your crash landing, my pretty little pet -- you said you lost your friends on the way. Lost a love… Raven haired and pale...”

You’d been entertaining the party with a poorly remember retelling of Romeo and Juliet to the Grandmaster’s court, but okay. It’s pretty clear the Grandmaster is making his over revisions as well.

Loki’s brow quirks.

There’s a moment pause. Then, the Grandmaster stops his blinking between the both of you and claps his hands. “But, if not -- I’ll have him executed. Your reaction was warrant enough. Can’t have my best storyteller off her game, can I?”

The maniac’s ability to bounce between party and murder is astounding.

Loki’s eyes are wide. His look is pleading.

You, in that moment, are put in the biggest moral dilemma of your life.

You can, of course, turn the other cheek -- but that means cozying up to the global terrorist who unceremoniously threw you out of the Bifrost to try and save himself from his own sister. On the other hand, you’d be letting Thor’s brother die all while losing your potential way off this planet. But, there’s no guarantee the trickster will help you. However, if there’s anything you remember from that one mythology class in college, it’s that gods tend to honor their debts.

Saving his life is a debt owed, right?

(And honestly? Letting Thor down and never seeing your parents again sounds pretty horrible.)

“It’s just… I thought you were dead.”

Loki, in that moment, is nearly impressed by your acting.

“I was worried sick,” you continue, clearly gritting out the last bit, “I… I was sure I lost you.”

“Fear not,” Loki’s mood swings then into one of pure amusement, smirk brandishing his features, “I apologize for scaring you, my sweet.”

“You know,” the Grandmaster’s face is twisted into a grin, “I have this six sense -- I can just… smell love in the air, or something. I knew it, I mean… Look at you two. God, it’s… adorable. Really. So, what is this, huh? Just a… a fling? Or --”

“We’re married.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Loki’s got the same look on his face.

“She’s the crowned Princess of Asgard,” Loki says then, slowly. His eyes are glued on the way you shrink away from the Grandmaster’s gaze, “My wife.”

“Ass-gard, huh? Wow.”

He hums.

Loki is suddenly realizing there’s a reason to why you’re doing this. You’d made it apparent in the Sanctum that you weren’t intimidated by the likes of him. Somehow, though, this Grandmaster figure has earned your evident anxieties.

(Maybe it was because you’d watched him roast a guy who made a poorly timed joke about the color blue on your second day here. The smell was awful. But, it’s not like you can tell Loki that -- you just have to hope that somehow this little improv plan works and you and Loki can somehow get the hell off this floating landfill.)

“And… what’s his gig, huh, my pretty?” he’s addressing you now, lips upturned in an expectant smile, “Besides… well.. good bone structure.”

“He’s a Silvertongue, Grandmaster,” you explain slowly, hands clasped in front of you, “In more ways than one.”

Loki suddenly feels a bit like a piece of meat.

You relish in his discomfort as the Grandmaster bursts into an excited bought of laughter.

“Oh, see! This is why I love you! You’re so clever,” he chirps, waving his hands, “Your wife, Mr. Low-key, is lovely.”

“Isn’t she?” he grits.

The Grandmaster is unphased. “Quite! Now, this is good, this is very good -- I mean, it’s evident your… sexual tension is there. I can’t see why you two would lie to me, y’know? That would just be… uh… a bad idea.”

Behind him, Topaz clacks the Grandmaster’s staff on the red and white floor. You swallow thickly.

“I could never lie about my love for him, Grandmaster,” you supply, a delicate hand moving to touch Loki’s cheek. His skin is cold, “It’s simply not in my nature.”

“Nor I,” Loki says sweetly, “We make a better pair than separate, good sir, I promise you that.”

The man claps with glee.

“I love this, two lost loves reunited,” he nearly cries, “Topaz, get these two their own room, will you?”

It works.

Somehow it works.

The penthouse apartment they set you and Loki up in is big -- it’s better than the slave quarters you’ve been sleeping in for the last week. The far wall is ceiling to floor windows. Outside, Sakaar flies by; it’s the first time you’re actually getting a good look at the planetside. It’s bustling and the sun is setting between two twin moons, bathing the capital city in pinks and oranges.

“You are idiotic, bug, to propose this little plan -- had you wanted to sleep with me, you only needed to say so; lest I would.”

You recoil in a snarl. Loki is staring at the room in disdain.

“I just saved your life.”

“That colorful maniac had neither the strength nor gall --”

“Oh?” you chirp, hands flying to your hips, “Really? Sorry -- when did you get here? Ten minutes ago? Yeah, nice, cool, I’ve been here for a week and I’ve seen him toast like, five people for fun. The smell is awful.”

Loki’s mouth snaps shut.

Who in the Nine Realms are you?

“Besides,” you snarl, “I’m not doing this for you -- I’m doing this to get home.”

“And who, pray tell, said I would help you, bug?”

You, then, engage in this game of chess again -- your movements are slow and calculated and predatory and Loki has to admire your ability to dish it out. Your fingers jabs his chest once, then again.

“I did,” you seethe, “When I made sure you didn’t get easy-bake-oven’d, asshole. You owe me.”

He opens his mouth, keen on biting into your argument, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Dinner is being served, Lord and Lady Loki!”

You both save it for another time and exit the apartment holding hands.

The third time you meet Loki, you’re married.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x reader imagine #loki x fake!wife #loki x fake!wife reader #heehehehehe

1K notes · View notes

scribe-the-write-thing · 5 years ago

Photo

So after a VERY bumpy stretch of road in my life, I’m finally back on writing,yay! I hope to get more out soon, but I focused on something a little easier to get me started!

Here we meet Verity, and Barkley really needs to learn how to correctly convince a witness to help in the case. Aleiah takes over for the interview since uh... Barkley isn’t the most gentle at the best of times, but we’ll all get to see Barkley’s interrogation interview methods when it comes to meeting the Alexander we see discussed below. And things really, really get fiery there.

For now, though, enjoy Aleiah’s gentler, more professional touch. Oh also, she’s a Dr in, an official capacity, in psychology. Under the table and as part of the agency though-- she’s a doctor of cryptobiology (being able to make up fake things for the world I'm in is fun).

This is taken straight out of draft one, so it’s shaky and subject to change but! Here goes nothing.

[BEGIN LOG]

[Interviewer: Dr Aleiah King. Dated ██████. Informal interview in Dr King’s room at the local Inn]

[██████ is a maid at the Whiterose estate. For her own protection, she will be referred to under the alias of Verity. Interviewee agreed to only be interviewed privately, for a short while, with the agreement that no one else is informed. This was after much persuasion from Agent Barkley -- whom she refused to speak with. Interviewee expressed anxiety repeatedly before recording, and fidgetted frequently throughout. She insists that she cannot stay too long.]

DR KING: I’d like to thank you for agreeing to do this, it helps to have at least one person willing to cooperate.

VERITY: It’s… Okay. I just- I want this over with. I just want to be left alone.

DR KING: I understand. Barkley can be…. [sighs], forthright, sometimes. I know. I’m sorry if she’s been disruptive.

VERITY: [scoffs] Disruptive? Do you know how many times she’s shown up to my house? I speak to her once, and this is how she treats me? Is it standard procedure to harass people? My kids-

DR KING: -I apologise for my partner’s behaviour. But nothing about this case is standard. Barkley wants to find the truth, ██████. As do I. Miss Weiss’ journal indicates that you were one of the last to speak with her. Can you confirm this?

VERITY: Weiss?- You mean... Camille? Yes- she- she spoke with me. She wanted to know about the estate. About my job. [Pause] But I didn’t know her well, or anything.

DR KING: So, you weren’t friends?

VERITY: [laughs] God no. I mean- I tolerated Camille, like many did here. She wasn’t a bad girl, per se. But... far too forward for my liking. Every city girl stereotype you can imagine; that was Camille. We only talked a few times-- when she caught me walking home or… dropping my kids off at school.

DR KING: But you knew her well enough to be on a first name basis?

VERITY: [Pause] We’re… it’s a small town. We’re friendly enough here to all work on first names, maybe things are different in the big cities.

DR KING: Miss Weiss mentions you quite a bit. Is she… over exaggerating your level of interaction?

VERITY: … So we met a few times. So what? She… came to my house once. I told you, it wasn’t any big deal. She might have taken more out of it than I did. I don’t know.

DR KING: Please, ██████, things will be easier if you’re truthful

VERITY: I’m telling the truth.

DR KING: Yes. But I need the whole truth if we’re going to find Miss Weiss. That’s what you want, correct?

VERITY: Of course I want Camille to be found. But have you considered that Camille herself might not want that?

DR KING: You believe that Miss Weiss has... chosen to go missing?

VERITY: I don’t know. Camille was always desperate for a story. Perhaps she decided to become one herself,

DR KING: Did Barkley tell you that?

VERITY: No. She didn’t say anything other than yelling questions at me at ungodly hours of the night, why-

DR KING: It’s only that she shares in the same theory. That this is some... stunt.

VERITY: Perhaps she does have some intellect then. It does seem the simplest answer, no?

DR KING: And the most convenient for the town, and for the Arnou family.

VERITY: Is this leading up to some sort of point?

DR KING: Alright… You said Miss Weiss was asking about your job? Why would she want to know-

VERITY: Why would I know?! She was like you two! Never leaving me alone. She always asked about my work; that’s all she ever wanted to talk about.

DR KING: Do you think she intended to inquire for a job there?

VERITY: No. No, she- she never wanted to know about anything like… that.

DR KING: What do you mean?

VERITY: She wanted to know about… about the estate. About the family. She wanted to know what went on in the manor. She kept asking questions about staff, about… things she thought she saw. She wanted an interview with Alexander. I don’t know why she thought I would be capable of doing that-

DR KING: But you were capable of getting her an interview. Weren’t you?

VERITY: I-

DR KING: Weiss’ notes indicate that she visited the manor on two occasions.

VERITY: I don’t see how that’s relevant… We have visitors to the town trespassing a lot-

DR KING: But we both know that Miss Weiss was hardly a trespasser. In fact, we know that her first visit here was on an invitation from the Arnou family themselves. A letter signed by Alexander Arnou- You had.... no hand in this at all? You can be honest with me. You’re not in any trouble here.

VERITY: [lowly] I… I told her to stay away.

DR KING: Can you repeat that? I-

VERITY: I only mentioned Camille to Alexander once. She must have arranged the meeting herself.

DR KING: Did you say that you told her to-

VERITY: [raising voice] I couldn’t tell her to do anything. Camille did what she wanted. That’s all she ever did since she arrived. She didn’t listen to anyone- she just- she came barrelling in without a care, acted like she owned the town. Started messing with the founders, trying to get into the estate- talking about all her theories-

DR KING: It sounds as if she was causing some upset to the residents?

VERITY: (laughs, harshly) You could call it that. We’re used to bothers but... Camille pushed further than most. There are good folk here. Honest folk. People that don’t deserve to have their private lives pried into.

DR KING: And was Alexander one of the people she decided to... pry into?

VERITY: [sighs] What do you think? You read her diary, didn’t you?

DR KING: Were you there when she came to the manor?

VERITY: [SILENCE]

DR KING: Did something happen? Please, any information could be helpful with finding-

VERITY: I- I ca-. Nothing happened. Camille-

DR KING: You seem nervous- Please, Miss ██████, if something happened, you have to tell me. For Camille’s sake.

VERITY: N- No.

DR KING: No?

VERITY: The family affairs are private.

DR KING: What?

VERITY: We take their secrets to the grave. I cannot tell you.

DR KING: [voice raising] A woman is missing. Now isn’t the time for- If you have information-

VERITY: I can’t.

DR KING: You… can’t tell me? If you’re scared, I promise you that we can provide protection for you and your children, you’ll be safe-

VERITY: [snorts] That’s not why. You don’t understand. I just... can’t.

DR KING: You mean you won’t. Withholding information is-

VERITY: [Loudly] I. Can’t.

[SILENCE]

DR KING: ... Help me try to understand-

VERITY: You couldn’t. Even if you tried. I want to leave. Please. You’ve asked your questions- I need to go-

DR KING: You’re in no fit state to leave alone- you look-

VERITY: Please. Let me go. I- I’ve told you… everything you I can. I swear to you.

DR KING: There’s more to this than you’re letting me know. You can tell me now, or I can find it myself. I have more than enough grounds to investigate. The family will be interviewed-

VERITY: [INAUDIBLE]

DR KING: Excuse me?

VERITY: [pause] I said it won’t work. [laughs] Even Camille knew that.

DR KING: What do you mean?

VERITY: It doesn’t matter. I meant that- that you wouldn’t find anything.

DR KING: Why-

[AUDIBLE SOUNDS OF A CHAIR SCRAPING AGAINST THE FLOOR, FOOTSTEPS, A DOOR CREAKING OPEN.]

VERITY: I mean- there’s nothing to find. You- you really shouldn’t-

[sound of more footsteps, both the voices of DR KING and VERITY are further from the recorder, muffed.]

DR KING: You’re scared of them, aren’t you? They have something on you-

VERITY: You don’t know anything about me. And don’t make- assumptions about the family. You should- we all should be more grateful to them- everything is for the greater good- you don’t know the half of-

DR KING: Then tell me. How am I supposed to know if no one tells me anything?

VERITY: [scoffs] You’re as bad as Camille. You think we all owe you something. That you have the right to interfere with whatever you want. If you keep digging, is it really a surprise when you find something you shouldn’t?

DR KING: Did Camille find something she shouldn’t?

VERITY: I- I need to leave. Please don’t- I don’t want to be part of this. I shouldn’t have even- I’m sorry.

DR KING: At least let me walk you home-

VERITY: No! No- it’s alright. I- I just want to be left alone.

[END LOG]

[Notes: Interviewee expressed physical symptoms of a migraine after being asked about the events at the manor -- continually rubbed her head and seemed almost in distress. I intend to give her a few weeks to recover before attempting to interview her again. Perhaps building a rapport with her may ease her anxiety. I blame Barkley for this... Poor woman.]

So? Thoughts on Ms Verity over here and what might be going on with her? Aleiah is convinced there’s something awful happening, and Barkley thinks she’s being intentionally obstructive (though, that’s just what Barkley thinks of most people in this town.)

Taglist: @snowwritesall @writinginslowmotion @quilloftheclouds @mvcreates @typewriter-jade @purpleshadows1989 @lady-redshield-writes

#violetvineyard #writeblr #writing #original writing #wip #writblr #my writing #btp #between the pines #aleiah king

31 notes · View notes

atopearth · 6 years ago

Text

Liar! Uncover the Truth Part 2 - 6th to 9th Liars

6th Liar Gotta agree that the family situation can become a big hindrance to the relationship depending on things, especially if they don’t approve. Lmao at the heroine thinking Sotaro’s parents are actually farmers and not the doctor lineage vibe he gives off. Well, can’t tell for sure right now but parents that like to grow their own vegetables sound exactly like my parents, and that photo with his parents with cows, they could really just enjoy this as an interest and so went to check out farms in the US haha. LOL but if she does marry him and they move to the US and she’s expected to help out on the farm then yeah…. But really, just moving to the US is a big change to her life so I don’t see the heroine doing that at all for a guy.

Azusa is sooo pushy. He practically forced himself into her apartment. The heroine usually stands her ground so well, she really should have just said no, especially since they barely know each other and he’s already trying to get into her home. At least he cooked for her after barging in I guess lol. It can’t be helped that Haruichi actually being a head of the Yakuza would frighten her considering that no matter how kind he may be, he’s a part of the underground world and who knows what he’s actually done and will do in the future. I didn’t mind Haruichi but I doubt you can be prepared to marry someone with such a background so fast lol.

I think it’s just kinda saddening how hurt Haruichi was. It was understandable why he hid it and why he didn’t want to tell her, but yeah, if she’s getting married to him, she has the right to know.. The good thing was that Haruichi was truly sincere in his love for her, he never thought about finding a Yakuza wife until recently, but seeing how bold, strong and fearless she was, he fell for her and cared about her. Not that following her and getting someone to report about what she does everyday is good but considering his background, it’s probably expected. Finally decided to check out the other endings besides the True and Secret, and dangg, I feel sorry for her in the bad ending, she steeled herself into being a Mafia wife and he uses her as a sacrifice to go to jail instead of him and then dumps her, yeah that’s terrible. Now I don’t feel so bad for the heroine dumping him if that’s a possibility lmao.

7th Liar I always feel so bad that my favourite is Itaru but Sotaro looks so similar to him that it makes me mix them up lmao, I’m sorry I don’t love you enough to be able to tell the difference between you two! Hmm, so we’re dealing with some sort of addict this time~ hope it’s not a gaming addict because that’s me lolol. Hahaha omg, is Sotaro a gaming addict? Lolll, right after I said that too…

Wow, Kazumi just brings her to a fancy party and gets people to do her makeup and hair and he even got her a dress lol. Why couldn’t he tell her that beforehand? What if she put a lot of effort into her makeup and dress that day lol. But wow, the host of the party, Kazumi’s friend who is a director is such a sleazebag, who the hell tells a woman on their first meeting that instead of being a wedding planner, she’d be a great model and that he’d introduce her to a porn director?! Wow, just wow. Lmao at her being clueless to ice referring to drugs, guess it’s nice that she’s innocent. Whether Kazumi’s lack of appetite is related to that and whether the girl hanging off Itaru on the streets is an escort is something hard to gauge right now, but I’m hoping that Sotaro or Kazumi is the liar this time XD

Kazumi is the liar, as expected, but I guess from now on, the things they lie about won’t be as bad? He was actually lying because he had a terminal illness, when the heroine thought he was a drug addict. Can’t blame her though, but honestly, I don’t see this love he has for her. Don’t think they really matched tbh, so I’m glad she didn’t want to be with him lol. But, I feel like Kazumi is the only liar that I genuinely felt sorry for and could see why he lied, it just feels so terrible..?

8th Liar Heroine is running out of time! Only 2 weeks left before the mother comes to see her so called boyfriend, she better step up her game lol. Tbh though, with Azusa’s spending habits etc, I feel like if there’s a guy that doesn’t seem to be earning as much as he seems/lying about his job, I have to say, I feel like it’s Azusa. But who knows, he might be a rich boy lol. I don’t know if Itaru will be fired from his marketing/sales job that earns him big bucks but is super stressful, although very fulfilling to him but I do think that someone who can brave through all that is someone that must enjoy their job and the challenges that come with it, so I think that whatever he’s going through, he’ll be okay. As for Sotaro possibly selling drugs in the hospital or whatever hmmm, sounds rather far-fetched tbh. And Itaru was just recommending some vitamin supplements he thinks is good to her and she thinks he’s a jerk and some kinda dodgy guy???

Anyway, with the amount of evidence and him asking for money, it was obvious that Azusa was a marriage scam artist, which is a terrible thing to do. Not only do you steal precious money from a woman but you also rob them of their love and also their ability to believe in love again. As a person that isn’t doing well with his parents and was raised by his relatives and has worked multiple jobs to help out his little brother’s living expenses etc and understands the difficulties of earning money, you would think he would have more consideration for other people’s hard earned money. But no, he only thinks that his situation gives him the right to take all this money. Especially since he spends so much on clothes etc too! Luckily I never liked Azusa, I always thought he was rather fake and was constantly just trying to appeal to the heroine, so yep, ditch that fraud.

9th Liar It’s finally the last one! Please be Sotaro! Loll. Why did Itaru seem kinda flustered with her standard of guys to not have illegitimate children? Noooo. Lol at the heroine doing her makeup to go to the doctor when she’s so sick just in case she sees Sotaro at the hospital. Sure, the doctor wasn’t very nice in the way she said that if the heroine has the time to put on makeup, she has time to rest, but the heroine didn’t need to call her a bitch lol… I mean, she could have been just concerned about her well-being. On the other hand, it’s very difficult for some people to go out without makeup because they’ve got a reputation and a professional appearance they have to keep up just in case they see anyone and I think it’s reasonable for the heroine to put on makeup though.

Hahahah I can’t believe Itaru and Sotaro met at a ramen restaurant that serves ramen from spicy level one to 99, where they just happened to sit next to each other and started fighting through who can eat spicier but in the end they both couldn’t take the 99 and just became rivals after that lmao. Wow guess that female doctor really was a bitch lol, she’s so rude to the heroine to call her a silly redneck pig like wtf, no basic respect at all, disgusting. Anyway, so sad that the game is pointing to Itaru probably being the liar, sigh. So envious that the heroine has such a good friend like Yuri that she can consult all the time and even help her deal with bugs and clean up her whole apartment! Not sure how I feel about Sotaro right now, he keeps saying that the heroine should not approach Itaru but doesn’t give any reason why. Itaru doesn’t even do that, he just tries to get her heart whilst knowing Sotaro will be doing the same.

Omggg I actually didn’t expect Sotaro to be the liar! I think I was just so down in the dumps in the beginning because everything wanted to show that Itaru was a liar so I thought my favourite guy (from the beginning!) was going to lose. But, anyway lol omg, who would have thought Sotaro had actually divorced twice?! And omg, initially I thought being divorced was okay since you can understand why he ended up hiding it (secret ending) since he never really got the chance to tell her truthfully after he lost the courage once. But after reading the endings, yeah, Sotaro is terrible. He’s not looking for a wife, he’s looking for a 24/7 domestic housewife aka a maid. That bad ending is exactly how things will turn out considering his attitude and criteria for picking women. Someone like the heroine who can’t even clean her house or take care of bugs would never be Sotaro’s ideal wife lol, he should be happy she ran off lmao.

Anyway, turns out I had a good eye and actually chose the best guy from the beginning hahahah. They’re really pushing the destiny thing with her mum having sent a photo of the marriage partner she wanted to introduce to her and it was actually Itaru all along lol. She didn’t even need to go to the party to find him lol. But I guess it was important for the heroine to go through all those liars in order to completely trust Itaru now, so I’m happy for her. The only crappy thing is that you don’t get to see romance between them even though we’ve gotten through all these crappy guys to get here but it doesn’t feel like we got a reward at all lol. You have to purchase Itaru’s lovers route to probably get to see how they’re doing but really, I think they should have a bit of an epilogue and then if people want more, they can do the lovers route. Now it just feels so… Like I feel so not accomplished with no reward, it’s like, you find all the liars, read their endings and it’s the end. I know this is a game revolved around catching the liars over everything but I also feel like it’s unreasonable to not be able to see a romantic happy ending, sigh, disappointed.

Overall though, I think this game was too hyped up so I had too many expectations that weren’t fulfilled (lacklustre story and characters to an extent, but fun gameplay and straightforwardness from the heroine). However, it was still pretty fun, it was quite light hearted and interesting to look at the evidence and try to decipher who’s the liar, what they’re lying about and then seeing how they came to be who they are. It was quite fascinating and a lot of fun, I enjoyed it as a nice and chill story of a distrustful woman that gets through all the crappy men to find one that will give her the best and what she needs. So now I can tell myself that I have a good eye for men hahahaha!

Office Deception (next series) is next! But I’m gonna take a bit of a break to get more tickets accumulated so I can always get all the endings and have a more wholesome experience I guess haha. I hope it’ll be even better~ EDIT: I didn’t realise there was a sequel, I’ll do that after I’m done with Office Deception since I already started it loll.

#liar uncover the truth #liar! uncover the truth

12 notes · View notes

blueboxesandtrafficcones · 6 years ago

Text

Second Chance at Forever - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of this year’s entry for the @dwsecretsanta, my present to @wordsintimeandspace! Beta’d by the always-kind @stupidsatsuma

@doctorroseprompts and @timepetalscollective as an AU fic

General warnings for: alcohol use, cursing, discussions of sexual activities

From here on out, the story is in present day unless otherwise indicated.

Masterlist

AO3

Present Day

Rose sauntered into the restaurant, perfectly put together. Tasteful accessories matched her dress, all in the latest fashion and coordinated. Her handbag settled in the crook of her right elbow, her left hand gently tugging her brother along.

“Tony, come on,” she pleaded, as they paused for him to run his toy car over the hostess podium, making the sound effects himself. “Uncle Mickey’s waiting to see you.” Never mind the maître d’ glaring holes in their backs.

“Is he wearing a suit?” the four-year-old sulked accusingly, tugging at his tie as he trudged along.

“Yes,” Rose said firmly, silently pleading with the Universe that he was. She didn’t know Martha terribly well, having only met her a few times, but her oldest friend’s fiancée was the type to keep him properly presented – without being overboard or overbearing, as some of his last, unsuccessful paramours had been.

“Okay then.” Tony sighed the sigh only a benevolent child was capable of, trailing behind her as they made their way to the table. They were only five minutes late, which was a blessing considering Tony’s last-minute stubbornness on the way out the door over his outfit.

She was so focused on him, keeping him from walking into anything or running his car over a chairback, that she barely registered the three people already seated at the table until she had him settled in a booster seat.

“Uncle Mickey!” he chirped, for once not fighting as Rose buckled him into the waiting seat.

“Hey, little dude,” Micks chuckled, good naturedly offering his hand for a fistbump to the boy’s delight.

“Hi Tony,” Martha leaned around her fiancée to smile sweetly at him. “My, don’t you look handsome.”

“Only the best for Aunt Martha,” Tony charmed with an ‘aren’t I adorable’ beam.

“No, I’m good, thanks. Great to see you too,” Rose joked, leaning over Tony’s head to kiss Mickey’s cheek and grin at Martha, wriggling her fingers, a gesture the other woman returned.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mickey was contrite, holding up his hands. “Good to see you, thanks for coming. Whatever.”

Settling back in her seat, Rose scanned the restaurant. It was new, in a trendy part of London, with modern finishes and lots of glass and chrome. Realizing someone sat to her right, she turned with a bright smile. “Sorry, don’t mean to be rude. I’m-”

The words died in her throat as she stared at the living, breathing ghost next to her. It was him.

John.

“Rose,” she finished weakly, meeting his shocked gaze, and she was relieved to note he looked as gobsmacked as she felt.

“John,” he choked out, eyes darting between herself and Tony.

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve asked you here,” Martha cut in cheerfully, apparently not noticing the sudden Arctic conditions at the other side of the round table. “In working out the wedding party, we’d like you two to walk together, and thought it’d be a good idea for us to get together, so you could get to know each other without the chaos of everyone else.”

“Are you getting married?” Tony blurted, tugging at Rose’s arm. “Mummy-”

“No, silly goose, Martha and Mickey are getting married, we’re just going to have special roles to play,” she managed to choke out, tearing her eyes away from John to give her brother a smile, genuine if not a bit shaky.

“Oh,” he pouted, leaning forward to tell John with a pout, “I didn’t get to be in my Mummy and Daddy’s wedding.”

“That’s a shame,” John said politely after a moment. “Do you get to be in Martha and Mickey’s?”

“Uh huh. I’m the ring bear,” Tony perked right up, still thrilled about being trusted with such an important role if how often he talked about it was any indication. “And I’ve been practicing.”

“Have you now? Can we see?” Martha asked, and her estimation went right up in Rose’s book; anyone who was good with Tony was all right with her.

Tony nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before snapping them open and holding up his hands. “Rawr!” He wriggled his body side to side, roaring and growling.

Rose broke first, bursting into giggles. She’d known he misunderstood his role, but his interpretation was too cute to correct, and judging by Martha’s loud “Awwww!” she agreed.

“Nicely done, mate,” Mickey approved when he finished, offering another fist bump Tony gleefully returned, giggling as well.

“Well done,” John said stiffly.

“He’s all ready,” Rose agreed, winking at the bride-to-be and ignoring the man beside her. “So, how do you two-”

They were interrupted by the waitress, a bubbly young thing who took their drink orders (Rose was careful not to order tequila) and rattled off the specials before going on her way.

“How do you know each other?” Rose repeated, once she was gone.

“Hmm? Oh! John – Doctor Noble – was one of my teachers first year in med school, really helped me. I struggled at the beginning, and he offered to tutor me, and just sort of became a mentor. We’ve done some travelling together – Doctors Without Borders, natural disaster relief, that sort of thing. When I thought of people I’d like to stand up for me, who knew me, the real me, the Doctor – sorry, John, was the first to come to mind outside of family.”

“See, we decided to keep the wedding party small,” Mickey added. “Jake’s my best man of course, then it’s just John and her brother Leo.”

“And for me, it’s my sister Tish, you, and Shonara.”

“Of course,” Rose pasted on a fake smile. “So, Maid of Honor and Best Man, your brother and his girlfriend, and… us.”

Next to her, John took a long drink of his water. “And how do you two…” he gestured between Rose and Mickey, but she noticed he never took his eyes off Tony.

“We’re old friends, grew up together. Known each other since we were babies.” Rose frowned at him, wondering what his preoccupation was with her brother. Surely he’d seen small children before. “Hang on, did she just call you ‘the Doctor’?”

He shifted uncomfortably, but Martha answered instead.

“Oh! That’s cause, well, for one he actually is – and for another, of all our professors the first year, he was the nicest, the best teacher, and overall expert. Any question, any field – not just medicine – and he’d be able to give a twenty minute lecture on the subject off the cuff. Genius, he is. Somewhere along the way he got the nickname, and it just got passed down. Everyone calls him that.”

“Genius, really?” Rose shot him a sweet smile. “Never would’ve guessed.”

He glared at her, and she glared right back, blood boiling at his smug, superior face. Only the thought that Mickey was counting on her kept her from throwing her drink (still sadly water) in his face and storming out. Well, that and the fact that storming out with an inquisitive four-year-old was no easy task.

“Oh… kay?” Mickey let out a nervous laugh, and Rose dimly realized he and Martha were staring at them in confusion. “Problem?”

“No,” Rose and John said in unison, fixing on fake smiles and turning to face the couple.

“So,” she focused on her friend, “how’s wedding planning going?”

Rose loved her little brother, but never more so than when he declared he had to ‘go peepee’ as soon as the drinks were delivered and appetizers ordered. Mickey offered to take him and after a moment’s hesitation Rose let him, walking back with them and taking the opportunity for the ladies. Going inside, she did a quick check to verify she was alone before letting out a muffled scream of frustration and disbelief.

It had been five years since she’d last seen John, and she thought she’d put it all behind her, let it go. The moment their eyes met, though, it had all come rushing back, overwhelming her. The attraction was still there, strong as ever, but all the hurt and anger he had nearly overwhelmed her.

Washing her hands thoroughly, she stared in the mirror above the sink. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she told her reflection. Outside the door she could hear Tony’s little voice chirping, and Mickey’s lower rumble in reply.

It helped refocus her; she was doing this for Mickey. Her best friend had found the love of his life, and she would do whatever it took to make his big day perfect – even if it meant being in the same room as the man who had broken her heart.

Shit.

John smiled politely as Martha chattered on, watching for when the rest of the table returned from the restrooms. Though he was able to keep up with the conversation enough to nod, smile, and hum in the right places, his mind was a million miles away and five years in the past.

Rose. She looked more stunning than he remembered, and that said a lot. She was a mother now, clearly, and while he was happy for her, he was also terrified.

As a medical school professor and a trained doctor himself, he was familiar with all manner of science and mathematics – specifically reproductive biology. And addition.

Fact: Rose was a mother, clearly unmarried.

Fact: her little boy was roughly four, meaning he would have been conceived around five years ago.

Fact: She had been horrified when she’d seen him, and her expression tensed every time he looked at the kid.

Hypothesis: He was, potentially, a father. And royally fucked.

Dinner passed in a blur, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about how rude or uninterested he was coming off. His mind raced, replaying the last voicemails and texts Rose had sent him. Messages that had gone unreturned. The last one, the one from more than a month after the last time he saw her – the one that he deleted without listening to.

Was that it? In that short message, had she changed his world? And what she must have thought of him, to never hear back… His heart dropped. She must have been scared, so, so scared – abandoned by him, and pregnant to boot. They’d never talked about their families, the conversations had never gotten that far – did she have anyone? Was she utterly alone, but for Mickey who clearly adored Tony?

Before he knew it dinner was over, and they were all standing and hugging and shit, she’s leaving. And she’s taking my kid.

“Rose?” His voice sounded loud to his own ears, but it made her stop and turn, raising an eyebrow and looking thoroughly pissed.

“What?”

“Can we talk? For a moment?” Hands sweating nervously, he stuffed them in his pockets as he waited.

She looked him over, a cold, calculating expression on her face. “No. I think you missed your chance.” Then she spun on her heel, picking up her kid, his kid, and marched out of the restaurant as he watched, crestfallen.

“What the hell was that?” Martha asked, and it was only when she touched his elbow he shocked back to himself, the world around him finally coming into focus and surround sound.

“Erm, nothing. Good night.” He headed for the door, ignoring her calling his name as he reached the street, taking in deep gulps of the fresh air. A glance to the left and right showed that Rose had disappeared from his life as surely as he had from hers.

“Doctor-” Martha’s voice behind him was a jolt to the system, and without further thought, he took off down the street.

Rose’s face, her voice, then and now, swam through his mind, boiling his blood and assaulting his senses until he damn near drowned in her.

He began to do what he did best, in the end.

Run.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #timepetalscollective #ficandchips #dwsecretsanta #doctor who #Human!NinexRose #human!nine #rose tyler #au #second chance at forever

11 notes · View notes

acoatofgold · 7 years ago

Text

Everybody’s Got A Story

Semi-coming out of retirement to publish this really rough story I wrote on Monday in a couple of hours. Its the second non-explicit story on here (the first is: Three’s A Fit) and I will now fade back into obscurity. Its actually Pre-Sueprcorp, its an AU, and its also pre-Supergirl.

Title: Everybody’s Got A Story

Or: How Lena Luther Learned to Connect With Others

What happens is this: The Luthor’s are cold and cruel and even at their most loving are distant and lying and Lena just wants to know the truth, for once. She has very vague memories of her mother, a woman with sad eyes and warm hands and a warm chest as Lena laid on her chest to sleep. When she wakes up, her mother doesn’t. Her lips are purple, like the bruises under her eyes. Lena tries to push her awake, to shove her into consciousness, and when that doesn’t work, she goes to the neighbor who watches her when Mom is at work and they call 911. In her memory, Father is there before the police. Perhaps he is there before the police, it wouldn’t surprise her, but she does know she never sees her mother again.

The first day in the Luther household, she remembers vividly: holding Father’s hand, running to keep up with his stride, and he barges in the household. “I’ve brought a child,” He says. “Her name is Lena.” Lillian stands in the foyer, half frozen, and Lex barrels in at full speed, wearing Lacrosse gear. He has a mass of curly red hair, like he’s on fire. “Meet your sister.” They shake hands. Father takes her passed Lillian, who is stock still, and they go to the study together. She sits on the floor and he does paperwork. He puts her to bed himself; a bath, pajamas with the tags still on, and a finger of brandy mixed with water “for your nerves”. Lionel reads his business agreement out loud until she falls asleep. When she wakes up, she is alone.

Father is confident and cold and loves her as much as he is capable of loving anyone, which is not a lot at all. Lillian is capable of love but not for her – all of it belongs to Lex and Lex alone; strong Lex, smart Lex, brilliant Lex, Lex who has a string of heartbroken women, Lex who the rules don’t apply to; Lex who goes mad and tries to kill a god. He pleads insanity and Lena knows its fake, its orchestrated: Lex has never been clearer or more intense in his goals, but that comes later. As long as Lena has known him, Lex has half-assed everything, the result of being born with more money than many countries and zero consequences. Lex punches a boy at MIT for looking at him and returns the next semester. Lex crashes a yacht on his twentieth birthday. Lex crashes a yacht on her twentieth birthday and she wasn’t even there.

Lex is but the product of how he was raised. And so is she.

It’s why she surprises even herself when she heads into the college for journalism just twelve credits shy of her electrical engineering degree. She double majors, takes the extra eighteen months, and walks across her stage to no one. Father sends her a car and a bouquet of pink cosmos and there’s money in her account, more than she’s had before on her own. Lex calls, half drunk, to congratulate her and flays a corporate underling alive for interrupting him. Lena hangs up. He doesn’t call back.

Father tells her he is sick shortly after she gets the job at the Tribune in National City, as physically far apart as two cities can be in the continuous country.

She’s fixing herself dinner and lunch for the next day, with Father on speakerphone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to live in the brownstone?” He asks her. “It’s just sitting there. I already pay the taxes on it.”

“No, Father,” She replies. She’s chopping cucumbers for a Greek chicken salad. “I want to live on my own.”

“You would live on your own. Just a maid to come in and clean. Practically monkhood.”

“No, Father,” Lena repeats herself, turning a pan on medium.

He grunts eloquently, clears his throat and says, “I want you here for my birthday. It’ll be my last.”

“Father, please,” She scoffs. “You’re as healthy as –“

“I’m dying, Lena.” His voice is quiet. “I’ve been dying. Been fighting it, knowing Lex wasn’t ready for the company and you’re uninterested. He’s finally doing something with himself, though, and you’re a grown woman now. I can go. I just want you to say goodbye.”

Her hands are shaking. She puts the knife down. “How long do you have?”

Father scoffs, “Like I’d let any doctor tell me what to do. I’m having my birthday and I’m going to be euthanized now that there’s a civilized option.” His voice grows stronger, “I wouldn’t be able to stand it, pissing and shitting on myself, letting my mind go. No, not I. I’m going on my own terms.”

Lena clears her throat, feeling her breath catch, “Okay, Father. I understand.”

“Good,” He says. “So you’ll be here?”

“Yes, Father. I’ll book my ticket tonight.”

“Good.” He hangs up.

Lena puts the chicken tenders in the pan, watches it sizzle for a moment, and then goes to her cabinet for a bottle of wine.

She burns the chicken.

The day prior to her father’s birthday is when she’s given her very first story. Its thirty miles out of the city center and James Olsen comes along. He’s very cold to her, which she expects, but his photographs are amazing so she tolerates his attitude even when they’re in her car. She drives at the speed limit but barely and watches suburbs turn into desert turn into a farm that looks mostly like a forest. The parking lot is all dirt and houses not one, not two, but three beat up turn of the century trucks, a school bus painted blue, a van missing all four tires on concrete blocks, and an ATV. On top of the ATV is a chicken and it clucks at them menacingly.

“What the Hell?” Mutters Olsen under his breath.

She ignores him but has the same sentiment. She steps onto dirt in her Balenciaga sneakers and thinks, for the first time, maybe Gucci was not appropriate. Its desert as far as the eye can see until they get to the “farm” and there it’s covered in so many plants that she can hardly see ten feet ahead of her. They walk down a rough approximation of a path and stop at the first building they see. It’s steel, tan, and fairly new, with an AC sticking out of a rough cut hole packed into place with foam spray. There’s a window with a bell on it and she rings it.

A dirty young man comes out, his dreads tied back, dirt up to his forearms, and asks, “Y’all here for Kara?” He’s wearing a yellow t-shirt and cargo shorts held up by a shoestring. He’s thin, almost reedy, with an easy smile.

Lena nods, “Yeah, we’re from the Tribune.”

His head bobbles as he eyes both of them, “Cool, cool, lemme go get her.”

He ducks around the two of them and takes off running. They stand in the heat for about three minutes before the young man comes back with an equally young woman, both running with long, familiar strides. It’s now that she notices that they’re both barefoot.

“Hey,” The woman grins, all blue eyes and white teeth, “I’m Kara Kent.”

She’s as dirt covered as her companion but thrusts out a hand anyways. She’s wearing jeans so worn that the holes are visible in both knees and a gray t-shirt that says “El’s Farm”. She wears a John Deere hat on top of neatly buzzed blond hair, blue eyes glimmering. Her shirt is tight around her arms, all muscle, and her jeans barely hold her thighs in place. Lena is immediately half in love. She’s always loved women who work with their hands. James shakes first and then Lena.

“James Olsen,” Says James. Then, he asks, “You know a Clark? The last name is familiar.”

Her grin widens, “My cousin. You must be Jimmy.”

He clears his throat, “Just James, please.”

Lena shakes as well, noticing a split blister on Kara’s thumb and that all of her fingers are rough.

“I’m Lena Luther.”

Kara’s smile turns sardonic, “The orphan that could. They used to talk about you all the time at my group home, before I got to live with Clark.”

She blinks, “Really?”

Kara nods, her grin more mischievous now, “Oh yeah. The nuns were crazy about you. They always told us if we were on our best behavior, we’d get adopted by a rich couple like you did. When you went to MIT, you’d’ve thought you walked on water. The Mother was so overcome with joy, she cried for a week.”

Lena isn’t sure how to feel about it and it must show on her face because Kara laughs and claps her on the shoulder so hard she feels her knees buckle.

Kara jerks her head, “C’mon, I’ll show you around. Virgil, finish with the microgreens and we’ll meet up at the greenhouse in twenty.”

He gives her a thumbs up, waves to them, and goes back into the steel building.

She does give them a quick tour – the path is an actual path and less meandering when they’re further away from the initial opening, concrete pavers with leaf and flower imprints leading the way – “we did those ourselves, s’why they’re all sorta shapes, this flower set is from a broccoli plant that bolted” - first to two more buildings she points out as the storage room and the cold room, both similar steel buildings to the first with more foam sprayed air conditioners.

“What’s a cold room do?” Lena asks her phone already on record.

Kara smiles at her, “Ya wanna wait until the end of the tour? I fully intend to give you a real interview away from the heat but I know Just James wants pictures before it gets dark out.”

Lena can’t stop her own grin. Her makeup feels like it’ll sweat off at the rate of the temps outside.

Kara leads them to the first building, opens it to show them thousands of hanging bulbs of onions and garlic.

“We just finished our allium harvest of storage onions and garlic. Beat our record: twelve thousand. Ten thousand is in garlic and half of that will probably be broken up and sold or used as seed garlic, and the onions are eaten, given away, goes into our CSA box, go to the pigs. The works.”

James makes her back up, moves Kara further inside, makes her take the hat off, and he moves himself until he gets the right picture. He clicks off three or four of them before they move onto the next building. Lena notes that each of the buildings they’ve passed has gutters and the gutters go to PVC pipe that leads above ground to the east.

The cold room, she discovers, is a walk in refrigerator for cheap. There’s foam board insulation, bare to the eye, and the floor is concrete. It houses about thirty totes, each with masking top on one part. Lena takes a closer look at the closest one. “Arugula, 41 lbs.”

“We harvest about seven to eight hundred pounds of produce during the summer, more if we do root vegetables. Everything’s already washed and sorted in here, we just combine for salad mixes or braising mixes by the totes. Only about half of these are filled.”

Kara continues to show them the market garden: there are four blocks of twenty five rows, each dedicated to a family of crops and a station set up at the beginning of each block. Only three are in rotation; the other is covered in black tarps to lay fallow until next spring. Each block is home to a hedgerow of berries, in between the rows are flower beds, and in the back are ironwood trees.

“Nitrogen fixers,” Kara explains, “And they do great in the desert as shade. Our water consumption was reduced a lot by that and we’re almost entirely off of on-site rain water. There’s a well on the property but with the drought, I never want to use it, so we occasionally truck it in from some of the other places that collect rainwater that haven’t used it all but we don’t use groundwater.”

James takes pictures as they walk, sometimes all natural and sometimes posing Kara or one of about three workers, including Virgil who passes by them as James takes pictures of Kara with a hoe. He makes Virgil backtrack and the two weed in between the rows of beans, and then their hands and bare feet by the lettuce. He snaps a picture of a butterfly floating by one of the open marigolds.

Kara leads them up the land, passed the crop field, passed the fallow field, and to the greenhouse. Lena is sweating buckets and James doesn’t look far behind but if it’s hot outside, the greenhouse is sweltering.

“Oh my God,” Lena says aloud, involuntarily.

Kara gives them both bottles of water from a cooler right inside the door.

“Yeah, it’s about twenty degrees hotter in here than it is outside. This is where we keep our tropical plants and the hardening off station for our nursery plants.” She jerks her chin to the man inside, “Virgil is in charge of all our nursery plants and the microgreens. Timmy does our cut flowers and Kate and I handle the rest of the farm. Everybody works together on packing and harvesting day, though.”

Virgil shakes his head, “What would you do without me?”

She grins back, easy, rocking on her heels, “Suffer, obviously.”

People who smile easily have always confounded Lena. She wasn’t a happy child and now as an adult, the idea that some people are just easy to get along with has never settled well with her. She’s awkward and always feels like an imposter when trying to be friendly. Confronted with two of them, she looks around and through the plastic to a whole different field outside, on the other side of the hill with a round, canvas building on top of it.

“What’s that?” She asks.

Kara turns back to her, her hands in her pockets, “There’s my yurt and beyond that is the field for seeds.”

“You grow your own seeds?”

Kara replies, pride in her eyes, “Fifty varieties of them. It’s really my passion, the market garden and CSA are cool, ya know, gets the bills paid-“

Virgil snorts, “What bills, hillbilly?”

Kara plows on, “But seed keeping and the animal breeding is what gets me up in the morning.”

“Can we see?” Lena asks. Kara opens the door for them, “Absolutely.”

She takes them to the field, helping Lena mind her steps over and behind the steep hill, walking with the surety of a goat. Closer, she sees that some of the plants are covered in translucent bags. Kara shows them the varieties – seven types of lettuce, three peppers, five tomatoes, ten types of flowers, two types of snap pea, several types of dried beans and peas, six types of broccoli, and lots of herbs.

“All of these plants are from seeds I’ve either gotten over the years at garage sales or plant sales or seed sales, even church sales when they clean out the storage room, and the rest is from people in the area. Normally, they’re disenfranchised or undocumented people who want their family legacy to live on or even aliens.” She points to a section covered in chicken wire and green posts, “That’s the chicken area where we collect eggs for the CSA and local neighborhoods, and on this side –“ She does a 180, “Are the pigs. They eat all the scraps, all the weeds, and we have two breeding pairs right now, and all their purebred piglets go to be breeders. One is a Mangalista and the other is Red Wattle. They occasionally ignore me and crossbreed and when they do, we raise the babies and then process and sell to some restaurants in National City, like Donovan’s and Area 51. Apparently, that mix tastes exactly like a blurghap from Planet Xhiauovrat.”

Kara pauses to put her hands on her hips and start stretching at the waist, bending so far backwards that her shirt slips and Lena is aware that her happy trail is also blond and she has abs. She takes a sip of her water and nearly chokes. Kara taps her on the back, nowhere near as staggering as the shoulder clap earlier, and she coughs her water up.

As promised, Kara leads them to the yurt. It’s a decent size – nowhere near the size of a house but much larger than a tent. There’s a basin outside with a bar of soap and she washes her hands, feet, and face in the chill water that she throws down the hillside before she comes inside.

“Shoes off at the door,” She calls and they follow. Lena’s got it a sight easier than James, who wore hiking boots.

The inside of it is crowded but orderly and lovely. As soon as she walks in, she sees a coatrack that’s all windbreakers and hats. Kara’s John Deere hat is at the very top, the brim bent and dirty. The floors are wooden, a different type than the deck outside, and the windows are up so light floods inside. She looks up to find that the roof is translucent and much closer than it appeared outside. There’s a full kitchen pushed against one side, a small table in the middle covered in folders and paper and a beat up laptop, a bouquet of flowers in a tin can, and on the other side is a library. There are shelves there, just covered in books from floor to ceiling, and what looks like a handmade sofa. It smells like lavender and mint inside. There are plywood walls about 2/3rds of the way down and Kara calls over her shoulder, “Let me wash my face again and I’ll sit out there with you. Take a seat anywhere.”

Lena sits at the table, twisting her empty water bottle between her hands when James comes inside. He’s got his camera around his neck still and sits across from her.

“Talk about all day,” Olsen says and Lena nods. She takes her bottle and puts it on the back of her neck.

Kara emerges in a clean, white t-shirt and a face scrubbed so briskly her cheeks are pink. She’s beautiful, Lena realizes again, with her soft, red mouth and eyes like stars.

“You guys want something to drink?” She asks.

Olsen says no but Lena says, “Please.”

Kara opens the fridge, “I’ve got water, raspberry sweet tea, orange juice, and milk.”

“I’ll take the tea.”

Lena wonders why she says “sweet” and not “iced” when she takes a sip. It’s sweeter than any drink she’s ever had short of a soda but tastes good. There are a lot of other flavors to it, a little bite of herbs and a distinctive tea flavor.

Kara sits across from her and smiles her easy smile, “You want to just fire away or do you want me to start and you just jump in when you need clarification?”

Lena licks her lips, thinking, and Kara’s eyes dart to her mouth then back to her eyes.

“Were your parents into gardening? How’d you get into it?”

Kara nods, cracks her neck audibly, and says, “Neither of my parents was into gardening. My father was a geneticist and my mother was working at the state attorney’s office when they died. It was why my aunt killed them; she was an extremist eco terrorist and my father was creating a new type of corn to outcompete the native types in Mexico and improving Roundup because of all the birth defects and bee deaths associated with it at the time. My mother was helping fight a lot of the class action lawsuits, throwing stuff out, pretending to lose paperwork, paying police officers to lose certain cases, that sort of thing. So she went over for lunch one Sunday and she killed them and then herself.

“I was riding my bike home from a friend’s place, at the time, because my mom was supposed to pick me up. We were supposed to go to the science museum. We had a dog and he barked like crazy until one of the neighbors went to see what was going on and called 911. My aunt’s husband said he wouldn’t take me, so I was taken to a group home for six months while they tried to find some relatives. My closest relative was Clark and he’d been adopted as a baby when my aunt and uncle died in a car crash. My parents were out the country at the time and by the time they got back, he was already settled with the Kent’s. They didn’t really keep tabs on him. My uncle and father apparently never got along.”

“You talked about living with nuns. Tell me about it? How’d you end up living with them?”

“I lived with the neighbors for two weeks but I was – sad, a lot, and destructive so they took me to the Catholic Church that had an orphanage while the police tried to find Clark. I got counseling while I was there and I realized being angry wouldn’t get me anywhere with a buncha women in their fifties who served a higher purpose. I started smiling more and I realized I was happier smiling more. I’d just gotten used to it when they found Clark and Clark was twenty four; he didn’t really want a kid around at the time but he took me in and left me with his parents. Uncle Jonathan was a farmer in Kansas – and this is really what you think of as a farmer, he had the tractor and the overalls and the acres and acres of corn. Aunt Martha baked a lot, sold some of it but most of it was for neighbors, and when that wasn’t happening, she was planning for the school year. It bored me to tears. I was from Argo and I was used to a lot of extreme sports – mountain boarding and snowboarding and hiking trails and cave exploration, that kinda thing. I was doing kendo and krav maga every day after school. Smallville was four thousand people and eight thousand cows.”

Olsen snorts and Lena bites her lips to keep from smiling.

Kara rubs her eyebrow with the heel of her palm, “Yeah, I’m serious. I’d bike to the library and read all day and I was so keyed up I’d pace the halls all night. Couldn’t sleep. Drove Unc crazy. Lucky I was too short to reach the pedals or I’d have been in the tractor from sunup to sundown.”

“So he inspired you to be a farmer?” Lena asks.

Kara scoffs, “God, no. He complained the whole time and told me to make something of myself. I got into farming from books. I was riding home one night, I think just after the fourth of July, and passed this garage sale. Some guy ran out on his wife and she’d put all his stuff out there. Everything was a quarter and I mean everything. Pants, shoes, shirts? Quarter for the pile. Golf clubs? Quarter. Fishing poles? Quarter. His truck? Quarter. Once I realized she was serious, with Lara Smith in the truck, pulling off, I put my bike on the rack in the ATV and picked up all the books I could. Paid fifty cents. Made it right to the barn when it ran outta gas.” The longer she talked, the deeper her accent got. She’d sounded like any civilized Californian to Lena’s ear initially but now it was the sort of Midwestern accent she expected from somebody who’d grown up on a corn farm.

“I went through the books and found he’d recently purchased two: Making Small Farms Work by Richard Perkins, which was about a permaculture setup in Sweden and The Market Gardener by Jean-Martin Fortier. Wasn’t a thumb print on them. They changed my life, particularly Fortier. He’s Canadian and works the French intensive method, like Eliot Coleman, and talked about farming in a way I hadn’t thought before, and about how to grow, why to grow certain crops, and the small startup costs. By the time I finished, I was behind Uncle Jon every day, asking –“ She pitches her voice up into the whine of a young teenager, one who’s voice hadn’t deepened any, “when I could have my own garden, I only needed two acres, I wouldn’t even need a tractor. He got so sick of me, he asked who I thought I was that I could go from never even seeing a plant grow to thinking I could make a living at it. I’ve never been a sensible person so I asked Aunt Martha if she’d talk to him about an acre or two and she said, ‘Well, if it were me, I’d buy the seeds first.’ So I bought seeds and she would just drag me by the nose from point to point, maybe thinking I’d give up. ‘Well, I’d need to start up the seeds first. Gee, let’s look up the planting date, oh no, what about water, golly where will we put ‘em, man, a garden is needed.’”

Kara suddenly laughs, “She got me to put in a full acre garden by hand, muck stalls for the compost, clear weeds, clear brush, everything. I was using a chainsaw before I got my permit. Hell, I was using the truck to take brush to the back forty to burn for her. I pounded T-posts for two weeks and fenced in the garden the first time I saw a deer near my plants.”

“How much did you make your first year?”

“Two thousand. Uncle Jon charged me for gas, using his chain saw, using his field, using his T-posts, using his chicken wire, the whole nine yards. I think he made more off of me than he did farming.”

Lena frowns, “That’s depressing. I’d have given up.”

Kara shakes her head, “I couldn’t. By then I had a point to prove. I used my money to work on infrastructure – a taller fence, my own gas, seed, a seeder, a little greenhouse. I argued that I was supposed to get some money from mucking the stalls and Uncle Jon said it was my room and board and if I wanted more money, I’d have to do more around the house. I did laundry once and dyed all his undershirts pink and he said he’d pay me to leave him the hell alone. I was so serious about it that Aunt Martha promised to take me to Wichita’s farmer market if I could fill the truck bed and we’d borrow the tent and tables from the church. She may as well have cussed me, because by the time it was April, I had the truck full. Snow on the ground but there was –“ She sucked on her lip, her eyes far away, “I think a full tote of peas, a full tote of spinach, chard, carrots, leeks, and storage onions. I just put everything in plastic bags and handed it to the customers. I had butternut and acorn squash from the year before, still good in the cellar, so I figured Hell, may as well and took those too.”

She settles back in her chair coolly, “I made more that first day than I’d made the year before selling in Smallville. It was fantastic. After that, I was hooked.”

Kara is not the only one hooked; Lena can’t stop listening. Kara’s a good talker so there’s never really anything she needs to ask as Kara talks about succession planting and maxing out on an acre and planting with the seasons to maximize space.

“What’s something you’ve never grown?” Lena asks her as she extols the virtues of steamed turnip greens.

“Commercially? Cabbage. It’s too cheap to bother with for any semblance of a price. Broccoli is easier and more money than cabbage. Less slugs.”

“Something you love?”

“Beans. Plant ‘em and they go.”

“How’d you start saving seed?”

Kara grins, “It was cheaper than buying tomato seeds. I picked the best of them and then I’d slice and freeze and when it was time for buying seeds, I’d bury it in about an inch of dirt and take all the babies and switch ‘em to plug trays.”

“You’ve got quite a few seeds now, so how did you start saving so many if it was just for the money?”

Kara licks her teeth, “We had old neighbors. Mrs. Hamilton was about six hundred when I was a kid, I’m talkin’ bout old. Just dusty. And if she was six hundred, her wife was about five hundred ninety nine plus or minus a day. They saw me hauling produce out the garden day after day and I’d given them some lettuce I hadn’t sold, a couple tomatoes. One day she asked me what I intended to do for beauty. I said I had no idea what she was talking about. She threw her hands up, had to grab the fence before she fell over, and made me come inside with her. I was a half-step behind in case she fell but she didn’t and I waited in the kitchen. She gave me a glass of lemonade, an oatmeal cookie, and a little half pint mason jar of seeds. “Those,” She told me, “are Bachelor’s Buttons, sometimes called cornflowers. It’s where cornflower blue comes from and it is the exact shade of my lovely bride’s eyes. You’ll grow them for beauty and the first blooms belong to my wife.””

She smiled, taking a sip of her sugary tea, “Oh I was mad. I thought I’d been doing a good job of the garden, it was colorful, everything had some little splash to it, it was in a spiral pattern. I was growing in abundance. I realize now I was insecure that she thought because my work wasn’t beautiful but functional that I would not be beautiful as an adult, simply functional. I had never worried about being beautiful before that – my parents were liberals and insisted that a child not be told they’re beautiful because it would make the child hinge their entire personality on it. They preferred that I be functional so I was told I was a strong girl, not a pretty girl, or an excellent athlete or a wonderful baker, that sorta thing. Lots of adjectives.”

“Did you plant the flowers?”

“Of course I did. I didn’t want to but by the time I made it inside, Mrs. Hamilton had called Aunt Martha, and she watched me go right out there and plant the seeds and water them. They were lovely flowers. I did bring the first bouquet to the Hamilton’s and then I sold some but I figured, “Whatever” and saved the seeds. I still have some. I plant a few every year just to save the seed.”

Lena asks, “Were the rest given to you?”

Kara nods, “Oh yeah. Small town like Smallville? Somebody young doing the planting, they ask you plant everything. I had beans from the statehood growing up one side of a trellis by cucumbers from somebody’s grandma from Armenia. Everybody had a tomato plant they needed growing. Everybody had a story to tell. Why’s that your favorite flower?”

She is pointing to the bouquet on the table, sitting in a tin can of water.

Lena blinks, confused, “It’s not.”

“Well, what is?”

Lena frowns, thinking, but James answers, “Chrysanthemums. My grandfather wore one every Sunday.” He smiles, “It always made me feel grown up when he’d put one in my lapel. We didn’t even go to church; we’d just put the flowers in and go for dinner together.”

Kara nods, “And that’s why I do it. I preserve memories, I preserve families and histories and hurts with those seeds. The journey passes from person to person with those.” Kara blinks her eyes, glances at her oven and asks, “Want to stay for dinner?”

Lena wants to. She’s sure James does too but she’s got a flight early tomorrow morning to the other side of the country and sees her father for what’s probably the last time.

She grimaces, “I wish. I gotta type this up and then I’ve got a flight tomorrow.”

Kara frowns, “Aw, that’s too bad.” She stands up and walks them all the way to Lena’s car, her hands in her pockets, and the John Deere hat on her head backwards.

The chicken is sleeping on the ATV and she clucks, eyes narrowed, and sidles up to it. Lena is strapping into her seat but pauses to watch her walk sideways to a sleeping chicken, put a hand over it, and then grab and truss it under her arm.

“This is Bonnie,” Kara introduces them. “She likes to run away.”

Lena watches her go most of the way to the path, before the bend when she’s out of sight because of the ironwoods, and leans her head out her own window, “Hey, Kara!”

Kara turns, light on her feet.

“It’s cosmos! My father sent them for my college graduation!”

Kara’s grin lights up her face and she walks the path backwards.

The drive home is almost as silent as the drive to the farm. “She’s different from Clark,” Olsen finally says. “Hard to imagine they grew up in the same house.”

Lena doesn’t say anything and Olsen stops making conversation. They listen to Lana Del Rey the whole way home.

Lena’s flight is direct and she lands just in time to catch an Uber to the mansion before the price surges.

“This your place?” Her driver asks with a thick accent. Lena nods, grabs her backpack, and exits the car. Security lets her in immediately. Her key still works and she walks into the foyer like she did over two decades ago.

Lex is in the piano room and Lillian in the kitchen. Lex smiles but it’s thin and doesn’t reach his eyes. Lillian is shaking slightly and Lena avoids her. Father is in his study, as always, and perks up just slightly when she walks in.

“Lena,” He says and stands and they touch cheeks. He gives her a sheet of paper, ink still wet at the bottom. She knows it’s his will before he even hands it to her and she pushes it aside.

His eyebrows rise over familiar green eyes, “No questions?”

She responds, “Just one.”

Father says without her asking, “You are my biological child. Lex didn’t know; Lillian did.”

Her mouth parts and all that comes out is a tiny, “Oh.”

He opens the scotch and grabs two tumblers. He pours two fingers in one and one in another.

“Do you still take it with water?”

She nods and he pours a finger of water in the glass, sliding it to her.

She sips and he gulps, his silver streaked hair catching in the light. It makes her think of Kara and it gives her the courage to say, “Father, my question.”

Father slams the glass down. “That wasn’t it?”

She shakes her head, “No.”

His brows furrow, as if what else could she possibly have to ask him but he says, “Go on, Lena-girl.”

“What’s your favorite flower?”

END

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp #supercorp fanfiction #kara x lena #kara danvers #kara zor-el #lena luthor

7 notes · View notes

australian-desi · 4 years ago

Text

Qurbaan Hua ~ Episode 2: Of Flowers, Doctors and Evil Family Members

Helloooo, I totally didn’t abandon liveblogging this show because of my lack of ability to balance my life and also because I really could not make myself do it, but now I’ve finished 1 year of uni and I feel like I should be able to do this now, but I also have a habit of starting things and not following through with them so we shall see how this adds up. Now that this self depreciating rant is over, welcome back to Qurbaan Hua a show I am watching just for Karan Jotwani, his face, body, mind and spirit. Also because it’s been a while since I’ve watched an extremely toxic man and wonder how this one’s gonna outdo the rest???? I need a better hobby.

Also I will be liveblogging this episode, and the last week, coz otherwise, it will take too long, but I will make posts here and there if something aggravates me enough.

So anyway lets get this show on the road

Just a quick recap for me and the rest, we left off at the girl (whose name we do not know as yet), sitting in a bus next to Neil, who prayed to god that he would never see her again coz she’s a ‘teekhi as shezwan sauce’, to his utter disbelief his seat is next to hers, they have a spat over the window seat, and coz he’s assigned that seat, she gives in. After that some goons appear in the bus to kill her as she saved some kids from their boss, and Neil, in typical tellywood style, claimed her as his wife

Also Neil is a the token family disappointment coz he decided to become a professional chef rather than the head pandit, he has a sister that could give Anjali competition and she is also preggers and has a shady husband.

Now we can truly get this show on the road:

I have truly forgotten how our girl got sindoor on her forehead but it is working towards this whole “husband saves wife” ting

OMG I CANNOT THE GOONS DO NOT LOOK SCARY IN THE SLIGHTEST

Also she warned Neil that they are ‘very dangerous’ and he’s reassured her by telling her to play along

“Sorry madam humein bola tha ke uss ladki ne peela suit pehna tha aur kunwari thi, lekin aap ki toh shaadi ho chuki hai” LOLLLL SO THEY KNOW WHAT SHE’S WEARING AND HER MARITAL STATUS BUT DO NOT KNOW WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE, TF?????

“Haan humein shaadi ko 6 mahine ho gaye hai” “LEKIN BHAI-JI PICHLE 6 MAHINO SE ISSNE MERA JEENA HARAM KARDIYA HAI” loving this overacting ki dukaan and the whole ins and outs of their “marriage” that the bus now knows

The goon is even like “bitch I’m out”

omfg she’s trying to thank him, and he’s all up on his high horse. Just takes the thanks and move on, why you gotta be all up with the ego (also I’m not gonna post anymore photos or we’ll literally be here all day, screencaps will be back once I’m upto date)

And he’s calling her shezwan sauce again coz she’s always getting him into musibats and “shezwan sauce ka kaam hi yeh hota hai... seene mein aag lagana” ALSO FYI THIS IS THEIR SECOND MEETING SO TRULY WTF, (but I’m also here for this)

ohhh sifaljiya means sar dard without ilaaj (aww they’ve given each other nicknames how cute)

HAHAHAH HE SAID SAME TO YOU AND SMIRKED

I like his sass

So she’s come home after 3 months, to see her baba, who is overweight? and she’s his dietician because looking after your parents is directly correlated with sanskaar

Also coz she’s smart she’s realised that she’s gonna meet him again so this would be enjoyable and she wants to get rid of all ehsaan he has on her so they never meet again

basically I spoke too soon coz she genuinely thinks a simple thankyou will stop them from meeting again

And he’s gone

OMG I THOUGH THEY WONT SEE EACH OTHER BUT THEY DID SO OMLLLLL

Nice touch with the masjid and the mandir in opposing directions, and her turning away from him to pray and now they’re facing in opposite directions towards their faiths, I’m gonna guess that’s their major conflict

ALSO WHAT DID I TELL Y’ALL IN THE LAST LB, THIS FLOWER WILL BLOOM BECAUSE OF THESE TWO, SO SUCK ON THAT NEIL’S DAD

Also welcome to the beginning of another toxic yet addictive ‘love story’

So her dad is a carpenter of sorts

Also he looks quite skinny so what was the fat shaming for?????

WE FINALLY HAVE A NAME - CHAHAT BAIG?

No, he’s a gynaec and carpentry is a ‘shaunk’

Oh no, I see where this is going, god fucking dammit dave (yes I talk in tiktok now)

So she’s become his ‘doctor’ when he’s an actual doctor, also he’s asking her questions that a fkn year 7 kid would know the answers to

And now they’ve ‘earned’ each other’s hugs how normal and sweet

She has come first in MBBS - I’m actually really proud

Also, I would like to give this show a shoutout for actually giving me a female lead who is more educated than the male lead. Like all the other shows I’ve watched, except for Kaisi Yeh Yaariaan (which I don’t consider mainstream ITV) and EDKV (but even in that Shravan was more educated than Suman), the female leads weren’t even college graduates and finally there’s one who has a MBBS.

And we have someone named ‘Ghazala’ who makes it seem she is a sore spot for Chahat

And ofcourse we are back to the dramatic poojas and saying manhoos things to poison the dad’s brain against his own son

HOW MANY GODDAMN MANDIRS DOES THIS HOUSE HAVE

What is this random relative, who sometimes cosplays to be blind, sometimes ties his feet together

Also why is this family so dramatic about him being a little late

What if mans had an accident, or he got hurt, or he died? But nah, mans is just disrespectful and hates his family and god

There is not one family member maybe except for Anjali2.0 who I care for and she’s gonna die

omg not again with this idiot calling her Sarasti and he’s been declared as the rightful next head priest

And ofcourse Shyam1.5 (coz he’s not as badass as the original), is going to be all fake and be like “noooo, Neil is the rightful owner of this position” etc. etc.

The dad is predictably blinded by his whole act and asking him how can he be so selfless

Now we have cut back to Ghazala???? who has all these women getting her ready like its the 1600s (one of them is called Shabnam, which is my mum’s name so this is awks)

It’s the heavy urdu and obsession of beauty for me

She’s the evil stepmother.tm

Why are these tv dads either sooooo dumb, soooo cunning or soooo dead, like can’t there be a normal tv dad who is alive and smart and loving

like this whamen is playing him, and he’s a bloody doctor and he’s letting it happen

Also I ain’t seen itv female leads with alive parents, always one or both of them gotta be dead

LOLLL IN TRUE SNOW WHITE FASHION, THE MIRROR ON THE WALL (I.E. MAIDS) HAVE SAID CHAHAT IS 10X PRETTIER THAN HER STEP MUM

It’s the mirror breaking and the Mrs. Baig, for me

HAHAHHA SHE THOUGHT THAT CHAHAT WAS GOING IN FOR THE HUG, BUT SHE’S ACTUALLY GONE TO SEE THE NAME PLAQUE THINGY HER DAD HAS MADE FOR HER

And the Kedarnath soundtrack is back

Our mans has finally come, and picked up his sister, scaring her in the process

Awww I’m actually devastated that their killing Anjali2.0 off, I like her bond with Neil (no matter how co-dependent/toxic it may be)

Why is Ghazala, a grown adult woman, jealous of her husband’s kid, that is weird and creepy

I love the whole my name is Chahat Rahil Baig because without my dad, I have no identity etc. but does she not realise, that Baig is also given to her from her dad????

LOLLLL THE DRAMATICS OF SEEING SINDOOR IN HER HAIR (umm surely this isn’t that serious of a situation, she could literally just say idk)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, I will be liveblogging here and there, but proper liveblogs will happen when I’ve caught up. I hope all of you are happy, safe and well!

#qurbaan hua

0 notes

icecreambat · 7 years ago

Text

Story time: Dating everyone in P5 turned Joker into a sociopath

The first time I ended up dating more than one girl in a Persona game, it was an honest accident. I’d already imprinted on Chie in Persona 4, and had no idea comforting Yukiko during her social link would turn me into a two-timing douche. A quick save-state reload rectified this mistake, but it taught me an important lesson: in Persona games, monogamy is not the limit of your teenage life.

As Persona 5 rolled around, I grew fond of Makoto on my first playthrough. With her on my side I experienced the Phantom Thief thrill ride, maxing my social links while gently turning other girls down. It wasn’t until the NewGame+ that I wondered: wouldn’t it be interesting to try the multi-dating thing? That way I could fast-forward all romance scenarios and not watch them on Youtube later like a loser, duh. If this game was intentionally giving me the opportunity to be Tokyo’s biggest Don Juan, then by Mona, I’d do it!

Little did I know, though, that as I embarked on a quest to bag all the single ladies* the whole atmosphere of the game changed. What had been a more or less generic adventure about truth and justice took on some… rather disturbing undertones, ones that went beyond the actual dating scenarios. In fact, the game turned out to be such an interesting social experiment that I wanted to write about it, so here I am. So, this is a recap of how dating multiple people in Persona 5 turned my Joker into a sociopath.

* except for Makoto, because a) I already romanced her before and b)…. it didn’t feel right, her being my first and all. SO SUE ME I’M A LOSER AFTER ALL

So. Here we are again, moving to Tokyo, whoop de doo. NewGame+ means not having to waste days on working out the ropes, so you can focus on the stuff that matters: getting as overpowered as you can in the least amount of time possible. For me, this meant maxing out Kawakami’s social link as fast as I could, because her bonuses are pretty swank – I really could have used the post-Mementos or post-palace massages during my first playthrough too, but kinda forgot about her right after Operation Maidwatch. Well, no more! I was bringing that teacher home left and right at every possible instance, so obviously I ended up maxing her link first. Ergo, we entered a relationship.

I’m not gonna lie: the Kawakami romance is some weird (and arguably illegal) shit. Maybe that kinda set the tone of this adventure from the start, giving me an mc who was 100% ok with romancing his homeroom teacher slash part time maid. Uh… huh. Given that my suspension of disbelief went out of the window right about there, it was easy to pick the “omg i totally like, care about you and stuff” dialogue options that went with it; I mean, I was doing this for science and stuff, no big deal.

That’s why it surprised me that when it was time to romance the next (un)lucky girl, I felt like shit about it. Not because of Kawakami, but because Ann wasn’t some ludicrous dating option pulled out of the “lol what if we let the players date everyone!!” shitpost book. Instead, Ann and the mc had already been through Some Shit together, best friend suicide attempts and sexually abusive PE teachers included, and she was a teenage girl looking for her place in the world. So when Ann confided in me about her feelings and told the mc she loved him, “returning” her feelings –while knowing I was already dating my…. uhh, homeroom teacher slash part time maid– genuinely made me feel like the absolute scum of the earth.

“I can’t do this,” I thought at this point, “Even if these are fictional characters in a fictional game, I feel like shit lying to these girls that I care about them, because obviously that’s not true if I’m so callously dating someone else behind their back. How can people do that in real life if I can’t even do it in a video game? Oh, naïve me! Because my lesson in the callousness of man had only just begun.

Anyway, so. Here I am, dating Kawakami and Ann. I think I figured that lying to my teammates didn’t Feel Very Good so headlining for randos seemed like the better choice to make next: Ohya the reporter ended up being the third girl I romanced, and it was relieving she seemed to understand the unlikely nature of our relationship. “I get that we probably won’t stay together forever,” she was telling me, almost like she knew she was only the third wheel in my extended trailer truck, headed to nowhere fast; the same kinda goes for Tae, the punk rock doctor, whose reservedness somehow made it easier to ignore the serial cheater vibes in the dynamic.

Chihaya, on the other hand, was different. Seemingly a little younger than the other grown-ups, she was already a lot more straightforward about her interest in the mc, and harbored all sorts of weird fantasies about them staying together forever. Which is exactly what I told her would happen. Not! Funny that for a fortune teller she couldn’t see I was also spouting this same shit to four other girls, huh? Chihaya reminded me of Ann, in a way, which is why the Bad Feels actually started to resurface here – it’s one thing to lie boldly in the face of girls (women) who aren’t really that invested in you to begin with, but when it’s people who actually believe said lies… well.

Now, I know, I know. There’s no actual reason to feel guilty, because these choices don’t affect the gameplay in any way. Whether or not the mc is an asshole in some ways will still result in everyone loving the shit out of him, and being sad when he leaves. Sure, there’s the scene after Valentine’s Day where you get beat up for being a cheater and the girls kind of call him out on it, but that’s about it; this isn’t Mass Effect, you can’t go full renegade, etc. etc. But even if the game barely acknowledges the clear disparity in the mc’s words and actions, it’s really hard to overlook as the player, and as I said, it kinda changes the tone of the whole game.

You see, during the course of the story the mc ends up establishing a whole bunch of social links: Ryuji, Yusuke, Mishima and even Sojiro are but few of the guys you end up making heartfelt bonds with too. Only problem is, once you go the Lie Route with the girls, the mc hardly comes across as any more honest with the guys – and this is what really puts a spin on his reliability. Everyone’s always going on about what a great guy he is, but none of them know what a quadruple-timing, lying asshole he is at the same time. And why would they? All he does is tell people what they want to hear!

Apparently the devs of Dream Daddy wanted to challenge the notion that this kind of behaviour automatically leads to “good endings” in visual novels, because it only makes the mc seem a little sociopathic. Sure enough, that’s exactly the word I would use to describe how my mc started to come across in all his social interactions in P5. Well, not all, actually; there was one character whose exchanges with the mc came across as genuine even when virtually nothing else did. Yeah, you guessed it: Akechi.

I’m taking a brief interlude here to talk about Akechi, because my social experiment with the mc’s romances actually ended up underlining how similar he and Akechi are as people. It’s what the game hints at continuously with the whole ~two sides of the same coin stuff anyway, but the point really gets hammered home when you repeatedly watch the mc fake his way through life just like Akechi puts on his own double persona (pun not intended). In that sense, it’s only natural that the two would recognize each other as equals, and that their interactions ring more sincere than any other discussion they have in the game.

But back to serial dating, if you will. After Chihaya, I started dating Hifumi the shogi girl, but to be completely honest I sort of mentally fazed her out; with every new girl I tricked into dating me, the initial unease seemed to diminish until I couldn’t remember what had made me feel so disgusted in the first place. I mean, I was already lying to so many people, what did it matter if I lied to one more, right? It’s not like I actually hung out with anyone ever again after I “entered a relationship” with them, and it’s not like my actions carried over to pre-scripted cutscenes, so who cares, right? Nobody (well, apart from a physical game engine) was forcing these girls to believe my bullshit, so really, the fault was theirs for being so gullible, right!!11

…Well, I might have been able to go along with that type of douchebag logic if I’d only kept dating randos. Since I skipped Makoto, the next girl I got cozy with was Futaba… and this is where the skeezy-ville started to nag on my consciousness again, because like with Ann, you know that Futaba’s been through A Lot: she basically spent the past couple of years as a hikikomori, convinced that her mother committed suicide because of her. Trust is a really big thing for her, so throwing a cheating mc into that equation gets really ugly when you think about how he gains that trust just to betray it. When you add in Sojiro, you’re essentially screwing both of them over while pretending to be a happy little family. If you take these events at face value, it kinda makes you wonder: seriously dude, what on earth is your damage?!

If that wasn’t disturbing enough, we finish with Haru. She is also running from one abuser but, if dating a cheating mc, kind of ends up in the arms of another. Although she enters the story fairly late in the game, it’s no less shitty to listen to her be so grateful for your “support”, knowing you’ve sat through variations of this scene with half a dozen other girls already. I just kind of kept staring at the mc’s poker face (pun not intended, again) while wondering how much worse it seems that none of these choices affect anything tangible in the game, even when the whole theme is helping other people (and shitty authority figures, sure, but mainly helping people).

And you know, it’s really that endless poker face that gives the whole thing such a weird ass vibe: this is a 17-year-old kid who’s moved to Tokyo for a year, and ends up constructing a meticulously crafted fake personality that has everyone treating him like the greatest guy on earth. If you perceive this as the intended story (as opposed to the mismatch of a fixed script and optional gameplay choices that it actually is), Persona 5 suddenly becomes a story much darker than its original premise. Who is the real mc, and why is he doing any of this? What is his actual sense of truth and justice, if he spins it so grotesquely to suit his given situation? How troubled does he have to be for this kind of behaviour to emerge, and what caused it?

I know getting busted on Valentine’s Day is played mainly for laughs, but when you put all this together it’s obvious just getting dumped doesn’t even begin to cover the actual consequences of the mc’s actions should have. For the 100% fake personality he’s clearly constructed up until this point, how anyone can still follow him into the depths of Mementos is beyond me. But hey, I know we’re not operating on earth logic here.

Still, as I mentioned, this levels the mc with Akechi a lot – suddenly it’s very hard to condemn Akechi, even in theory, for the route he ended up taking in life, because isn’t the mc basically doing the same thing? Taking advantage of as many people he can to advance his own ends, with the only difference that he ended up on the winning side? Not only that, but it makes it harder to root for the “good guys”, knowing that you’re not a good guy – you’re just some guy with a big enough charm stat to make people follow your fake ideals, whatever those might in reality be.

Personally, I was also surprised at how easy it was to go from “this is horrible I hate this I can’t lie to these girls” to the “eh whatever, I’ve done this long enough that I’ve distanced myself from giving a shit”, then back to “oh shit oh shit this is so wrong” over the course of a single game. I know this sounds like a hyperbole, but in that sense I’m… actually not that surprised at how people find themselves ignoring those same patterns in real life. Which is why it’s so disheartening there’s only one scene dedicated to the consequences; it would be so interesting if there was something more tangible to remind the player that yeah, you’re entitled to picking these options, but it does turn the mc into someone pretty damn messed up.

I mean, damn – by December I’d maxed out all my social links, and suddenly had shit all to do, and because I couldn’t sit through a single fake date with one of my fake ass girlfriends again, I ended up making my mc train every day and night just so I had something to occupy my time between going out and murdering things in Mementos and/or a palace. Watching him do shirtless pull-ups in his room I sorta realized: Oh my god, I turned my mc into a high school version of Patrick Bateman. This game sure took a turn.

So I suppose the point of this story time is that while dating anyone in P5 (and most Persona games, I’d assume) is ultimately only a gameplay element meant for the player’s extra entertainment, sometimes those seemingly superfluous gameplay elements can turn into unintentional story elements – in this case, an experiment of how easily lying to one person turns into lying to everyone, and how sometimes it’s not that easy to tell at what point you stop being genuine at all. Wow, them video games, huh? Always a source of profound inspiration.... or something.

#persona 5 #idk what to tag this #maybe i'll add a new category for my rantings #and call it #story time #ok for the sake of archiving i'll also add #meta

96 notes · View notes

new2otomelol · 7 years ago

Text

Dracula - A KBTBB Fanfiction

Again, totally not a writer, just doing this for fun! Voltage owns the rights to its characters and games. This is a fan fiction. I seriously thought it would be fun to combine an old story with a new one, re-invent a little, since we’re close to October. Soooooooooo I figured I'd give it a shot to write a vampire story 😉 here's my fantasy, LOL! The story begins the day MC is sold to the bidders. Her name is Elizabetha and she has just been introduced to all of them.

ELIZABETHA'S POV I'm so nervous right now, but I won't be scared, I have bigger problems than the men before me. "Choose who will buy you!" they said... ugh, I need to get this over with, but before I have a chance to really think things through, I am taken by Eisuke to his suite. Ignoring the conversations from the other bidders as I am being thrown over his shoulder, I let myself fall limply and I let out a sigh as if I'm bored.

Once inside he drops me on top of one of his designer couches. "You will be staying here in the penthouse in the empty suite across the hall from mine. Baba will take you to your dorm to pick up some necessities. Here's a key card and a pager. Always respond to my pages immediately... you are now the maid for the penthouse." I stare at him and don't say a word, what good would it do? He sighs as if annoyed "do you speak much?" I smile wryly, "only when I need to." And with those words he disappears to his office.

THE FOLLOWING DAY – ELIZABETHA POV: I collect my things from my locker and begin to head back to the penthouse as my shift just ended. Today was insanely busy, especially with Eisuke paging me constantly for little things... "I need coffee, bring me juice, clean this, clean that, yadda, yadda..." uggh... But I appreciate the busywork, it helps me keep my mind off from what has been happening to me. I only hope that tonight will be just as crazy so that I don't hear that strange voice again in my head, "come to me Elizabetha, you belong only to me.” That voice and those words, who is doing this to me? And why does this man’s voice sound so familiar. I walk forward and almost lose my balance from feeling lightheaded. What is going on?

EISUKE'S POV: That maid is a strange woman; I've read her file, nothing out of the ordinary, but something about her is mysterious, she didn't even flinch when she was bought from the auction. I enjoy watching her defiant stare, her long wavy black hair that she always wears in a ponytail, her beautiful light blue eyes, curves in all the right places... she looks like she's of European descent. I think I'll use her as my girlfriend to get Mr. Bucci's daughter off my back.

ELIZABETHA’s POV: I reach the penthouse and as soon as I set foot inside, I'm greeted by all the bidders who are sitting around the lounge area without a care in the world. "Princess! Come on over here and join us!!..." yells Baba as I begin to make my way to my suite. "Another time perhaps?" I smile and continue to make my way to my desired site, but alas, King Jerk pipes up "you're coming with me... I found use for you and you're getting ready for a party tonight." I stop dead in my tracks and sigh, I turn around and face him. I kneel on the ground, just like one of my all-time favorite movie characters "what is thy bidding, my master?" and with that I see Soryu and Mamo chuckle a little, Ota gets way too excited "Oooh, ooh, Koro has a sense of humor"

I look up at him, roll my eyes and stand back up. Eisuke, looking not all too pleased, makes his way over to me, slides his arm around my waist and pulls me to him. "You're my fake girlfriend and if you do your job right, I'll set you free." My eyes widen and I look up at him. "Not like I have a choice, right?" he smiles and lets me go... "So you're looking to make a deal with Mr. Bucci?" asks Soryu. I can't help but feel my inner geek scream inside and I take my opportunity and seize the moment. I kneel again, just as I had done earlier and deliver my line "he will join us or die master!" I raise myself again and with that Mamoru and Ota laugh hysterically, Soryu looks away to hide his laugh and Baba looks confused... sigh, a non-believer. Eisuke takes a hold of my arm and takes me with him to the elevator "you're starting as of right now comedian! Don't underestimate me!" I decide to keep my mouth shut.

A new outfit and makeover later I am at a party with my supposed boyfriend. As soon as we enter I notice a group of women begin to crowd Eisuke and I'm pushed away from him. Crap, if I'm to keep up appearances I need to do something. I push a couple of the "ladies" out of the way and slide my arm around his. I pull him close and kiss him as passionately as I can... I include a little tongue action for good measure... ewwww, but I have to sell it. I let go of him after a minute and glare at the ladies, "he's taken dearies, now run along!" Man, if looks could kill, but I did my job. Eisuke looks at me with a confused look, so I lean into his ear and whisper "you wanted me to act as your girlfriend, I'm doing it" and with that I kiss his cheek and smile to our audience. He smiles and holds my hand and then whispers in my ear, "honey, don't mess this up for me!" We met with Mr. Bucci right after and things went smoothly.

EISUKE'S POV I need to get this deal with Mr. Bucci, I hope she can act her part accordingly; this is going to be fun. We walk in to the party and the usual crowd of girls begins to form around me, sigh, fake smile on and deal with it, that's all I ever do. I then feel and arm slide around mine and Elizabetha pulls me in for a very passionate kiss... I was lost in it, almost entranced by it, by the gods, I've been kissed passionately before, but this was different. She suddenly pulls away and sends all the other women away with great confidence. She whispers something in my ear about acting the part, but I'm just trying to calm myself to get ready for the meeting. I whisper into her ear to not mess things up for me... I'm the one in command. In the end, Mr. Bucci's daughter will be coming for a visit and we'll have to keep up this charade for a while longer. Can't say that I mind, but I will take charge next time.

TWO WEEKS LATER – ELIZABETHA'S POV I'm so tired. This Carolina girl has been a hassle to deal with, but I've done my part and have acted like a saint around her, even after she tried to make it look like I was cheating on my "boyfriend." I just know she's up to no good. But no time to think about that, I need to come up with new security measures for myself. The more I'm with Eisuke, the more I feel a connection with him; however, that seems to make the voice that calls to me stronger... it's as if something is coming for me. It doesn't call me just at night anymore, it slowly creeps up during the day sometimes... it feels as if my soul is being pulled and an immense sorrow grabs a hold of my heart. All the strength that I have is quickly used to keep me from crying. At night sometimes I wake up to find myself standing by the door as if I'm trying to go somewhere, but where? One night as I am finishing my shift and I decide to take a quick brake outside in the back of the hotel. Before heading back to the penthouse, a couple of men come up to me, spray something in my face and seconds after, everything fades to black. I wake up to find that I'm tied up, in a warehouse and Carolina is the one behind it all. "Leave my Eisuke! You're not good enough for him." She yells at my face and slaps me a couple of times. I know she's trying to scare me, but it's not going to work. "Carolina sweetie, you have so many good qualities about you, you'll find the right man that will worship you. I love Eisuke, with all my heart and can't leave him!" As soon as I said those words, I realized that maybe there might be some truth to them. However, at that precise moment I notice a mist form all around the warehouse and I begin to feel dizzy. An immense pain shoots from the space between my neck and collar bone "unghh.." so many feelings rush through my body... love, pain, sorrow, joy, fear, an overpowering fear... "What's going on?! Um... Elizabetha?" As soon as Carolina speaks, the mist dissipates and I begin to regain my composure. I look down to my chest and notice that the front of my uniform is soaked in blood, then a loud bang is heard around the room and Eisuke and Soryu both step in. Carolina shrieks and begins to apologize for having kidnapped me. Eisuke pacifies her and tells her that everything will be alright... good, he hasn't seen the right side of my uniform yet. I try to angle my body further to keep the sight of my blood away from them, at least temporarily, until I stumble and Eisuke's eyes widen in horror.

EISUKE'S POV I can't believe it when I see Elizabetha stumble forward and as she looks up I see a trail of blood that has soaked through the front of her uniform, nobody touches what is mine! "Carolina, what happened to her?" I try to keep my cool, but it takes everything in me to do so. I run to Elizabetha and begin to undo her restraints... "Eisuke, she didn't do this to me, trust me... it feels like a bite of some sort, but I'm alright." I help her up and look at Carolina "I, I don't know what happened to her, one minute she was okay then she was bleeding the next; I swear I didn't do that!" I smile back and calmly reply "It's okay, I believe you Carolina, but I have to take her to a doctor now... we'll see you off tomorrow before you head back home, okay?" Carolina smiles and says "yes! Hope you feel better Elizabetha, sorry for what I did, but I know that you really love Sukee here and will leave him in your hands!" Elizabetha looks up and smiles at Carolina.

We rush to the penthouse were Luke is waiting for us. Elizabetha will not remove her hand from her collar bone. "Sexy bones, let me see, you're still bleeding out a little." Elizabetha finally removes her hand and reveals a very large wound. It looks like an animal bit her and tore her skin apart. Luke sighs and says he'll have to stitch it up, but forgot to bring anesthesia with him. "Luke, I can take it, just do it now before I bleed out any more." Elizabetha looks at Luke straight on and urges him to continue. "Kid, 'ya got balls." Mamoru says as he settles himself on the couch to take a nap. Ota and Baba are just standing there looking at her with their mouths agape. What the hell happened?

ELIZABETHA'S POV Luke is working on stitching me up... honestly, I don't feel much pain anymore. Eisuke is looking at me with worry in his eyes... could he care about me? Ughh.. no, focus... that fog had something to do with all of this. "Elizabetha, what happened?" Eisuke can't stand my silence much longer. "I don't know, but maybe a rat did this while I was unconscious?" I lie, but I can't explain the unexplainable right now. Luke sighs "I'm done sexy bones. You will have a small scar, nothing major, but something did take a bite out of you." Baba kneels down in front of me and holds my hand "I'm sure it must have been an animal from the warehouse pretty lady, but don't worry, you're safe now!" I smile at all them. "I'm fine guys, really, just tired and need some rest." I stand up and head to my suite, but Eisuke catches me at the stairs and carries me ... "don't make a big deal out of this, just making sure you don't make a mess of my stairs." Yep, still a jerk. Finally alone in my suite and I try to process it all. That fog wasn't natural. I've heard from my aunt before, when she used to read my cards, that I seem to have been reborn a few lifetimes. The woman was a gipsy extraordinaire and loved to read fortunes. Before she died, she told me that a man, almost creature-like, was looking for me, that he would find me. As part of my inheritance, she left me a box that I was told I could not open until it was needed. I just took it as her leaving me one final riddle to solve. Maybe I should open it tomorrow? As I continue to think things through in an attempt to relax, the voice calls out to me again... "Elizabetha, my love, I found you."

THE NEXT NIGHT – ELIZABETHA'S POV Eisuke, Soryu and I see Carolina off in the morning. Mr. Bucci is extremely satisfied with Eisuke and instantly strikes a deal with him. In honor of our success, we all gather around to celebrate at the penthouse pool with a little bit of alcohol and snacks. After a couple of drinks, I depart from the guys and head to my room with the excuse that I still need to recover a bit more from the night before.

As I turn on the lights to my room, I notice a beautiful white night gown laid out on my bed. It had a very revealing neckline (one that would require the assistance of my lacey push-up bra) and long flowing material with intricate lace designs, simply stunning. I thought that maybe one of the guys bought it for me as a gift. I took a bath, blow dried my hair and put it on. As I looked in the mirror, I felt regal, different... my muscles started to relax and I felt entranced. I felt a pair of arms encircle me from behind, but couldn't see anything in the mirror. I tried to move my head to look up, but felt frozen in place, I couldn't move. "My lovely Elizabetha, my second gift to you..." I then feel a sharp pain on my neck followed by a feeling of heat radiating from the spot. I begin to pant and feel my blood draining away... two minutes later, it stops... "I'll return for you my love, don't try to fight me... you know that we are meant to be together for eternity." My eyes widen and finally regain the feeling of my limbs and turn around... I see a man with incredible features, truly a site to behold, but his smile was wicked and blood was dripping from his chin; his eyes were yellow and animalistic in nature... He seemed familiar. Before I could utter a word, he disappears. I feel a flood of memories pouring in and I can't control the feeling of despair that follows. I look at myself in the mirror and see blood that has trickled from my neck down to my chest, beginning to soak my gown, but this time, it wasn't as bad as the night before. I feel light headed, but I try to speak... it seems so hard, but I finally muster enough strength to whisper a name... "Dracula" ... The visions I see are memories of a distant past... I was his and he was a tyrant. I begin to walk out of my room as I continue to process it all, I feel hypnotized as I stare straight ahead at nothing "I need you my darling, my one true love." Someone, please make him stop talking to me! I can still feel his arms around me. I walk down the stairs not noticing anything or anyone, I'm in my own world.

EISUKE'S POV The guys decide to go back to the Lounge after we clean up from the pool. I kept thinking about Elizabetha and how I want her to stay with me. I can never admit this to anyone, but I've fallen for her. These past couple of weeks with her have been amazing. She's kind, hard-working, so different to all the women I have ever met. I feel like we've become closer... I always get what I want and she will be mine.

I turn around and notice something coming down the stairs out of the corner of my eye. "ELIZABETHA!!!" I yell as I see her walking aimlessly in a beautiful night gown, but my eyes go directly to the blood coming from her neck. "BABA, CALL LUKE, NOW!!" I run to her and try to get her attention, but she doesn't move her eyes. She looks pale and frail, she keeps walking forward and I grab her from behind to try and hold her in place. "What the..." Ota doesn't even know what he's witnessing either. "Yo! Kid! Wakeup!" Mamoru tries to clap his hands in her face, but she doesn't even blink. Baba runs back to us as he hangs up the phone "Luke is on his way Boss, he's downstairs in the casino, so it shouldn't be long...... Princess, what's wrong?!" But Elizabetha does not respond to any of us. I get frustrated with worry "DAMN IT ALL, wake up woman!" She begins to move forward and drags me behind her.. Soryu and Baba help me hold on to her arms to pull her back, but she continues to move with all of us in tow. "What the hell?!" Luke yells and runs towards us. He flashes a flashlight into Elizabetha's eyes and checks her neck wound. He finally takes out a syringe with liquid and injects it into her arm. She begins to lose strength and falls back into my arms. I lay Elizabetha down on my bed and Luke tends to her wound. "Luke, what the hell is that on her neck." Luke looks frazzled and lost "I.. I don't know Eisuke, I've never seen this before. She's lost so much blood, I need to make a blood transfusion..." Luke leaves to call a colleague to get the equipment he needs and some blood for her. "mmmnhh..." Elizabetha seems to be trying to wake up. "nnngghh... Vlad... Dragoste eternă.. " "Elizabetha, speak in Japanese, what are you saying?" Soryu looks to her in confusion. In fact, I notice that all of us seem to be quiet for once, unsure as to what is going on. "I can't do thisss... Vlad... you killed them all... all..." Elizabetha is talking in her sleep. I reach out to her and touch her cheek... "you're safe, you're with us. Wake up Elizabetha!" she begins to move as if she's stuck in a nightmare and begins to reach out with her hands. Soryu and I try to restrain her arms as she begins to panic. "Hang in there pretty lady, doc will be right back..." Ota and Baba take a hold of her legs to keep her from kicking. Elizabetha continued "nnngh... you did... I... I threw myself into the ravine... the water... my grave... you became a demon..." At this point, tears begin to stream from her eyes "let me die... I will take you with me..." right at that moment, Luke walks in with blood bags and begins to inject her with an IV... she immediately settles down. In a few minutes time, she begins to regain some color in her face. But what the hell is going on? Who is Vlad? Why was she saying such weird things?

ELIZABETHA'S POV My eye lids feel heavy, but I need to wake up. I need to warn them all. Soon, a room comes into view and I notice Eisuke, Soryu, Baba, Ota, Mamoru and Luke all sitting around the room. "Wha, what are you all doing here?" I slowly speak. "koro! You're awake!!" Ota yells ... "Kid, ya took a couple of years out of all of our lives"... "princess, what happened?" ... "who the hell did that to you?" So many voices and questions all at once. I slowly sit up and notice that it was still nightfall. "Guys, please listen to me carefully. Baba, can you bring a box that's under my bed to me? It's heavy... Mamoru, I know you have at least one set of handcuffs on you, handcuff me to the bed, NOW!... Soryu, take out your gun and keep it aimed at me..." Baba runs out of the room immediately. Mamoru hesitates as he takes out his handcuffs "kid, what 'ya doin'?" I sigh and look at him "Mamo, I don't have much time, do it quickly" he cuffs one hand against the bed post. Ota and Eisuke are staring at me looking bewildered. "Elizabetha, what happened? Explain woman!" Eisuke yells at me with worry in his voice... I sigh... "I will in a minute... just need to save you all, from me."

"Koro, you're not making sense..." Ota chimed in. "Sexy bones, you've already taken two pints of blood into your system, don't strain yourself." Luke takes out the IV from my arm and places a bandage on it. Soryu remains seated with his gun in his hands, he doesn't want to point it at me. "Soryu, it's okay. If I get loose from this bed, don't hesitate to shoot me, understand?" Baba walks in right in as I finish speaking to Sor.

Good, you're all here. "I may not have much time before I begin to lose my senses. Keep your minds open to what I'm about to say. Do you all know about the Impaler?" Ota's eyes widen... "yes! He impaled thousands of people...he was a fierce ruler." I smile "that's right Ota, his name was Vlad, but others called him Dracula... he was, I was... his wife" I hear gasps and then I hear Baba laugh "but that was several hundred years ago." I smile sadly. "Yes Baba, it was and he is no longer human... he's a ..." Luke interrupts me and finishes my sentence as if he had a sudden realization "vampire!" Eisuke looks at me as if he's in disbelief "vampires are just made up stories, they're not real" I glare at him "well, you'll soon find out the truth... Vlad was my world, my soulmate, until I could not take the bloodshed any longer." I cry as if the memories of it all were occurrences that had transpired just yesterday... "you don't know what it is like to live in a castle that has a garden filled with impaled corpses, some people still alive, slowly and agonizingly dying...the smell of blood, the flies and my husband sitting there watching them... smiling, drinking their blood as if it were champagne and eating parts of their bodies in front of them... his intent was to strike fear to ward off enemies, but his bloodlust new no end and he became something else.." they all look at me with shocked faces. "I killed myself because I couldn't bear to live with the screams, the pain, knowing that I would bring a child, his child into this world... I couldn't and I selfishly threw myself and my unborn child into a ravine." I bite my lip and cry hard, so much sorrow is filling me up right now.

"But princess, that was not you, that may have been another you a long time ago, but..." I look at Baba and realize that time is slipping by. "Sorry gentlemen, we need to move this show on the road." I dry my tears and with my free hand I take out the contents of the box that my aunt had left for me. She left some wooden stakes, long silver chains, a weapon made of silver that looked like a long flute, but once you pressed a button on the center of it, a long blade would emerge with force; she also left a pendant, some sacred water and finally a beautiful silver sword. "Woah, it's like an armory!" Baba was shocked. "I still don't know if to believe all of this. I mean this is pretty insane." Eisuke looks baffled and I feel so incredibly sad because I would like to believe that someday, I can get to know him better. At this rate though, I'm no longer sure I have long to live. "I'm sorry, all of you, if I would have known all of this was going to happen... I would have run away a long time ago... but I can feel a change in me, we need to speed this up... Luke, tie those silver chains around my arms and bind me to the headboard; be sure to lock the chains in place so that I don't get loose..." oh no...I'm getting dizzy and can hear everyone's heart beating... Luke finishes tying me up and I look at Baba "please, hmmm....put the weapons in the box and take the sacred..nngghh....water...throw some at me....ahhhhh...if I get ... loose...whatever I say, DON'T BELIEVE ME!!... "Princess?"

EISUKE'S POV I still can't believe any of this is real. But she looks like she' in so much pain, as if she's lived the life she mentioned before. I don't know what to believe. I'm lost in my own thoughts as I notice Elizabetha's eye color begin to change from blue to red. We all stare at each other and everyone backs away from her in fear. This is becoming real. The silver chains that bind her begin to burn her skin a little and she writhes in pain. I begin to move to take the chains off her, but Luke stops me. "No Eisuke, she's no longer herself... we all have to be patient and take turns guarding her for a few hours... it's 1:00 a.m., sunrise is at 6:00 a.m. we have to do this." Elizabetha pushes herself against the chains... a seductive smile forms on her lips as she watches me "come on baby, don't you want me? Ha, ha, ha.... I picked this outfit just for you..." as sexy as she looked, she wouldn't normally talk like that. I back away. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... looks like the King doesn't enjoy the show..." she turns to Luke "hmm.... Doc! I think I have a fever, want to check me? Come a little closer..." she smiles and big canine fangs emerge from her mouth. I thought I've seen everything in life, holy crap, this is real.

"Come on Luke... don't you want to see my collar bones up close?" Luke turns around and sits in one of the chairs. "Boooring...are British men always this dead when it comes to the sack? Hmmm... Baba, I know you want to touch them, come and get your fill of my breasts" Baba swallows hard and sits next to Ota, turning away from Elizabetha. "Ota, don't you want to put a leash on me... I can be a good Koro and get on all fours for you..." She tries to move on the bed, but remains restrained. She growls angrily and looks at her next target "Mamo, I know you have a big one, let me get a feel for it... maybe you and Soryu together... ha, ha, ha, ha...." The guys all look flushed and can't even look at her straight in the eye.

"STOP THIS NOW!" I yell at her. She twists her head my way in such a weird manner. "Why?! All I want is to have FUN!" she yells back at me and then she slams herself backwards on the headboard creating a loud crashing noise. "I can smell it..." She arches her back as far as she can, tilting her head up as she stares at the ceiling... "I can hear your heartbeats, smell your blood, I want it, let me have a taste." I can tell that this is going to go on for a good while. "We have to remain strong tonight, don't let her get to you!" Soryu addresses all of us. Elizabetha looks at him and laughs wickedly. "The good little mobster, what do you know? You think you've seen it all?... let me show you what darkness is like... the sheer and wonderful feeling that pain can give you!" with that she bites her tongue and a drop of blood comes down her chin. Hours pass on like this. Sunrise finally comes and we are all drained from this experience. Elizabetha passes out as soon as the first rays of the sun fill the room. All of the burns from her chains are gone from her skin. Luke sedates her just in case and everyone leaves to get some rest. I stay in my room and fall asleep on the couch. I don't want to leave her side.

I wake up in the early afternoon and make my way over to Elizabetha. I touch her cheeks and she begins to move. "Ei.. Eeisuke?" I smile at her "It's alright, we're all okay." She begins to cry "I'm so sorry, I know I said such horrible things last night... I ...I..." I don't want to see her cry. "It's not your fault, you warned us it would happen. What do we do now?" She stops crying and tries to recompose herself. "Now I kill him. Let me do this alone, he can kill all of you with just a thought if he wanted to... I don't want any of you to die" I admire her strength in all of this.

"We're not going anywhere." I begin to undo the lock and release her from her chains as well as Mamoru's handcuffs. She smiles and hugs me tight. "Eisuke, I know it's only been a short amount of time... but I feel like... I know that... I, I love you. My past memories, every lifetime that I have lived, I haven't met someone like you... for the first time in a few centuries, I feel alive again and I can't lose you." She loves me... this is... "I love you too Elizabetha, I'm not letting you go, I own you remember? You're mine." She laughs and I kiss her as deeply and as passionately as I can. Soon I have her gasping for air. We stop after a few minutes. "Eisuke, I have a plan to get him. He's coming back for me tonight."

LATER THAT NIGHT – ELIZABETHA'S POV Darkness falls over the city of Tokyo. The guys are all ready with weapons in hand, waiting for Vlad to show. The plan I made with them was for me to be in the lounge area and to stall Dracula while Soryu shoots silver bullets to incapacitate him so that one of us plunges a steak through his heart and cuts off his head. I didn't mention to them that Dracula is much more quick-witted than that. That's why I hide the projectile weapon under my jacket. The clock strikes 8 and a mist begins to form in the lounge. I straighten up as I wait for my former love to solidify. "Elizabetha my love... you know I won't let anyone get in our way..." with a wave of a hand, Dracula manages to pull all the bidders together in the lounge area and drops them on the floor. They remain there, unable to move. To the bidders, their plan is failing, but my real plan is going along smoothly.

"Vlad, you want me, I'm here you bastard..." he smiles wickedly, by the gods, the man is so incredibly handsome, but been there and done that. "Your mind betrays you my dear, your heart wants me, you can feel it." My anger knows no bounds right now "Really? I want you? after all the pain and suffering you've put me through, no, not just me, all the innocent people you have killed over the centuries!" he smiles "they never mattered, just things that paved the way for me to live forever... don't you see my love?" he points to the bidders... Luke is not here; he should still be upstairs according to my plan... "they are but cattle, mere playthings that give us life." I smile and the guys stare at me mortified, they think I'm beginning to turn.

I stand in front of Vlad with my back to him, I raise my arm behind me and pull his head down towards my neck. "If you love me, make me yours." I feel bad for the bidders as they look on in terror as Dracula takes out his canines and begins to bite my neck. I need him to drink a little and begin to move myself into a certain position... he's so tall, this should be easy. I grab a hold of his neck tighter as if to urge him on and I arch my back as if he was filling me with pleasure. I reach under my jacket as he looks down on me.... I make it look like I am trying to cup my breast underneath, I can feel a smile form on his lips as he slowly drinks my blood. With one hand, he holds my head up high, his other continues to hover over the area of the bidders to keep them still. I then shift the weapon underneath me, press myself hard against chest and aim the weapon towards his heart... I press the button and the silver blade plunges through an area under my ribcage all the way through, straight to his heart. We both fall backwards as I make sure the blade stays in place a bit longer.

"Nooooooo..." I hear a scream coming from Vlad... "why? My love, why?!!!" I try to keep myself conscious and yell out... "Luke, now!" Luke comes running down the stairs with the sword in hand. I pull myself off Dracula holding the impaled weapon against my abdomen, keeping it in place as Luke instructed. The fire in Vlad's eyes begins to fade as Luke comes into view and slashes his head off in one clean strike. "Goodbye forever my love." I whisper as I lay sideways on the floor. The bidders now loose from their constraint begin to move... Eisuke rushes over me along with Luke "Elizabetha, no, no.... I won't let you leave me, I won't allow you to..." Luke yells at Eisuke "pull yourself together man, we planned for this! Help me get her to Baba's suite, now...all my stuff is there so that I can operate on her now!" those are the last words I hear before passing out from the pain.

TWO DAYS LATER – EISUKE'S POV Elizabetha knew that Dracula would know what we were up to, so, she came up with the only plan she knew would work. She risked her life to end his, to save all of us. But she made sure that she would be okay. She's been asleep for two days... but her body went through a lot. She had angled the weapon perfectly to where she would have no organ damage, however, her body still took quite a beating, especially with the lack of blood. Some of us had to donate blood that night to keep her from dying.

I sit here and look at her as she sleeps peacefully when suddenly she stirs. "Mnnnhh... Eisuke?" I lean down and kiss her as she continues to try to wake up. Her eyes widen as she looks at me with a smile, then begins to panic "is he? Did we get him?..." I stroke her hair to calm her down "yes, he's gone and all of us are safe, thanks to you." She begins to cry in relief and I hold her gently. "Finally my soul can rest" she whispers in my ear "I didn't think I could ever be happy again, not with this vicious cycle... he tried many times before to get me... each time a chance at a new life just thrown away." To her, her previous lifetimes seem to be fused together, it is incredibly sad to think of all the pain she has carried. "Eisuke, I want to be with you, with the guys, I want us all to be happy" I smile back at her "I'm never letting you go, not even if you try to make me, I own you, all of you." With those words she pulls me to her and kisses me deeply like before... this woman drives me crazy. I know that from here on out, things can only get more interesting.

THE END?

#kbtbb #voltage #kbtbb eisuke #kbtbb halloween

29 notes · View notes