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sunkissedscribbles · 4 months ago

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Prejudiced - Chapter Seven

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here

a/n: a little later and shorter than usual but here is the new chapter, hope you'll enjoy it <3

word count: 1880

tw: alcohol, drugs, not proofread, ki's daddy issues<3, cassie's weird ass (but valid) urge to push her tongue into mattheo's mouth

summary: new obsessions for ki and cass unlocked

dividers by @chachachannah

Today, 30th October is the day everyone's been excited about for more than a week - well, almost everyone, as Kiara had other things (or other people, rather) to obsess over.

It all started this Monday when the fliers announcing the arrival of the competing schools were put up, reading this:

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

Kiara was sitting next to me that morning in Astronomy class, telling me about her dream from the previous night in which she had some hot fun with Snape – who she even referred to as 'the daddiest daddy' (not my cup of tea but who am I to judge?) when a man we've never seen before entered the room, causing girls to start whispering behind his back, and Ki to tug on my sleeve before putting her most charming smile up as she began to ask questions such as 'who are you?' and 'what are you doing here?'. At first, I had no idea either but as it hit me, I began to pull on my friend's robe to stop her before she could have asked or said something stupid in the haze of her newfound interest in the new teacher.

"For fuck's sake, Cassie," Kiara barked at me.

"Five points from Slytherin, Miss...?"

"Bianchi," Ki next to me replied in a mutter, dumbfounded as she realized it too.

"Sebastian Harper. Professor Sebastian Harper," the man continued as he turned to the class, to which Ki next to me bit her lip to shut herself with an embarrassed blush. "I'm going to be teaching you Astronomy for the rest of the school year."

"Cool, we finally got rid of Sinistra," someone said from behind and I have a feeling it was McLaggen – who else?

"Professor Sinistra is still teaching at Hogwarts," continued Professor Harper, "and don't for a second think you'll have an easier job with me."

I frowned to myself as I thought about how unusual it was to have a change of teachers (if it's not DADA, of course – with that, the weird thing would be if we had the same for over a year,) especially mid-term. But strange things happen, innit?

I was shaken out of my thoughts by a sudden grab on my arm, to which I hissed quietly as I turned to the source of the sting; Kiara, looking at me wide-eyed as she whisper-shouted "HE HAS TATTOOS!" This was when I turned to the teacher standing in front of the chalkboard with his back turned to us. He wasn't wearing a robe, I had just then noticed, only a button-up shirt. Its sleeve rode up his forearm just enough to reveal his tattooed skin and I shook my head at Kiara with a quiet, barely audible chuckle, then leaned closer to her with a grin. "Now who's the daddiest daddy?"

"This god right here," she muttered back to me, her eyes never leaving the new teacher's arm. "But Snape's still second," she turned to me finally with a grin from which I knew immediately she'd found her new obsession.

After the uproar around the arrival of the competing schools has somewhat died down, Mattheo, Theo, Ki and I are in the Slytherin common room. Enzo's not here, again. His disappearances are starting to feel neutral as he's been doing this in the past few weeks. He barely talks to me, even though we've talked through our disagreement and his conflict with Mattheo, but he seems to be avoiding us – or me, at least, and it's starting to bother me, a lot.

"You think he's still mad at me?" I take the opportunity to ask as the others stay silent for a few seconds.

They share a cautious look which gives away they know something I don't. I raise my brows as my gaze shifts between the three of them, but as they don't say anything, I dodge questioning about it. "Never mind," I mutter as I reach for the bottle of wine in Ki's hand before standing up to leave.

Mattheo catches up to me as I'm already taking the steps two at a time up to the Astronomy Tower.

"Cass, c'mon," he sighs. Him following me is the last thing I need right now – his scent is so fucking strong that I'm starting to go insane because of it. Ever since that heated kiss we've shared under the shower, I've been pushing these thoughts down and the urge to kiss him senseless is growing and growing without ever coming to a stop. I'm back and forth, I think I'm going crazy. If I ever blow up like Enzo's cauldron the other week, just know it'll be because of this. "Let's talk," he spins me around by grabbing my arm then takes the bottle out of my hand. I give in with a sigh – bad idea, now my nostrils are filled with his scent, again.

"Okay," I nod, letting him take the bottle. My eyes are glued to his as he wraps an arm around my shoulder as he leads me towards the Astronomy Tower.

For a few minutes, we're only sitting next to each other, sipping from the bottle one after the other. I keep stealing glances at him, eyes fixated on his jawline as he lifts the alcohol to his lips, my gaze wandering up and down his features, stopping on the scar across his right eyebrow and eye.

"The nightmares?" I ask quietly, genuinely worried because he hasn't talked about his nightmares since the night he showed up at my dorm but judging by the bags under his eyes it's obvious he still has them.

"Still there," he mutters back, leaning against the railing.

"Guessed so," I nod sympathetically. I wish I could help him somehow. Ease the pain, take away from his nightmares and tiredness. "You should try a sleeping potion, see Madam Pomfrey."

He laughs and shakes his head. "For everyone to know it? Thanks, I'd pass. They think I'm crazy anyway, I don't need any more rumours to be spread about me," he takes another sip from the bottle before reaching for the pack of cigs in his pocket. I didn't think of it like this, but know he's right; we've both had our fair share of rumours, but mine can't even compete with his. The first real rumour that cost him his very few friends was probably the most serious one as well. In our third year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, it was considered evident that Mattheo, heir of Salazar Slytherin himself was the one who opened it. 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir... beware,' I remember the words written with blood as if it was only yesterday. It was obvious, right? 'The heir' – a little bit too obvious, if you ask me. Because why would the heir himself declare his cruelty like this? A thirteen-year-old kid. This wasn't the only buzz about him, of course. People have always been against him on a certain level, ever since he'd first introduced himself on the train after which the word of Voldemort's son coming to Hogwarts spread like wildfire.

"You're right, I'm sorry," I sigh, biting my lip as I think about how I could help him – but the effects of the consumed wine start to hit already, slowing my thinking down, sounding almost like gibberish in my head.

"Why are you apologizing?" he looks at me, confused with the cigar hanging from between his lips. Hell, I wanna replace it with my tongue so bad...

"Because it was stupid of me to say that and I made you upset," I mutter as I break my gaze away from Mattheo's lips.

With a frown, he wraps a comforting arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to himself. "I'm not mad at you, dumbass," he squeezes my upper arm before offering me a puff of his fag. I've never smoked before – I think for a minute. Overthink, rather, because what if I do it wrong? And what if I don't like it? If I choke on it? He'd laugh at me for being this inexperienced. I shake my head as I lean my head onto his shoulder instead, feeling overwhelmed and tired.

I'll have to ask Ki to teach me how to smoke – I make a mental note.

As the night progresses, we are accompanied by Ki and Theo, some weed and more wine. The others are doing drugs but I stick to the wine. Do I have to mention I'm not exactly one for these kinds of fun? So I guess it's evident I barely ever drink as well. Well, tonight I take it a little far compared to my own limits.

I'm lying on the floor of the tower with Mattheo next to me, the remainder of a joint between his lips as I keep pointing constellations out for him.

"Cassiopeia," Mattheo points it out suddenly but since that's my name, I look over at him out of reflex, thinking he was calling for me. It's obvious that he's high, there's no doubt about it. But even like this, he's so gorgeous, I just can't help it.

Ki and Theo are sat up against the railing as they talk about something, subconsciously switching mid-sentence between English and Italian, so that I have even less of a chance to make some sense out of it as my attention is narrowed to admiring the boy lying next to me.

"...bein' high always makes me want to kiss you," Mattheo suddenly confesses in a barely understandable murmur, to which I can feel my heart rate skyrocket immediately.

"Then do," the consumed wine mutters back before I can stop my tongue from talking, and he doesn't need any more approval to put his joint out on the floor and tower over me to capture my lips in a lazy kiss. I hear Kiara say something that sounds a bit too much like 'Get a room' but my senses are once again too overwhelmed by Mattheo and the way his body grinds against mine as our lips melt together as if they were made for each other to make sense out of her words.

The whole scene doesn't feel real as I've been disassociated from my body and senses since lunch, but as the kiss deepens and our tongues dance together I can't help but want to take the lead. Or the wine wants it, who knows?

We continue making out, my hands ruffling his hair as they rake through the dark curls and his hands grip my hips, holding them down against the wooden floor while our tongues keep dancing with each other hastily.

Taking the initiative, I reach down in my drunken haze to unbuckle his belt but he grips my wrist immediately and breaks the kiss. "You're not just a hookup, Cassie," he whispers against my lips before intertwining our fingers, partially to keep my hand away from his jeans.

tag list: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters

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writing-for-life · 1 year ago

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Sunday Mourning—About Dream Entities and Stars

Why Head-Canons Are Wonderful, But Forcing Them On Creators Isn’t

And as always: Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!

First of all: I don’t want to take anyone’s head-canons away from them, it’s what fandom is partly built on. I support them, I love them, I have plenty of my own. The Sandman very explicitly tells us about “books never written�� in Lucien/ne’s library, and we can be sure ours is in there.

But that’s not quite the same as harassing both creators and other fans in an attempt to make fanon canon, and that’s what partly sparked this post. So if a super-long meta exploration of “Sunday Mourning” (and there is a lot in this post) that also contains a bit of fandom criticism (feel free to skip that if you just want the meta) isn’t your thing—this is your warning 🤣

Also: Massive spoilers ahead…

The theory that Morpheus forever lives in Hob’s dreams (and with Hob) as a dream entity regularly makes the rounds. And it’s a nice theory, and I get why people like it. I also get that “The Wake—Sunday Mourning” is maybe ambiguous enough to consider it a possibility (which then goes into head-canon territory). All good so far.

What’s problematic is when fans begin to leverage their head-canons/theories as “true because Neil gave it a like”, and then proceed to present them as canon.

Neil likes posts, yes, but he said *several times* and *very explicitly* that’s never endorsement of anything, but rather valuing that people put thought into stuff and engage with his stories critically (and he also said that it’s sometimes just a slip of his finger, but that just as an aside, you’ll find one example here).

So if Neil liked a happily-ever-after-dream-entity post, that means he supports your head-canons as head-canons because he always does (or his finger slipped—I guess we’ll never know). Again: In a way, it’s even an integral part of The Sandman. It also means that he likes the fact you engaged deeply with the source material, in either a heartfelt or critical way.

What it *doesn’t* mean: Head-canon is the same as canon despite both being valid in their own way. He said all of this a million times in a million posts.

Let’s explore that particular theory and start with an ask:

His endorsement goes as far as acknowledging that “it’s never only a dream,” and that “dreams are where the stories are.” And we need to stop pretending it’s anything more than that, even if he likes a few posts here and there (posts that go in all different directions, btw). Neil used his own experience with grief and mirrored it 1:1 in how Hob handles Morpheus’ death in The Wake and Sunday Mourning.

Here is a quote from the Sandman Companion:

NG: […] Bette's stories have happy endings. That's because she knows where to stop. She's realized the real problem with stories—if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.

HB: It also makes me think of Hob's dream in part 3.

NG: That was something that actually happened to me. [1]I dreamt about a friend who'd died six months earlier, woke up completely upset that she'd died, [2]and then realized I'd simply had a dream and felt enormously relieved... [3]and then I woke up all the way and remembered that she really had passed on.

[numbers and bold by me]

And then remember what happened to Hob:

1. He found out in a dream Morpheus had died and woke up upset and crying in The Wake, Chapters 1-3 (#70-72).

2. Then he had another dream that somewhat gave him closure and a sense of relief (Sunday Mourning, #73).

(Can I also just point out where Destruction’s fingers are pointing here and then contrast it with what he told Daniel in The Wake about “walking amongst the stars”, or Morpheus actually turning into a star?)

(What might the end of the story be? Who knows, but once again, have a look where Destruction’s fingers are pointing.)

3. Then he woke up all the way and felt peace (also in Sunday Mourning).

Make of that what you will, but to me, saying that scene was based on his own dream is basically Neil confirming that Morpheus has “really passed on.”

Will Hob remember Morpheus? Of course he will. That’s what humans do. Does Morpheus live a happily ever after in Hob’s dream with Hob? And would that be in character? And would he want his memories to be intact to make that happen? Would that truly be passing on?

I will explore why canonically, we don’t find much to support that notion, and why it would seem OOC. But if you believe it, it’s your personal truth. Should we call for the ending to be changed though to make our personal truth that of the author?

Life and death are our own, and it’s never just a dream

Destruction was in Hob’s dream (when Hob never really knew him), and Destruction walked away from it all. As did Morpheus. They’re both free. It was very likely (and I'm phrasing this carefully on purpose) a dream gifted by Daniel!Dream (who had a very long talk with Destruction during the Wake) to give Hob closure, and it seems straightforward enough if you read The Wake not just single-mindedly focused on one thing. Daniel!Dream is not in the original panel, but he is in the background of concept art of that panel for a movie pitch by Jill Thompson and Neil Gaiman, so we can probably assume it was always the intended subtext.

And what does Death say in Façade? Or what does Morpheus say to Orpheus, or to Delirium after he killed Orpheus? That life and death are our own.

Destruction’s life is his own.

Morpheus’ death is his own.

And Hob’s life AND death are his own.

The three of them are the literal embodiment of that sentiment:

One walked away and chose life.

One walked away and chose death.

One chooses life for as long as he sees fit and can choose death if he stops doing so.

It makes sense to put them in a panel together at the end for that very reason (and a few others of course).

That, right there, is already “more than just a dream.” It is the story, not just a metaphor. It is canon, and it is fairly explicit.

Would Morpheus ever want to be a dream entity with all his memories intact?

From this point onward, we get more into interpretation based on canonical character traits:

Morpheus living forever as a dream entity *tied to Hob’s dream* is canonically antithetical and OOC. There, I said it. He wanted to be free from the Dreaming, he even said so to Death (“But even the freedom of the Dreaming can be a cage, of a kind, my sister,” in #69).

But existing as a dream entity WITH ALL HIS MEMORIES INTACT (that alone should make people say, “He would never want this in a million years” because it’s the very source of his pain—he wanted punishment for Orpheus’ fate/death—Nuala called him out on it) would forever tie him to it. Plus, it would make him Daniel’s subject in a way. It would be, again, very OOC.

Also: Dream had very strong feelings about the dead NOT belonging into dreams/the Dreaming permanently, or the living building their lives around them. WHY would that apply to Hector, but not to Morpheus himself? Again, it makes no sense in continuity.

But Destruction was in that dream…

Destruction visited Daniel!Dream during the Wake. They talked about a lot of stuff that’s very relevant, I recommend a reread if you’re not certain (this is long enough as it is, so I’ll skip it at this point). And it makes narrative sense to anchor that in Hob’s dream for reasons already outlined (they might not make sense to Hob, but they make sense to us, the reader, if we are willing to see that “it’s more than just a dream” isn’t equal to two people riding off into the sunset together, as nice a head-canon that might be). What I *do* want to point out though is that Destructions talked about “walking amongst the stars” and again, where he points in Hob’s dream.

Someone said this somewhere else and drew parallels to Stardust: Morpheus *does* become a star (or returns to them, who knows), it’s all over The Wake. That star is in literally *every* panel with a window/sky after his barge has transformed. And what becomes of him as that—who knows, since we all know stars have some sort of sentience in Gaiman’s universe, and that “oblivion is not an option” if Death took your hand to lead you into the afterlife. Again: Head-canon territory…

Head-canons are beautiful

No one is trying to take them away from us. Let’s knock ourselves out in fanfic and fanart, it’s comforting and healing. The Sandman is a story about stories. Our stories are our own, and they are true for us, that’s the whole point. And Neil will *never* tell you your head-canon is not real, because for you, it is, and that’s all that matters. But the constant need to elevate fanon to canon really gets exhausting at times, especially if it involves pestering the creators, constantly being on their blogs/tagging them and trying to get them to confirm what we want.

And to those that insist we will undoubtedly get a happily ever after because “Hob’s dream says so”, and think the writers somehow should “read the room” and provide fan-service (side-note: What is it with this entitlement in fandom? The creator tells *their* story, not yours):

One of the main messages of the story is (already in 24/7) that stories only have a happy ending because we know when to stop, but that they ultimately *all* end in death. No matter how much people say that “the show is so much more hopeful”, that very line has already been brought into the show. They didn’t take it out. It will have weight at some point, I’ll put my money on it.

But show!Murphy isn’t comics!Murphy...

People point out that show!Morpheus is different from comics!Morpheus to justify we will get a different ending. Making Morpheus a bit softer around the edges seems, at least to me, a move to make him likeable as the protagonist, because it would be very hard to like early comics!Morpheus, to be frank. The fact that he brought Gault back from the darkness—I saw that as giving show!only fans a nicely wrapped end of the first season, because we didn’t even know if we would get a second one at that point. It also shows us that he is capable of change—a thing I am near certain he will repeatedly deny as we go on (he already did). So no, I personally don’t think it set him on a different path. There are even scenes in the show that very heavily foreshadow The Kindly Ones (the cracks in the window are overlayed onto his face in such a way that they heavily hint at the scar he is going to receive).

So yes, by all means, let’s have a bit of ambiguity in Sunday Mourning for the people who don’t like the tragic ending, but let’s also focus on more than just making everything about the ship. Their relationship is important, and even more so because it isn’t romantic—that’s why it grows and lasts (unlike Morpheus’ romantic relationships). But it’s only the tiniest fraction of what The Sandman is about.

I write fanfic. I give Morpheus happy endings, too. I get it, I want him to be happy, too. But no matter how much we write him in character, we will ultimately break character the moment we make him do things that lead to a different outcome. In canon, he is the way he is. And I am afraid to say:

I personally think he is also like that in the show, even if they softened him a bit around the edges and shoved certain messages down our throats that people who know the comics didn’t need, but newbs to the Sandman did (“I’m listening now…”)—it was a good move, and all of that made sense for show-narrative reasons. But not once did I have the feeling that he wasn't exactly the same Morpheus underneath it all, and we already had too much foreshadowing to think that we would really get a different ending.

Why chemistry isn’t confirmation of the ship

That’s another one: To turn one (!) show-writer’s comment that Morpheus’ and Hob’s chemistry was a thing, and that they allowed that type of ambiguity, into, “Their romantic relationship is canon.” These two things are not the same. And Neil said that Benton’s comment did not make Dreamling any more real/canon, but people conveniently forget that. He also didn’t deny it, he just didn’t confirm, because, again: He doesn’t confirm or deny head-canons. They’re ours. Let's please stop pestering the man to confirm our head-canons and fantasies, but that just as an aside.

It shows one thing, however:

How conditioned fandom is to make everything about romantic relationships (ideally m/m), even if they have nothing, and I say nothing, to do with the main message.

And it’s okay the wish for these relationships matters to some people, but they don’t have to matter to everyone else, to the extent that we expect the actual story to change. Why try to twist his arm into changing his own story, and the way he wanted to tell it?

So again: Head-canons are beautiful. Trying to get them confirmed by creators and foist them upon everyone else (to the extent that people get harassed) is not.

And if I'm proven wrong on this, I’ll still die happy, but I'm putting my chips down right now and say:

Morpheus will die in exactly the same way as in the comics. And if we get The Wake, we will get a scene in Sunday Mourning that can hold ambiguity for processing our grief, just like the comic can. And the shippers will say, “He’s with Hob, yay!”, and the non-shippers will say, “Nah, not what I saw.” And Neil will get a million asks and answer each single one with:

“What do *you* think?”

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wosomarvel · 1 year ago

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communication - 01

a/n: alright, here's the first chapter! this story has been in my head for a while, and it is nice to get it out into an actual piece of work. i'm not the most experienced writer, so bear with me here. i'll also be slow to update because i start college tomorrow and i've got a full course load!

feel free to send me any comments or feedback! i'd really appreciate it.

warnings: none

-----

sim sighed, mustering up any remaining courage she could.

"go on," the soft voice of the team's head coach urged, nudging her gently. tightening her grip on the knob of her crutch, sim pushed the door open and took a few tentative steps into the locker room. she let out the breath she was holding, realizing that none of them had yet noticed her presence.

sim took a moment to absorb the sight in front of her. the lionesses, in all their glory, having a laugh as one millie bright held a training shirt out of the reaches of ella toone, a smirk on her face as the younger (and shorter) footballer jumped up and down.

"hey, girls," sarina called out to the room, gathering the attention of group. a hush fell over the group as they turned toward the locker room entrance. "we've found someone to fill the position of social media manager. this is sim," the woman said, motioning for sim to step forward.

taking in a deep breath, she waved shyly, letting out a soft "hi" in greeting. the weight of the team's gaze rested heavy on the young girl, speculative eyes analyzing her figure. though sim wasn't going to actually play on the team, she was aware that her role as the social media manager meant she'd be spending quite a bit of time with these girls, following them around training and travelling with them to matches and camps. she desperately wanted to be liked by them, if not for her own personal sense of validation, then at least for the fact that it would make her job much easier.

ella toone was the first one to speak. "what's with the crutch?" the question was quickly followed by a sharp squeak, as millie elbowed the girl in her side, the rest of the girls letting out an exasperated sigh at the invasive question.

sim's lips quirked up in a smile, the worry in her chest easing a bit. this will be a riot, she thought to herself.

"jesus, ella, we told you to be normal," sim heard someone speak out.

"no, no, it's alright. honestly, i'd much rather you ask me to my face instead of just whispering about it behind my back," she said, a hint of confidence projecting her voice around the room. "i took a bit of a fall playing rugby a year or so back. haven't been able to walk right without the crutch or a knee brace since."

"see? at least someone here appreciates my curiosity!" ella threw her hands up in the air.

"lack of tact, more like," rachel muttered under her breath.

"hey, if i'm going to be following you lot around with a camera all the time, it's only fair that you know a few things about me as well," sim defended.

ella rushed up, throwing an arm around sim's shoulders, pulling the girl into her side. sim tensed slightly at the contact, but relaxed when ella called out to the room, "see, i already like this one."

"alright, that's enough," sarina interjected. "ella, since you're so taken with sim, you can show her around the practice facility and help her find her office. alessia, you'd better go with. i'm not sure i trust tooney on her own." ella whined at the dig, but steered sim out of the locker room without much protest. "rachel, millie, leah, follow me. i need a quick word."

the three girls shared a confused look as they followed their coach out into the hall. "look, i don't know what we're supposed to have done, but-"

"you're not in trouble," sarina cut rachel off. "you three are natural leaders on this squad so i'm coming to you first. one of sim's professors from her last year of university referred her for the position. she's not very... experienced. she's only a year out of university, but her professor and i go way back and he asked me to pull a few strings." sarina paused for a breath, not missing the increasingly confused looks the younger girls shared.

"right, what's that got to do with us?" leah queried, cocking her head to the side.

"her professor, thomas, asked me to look out for her. he didn't say much, but just make sure sim feels welcome, alright? i know she's not going to be on the pitch with you, but it would mean a lot if you just put in some effort." the manager didn't say anything else before walking in the direction of the pitch.

"she's so cryptic sometimes," rachel groaned.

"are we meant to babysit her or something?" added leah, leaning against the doorframe into the locker room.

an inquisitive frown took over millie's face. "coach was definitely being weird just now, but it's not a big ask. you guys know how important every role is on the team, from equipment manager to captain on the pitch. let's just show the kid a little extra love, yeah?"

the others nodded before turning to head back into the locker room to don their training kits.

"so you said you took an awkward fall, but i still don't quite understand how that leads to an injury so severe-" ella was cut off by yet another elbow to the side, this time coming from one alessia russo.

"she just got here and you've already started an interrogation!" alessia exclaimed.

"why is everyone so determined to punish my curiosity?" ella demanded. sim chuckled at the banter between the two blondes.

they were currently walking along the sidelines of one of the many practice pitches. she was enjoying taking on a more passive role at the moment, listening to her two tour guides bicker as she took in the environment. occasionally, they would point out attractions and talk about different parts of the facility. sim was content to feel the grass crunch below her feet and the light breeze on her face. she longed to be back on the field, passing a ball around or running tackling drills. she silently cursed her bad leg before deciding to put an end to the ensuing argument going on around her.

"it was raining quite a bit that day. it would've been fine, but we also happened to be playing on an absolutely shit pitch. i turned to offload the ball but my boot was stuck, so it was like the rest of my body pivoted while my right knee and down stayed put. add to that the fact that the defender slipped in the mud and landed her tackle below my knees instead of above, and it was a recipe for disaster. meniscus, ACL, MCL, all of it was just wrecked," the new hire explained.

sim saw the two forwards cringe in her periphery. "i'm so sorry," alessia said softly, reaching out to set a hand on sim's shoulder.

"it's not a huge deal. no point dwelling on the past right?" sim replied, sending alessia a tight-lipped smile as she shrugged her hand away.

in actuality, it was a massive deal. sim had loved rugby for as long as she could remember. the pitch was her refuge. when she was out on the field, nothing else mattered except getting the next try, making the conversion, getting good hits, and supporting her teammates. but it hurt too much to think about her nonexistent rugby career, so sim carried on as if nothing had changed. as well as she could with a permanently fucked up knee, anyway.

alessia couldn't imagine the pain sim had had to go through, physically and mentally. recovery from an injury like that couldn't be easy, and she couldn't fathom not playing the game she loved so dearly.

the two were pulled out of their thoughts by ella's next question. "so want to see the meal room or the recovery pool next?"

-----

contigo jenni

#alessia russo #ella toone #leah williamson #engwnt #lionesses #woso #woso community

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paigeswiftsea · 5 months ago

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lore dump bc i said so pt.1

( my oc for apocalypse btw ) ( this is all over the place whoops)

character sheet:

name: Blaire Williams

Height: 5'7

Age: 19

Favorite color : pink and green

favorite food: Carne asada

Skills: riding ( jumping and cross country), painting

Hobbies: listening to music, painting, riding, gardening/druidism, hiking

Zodiac sign: Leo

Think this was already mentioned in the first few chapters, but Blaire grew up with a rich family, much like sabine did. Blaire Williams was born in Vermont,USA, so she is technically american, but that's not her ethnicity. somewhere, her mom was jorvikian mostly, and her dad was italian-american.

Her parents had very time consuming jobs, and they were more focused on getting to the top of their careers and getting as much money as they could, in turn neglecting blare as a child leaving her with a babysitter, one of the best so they could brag, and mainly left blaire to herself. she was an only child.

as blaire grew into a preteen, she still looked up to her parents, she craved their validation. so, she became, or at least tried, to become like them. snobby, prickish, you know the whole lot. she went to one of the best private schools, wherever they were.

The Williams family moved often. most times for huge job offers. the lived in vermont for a year. then they lived in spain until blaire was 5, moving to italy. blaire lived there until 8, when they moved to england. the lived in england the longest, but they moved all around england, for better areas. eventually blaire and her family were living off the coast. in a multimillion dollar mansion. blaire was enrolled in one of the top english private schools.

blaire found an interest in horses relatively early in life. she was definitely a horse girl for a while, decorating her whole room with horse related things. when she was 13, she was gifted a Shetland pony, by her grandparents.

When she was 14, she was enrolled in a riding school, and quickly worked to become one of the best riders there. she wanted to impress her parents, show them she was one of them. she collected two more horses, an arabian and a thoroughbred.

When Blaire was 16, she was at the top of her riding class for school, having won many medals and awards for her sport. but her parents were still not quite impressed. the summer of her 17th birthday, she was sent off to jorvik, for their summer riding camp. after the summer was over, blaire decided to stay in jorvik and finished high school through online classes.

Because blaire was so desperate for her parent validation, she eventually became kind of one of them. she was a major bitch. she was the high school bullies you saw in the movies. she was kinda like paris, (if you've ever watched gilmore girls yk whats up). she strived for perfection, and broke down in the privacy in her room when she didn't get her expectations to the dot.

But anyway, she was more mean spirited person when she moved to jorvik at 16. she didn't like it there. she had to leave her horses, all because her parents didn't want her in their house over the summer for their own things. so basically she was a bitch to everyone most of the time. she was okay with justin, only because she introduced her to her now starbreed, diamond. again, i think this is in one of the chapters, but diamond is based off a horse i have in game. shes an andalusian, more specifically a perlino andalusian. like in canon they bonded very quickly and was some of her only happiness. while she was a bitch for a while in jorvik, after helping with saving moorland, and liking it, she made a promise to herself and became a nice person again. not because she wanted to fit in with all the personalities, but because she was honestly sick of being someone who caused hurt undeservingly. but she is more than willing to bring back the mean side of her who deserve it, especially when she starting interacting with dark riders and sabine.

Blaire is sweet and loving, but also sassy and can get fiery when she wants. she is a loyal person.

#ssoblr #ao3 fanfic #sso oc #oc #orginal character #oc lore?#backstory #character creation #oc writing

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petite-ursus · 3 months ago

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With my birthday next week (eeee!) I finally managed to get some journaling done. 7 pages and I only got a fraction of the summer onto paper. So many wonderful and strange and exciting things have happened the last few months... it's just so difficult to sum it up.

I've mentioned there's a part of me that wishes I was at a point where I felt safe to be emotionally available... to really put an effort into dating again... but I think because it has been such a whirlwind summer with Options At Hand I just keep forgetting how little time has past since the ex finally got out of my house.

It was less than a year ago that I was waking up every morning literally drenched in sweat. I was still being touched when I didn't want it. I wasn't being allowed to sleep through the night. I was anxious and scared, sad and lonely in a way I've never experienced before, and honestly it feels so surreal now.

I'm sure the ex has been madly in and out of love at least twice in the time it has taken me just to feel okay again... that's who she is, and I don't view that as a flex. Still, there is a part of me that wishes I could have snapped back even half so quickly and that I had a wonderful gorgeous partner on my arm to validate to the world that I'm Good... that's just not where I am.

She terrorized me. Threw my furniture. Screamed at me. Took over my bedroom and wrecked my sleep. Wouldn't get out of my house, and made the place I loved most into a palace of eggshells. She intentionally made me doubt my judgement, made me feel small and unsure... and yeah, I've spent the last year recovering the self she saw and wanted to have, if not love. Excavate her from the wreckage. Whatever.

I've said it before and I'll say it again... I'm still afraid. Not of her, because she has no access to me... but of what I allowed, and could allow again. Hindsight is 20/20 and I see now how she was like a copy paste in a lot of ways of other people I've loved. The difference of course being that while those relationships were rocky they were based in mutual love. I've been mulling on what a difference that makes... What habits that allows to form. They all had these similar through lines, but with her it was a more dangerous iteration because she wanted to possess me as someone she saw value in... but never actually loved me as a person. Being with her forced me confront some very real relationship patterns of my own, without that glammer of love to make the acts of violence less damning. Who I choose. Why I choose them. The full depth of the harm choosing people like that can do to me. I want to believe that now, having been through that I'll make different choices. I know even as I'm browsing the apps I'm doing it differently than I did before... but people lie, and I don't want to enter my next relationship with my guard all the way up. There's only so much I can do, and then I have to trust another person...

I still can't imagine letting anyone into my home again. I don't know if that's something I'll ever be able to do.Though I hope I say this like a character in a book who doesn't know she's going to be living with the love of her life in 5 chapters(years.)

Two weeks ago was one of the first times since she destroyed the peace I found in my home, where I looked around and said, "Oh I love it here," again. The animals are all happy and healthy, the string lights and plants and all my rocks and decorations make my heart sing. There's no mess and no clutter. I think, maybe now that I have a landing space again... a real refuge again that doesn't feel just like... a place where something terrible happened, with gaps in the furniture and wall decorations where my things were removed to make space for her... maybe now I can get there, to a place where I can let someone else in... but man... tldr, I really just need to give myself a break and let it happen when it happens. It was so so bad. I've had such a wonderful year by comparison that the edges of my memory have softened and made me feel like I should be "back at it," with the life goals that involve another person... but like so bad my actual health deteriorated and I was literally in the hospital. It is OK that it is taking time (LESS THAN A YEAR) to process it all and heal from it. SHOULDERS take more time to fully heal than that sometimes.

Life is so long. There is so much time.

And also, as an aside... I've been rolling around in my head what a surprise blessing it is that in seeing how unloved I was in this last relationship I'm able to find real love in my past relationships where I'd been unsure of it before, because it was so clearly there by comparison. Not that I'd go back to these other people, not that it changes any of the things that were/went wrong, but to know that even if I wasn't loved well... I was loved... That's valuable to me. That's a gift I wasn't expecting.

#personal #shannon talks dating

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blugnettabutterflies · 2 years ago

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Outcasts, Chapter 1

"I found him."

(Criminal Case: The Conspiracy Spoilers in general, mainly of Case 60, Blaze of Glory.)

TW: Heavy description of bruises and anatomy.

Beginning - Previous Ch - Next Ch - Ending

There are a lot of things a profiler can do. Usually, their job is to take every single detail they can grasp on their fingers of anyone he meets, even if it's a friend, and analyze their behavior coming from those objects, chats, and even by only looks and hand movements. It's both a blessing and a curse.

For example, one thing Gabriel knows now is that when Gloria is nervous, she drives fast. Very fast. Constantly ignoring every driving sign she could encounter.

But, given the context they are in, it's not like the driving signs even matter. And the reasoning is also on par, understandable and valid.

They just saw the Dome explode. And it was a powerful explosion, given that he still has a sensation of trembling in his ears from the sound of it, and the vision of the dust and fire going up is still as clear as day.

They weren't even that close to the Dome and still felt like they were a few blocks away.

And what's worse, they were informed just a few minutes ago that both of his teammates were in the position the explosion took place. That explains why Gloria was running the car as if her life depends on it. Maybe some lives do depend on this.

That also explains how he hasn't said a word ever since he got in the car, only looking through the window to see if the ambulance is following them.

It took less than half an hour to get to the epicenter of the explosion. The damn Dome. The same place that was full of mysteries, a whole Conspiracy going on, experiments and science, and many, many deaths and trouble for them, now is just reduced into rubble and debris, with a few structures still barely holding up.

- Here, let's start searching... they cannot be that far. - His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Gloria speaking and her door opening. That led him to do the same thing, almost automatically.

Before she departs, she indicates her whistle. Everyone has one, in case of an emergency. In this case, if they find any of the two.

Now, both have to be careful. Not only were they searching for their friends, but now they have to be on the lookout if any neohuman was nearby, ready to slit them open.

It's incredible how much those two individuals usually get themselves into trouble. Ever since this person who everyone calls as Player reappeared in the city, everything was turned upside down. And that apparently wasn't their first rodeo.

Either they have a magical intuition to let this happen, or it's just bad luck.

He just wants to think that it is a mere coincidence.

And lately, all the luck has been happening to his closest companion.

He thinks about this member for quite some time while searching. A lot has happened to this member. From finding and trying to ally old enemies of his that end up dead, to finding out that his girlfriend was without any memory, only to recover it with his help and murder someone. To then be killed.

He sighs. This member is prone to be explosive, no pun intended. His emotions are always extreme. Not that is a bad thing, but he thinks he never learned to keep an eye on them, and those can turn against him, as it did almost a week ago, almost ending with his own life.

Still to this day, he feels that he could have done something. Sure, now he looks better but the process is hard and emotionally draining, he knows that. Especially for someone like him. Maybe he could have made a little more in his journalism to find more stuff to address. Or maybe he could have found a way to...

No. Just find him now. That's your only objective. Find them both. Find them alive.

Both enter the hall and see fire. More fire than the normal they got already used. Debris everywhere, and tons of rubble around.

That was the epicenter.

They observe the place that has the most fire. An electric motor, or at least what remains of it, is destroyed into pieces.

- What on earth... - Gloria asks herself, with a very small volume. Gabriel can't give himself the answer even if he wanted to, he's just as shocked.

They keep advancing. He kept thinking about that as he kept going with a few paramedics near him. Still holding the whistle he was given so the rescue team could find him.

Suddenly, Gloria is the first to whistle.

- I found Player! - She exclaims, as she tries to take rocks that were from a supposed wall out of them. They were unconscious.

Aside from the bruises caused by the rubble, there weren't major injuries involved.

- C'mon hun, wake up. - Gloria says in a concerned tone as she tries to move Player in order to wake them up, with no positive results.

A few paramedics were already on the way to attend to them, so he didn't get closer.

"Alright, one found. One more to find." Was his train of thought as he kept on walking, almost running. He still can't find him.

- Hey! Is anyone there?!

No answer for the general call. He tries again. Maybe he just reacts to his name. Common reaction under shock.

- Hello?! J-

There is some debris going in one particular place that caught his eye. More than that, there was like an object, a lump of... something, that just fell out to the ground, prompting a sound loud enough to give some attention to it.

He approaches it, hoping it's not what he thinks it is. He even was telling himself to not think about it. It can't be.

"It can't be him. Don't let it be him." He thinks, almost prays.

But as he was approaching the lump, his suspicions were (unfortunately) getting more accurate. The lump was taking more form. He then noticed that the lump had arms.

And legs...

And a face.

A barely recognizable face.

The vision was almost nauseating. The clothes were ripped apart, with the exception of his jacket, which the back and part of his left arm took a bad hit. He can still see the ashes. The body had so many burns, he can't determine if they were second or third-degree... he can even see one part of the body not being in the right place. He can only explain to himself that he was the closest to the explosion.

His face took a major hit. This "lump" had a painful face, unconsciously feeling all that his body went through. Especially on his eyes.

They were bleeding (or at least one of them) as much as the top of his head.

The last time he saw that much blood in a body, was when he found Zoe Kusama in the psychiatric hospital.

"Oh no..."

And she was dead.

- GLORIA!!! - was all he could yell in the chaos that became his mind for a second. He didn't need the whistle, she came really fast. - Are you okay?! What happened?! - She asks while running to the position. - ... I found him.

She covers her mouth as soon as she gets to see the sight. He can tell that her mind became a fog, and honestly, his mind probably wanted to do that as well.

He blows the whistle to keep his brain from doing it. The sound keeps him on the ground.

They didn't even try to wake him up or move him. They just waited for instructions for the paramedics, who came running, applying everything they could apply to the lump of a human being that they call David Jeremiah Jones.

#criminal case #criminal case the conspiracy #criminal case game #david jeremiah jones #david jones #Gabriel Herrera #Gloria Hayes #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #fanfiction writer #This is no perfect in any way #But i really wanted to make some answers and to be a second view from that case

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januaryembrs · 8 months ago

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Hiya, ok so the last time you posted a chapter for your Spencer x Bugsy series I sent a response/ask (I don’t even know how to call it) and you said that you love hearing what are people’s favourite bits from your work so you bet that for the newest part I had to make a list of all my favourite moments (I was quite literally jumping between tumblr and my notes app to make bullet points of all my favourite moments and I still had to cut out a few things because it was getting wayyy too long). So this might be a little long (if it’s too long or annoying just ignore it or tell me to stop for next time) but here are all my favourite moments from the newest part:

* I love how very soon after the explosion we get Hotch’s point of view to see a little bit inside his mind and what he’s thinking. A found-family trope or the father figure storyline is always a favourite of mine so Rossi’s and Bugsy’s relationship in the last part or Aaron’s and Bugs in this part was just ahhhh ✨chefs kiss✨. “but Aaron wasn’t finished, not until he saw her.” “He thinks he said her name, but it might be just a sob.” I really liked that we got to see a little more vulnerable side him. And when he called her sweetheart, I think I just melted. “Stroking gently down her face with the same care he would put Jack to bed with.” “and he saw nothing but his son with a scraped knee in her eyes” the little references to his own son and how he possibly sees Bugs in a similar way (because lets be honest it’s like Morgan once called Hotch and Rossi, mom and dad, and the BAU team are just their children). Honestly, that whole scene between the two of them just melted my heart.

* Bugs panicking about her favourite bra? Honestly, would do the same thing.

* When Spence tells the team at the wedding to not mention anything about her arm or forehead and then he’s cut off by Penelope. I couldn’t stop laughing. I was just imagining all the members just going silent and looking at that interaction and Spence just thinking “well, never mind then…”

* Love Henry calling her Buggy.

* The dance scene between Hotch and Bugsy was amazing.

* After Bugs comes back from London and Spence goes “What are you doing here?” with a confrontational tone. Even I felt offended. Honestly even if Spence and Maeve ended up together I would have been happy for them but after meeting her Spence just behaved like a straight up A-hole to Bugs. I’m sorry but he needs to get his act together.

* And then Spence calling Maeve the most beautiful girl in the world and Bugs just thinking she would never be good enough for him. I cried. I cried a lot at that scene (but then again it was around 5am when I first read it and I was like half delirious but I still cried).

* They both need to realise they’re in love with each other and get together soon.

Ok, so again I apologise for this being so long but I love love love your writing and get so excited every time you post. Also, thank you for the good luck wishes for my exams, tomorrow is my first one so hopefully everything goes well but seeing a new part after waking up definitely made my day a lot lot better so thank you. 💖💖

THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE IS WHAT I LOVE ABOUT YOU GUYS SENDING ME THINGS. I have read this all three times kicking my feet giggling because this is so so so validating and encouraging to read as a writer. The fact bugsy is not just mine anymore to enjoy but everyone else’s literally makes me feel like I’ve sent my child off to school and they’ve come home with gold stars.

Thankyou so so so much for taking even a minute out of your day to message me all of this, it honestly fills me with so much joy that people like my store so much they’d go to such lengths to note down exactly what made them feel something 💗💗💗

It is not annoying at all, completely the opposite actually, feel free to message me whenever you like because I love reading stuff like this 🫶

#em’s inbox ᯓ★

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255940g · 2 years ago

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Any title ideas guys? Ch.11 - What I thought would happen

Chapter Summary: This is like a directors commentary for a movie. Also known as what I thought would happen with different scenes from the original fic, but didn't.

Inspo fic: Don't say you'd rather waly by Greyscales

Meeting Ironhide:

“Hey, Ironhide. Nice to officially meet you I guess. Before you take them out again, you know damn well that your cannons are cool. Why do you need validation?” Sam panted breathlessly while fearlessly approaching the larger being.

“How do you know my designation?” He asked

A good distance away Sam sent a quick smile looking him directly not his optics “It’ll be better if I tell everyone at once.”

Ironhide accepts that and stays by her neither speaking much. (that scene with Bumblebee and the ‘Are you ok?’ was far too sweet and it sets it up during the rest of the book where something hugely dramatic happens probably to Sam, but she starts to comfort those around her, mainly Bee. Like this happens after suddenly meeting the other Autobots and killing Frenzy, then after killing Megatron by getting far too close for anyone’s comfort to both the power of the Allspark, Megatron, and Megatron’s spark, after she wakes up from changing species for the alien species. Beautifully done. I adore all of it!)

When she meets the rest of the Autobots:

After exchanging hellos, and calling them by name. Pulls out from under her shirt a hidden satchel and then holds it out to Optimus. “Here are the glasses you’re looking for. Unfortunately, The location is no longer accurate as sector 7 already found the Allspark and is holding it and Megatron under the Hoover dam somewhere. Apparently, a ton of concrete around both of them is able to hide their signatures. They’re keeping Megatron still by basically keeping him at or near arctic temperatures, that’s going to fail when they take Judy Ron and me in a few hours. They can track the benign radiation coming from your sparks. They can currently only trace the larger signatures off of organic materials” gesturing to herself with a little bit of a shrug. “It’s inevitable that anyone interacting with you all will have a similar signature. Thinking of Sector 7, the agents have already started to experiment with the radiation coming off of it. They have a whole chamber that locks from the outside. They place a piece of tech - which came around after they started experimenting on Megatron so there might be a connection with that - and combine it with the radiation of the Allspark. There’s an angry baby cybertronian inside, so they start to electrocute them until they die and take the corpse for experimenting and further researching.” Taking the time to glance around and seeing the confused and slightly dubious reaction, Sam assumes that it's due to humans having reverse engineered and developed a way to fully kill a cybertronian and so explained “Ratchet when you landed, you landed on a few power lines and were shocked pretty badly, but you merely lifted your helm and said something like ‘what a rush, right?”

“That was my exact words and actions”

“Alright, it’s gonna be like that but heavily amplified. That’s a sabot shell. They hurt like hell, which if Bee decides to interrupt their kidnapping attempt of Judy, Ron and me then he’ll experience that torture first hand,” hearing Bee’s gears whir Sam turned around in his palm, “So instead of stepping in between, maybe you could follow us to the Hoover dam and keep track of things like that, or even hacking them and saving the files that when Megatron gets free - which he will in a matter of days. The system keeping him down takes up a lot of energy and rightfully, he’s harbouring extreme anger and prejudice against humanity as a whole. So he decides to take out as much of the information they’ve gathered. If you keep a copy of the obvious lack of ethics they have and the prejudice against Cybertronians, it’ll be very likely that getting the official treaty and an actual base of operations much easier as concessions out of the massive budget of the American military has.”

Everyone pauses for a moment of stillness where Sam believes them to each be digesting the information she’s dumped on them.

In reality, they are sharing an extensive amount of information over the comms, where Bee explains that she knew his name, then apologising that she stopped some tentative plans he was going to try to get chosen and into her care by literally destroying all the other cars in the lot, and some details which she rightfully shouldn’t know, all within the first 5 minutes of getting into his cab. Ironhide collaborates her story by saying she was initially startled and called his exact designation he decided on not even a few klicks before and called out his usual greeting by subverting it herself and acknowledging that yes, his cannons are very cool.

Ratchet says that not only did she exactly state what he said, she retired the main action he did, and also that she was using the correct closest cybertronian term for their body parts and the human variety for humans.

Jazz piped up about she knew literally all of their names in order and their rank, in the order that oh so long ago they agreed upon.

Ratchet:: She definitely knows something::

Interrupting their comms, Optimus stated expertly hiding how off-kilter and unplanned this meeting had gone “What do you want us to do with this information?”

“Ideally, this would be 100% up to you Optimus, I’m absolutely no strategist, but I’ve definitely had different ideas as I’ve stewed over this in the past year. You want to trust me, but you need to verify what I’ve said. So why not just split into two groups? One to follow the coordinates in the glasses and the other to follow whenever the path Sector 7 makes. Trust but verify, Ratchet’s continual scans will say that at the very least, I’m believing every word that comes out of my mouth as the absolute truth, also sorry about the high spikes of anxiety, I’ve been diagnosed with it, unfortunately. I can only offer suggestions based on what knowledge I have. Thinking of which do you want me to remove the glasses from the cases. I tried protecting them as best as I could from Frenzy and Barricade, but they aren’t exactly friendly Cybertronian digits.”

:: I am. Not a single lie or obfuscation either. Even down to the rates of anxiety.::

Optimus took the lead again “And why start out with sharing so much information?”

“Why wouldn’t I? This is knowledge and patterns which directly affect your very life. Like someone is likely thinking, I have more information that you’ll need to know patterns to hopefully make everything easier, foreknowledge is forewarned. But, I’m more worried about the next threeish days. Whatever knowledge I have about the Mission City battle and what leads up to it, I’ll share. So while there is a saying about change negating knowledge, and knowledge negating change, I haven’t changed much. I didn’t try and sell the glasses via eBay, I stopped Bee from ruining a guy’s livelihood, and I'm not freaking out about Cybertronians, so the average police officer isn’t aware of what's up.”

They separate and unknown to Sam they do actually follow her idea and plan, because like she said trust, but verify. The usual in the fic happens, Sam gets the sparkling and the cube to shrink down while alerting the people that sabot rounds work better against Cybertronians. Ironhide and Bee start to try and get through the door and Sam recognises Ironhide and gets out of the base faster while the two bots are still in surprise about the sparkling and the cube. Approaching Bee, but briefly glancing back at Willian Lennox “I’m also going to assume that you, Mr Lennox, were about to tell Mr Epps about being able to get a signal out to some of your people and they’ve prepared to pick up at Mission city?”

“You know my nickname?” Epps muttered staring at the kid in front of him.

“How the fuck did you know that I was about to do that?” William practically demanded.

But all Sam did was turn to the two Autobots in front of her “Mission City,” In a disgusted voice. “Don’t forget to pack Sabot rounds for against the ‘cons!” she calls back to the soldiers as she speeds up towards Bee and Ironhide.

Sam bonds a little with the sparkling in her arms, but gets the attention back by announcing Starscream's attack, then the second one “Bee, on the second strike you need to be extra careful, that's where you lose your legs. This time there’s no Mikaela around to drag your torso around on the back of a tow truck.

However, this pre-warning only amplifies that she absolutely knows something and is to definitely be looked after and out for. Saving Jazz’s life - Bee only was just barely able to get him to stop from beginning the climb up the building.

The fic battle happens as per usual. The bots and Sam get back to Sector 7’s base and Sam is officially in the dark for this section of the movie; however, this is how I thought the whole interaction would go.

A random sector 7 agent walks slightly up and tries to get her to come over to the human side “So we can protect you from them.” (as per usual in the fic)

“I'm more protected with them than going with the agency which commits mass infanticide.”

The random agent pauses and asks “What do you mean by infanticide?”. This is seen by Simmons and William’s herd of agents, all of which are carefully observing everything.

Snapping her fingers Sam continues as if the agent hasn’t spoken “You’re right, infanticide is just killing a ton of children. What Sector 7 did was worse. They brought infants to life, then tortured them to death only to experiment on the corpse. Don’t even try to mentally hide behind the idea of ‘just following orders, that hasn't worked as an excuse for a lack of personal morals in around half a century, in all fields. I have more important things to do.” Completely turning on her heel Sam approached Ratchet “Hey Ratchet, do you have any extra time to add one to your patient list? I wasn’t fast enough to stop the electrocution. I want to make sure they’re alright. Gently bouncing the sparkling in her arms.

Ratchet leaned down to place his hand near the floor in an invitation that Sam willingly took. Going as far as to sit on the palm. Ratchet teased “Only if I can add one more to the list.” Sending a significant look towards Sam.

“Sure Ratchet. You haven’t done anything to discourage my trust.” Meeting his optics head-on with a beaming smile and raising an eyebrow.

The growing smile on his faceplate let her know that she wasn’t just talking about since they crashlanded on Earth, but in whatever future, she was able to see. Also that it was another verbal slap in the face to the listening-in agents that an alien who she’s officially met once garnered more trust than her own species.

Playfully narrowing his eyes “And you’re undergoing the basic evaluation?” the two of them knowing that he had her base scans already taken during their initial meeting.

“Of course. That's standard when you go to a new doctor, or even just go to see the doctor. Sparkling first, though.”

Ratchet looked at Ironhide “See this is how to be a decent patient. Preemptive care and recognising when things are out of their own medical knowledge. Be more like Sam.” while carrying Sam and Ellie in his servos to a corner of the temporary base.

After getting home from learning that her memories were affected.:

So Sam absolutely shuts down, but her memories are at stake. She knows that Fate, Destiny Karma, whoever is going to do the worst thing possible. So Sam starts up her computer after Ellie is done and wants cuddles and love before slipping into recharge. Sam starts up the computer again and begins to write as accurately everything that she knew before becoming Sam. If she was right then she would lose these memories. If she was wrong then they were going to be of use to the Autobots either way and finally they could be shared as a recording for her, later.

To everyone else, Sam is practically mute and always typing things down but interacting with Ellie. Her time inside Bee is half silent and pondering the other half is being in Bee’s cab and frantically typing. No one knows what she’s typing and she isn’t talking from the surprise. But she’s eating and sleeping and slowly greater frequencies. Ellie still gets her time on the computer while Sam is introspective and Sam interacts with Ellie but the world shifts down to those three things.

After Sam says something and is moved to the Autobot base and is with her first exam with Ratchet. Where she says “I’m putting down all the information I can of the future. I want at least you and Optimus to have full access to all of the information. You said last time that it was already affecting my brain and memories. I need to have this information known so you can be aware of the trends to look out for.”

“Ratchet is both floored at this secret and forbidden knowledge but also highly concerned with the concern and responsibility that comes from even glimpses of the future. With the knowledge she had, she saved Jazz’s life, Ellie's life, and most likely Bee’s well-being.

Sam continues in her now much softer voice even through the discomfort that she admitted to earlier “Please Ratchet. I need to get this out. I need to try and prevent you from being hunted for years before being torn apart for parts while your processor and spark are barely kept alive so some random ass company can pick at it for the information you have on Cybertronians, so this company can forcefully make their own.”

If he were human Ratchet would have already been pale from the information but this frankness of how he could possibly die if she didn’t share it, along with the miserable existence he could possibly lead to and the sheer weight that this information would have, along with the unimaginable stress that she was carrying. He would have glitched if it weren’t for his protocols demanding his attention on his two now distressed patients. (Sam and Bee were the actual distressed patients. Ellie was only distressed because Sam an Bee were. Once the two of them calmed down, then Ellie was easily put into a happier mood.)

#transformers bayverse #maccadam #bayverse optimus prime #bayverse bumblebee #bayverse ratchet #my tfp fics #sam witwicky

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thefamilyeldritchabomination · 2 years ago

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Chapter Fourteen: Mr. Pinstripe Suit Pt. 4

The yellowjackets were freed from their clay prison, having survived inside thanks to the pores bringing in air, angrily swarmed Hohenheim. Dolly had an expression of pure horror as Dorian casually walked back to Dolly, climbed up into her arms and was ready to leave the shit show he made. Not wanting to wait for the yellowjackets to turn their attention to herself as they attack Hohenheim, Dolly quickly ran off with Dorian in her arms as Hohenheim was screaming in pain. Although she had hoped Dorian would’ve found Envy or Freddy, Dolly was thankful for the unexpected help from angry predatory insects. Teleporting was out of the question since Freddy and Envy were likely still in the gardens looking for Dolly. It’d be irresponsible to leave the two behind and likely torch the gardens to the ground. The only other option was to temporarily hide somewhere Hohenheim wouldn’t spot her. It was simply pure luck on Dolly’s end there was a statue coming up that was large enough to hide behind. Hiding behind the statue, Dolly listened to the screams die down as a crowd started walking towards the commotion. It was both a good thing and a bad thing in Dolly’s eyes as it meant Hohenheim would have a harder time looking for them but on the other hand there’d be a lot of casualties should alchemy be involved. Dolly looked at Dorian who was relaxed and completely at peace with the violent action he had chosen for that particular situation.

“While I am grateful that you did get us out of that rather insufferable situation, don’t use yellowjackets or any other insects again. It scares the poor insects greatly with that sort of thing.” Dolly whispered, feeling rather terrible for the yellowjackets that were given a great fright of their lives.

“Fine, I’ll use a sledgehammer next time.” Dorian conceded, rubbing their swollen clay muzzle after basically eating a live yellowjacket nest.

With a heavy sigh, Dolly gently petted Dorian on his back in gratitude that he did help get themselves away from Hohenheim, even if it was rather horrific in nature towards the innocent yellowjackets. What was done was done and there was no going back with continuing a talk with an absolute garbage fire of a parent. Once a big enough crowd had gathered, Dolly carefully got Dorian back into the backpack and started making her way to the visitor’s center. It was safe for now to walk by foot once again, the visitor’s center would likely be a good place to let Freddy and Envy know she got away. Meanwhile, somehow at the apartment, it was more chaotic than it was at the garden when Envy stormed in to get Gluttony. Freddy was doing all he could to not have a particular call back to home about the current situation as he stood by the door, eying the phone on the wall. Lust and Hughes got into an argument with Envy, wanting to come along to help get Dolly out of the situation as Gluttony stayed out of the fight looking nervous about what the outcome could be. It was clear Envy was going through a form of panic over Dolly being taken like that and by their absolute disaster of a father no less. Gluttony waited for a bit for a lull in the argument to throw in his few cents on the situation.

“Hohenheim’s scary, scarier than Dante, we shouldn’t be going alone..” Gluttony finally said, making it three homunculi against the incredibly stubborn one. “See? Gluttony has a very valid point too about going in head first with Hohenheim.” Lust was about ready to leave the apartment if Envy continued this argument and go retrieve Dolly herself.

“Come on Envy, the more we continue to argue like this, the more time we lose in getting Dolly out of that situation.” Hughes was nearly close to the end of his patiences with Envy and their temperament. “You know what, fine, just fucking fine Lust and you assholes can come! Understand that I hold the claim on destroying my bastard of a father alone, especially after today!” Envy was about ready to demolish the newly paved over wall hole as they begrudgingly agreed with them coming along.

“Just how dangerous are we talking about here with this Hohenheim guy?” Freddy finally asked as this situation got him on edge.

“Okay Face Fur, if it makes you ‘happy’, that rotten bastard is on par with Dante in terms of alchemy and the first successful alchemist to make a philosopher’s stone. No, we will not compromise with him on making us another stone if you happen to feel so emboldened to ask.” Envy grumbled out as they made their way to the door to get started on locating Dolly.

“Its going to be a fucking blood bath..” Freddy muttered in horror as Lust went to get Hughes disguised properly before going out into public.

“Is Dolly dangerous?” Gluttony asked as he looked over at Freddy with his white void eyes.

“No, just bad things happen if Dolly is in danger. We still tell stories about the witch hunt incident.” Freddy briefly explained as he went to follow Envy to retrieve Dolly, leaving Gluttony rather concerned about the whole ordeal.

Lust soon followed with Hughes, dressed as though he was ready to sell some counterfeit watches, and collected Gluttony to help out with fighting off Hohenheim. Freddy started sweating from anxiety as he followed the group of super powered nightmares, not from the idea of fighting a powerful person but rather what nightmarish scene of carnage would be on display. There was a brief moment of relief on Freddy’s face when he saw that the garden was still intact and no horrific amounts of casualties strewn about. Relief was short lived as mummers of an animal attack could be heard from the patrons, Freddy turned about as corpse white as the homunculi he was being held hostage by. Hughes and Lust exchanged looks of worry about what was being murmured while Envy had completely tuned out the outside chatter. In Envy’s mind, there was nothing but rage at Hohenheim for taking Dolly from them and making him into red stones to eat for staving off the mercury poisoning flare ups. That in of itself would be sweet, poetic justice as Envy’s fingertips were starting to slowly turn pink. A growl escaped Envy’s lips when Lust made them stop in their little vendetta quest.

“Don’t you dare make me stop Lust.” Envy hissed as they looked ready to drop the disguise regardless of being out in public.

“Envy your fingertips are turning pink, you need to stop and eat some stones.” Lust started pulling a bag of red stones out from her beige coat to give to Envy.

“Damn it, I don’t have time for this.” Envy glared a bit as the mercury poisoning started to act up. “Envy, just eat the kibbles.” Lust whispered in a hissing tone as she shoved a bag of red stones into Envy’s pinkening hand.

“Fine I’ll eat the damn kibbles if it gets you off my back.” Envy in annoyance started to shove some red stones into their mouth to eat, making uncomfortable rock crunching sounds as they went.

“I’m getting a bit warm in this outfit, could I please loosen the scarf around my face?” Hughes asked as the exposed skin of his face was starting to turn red from overheating.

“Now is not a good time for that..” Lust whispered as she noticed how red Hughes was looking.

“Crap Hughes, hang on, I'm going to see if I can get you some water.” Freddy started looking for a water fountain to use after noticing the overheating one month old homunculus.

“Laser-eyes can wait, this is exactly why I didn’t want a group.” Envy finished devouring their bag of red stones when the speaker system came to life.

“Could a Mister Freiderick Mancer and friend please come to the visitor’s center.” Said a tired voice over on the speaker system, Freddy looking much more relieved at hearing that.

“Oh good…Dolly got away from the jackass…” Freddy eagerly started making his way to the visitor’s center before getting yanked back by Envy.

“How are we sure that this is Dolly?” Envy hissed, not wanting to be ambushed by that damnable Hohenheim. “I told her to use the full name I gave to your disguise if we got separated and she absolutely refused to do so. Figured Dolly would tell the one holding her hostage to use the name I gave you as a tip off.” Freddy smirked a little bit as he explained that rather delightful detail at Envy’s expense.

“Fair enough, Dolly is polite compared to your rude ass.” Envy let the bearded eighth wonder of the world go, glaring at him that the name was now a code.

“What? I thought I was being very creative when giving you the name of Barnaby Turd.” Freddy went back to making his way to the visitor’s center with Envy looking ready to punch his face in.

“That is enough from you two! I’ll be waiting here with Gluttony and Hughes while you get Dolly. Come on Hughes, let's get some hydration into your system.” Lust glared at Freddy and Envy as if they were both misbehaving children as she gathered Hughes to get a drink.

“You are such a killjoy Lust, but fine, we’ll be back with Dolly.” Envy grumbled as Freddy walked away from a brutal encounter of the homunculus kind.

Envy had visibly calmed down after learning Dolly was safe, but Envy being Envy, was pissed that this whole ordeal happened in the first place. The plan to turn Hohenheim into a pile of red stones was still a very appealing idea to the vengeful homunculus as Freddy had some reasonable concerns playing in his mind. Last time there was a kidnapping, there was a punishment beforehand and the dread of possibly being shipped off to Briggs was something Freddy had no desire to go through. The thoughts of having to spare once again with Olivier had sent a shiver down Freddy’s spine as the visitor’s center came into view. It was a humble cottage style building that fit in with the botanical garden with weather worn terracotta roof tiles as the moss and lichen laid claim to the building’s exterior. The sight of the building helped Freddy to relax a bit as Envy made a hasty walk towards the door. The bored face of the visitor’s center’s receptionist lazily looked over to the entry of Envy barging in with Freddy sheepishly following behind out of embarrassment. The sound of the bubble gum popping being the only sound heard as Dolly looked up from her seat as she excitedly got up from the chair. It took a moment or two to register what had happened as the receptionist glanced over and casually flopped into the desk, passed out from shock, as the bottom half of Dolly’s glamor was left behind like perfectly positioned severed legs.

#The Wayfarer #Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA 03 #Fan Ficiton #FMA Fan Fiction #Writing #Envy the Jealous #Envy #Lust the Lascivious #Lust #Gluttony the Voracious #Gluttony #Maes Hughes #Hohenheim of Light #Van Hohenheim #OCs #Homunculus #Homunculi

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girlswithambition · 2 years ago

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Draft - Elegy for a Sunset Her Voice: Part 2 (first half)

This one's a long one and the second half is where a lot of that emotional weight gets discharged. It's in various stages of completion, but the first half is the cleanest/most legible so far. Shameless reference you're all going to get. Eric competes for the Least Reliable Narrator award. Author dies on the hill that Eric's kingdom is in the Mediterranean and his native language is Italian.

Same content warnings apply generally, but there are some mild specific ones for this chapter.

Draft summary: Eric is thrust into wedding preparations after the battle with Ursula. The world spins without him, and he's sinking in grief.

Content warnings: wound care, dissociation.

External validation brings me life like magic flowers that I don't have to lock you all in towers for. Inject those comments directly into my veeeeins pls

Eric expected nightmares, but there were no more left for him. Months passed and the world spun just as it always had, and little by little he treaded water until he could move with it again. Somehow routine found him.

Enough time had passed that every sailor spread a rumor of a supernatural horror that, for the first time in weeks, didn’t involve Eric. He believed the rumor without question. He’d seen enough to believe the worst a mariner could tell and the rumors drew attention from the sham wedding everyone had been whispering about in his wake.

A mighty ship and her crew had encountered the Flying Dutchman, though no one alive told much more than that. There were no bodies to be buried at sea, only lost to it. Their stories, along with the lost crew, belonged to the Locker now, and all anyone could cling to was grief. Eric sympathized in some distant way–not for being an honorable fallen seaman (he felt like neither), but for having the fabric of his world torn asunder.

But just as the world had spun without Eric for a time, it would spin for the living crew. The rumors would die down, and everyone would return to their normal routines no matter what eldritch horrors had followed them. Eric moved from the most radical change he’d ever had in his life to the most routine preparations for a wedding he’d been expected to have since birth.

Eric could at least be grateful he no longer dreaded wedding preparations.

He sat in his study pouring over returned invitations, letter by letter with seals from kingdoms across every sea. And for those beneath the sea, he had a collection of glass bottles with parchment and elegant replies on pressed neptune grass, which Ariel had roughly translated from Atlantican. She had labeled two separate piles: Accetato and Rifiutato, each written in with deliberate attention to each letter as a scholar would when transcribing a new language.

As much as Eric wished he could be there to teach Ariel, wedding preparations had kept them apart most days. Lately he’d been leaning on Max, but his impending wedding tore Eric from his own dog. Of course Max had only been taste-testing wedding cake samples meant for the couple, shattering plates and cutting his paw in the process. And because he would not stop licking his bandage, he earned a few days strict supervision with the stablemistress.

Eric missed Ariel, missed Max, and yet the world still spun around him. He barely had a chance to feel how much he missed them both. Daylight still poured through the study window, illuminating the urgent pile of letters in a cold light.

“One of Ariel’s sisters volunteered to help out with the Atlantican end of the arrangements,” Eric felt himself say, more consumed by imagining Ariel pouring over a dictionary. “Her oldest, Attina. She said it’s to take some pressure off the bride but then confessed Ariel couldn’t keep a shoal of herring in line even if she wanted to.”

Grimsby, scribbling more busily at Eric’s side, jotted notes on a large parchment rolled out like an array of battle plans. “Quite a coincidence, Eric. I could say the same about you.”

The quip pulled Eric back to earth for a moment, and he laughed, suddenly feeling a little less overwhelmed by the pile of papers. “Ouch, Grim. Tell me you’re at least happy you don’t have to scour the world for eligible princesses anymore.”

“Ecstatic, and quite relieved she’s royalty.” Through that Englishman’s veneer Eric saw a genuine halfsmile. “I was beginning to think I would never see you smile with your feet on solid ground. Ariel has made you happier than I’ve ever seen you, Eric. Though I’ve been surprised at how little I’ve seen the two of you together lately.”

“It’s not for lack of trying.” Eric absently opened the first envelope in the pile, slicing a letter opener clean through it before he realized, like every invitation from the human world, it was simply sealed with wax. He winced at his mistake and returned the opener to its drawer.

Eric had expected wedding preparations to bore him. There were seating charts to prepare, and thankfully their arrangement had no fractured alliances to contend with, even after a sham Sea Witch wedding. There were nobles he was obligated to invite and people Eric would rather avoid, but among those dreaded invitations were the closest among his social circle whom he hadn’t seen in years.

After unsealing a few more invitations, Eric spied the elegant seal of the British Royal Navy. His heart soared–even its contents felt weightier than the others, as if the esteemed Admiral James Norrington’s acceptance (Eric hoped) commanded every attention Eric wished to give.

He broke the seal and spied the familiar, noble letterhead, his heart pounding and finally sinking to the floor when he read the first fatal phrase: We regret to inform you…

Eric read the letter in its entirety, its meaning drowned in flowery, formal language. What took a page to imply hit Eric so plainly he felt the realization like a lance to his ribs.

The Admiral is dead.

This was the kind of news someone delivered urgently in the night, and yet Eric could only stare at the letter illuminated by cold sunlight through his window, with ink lamenting the “whereabouts unknown” and a hollow reassurance that Admiral James Norrington would remain in their thoughts.

Eric’s heart sank bottomlessly, suspended in the same empty abyss he almost drowned in before Ariel saved him. [strange sensation of his heart sinking but there’s no seafloor, suspended in empty shock that hasn’t, cannot crash with grief]

“Is that the invitation for Admiral Norrington?” Grimsby asked, though with a note of hesitation.

“He’s gone,” Eric whispered, hardly able to admit the truth to himself. “Grim, have you heard those rumors about the lost sailors and the Flying Dutchman?”

“It’s all anyone will talk about within a mile’s walk of the harbor,” Grimsby assented.

“And you believe them?”

“I am certain, now.” The After everything that’s happened to you was silent.

Eric handed Grimsby the letter, and despite its contents mentioning only Admiral Norrington’s “regretful passing at sea,” Grim connected the dots as well as Eric had. The old man dipped his quill and drifted over to the table nearest to the bride and groom, drawing a single, fatal line across the spot where Admiral James Norrington might have earned his seat.

“We should send our condolences to the Admiral’s family,” Grimsby said.

“We should. But this letter makes it sound like he passed peacefully at home.” Eric knew enough now for those rumors to be truth, sans exaggeration. The Admiral of the British Royal Navy had been killed on the Flying Dutchman, and while Eric didn’t know more than that, he could imagine a number of horrible things.

“Did they think I wouldn’t believe them? They know what happened here. Everyone does.”

Grimsby amended the chart with some notes too small for Eric to read. Not that he cared to. His chancellor had drawn enough lines and additions to tear the paper apart.

“They know very well, Eric. And they know exactly what you know. But those kinds of otherworldly revelations, in recorded history, are enough to crumble Empires.”

Eric laid out a blank sheet of paper, with only letterhead, to craft a reply. But after too long in silence he dipped his quill in ink and left it in its well.

Grimsby continued, probably after seeing Eric’s utter loss for words. “Sometimes, in the face of unimaginable horror, we can only acknowledge what is human enough to comprehend.”

Eric wondered, staring back at the blank sheet of paper, if there was anything human enough left to comprehend.

“I’ll send my condolences,” he sighed.

Enough time passed for Eric to write a single paragraph with enough distant formality to match the letter he’d received.

My sincerest condolences, Eric wrote in place of My heart is adrift.

He missed Max. He missed Ariel. His heart was still sinking, and this time there was no seafloor to crash in the grief swimming through him.

He worked with no more words until Grimsby began to pack up parchment and letters, and Eric heard a fierce knock on the study door.

Before Grimsby could get up to answer it, Carlotta opened the door. She only ever did so in emergencies or if Eric was in trouble, and by her exasperation Eric could only assume the latter.

Eric made himself small. “Hi, Lottie…”

“It’s a miracle you’re not in bed with fever!” Carlotta hurled a heavy, leather nurse’s bag onto the table with an ominous thud. “But if you were, you’d have stayed put long enough for me to remove your sutures on time.”

“Was that today?”

“Yesterday.”

Eric winced, looking apologetically at Grimsby who was packing up his things and glaring in a very I’m-not-helping-you sort of way.

“Terribly sorry, Carlotta dear, and I won’t keep him any longer. Had I known I would have sent him straight to you.”

Eric had his doubts, but this was no time to argue. “Sorry, I felt fine and it just slipped my mind.”

“I haven’t forgotten you ‘felt fine’ before you collapsed in front of God and Ariel as soon as you made it back to the palace.” After shooing Grimsby out, Carlotta cleared the rest of the desk.

Eric, sheepish under her wrath, helped her clean off the surface and obediently sat on the edge of the desk before she needed to command him to do it. He figured if she needed to track him down, he might as well sit still for her.

This mollified her somewhat, and Eric could breathe a little better. He watched her lay out a towel and suture scissors, tinctures, and bandages for good measure. She placed a scalpel at the foot of the towel–Eric knew enough to know this wasn’t needed for a suture removal, but it could excise infected tissue and served as a heavy threat not to be late with wound care.

With her tools laid out, Carlotta’s tone softened. “How’s your pain been, dear?”

Eric peeled off his shirt, folding (lest he again endure Carlotta’s wrath) and tucking it on the other side of the desk. He had to pause to consider his answer. “Uh–fine, I think. Better than being stuck in bed.”

His abdomen was wrapped in bandages, obscuring the last of his injuries. There was a rough laceration on his right hip, which was difficult for Eric to see on his own, but it had taken the longest time to heal. From the amount of splinters the surgeon had removed from it, he imagined he’d gotten injured from the force of the waves on the ship he’d used to kill the Sea Witch.

He peered down at an awkward angle as Carlotta palpated around his bandages, checking for inflammation or abscess, and Eric didn’t feel much of anything.

“No swelling,” she confirmed. “And your bandages are dry. We’ll hope you don’t run out of miracles before you learn to take the doctor’s orders.”

Eric couldn’t argue with her, especially as neither of them knew what the wound looked like beneath the bandages. When the physician had first sutured his hip, the wound was so deep that no thread could hold it entirely closed. Eric had spent weeks with a half-open wound draining and staining daily bandages. With time the tissue would, they hoped, granulate and close.

Carlotta peeled off the bandages, and while Eric braced for pain, he felt none.

The sutures latticed over the last part of the wound, holding together a thin layer of tissue that had once drained into his bandages.

Carlotta sighed, perturbed but no longer exasperated. She took her scissors and, one by one, Eric felt the strange tug of sutures cut and pulled out of his skin.

“How’s Ariel been?” Eric asked, now reassured that there was no infected tissue for Carlotta to scalpel out of him.

She dripped phenol onto a towel and applied it to his hip. Eric felt a brief sting, but that soon faded to nothing. She told Eric what Ariel had told her, that she was tired and wanted to go to bed early.

And, bless her heart, as Carlotta did not believe a word of that.

“She’s right to be worried about you, dear, considering your sense of self-preservation. She’ll be looking for you and even if I could possibly stop her, I’m not going to.”

“I can check on her myself. You…won’t tell Grim?”

Carlotta listened as she cleaned and stowed her tools, though she left the scalpel for last, and it spoke enough for her. “Will you give me a reason to tell him?”

“Come on, Lottie, you know me better than that.”

Eric slipped his shirt back on, reassured by the sound of Carlotta’s easy laugh.

“You are a good lad,” she patted his shoulder. “And even better when you learn not to try everyone’s patience.”

Fic Draft - Elegy for a Sunset: Part 1

A four-part fic from the night Vanessa hypnotized Eric to the night of a very real, very wanted wedding. Ursula had always known Ariel's voice had power. After it's returned to Ariel, it still does.

Content warnings: Noncon, not explicit. Visceral trauma and explicit consensual sex, but neither in this part. This is getting an E on Ao3. Do not pass go if you're not ready for that.

I've been at this beast for a few years now and I hadn't realized how filled out the draft to the first part was until I looked at it again. There are still some notes I'll fill in later and the other three parts are in various states of completion.

I'm one of those people who needs to at least draft an entire fic before it hits Ao3 because otherwise it will never, ever get finished. But I've been at this for so long that my eyes are tired and while I've got a great beta having other people look at it might help. I'm clawing for some more motivation to finish this.

I will die for your comments. PLS. I NEED EXTERNAL MOTIVATION

Ursula sang with a voice that was not hers, and its power cut through the misty night like no magic she had ever conjured herself.

All she needed was to keep the human prince from Ariel until tomorrow’s sunset. Then Ariel could never fulfill the terms of the contract, and Ursula would take her down to the depths to finish the business of deposing her brother. Whatever else transpired between now and then mattered less than the crown of Atlantica on her head.

She had thought to ascend the stairs to the palace, and to meet the prince where he hovered at the parapet. But she saw the change in him from a distance, and he began to hurry down the stairs to the beach. She stood on the sand then, waiting for him to wander to her, drawn like prey to the light of an anglerfish.

She kept him in a half-dream of poppy-red hair, sunlight and the song that captured him in the first place.

He was pretty, in a superficial way. A plaything she could enjoy and be done with.

“It’s you?” He muttered, not quite looking at her. Ursula heard a slight hesitation in his voice, as if he was remembering a dream.

She put a finger to his lip and the prince swallowed any more words he had left, and stilled, looking past her eyes. His own each had a golden scar across the iris. The prince could see, she imagined, but was powerless to act on any of it.

Everyone surrendered to something. Fear, the threat of death, but this was nothing of this world. The Prince stood vulnerable in an entirely different way.

The shell was warm, the fragmented soul within radiating sunlight that never existed beneath the waves. Powerful magic, indeed. And the pitiful girl never knew the power she gave away.

“Tell me what you remember.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. The shell glowed once more, even when there were no words between them. She could fall armies with the contents of this shell.

“The sun came out, and I was home,” he blinked, as if squinting through sunlight in the middle of the night. His face upturned, and he smiled up at nothing. “I’ve never been home before.”

She wasn’t sure if he was always that pathetically honest, or if it was the influence of the spell.

Then he made a move to reach out to something. Maybe Ursula, maybe the image conjured by the voice’s magic. She was about to hiss Put your hand down--but without even speaking the prince dropped his hand anyway. All she had to do was look and think of him still and silent as a corpse. His fingers twitched just once and he did not move again.

She had expected at least a little more resistance, but through the glow of the voice Ursula could feel the desire in him. The voice was powerful, to be sure, but the prince had let this happen. His heart was utterly open, all of him pouring out at once, sanguine and lovesick. If she concentrated hard enough she could walk through his soul and pass depths of longing and despair.

“Pitiful creatures, humans,” she said, to no reaction on his part. Ursula was quite sure he was under, then. “Are you so different? Show me upstairs, and we’ll see just what you’re made of.”

The Prince walked with her on his arm in an even lock-step and soon the sand under their feet turned to polished stone, then the stairs of the palace. He seemed to know where he was going because his direction never faltered, even as he kept a wide-eyed, focusless stare.

They met the guards at the gates, who paid the both of them no mind. They barely looked at her. She wondered if the voice’s spell had a radius of impact, or if they simply didn’t care. Ursula didn’t either. This was far too easy, and she grew bored with the puppet who led her up the marble stairs.

He led her up to what she commanded to be his chambers (hers, for tonight), the light of the stolen voice glowing gold in his soulless gaze.

She could think of commands or say them, and with enough clarity the idea became his action. So

“Go to bed,” she told him, and as he began to obey she simply thought the command to change out of his bedclothes. He obliged, and she watched him like a cat. His human form was mostly unmarred and it bored her.

[shoes to bare feet, they vanish into the air, breeze from the window]

[she straddles him, legs are so different and inefficient, inflexible, but she has him in an entirely different sort of snare now]

Gravity keeps him pinned, this is the only good thing about the land, the earth pulls with a power from which only the sea is free

Gravity kept the prince pinned between the bed and her hips. This was the only good thing about the land; the earth pulled with a power from which only the sea was free.

“What would you do for me?” She asked him, and though he paused, there was not much thought to the prince’s answer.

“I would die for you.”

In his voice she heard an empty sort of reverence. She needed more from him, and not simply the spill of his own blood. The prince’s flesh meant only what he could deliver.

“Would you kill for me?”

“If you asked.” His voice was quiet, but without hesitation, and with the kind of honesty Ursula could not question. She was used to deception, but this human had no power to lie to her.

A new plan stirred. She knew the spell would achieve her ends, but perhaps she’d underestimated the reach of the voice’s magic.

Poor pretty Ariel had given her Aunt such a gift. Her voice and her Prince, now a plaything. In different circumstances she might’ve admired Ariel. Foolish and naive though she was, her niece was blessed with blind ambition she just hadn’t used to its full potential.

The girl must truly adore him to go through this much trouble, but why? Was he a good lover?

The Prince’s heartbeat quickened. Ursula wondered exactly how lucid the prince was, and she tasted the vestiges of terror on his lips. Not a kiss of true love. It would break no spell.

But this spell made her curious. She had control of his mind and body, both, or neither. [something additional here - explain the neither.]

Desire poured through his soul. It covered every inch of him. Ursula felt an odd contrast, a little despair and passion, and a tincture of desire poisoned by his own expectations. [the alchemy inside the prince intrigues her?]

[in his eyes, discolored though they are from the spell, she can see it as if she’s looking through her eels]

[she sings, brings out that desire, his breath tight, eyes transfixed, and man as he is, hard beneath her, all power over him ]

[keeps his head tilted, and leads him out of the spell, and soon that desire becomes terror, and the whites of his eyes]

“You’re too late,” she whispered, putting a finger to his lips to silence the very edge of his scream.

He fell silent as if choked, all breath stopping dead though his gaze was still alive with the raw, animal fear of a fish hooked and dragged to the gaping maw of the surface.

[he’s shaking, breathing hard, his terror is all-encompassing and life-changing but he is only prey for a Goddess an insignificant tool for an eldritch creature beyond his imagination]

She dealt one last command, happy to leave his awareness lucid if she could tell him to do whatever she wanted.

“Hush.”

#the little mermaid #fanfic #disney fanfic #the little mermaid fanfic #fanfic draft #tlm

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the-al-chemist · 2 years ago

Text

Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 19: Empowerment

A/N: Artemis returns to the penultimate Vault with more friends than anticipated, and receives a lesson in art history. Warnings: a whole lot of lore drop and discussion of trauma.

With the exam season fast approaching, the Hufflepuff Common Room had turned from a cosy den to a hub of activity. Every armchair, sofa, and table had been commandeered by groups of fifth and seventh year students, their piles of books and scrolls competing for space with the usual decor of scatter cushions and pot plants.

Artemis and her girlfriends were one such group, however, the textbooks in front of them had yet to be opened, and their hushed conversation had nothing to do with schoolwork.

“So,” said Tonks, the armchair groaning softly as she jumped onto it. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Artemis didn’t even consider her answer. “Good.”

“Ah. Well, I bumped into Moody in Hogsmeade this morning and they’ve still not found out who is passing information to the Cabal from the Auror office-”

“That’s the good news?”

“- but they’re still telling people false leads,” Tonks shrugged. “So they’ve got it under control. They’ve got plenty of time.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“We’ve not got plenty of time. You two” - she gestured at Penny and Artemis - “and Badeea are looking to go to the Portrait Vault soon, before anyone gets stuck in a portrait again, and then we’ll need to get cracking on the final Vault before the statue curse hits.”

“You’re just full of cheer, you are,” muttered Artemis.

“At least the dragon guarding it the Portrait Vault is dead already, so that should be easy.”

Beside Tonks, Penny sighed loudly.

“Well, yes, it should, but none of the others have been easy so far,” she said, fiddling with her silver charm bracelet as she spoke. “And besides, we still don’t have any way of getting there.”

Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed deeply. Penny made a very valid point. Two years ago, she and her fellow curse-breakers had travelled to the fourth Cursed Vault using a portrait of the Vault itself, which had been turned into a Portkey. After the expedition had taken a turn for the worse, the portrait had been left inside.

“Maybe we could Apparate,” she suggested. “Rakepick and Jacob both Apparated out of there, it would make sense if we were able to Apparate in.”

“Would it? Apparition requires an accurate destination, and without knowing exactly where the Vault is…”

“Or if it is even a real location,” murmured Chiara, a curious look in her pale blue eyes. “You were only able to get there by a painting of the Vault. What if it only exists inside the painting?”

“But then we’d need another portrait to get inside!”

“Oh!” Penny gasped. “We could get Badeea to paint one for us! She really is very talented, you know.”

“Would that work?” asked Artemis, and Chiara shrugged her shoulders. The girls fell quiet for a few moments, until Tonks slammed her hand down on the arm of her chair.

“Ow!” She winced and rubbed her hand, but her smile didn’t falter. “I’ve got it. I’ve only bloody gone and got it.”

“Got what, Tonks?”

“Okay. So, what if you don’t need that one specific painting to get in? Didn’t you say that last time, you were able to climb in and out of the paintings in there?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And, didn’t you say that your brother was leaving you a trail to follow from one Vault to the next?” Tonks raised her eyebrows expectantly. When none of the girls indicated that they understood her meaning, she sighed. “Come on, Artemis. Remember what you found inside the Forest Vault the first time we went there?”

“The tiny jumper,” said Artemis, and her eyebrows raised as she realised what Tonks meant, “and the painting of the dragon! Tonks, that’s brilliant!”

“Still not the foggiest what that jumper was about, but I bet you anything that if we turn that painting into a Portkey-”

“-it’ll take us into the painting where the dragon lived, and then we can go through the frame and into the Cursed Vault itself!”

“You’re going into a Cursed Vault?” said a small voice from behind Artemis, and all four girls turned to see Beatrice Haywood standing by them. “The one with the portrait curse?”

Artemis knew that there was no point in lying. “Yeah. The Circle of Khanna is trying to go back and break all the curses, for good this time.”

“I want to help.”

“Absolutely not,” said Penny, shaking her head emphatically. “Bea, you can’t-”

“Why not?” Beatrice pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m an honorary member of the Circle of Khanna. Bill taught me how to make a Patronus last year, and I could do it better than some of the actual members, even though I am younger.”

“Exactly. You’re too young.”

“I’ll be fourteen in August. That’s older than you were the first time you went into a Cursed Vault-”

“Yes, but-”

“And I’m the only one here who has actually been cursed before,” Bea raised her eyebrows. “I’m the one who got stuck in a painting for almost a whole bloody year. You have no idea what that’s like, Penny, none of you do.” She shuddered, before telling them, “It was horrid, like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. I still dream about it sometimes, even now.”

Penny blinked as if she wanted to cry and reached out to her sister.

“That’s why I am going and not you. I just want you to be safe,” she said, her voice quietly pleading. Bea rolled her eyes.

“I don’t need you to keep me safe. I need to keep me safe,” she turned to Artemis. “Please let me come with you. I need to see it for myself, or I’ll never be free from it, not really.”

Artemis looked from Beatrice to Penny and back again. Slowly, Penny nodded her head, her cheeks pale and eyes wide as she did so.

“Okay,” said Artemis. “If you think it will help you, you can come with us.” Bea wrapped her arms around Artemis’ shoulders before running away to find her friends, and once she was gone, Artemis turned back to Penny. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not really,” Penny laughed shrilly, and returned to fiddling with her bracelet. Chiara leaned across the table and placed one hand on her wrist.

“You know,” she said, in her softly lilting voice, “it might be really good for her. What happened to her was awful, but maybe going back and seeing it again will help her realise that the Vault doesn’t have any power over her anymore.”

Penny sniffed and smiled, and when Chiara removed her hand, she stopped playing with her bracelet. Artemis frowned as she considered Chiara’s words, before standing up and walking away from the table.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going?” Tonks called after her, and she shrugged in response.

“To see if someone else needs to see the Cursed Vault for themselves again,” she replied, before walking out of the Common Room and out into the underground corridor outside.

She made her way through the dungeons towards the Slytherin Common Room, and once there, knocked loudly on the concealed stone door that formed its hidden entrance. She waited, and after a few moments, the door slid open to reveal a surprised-looking Barnaby Lee.

“Hello,” he said brightly.

“Hi,” replied Artemis. “Um, is Merula there?”

“Where?”

“In the Common Room. Your Common Room,” she added for good measure, and Barnaby nodded.

“Yes, she is.”

Neither Barnaby nor Artemis spoke for several seconds. Eventually, Artemis sighed.

“So, can you go and tell her I’m here? I want to talk to her about something.”

Barnaby smiled good-naturedly and nodded his head, before disappearing back into the Common Room. Nearly three minutes later, Merula came outside and stood in his place.

“What do you want, Hexley?”

“Tonks thinks she might have figured out a way for us to get back into the gallery room outside the Portrait Vault. Bea Haywood is going to come now, too.”

“So?”

“I thought maybe you might want to come with us to break the curse.”

Merula’s expression had not been friendly to begin with, but at Artemis’ words, she looked at her with even more contempt than before.

“Why?” she asked, in a scathing voice.

“Because of what happened there last time. I know it was really horrid for you, what with Rakepick-”

“Exactly. Why the hell would I ever want to go back there?”

“So you can see that it doesn’t have power over you anymore,” Artemis told her. Merula scowled and turned to go back inside her common room, but Artemis wasn’t ready to give up. “No, wait. Look, Merula, I know how you feel.”

“Really, Hexley? You’ve had the Cruciatus Curse performed on you, have you?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then you can shut up.”

“I felt it, though. I did, when Rakepick used the curse on you. Because of my Legilimency. And it’s not like Rakepick’s not hurt me, is it? Look at what happened to me in the Vault, when she wanted to kill me, and in the forest last year, with Rowan…” Artemis swallowed. “Rakepick was our teacher and our mentor, someone we both thought could trust, but she betrayed both of us, and hurt both of us. And that affected both of us, right? I mean, we’ve both changed because of it, haven’t we?” Merula said nothing, but she looked less confrontational, so Artemis continued, “I know I have, anyway. I didn’t realise quite how much it was Rakepick who had that hold on me until we were in the Vault of Fear again, and I saw my Boggart.”

Merula frowned. “Your Boggart was Rakepick?”

“Sort of, it was her, then me and my brother both turning into her. It didn’t use to be. I’m not sure when it changed exactly, but now…”

“What was it before?”

“You-Know-Who,” said Artemis, and Merula snorted derisively. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Because it’s stupid. Why would you be scared of You-Know-Who? He’s dead.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just something Dumbledore said once about him not really being gone,” Artemis shook her head. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. It’s not him that I was scared of, not really, just that he was the worst wizard I could think of. Now, Rakepick is worse. To me, anyway, because she is real and has actually hurt me.”

She wasn’t sure what it was she had said, but something seemed to have struck a chord with Merula, who now looked more thoughtful than anything.

“Did you manage to see off the Boggart?” she asked, and Artemis shrugged.

“Just about.”

Merula was silent for several seconds before nodding her head.

“Okay, Hexley. You win. I’ll come with you.”

“You will?“

“Yeah. Rakepick hasn’t got power over me. Even if she doesn’t know it, I do.”

Being interested in art, Badeea Ali was fascinated by the portrait Artemis had found in the Forest Vault the first time she visited. The painting depicted a vast field, charred in places, but no longer occupied by the dark-scaled dragon who had sat in the centre of the image when she first discovered it. Bill Weasley had managed to turn the portrait into a Portkey for them, and as the group of curse-breakers waited for the Portkey to transport them towards the next Cursed Vault, Badeea examined the painting closely.

“It’s masterfully done,” she said, tilting her head one way then another. “The way the artist has played with light and shadow. It looks very realistic, and it’s obviously aged remarkably well. Did you say you found this inside a Cursed Vault?”

“Yeah, my brother put it there,” replied Artemis. “This and a tiny jumper.”

The meaning of the small jumper was still unclear, even after Artemis had rummaged in her trunk to find it the night before and looked at it closely. She supposed that it was small enough to fit either a large house elf or small child - most likely the latter, judging by the pattern of cartoonish blue Kneazles across the chest - but its significance was still as much of a mystery to her as it had been three years earlier.

Badeea, despite being good friends with Andre, did not seem overly interested in the jumper, significant or not, and instead continued to admire the portrait Portkey until it set off, spinning in the air with all five curse-breakers clinging on for dear life.

The Portkey carried them not to the gallery room that acted as a large antechamber to the Cursed Vault, but to a vast grassy plain, where they landed on the burnt ground beneath a bright blue sky. Artemis quickly scrambled to her feet and looked around. The landscape of the painting extended as far as the eye could see in all directions, and she had no idea where it ended.

“Great,” muttered Merula, also surveying the land. “Now where do we go, Hexley?”

Artemis glanced at Badeea. Being somewhat of an art expert, and having spent so long before they left looking at the painting, she might have an idea of how to get out of it. But Badeea looked at lost as Artemis felt. Beside her, Penny was gnawing at her lower lip, her blonde eyebrows knitted together.

“That way.”

Artemis turned to see who had spoken. Behind her, Bea Haywood was staring into the distance, her face pale and her eyes slightly glazed.

“We need to go that way,” Bea repeated. “I can feel it.”

Without another word, she began to walk. Artemis shrugged at the others before following her, and though her friends looked sceptical, they all did the same.

The grass plains felt as if they went on forever, and Artemis wasn’t certain how long the had been walking - it might have been minutes or hours - before Beatrice stopped and pointed her finger again. Further across the plains, a large rectangle appeared to have been cut out of the air, as if there was a window floating in the distance. At first, she thought it might be a mirage, but as she squinted, she could see that through the gap, a painted wall and a pile of rubble were visible.

“That’s it, Bea! That’s where we’ll find the Vault!”

Beatrice did not respond before she started to walk once more, only stopping when they reached the window. One at a time, they stepped through the air and down onto a marble floor. Behind them, the landscape through which they had just walked was now no more than a large, gold-framed painting.

Now, they were in a gallery, with no sunlight on their faces and no breeze in their hair. The walls of the gallery were covered in large scorch marks, and several piles of rubble were dotted around the hall. In the centre, an ancient-looking dragon lay motionless as if fast asleep; the only clue that it wasn’t merely sleeping was the fact that its chest did not rise and fall. Artemis glanced at Merula, who swallowed hard before rolling her eyes and walking away.

“This is incredible,” said Badeea, her mouth agape as she turned back to examine the painting closely, placing her hand straight through the canvas and out again, before meandering around the edges of the room to look at some of the others. Beatrice also walked over to a painting, but with purpose.

The painting Bea had chosen was unlike all the others in the room, and unlike all other magical paintings Artemis had ever seen. This one was completely still, like a Muggle picture, depicting a woman - or perhaps a witch - in very old-fashioned robes, with long red hair crowned with a ring of amber stones and a small bird perched on her index finger.

“She’s hiding the Vault,” said Beatrice, as Artemis approached her. “She doesn’t want the wrong people to find it.”

“Who doesn’t?” Badeea asked, also having made her way across to the painting that disguised the entrance to the fourth Cursed Vault. “Morgana?”

Artemis did a double take. “Who?”

“Morgana. You know, Morgan Le Fay. That’s her in the painting.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because of the iconography,” said Badeea simply. She seemed to notice Artemis’ confusion, so she explained further. “The bird represents her Animagus form, and if you look behind her, there’s a lake and an apple tree. Those symbolise her as the lady of the lake and Queen of Avalon.”

“Queen of what?”

“Avalon. It was said to be a magical island that was her legacy and greatest secret.”

“Right,” Artemis nodded. “What else do you know about her?”

“Not an awful lot really, I know more about the paintings themselves than the people they depict,” said Badeea, still looking at the painting of Morgana. “If you want to know more, you’d be better off asking some of the portraits of other wizards and witches from the era. Merlin, for example. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Artemis told her. “Not right now, anyway. We came here to break a curse, right? Revelio!”

The portrait of Morgan Le Fay faded away, and in its place stood a large wooden door with a brass knocker in the shape of a dragon.

“My,” murmured Badeea, “that is interesting. Very clever, too, if you think about it.”

“What is?”

“Well, Bea said that Morgana doesn’t want the wrong people finding the Vault. It’s interesting that the Vault is behind the only Muggle painting in the whole room.”

“Yes, it does rather stand out,” said Penny, with a little high-pitched giggle.

“Yes and no. A lot of witches and wizards wouldn’t even think to look at a Muggle painting. Notions of blood purity and magical supremacy didn’t just start with You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” Artemis made a non-committal noise, all too aware that behind her, Merula was clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. She looked at the door. “Whatever you do, don’t knock. The dragon is dead, but knowing the Vaults, it might be enchanted so it comes back to life if we touch the door. It has to be done with Legilimency.”

She stepped to the side so that she was face to face with the dragon-shaped knocker, and looked it in its carved brass eyes.

Open, she told it. Go on, open up…

With a click and a loud creak, the door swung open. Beyond it lay a narrow candlelit corridor, the walls of it covered with yet more smaller frames. Artemis stepped up and through the door, followed by Bea, Penny, Merula, and finally, Badeea, who stopped and lingered at each and every painting lining the walls of the corridor.

At its end, the corridor opened into a heptagonal room, containing a single glowing column: the Cursed Vault. Each wall of the Vault bore a framed portrait of the Vault itself, so that looking at the portraits on the walls, it seemed that the Vault went on forever. Artemis avoided looking at the endless Vaults surrounding her, instead focussing her eyes on the golden column in the middle of the one she stood in. Like she had with the door, she stared at it and, using her Legilimency, willed it to open.

It did not.

She blinked and shook her head, ready to try again.

“Artemis,” Bea’s voice came from behind her. “Can I try?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Beatrice,” said Penny, before Artemis had a chance to answer. “Artemis’ brother got stuck in here when he tried to open the Vault.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” Artemis nodded, and pointed her finger at the portraits of vaults lining the walls. “In those.”

“I always thought I could feel something living in the portrait with me,” said Bea. “I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there. At first, it scared me, but then I got used to it and it felt… nice, I guess. I liked knowing that I wasn’t alone.” Her voice was soft and monotone as she stared at the crystal column and continued, “Sometimes, I felt other people, too. Coming closer on the outside. Not in the portrait, but in other places. But it wasn’t me they were close to, it was the Vaults. They’re all connected, I think. Maybe I’m connected to them too, now.”

“Bea-”

“I don’t want to be connected to them anymore.” She looked at Artemis, and the trancelike tone to her voice disappeared as she told her: “Show me how to open it.”

Artemis did so, positioning Beatrice in front of the glowing column and instructing her to stare at it, to feel it and connect with it in her mind before telling it to…

Open.

Bea’s lips mouthed the word silently, once, twice, three times. And then, the sides of the column sprang apart, and the light inside flooded into the Vault around them.

Bea’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across her face. Behind her, Penny burst into tears.

“You did it!” she said, throwing her arms around her little sister. “Bea, you did it!” She released her hold slightly and looked Beatrice up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think I am. I will be, anyway.”

“I know,” said Penny, pulling Beatrice into another hug, one which Bea returned, burying her face into Penny’s shoulder. “I know you will. I love you.”

Bea’s words were muffled as she replied: “I love you, too.”

Later that evening, after they had apparated back to Hogsmeade and returned to the castle, Badeea took Artemis to the portrait hall, where they stopped next to the painting of Merlin, who was twirling one finger through his impossibly long white moustache.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Badeea, and Merlin frowned before looking down at her from his frame. “My friend and I were just wondering if you might be able to help us.”

“Might, indeed,” said Merlin. Artemis frowned deeply, not sure whether this was an affirmative response. “With what do you require assistance?”

“We would like to know about Morgan Le Fay.”

“Morgana?” Merlin’s white eyebrows furrowed. “Why, I am surprised that you do not know about her already. The Lady of the Lake, the Queen of Avalon... She really was the most formidable and infamous Dark Witches of our age.”

“What about before?” asked Artemis.

“Before?”

“Yeah. Before she became un-famous. We always get told about her being this all powerful dark witch, but she can’t always have been like that.”

“Can she not?”

“No,” Artemis shook her head. “No one is born bad, are they? I mean, you don’t get evil babies. So, when did she become the Dark Witch Morgana, and stop just being… a witch?”

“I am afraid that I cannot tell you for sure,” said Merlin. “However, I can tell you all about our duel at the-”

“What about how there got to be a portrait of her inside one of the Cursed Vaults? Can you tell us about that?”

Merlin blinked, clearly disconcerted by Artemis’ question.

“You know about Morgana’s involvement in the Vaults of Truth?” he asked quietly.

“Sort of,” replied Artemis. “The centaurs told us that she foresaw a great darkness, and a way to put an end to it. We know about the prophecy she made about the person who could break the curses for good, and the enchanted arrowhead she gave the centaurs to protect them against the curses until then. What we don’t know is why there’s a portrait of her guarding one of the Vaults when she wanted to destroy them.”

Merlin shook his head, his white eyebrows knitting together.

“Sir, we aren’t asking out of pure curiosity,” Badeea told him. “We are curious, of course, but mainly we are trying to do something good and worthy, like you. There are dark witches and wizards trying to access the power inside the Vaults and use it for their own gain. We are trying to get there first, and we have nearly reached our goal. If you help us, we might well achieve it.”

“I do not shake my head because I do not wish to tell you about Morgana - though I do have my reservations about doing so,” said Merlin, with a deep sigh. “I shake my head because you have misinterpreted the information you have received.”

“How so?”

“Morgan le Fay did not seek to destroy the Vaults. Morgan le Fay created the Vaults.”

Badeea’s brown eyes widened and Artemis frowned, her mind reeling. Merlin continued:

“She and I attended Hogwarts together in our adolescence. We were here at the very beginning, you know. Taught by Salazar Slytherin himself, some of the very last students to have been taught by him, before the schism.”

“The schism?” Artemis asked.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know about the schism, girl,” Merlin tutted. “Education these days… Salazar Slytherin left the school to the remaining three Hogwarts founders - Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff - over a dispute regarding which students were worthy of being taught magic, and which were… not.”

“Muggleborns,” whispered Badeea, her lips pursed tightly. Merlin nodded.

“Indeed. Slytherin did not wish to teach students who were not of magical lineage, Morgana included. She was the child of two Muggles - noble Muggles, mind you - but Muggles all the same,” Merlin sighed. “Slytherin was not the only one to believe that those without magical blood were inferior to pure-blooded wizards. Even after he left the castle, Morgana had to work twice as hard as our peers to be considered half as competent.” He paused and smiled wryly, before adding, “In truth, with her talents and power, she surpassed all of them. All but one, perhaps.”

“Who was that?”

“Well… me,” said Merlin, bowing his head as if he were making a modest comment. “I dare say that she was my equal. But this could be wishful thinking on my part. She truly was a most remarkable sorceress. We shall not see her likes again, for better or worse.

“I think it was her wish to prove herself and be recognised for the great witch she was - because she was a great witch, even if she was not a good one in the end - that drove her looking for greater powers, ones that exist at the very limits of what magic can achieve. And because of the snobbery she faced by her fellow witches and wizards, she was willing to look beyond the limits of the sort of magic to which our kind is more more accustomed.”

“She went to the centaurs, you mean?” said Artemis.

“Yes and no. She learned some noble and primitive forms of magic from the centaurs, including that of prophecy, as you mentioned,” Merlin replied. “However, in her efforts to foretell the future, she foresaw this darkness of which you speak, though the darkness was not that of the Vaults itself. Or perhaps it was, looking back.

“You see, once Morgana foresaw this great darkness, she redoubled her efforts to find greater powers that might be used to prevent or fight against it. At that time, she and I were one another’s trusted confidants, and thus I was the first she told after she found what she believed to be the greatest one of all.”

“What was it?” Artemis asked Merlin. “The greatest power of all, what was that?”

“She called it the ‘true’ power, but what it was exactly, she would not tell even me. She wanted to keep it a secret, to protect it. That was why she started to create the Vaults, and the enchantments to protect them.

“At first, I tried to help her, but as time went on she became more secretive, more obsessive. Eventually, she the enchantments became curses, and dark and dangerous curses at that.” Merlin shuddered before continuing, “I attempted to make her see sense, but it was too late. She said the only thing that mattered was keeping the power safe for the right time and for the right people. The wrong people would surely resort to dark magic in order to access the power within, it was only right to resort to such things herself to ward against them. She thought that the ends justified the means, that it was for-”

“The greater good,” said Artemis, her jaw clenching slightly as the words echoed in her ears. Merlin inclined his head.

“I cannot help but wonder, however,” he said thoughtfully, seeming to speak as much to himself as to the two girls, “was the darkness Morgana foresaw a reflection of her true self? Or maybe Morgana’s ‘true’ power never was as good and pure as she believed it to be. The power it held over her drove her to darkness, after all. Perhaps, it was always just as evil and dangerous as she was herself, in the end.”

“The centaur I spoke to said that no power is either good or evil, it’s just the way witches and wizards use it that makes it so.”

“I am not certain that I agree, but I could be wrong. After all, I was wrong about Morgan Le Fay.”

Artemis tilted her head at Merlin. “What do you mean?”

But Merlin did not tell her what he meant. He just smiled sadly and shook his head, and said:

“It does not matter anymore. ‘Tis but ancient history.”

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #the hexley saga #penny haywood #badeea ali #merula snyde #beatrice haywood #nymphadora tonks #chiara lobosca #cursed vaults #vault lore

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girlwiththenegantattoo · 2 years ago

Text

I don't know where I'm going with this story and I only have an end chapter in mind. Not sure if/when I'll write another chapter

No warnings just a bit of angst and a hint of fluff?

@plainlo-inthemorning @everythingbutresolved

The first time ever I saw your face

I thought the sun rose in your eyes

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave

To the dark and the endless skies,

Roberta Flack

"Can we meet somewhere?"

"Jeb, it's 3 o'clock in the morning."

"Oh"

The line went silent for a moment.

"Please?"

As the red neon light shone in Mila's peripheral the sound of pots and pans being washed rang out from behind the white countertop. Knowing that both of their houses were out of the question Jeb had suggested that they go to their usual hotel room, even though it was just to talk. However, Mila didn't want to deal with the hassle of booking a room for just a couple of hours although he offered to pay. So, they settled on Pete's Diner, the only place that served food 24/7.

Mila wasn't sure what compelled her to leave her house at such an early hour, especially for Jeb. But the man that all but stumbled through the full glass door made her feel slightly happy that she did. He must have gone to some function or work party because he was wearing a white pleated button up shorts and black tux pants. Considering the time his jacket must have been left at home, if he even made it back there in the first place.

Plopping down in the booth across from her Jeb fiddled with his untied bow tie as if he wanted to take it completely off. Mila could see that he'd recently been crying by the red in his eyes and it wouldn't surprise her if he sat outside for a while to compose himself.

"I'm sorry I woke you but it's just so so quiet at home." Jeb mumbled trying not to slur his words.

"What's going on Jeb?"

Jeb turned his head to look out the window. After what she assumed was Jeb seeing his reflection, he hastily ran his hands through his disheveled brown hair.

"Uh just some things. Honestly it's really just a lot." He was trying to keep his voice steady now. "Had a charity dinner and that went to...shit."

The man that sat across from Mila was a person she had only known for a short period of time. She would never go as far as to say that Jeb was predictable, but Mila had seen this before. Validation is what he wanted but he looked for it in all the wrong ways.

"It's just… nice to have someone to talk to after a long day but…Oh I forgot. I got you this!"

Mila hadn't noticed Jeb holding anything when he came in. Placing a small, brown paper gift bag with cotton corded handles down in front of Mila, he eagerly continued. "When I was out the other day I got this...it's nothing big."

Reaching inside she pulled out a small, white figurine in the shape of a baby elephant. His eyes beamed with pride as Mila's heart sank.

"Oh, Jeb you really shouldn't have." Mila said looking back up from the smooth, porcelain figurine she held in her hand. Jeb just shrugged his shoulders as if it was no big deal.

"Like shouldn't have at all. This isn't what this is about" Mila gestured back and forth between them. "It can't be roses and gifts"

Mila hated Jeb in that moment. She hated that he continued to know what they were but always pushed for more. She hated that he found such happiness in the smallest things. There were so many things about Jeb that Mila hated that night in the tiny 24/7 diner but it was herself she truly hated the most.

No matter how hard Jeb tried, the look of disappointment laid prominent on his features. "Yeah, no you're right. Sorry I uh...just saw it the other day..."

And thought of you

Jeb forced a smile and turned his gaze back to the window. He felt so foolish for bringing it here and even though he knew Mila had no malice in her reasoning for not excepting the gift, it still stung all the same.

There were very few times in Mila's life where she had been uncomfortable in any situation but sitting in that painful silence, had made her want to claw out of her skin. The tears in his eyes were building again, one blink away from running down his cheek.

Nice. Kick a dog when it's down

She couldn't let the night end on that note

"Do you dance?" Mila asked as her gaze locked on to the brown juke box lit up with florescent bulb. Each one covered with a yellowish hue after years of operation.

"Dan...dance?"

"Yes like move your feet to a beat." She replied not intending to rhyme.

"No. No...I don't dance, like dance dance."

"Well let's learn something new."

Jeb's blue eyes became as big as two saucers. "Here?!"

There it was again, that adorable attempt at a whisper, instead, the pitch of his voice would just get higher. Mila stood up from her side of the booth and gestured around the diner. "There's no one here. I’d say it would be a fair trade for your little early wake up call."

Her tone was teasing and the gentle smile on her face told Jeb she wasn't upset. If Jeb was to embarrass himself more than he does every day he figured what better place then here with her, in the middle of the night.

Dispensing a coin in its slot, it had taken several flips of hard plastic pages before Mila settled on a song. Jeb stood awkwardly off to the side while she waited for the smooth voice of Van Morrison to sing Into the Mystic. Wringing his hands together Jeb slowly shuffled his way to Mila, her figure glowing from in front of the Jukebox’s light.

"Just try to relax. It's easy"

Mila never went to the middle school formals or high school proms. Not because she wasn't invited, she just never wanted to go. As she placed Jeb’s left hand just below her right arm pit she wondered if this was what it was like. Unsure hands and eyes that won’t quite hold the other’s gaze. With her right hand on his left shoulder, she interlocked their other hands. When Jeb told her he didn't dance, Mila thought he just didn't like too not that he couldn't. He tried his best as his long feet tried, clumsily to keep up with Mila's small steps.

Right foot front right foot right left foot front left foot left

The furrow in his brow continued to become more prominent as he slammed the toe of his polished dress shoe into hers for the fourth time. Jeb figured he had enough embarrassment for a day and surly Mila couldn't be enjoying the stuttering robotics that followed each of her graceful steps. Loosening his grip from Mila's had caused her to stop entirely as she seemed to be studying his face. Taking her position closer to Jeb, Mila wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her body against his. It had taken a minute for Jeb to place his hands on her waist. He wasn't sure if this was something he was supposed to do, especially on a night like that. Mila took the lead again, this time right up against him.

Left foot forward and rock on the right. Left foot backwards and rock on the right

The song had changed sometime in the middle of their new dance position, but all Mila heard was the soft beating of his heart. She didn't dare to look up in fear of what she'd find in his eyes. Luck must have been on Jeb’s side in that exact moment for just as the song ended a couple of teenagers walked through the door. They both stepped back at the same time as there was a mutual silence that fell comfortably over them for the first time ever.

"I'll...uh, I'll take care of our ticket. It's the least I could do. I'm really sorry, I shouldn-"

"Jeb it's ok. I en-it was nice talking to you, even if it is early." She replied placing her hand on his forearm for reassurance. He offered her a shy smile as a light pink tinge covered his cheeks.

The front door made an audible click when Mila turned the lever above the doorknob to the lock position. She hung her jacket on the wooden coat rack that sat just beside the door and made her way to the small entry way table. On top sat a couple pictures of Mila's family and some knick knacks that she purchased during her time of traveling. Picking up the small Queen's guard figurine from the space she reversed for her favorite item, Mila reached into the paper bag and sat the white elephant in its place.

#hamish linklater #hot jeb summer #haimgruder #jeb magruder fic #jeb magruder x ofc

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song ix.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, angst, soojung and oc’s mother being the best, minor food mention (not feeling hungry when stressed), hope, the tiniest bit of fluff, a cliffhanger of sorts! words; 6,161

Read Seokjin’s chapter ix here

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

Soojung found you curled up on the sofa a few hours later when she came home from work. You’d tried watching television, hoping the distraction would be successful but your mind just wouldn’t switch off, replaying the day’s earlier events. You didn’t want to think just yet but that’s all your mind could do. Going around and around in circles. Hearing Soojung’s keys in the door you felt a wave of nausea knowing you’d have to talk about it. Not that you didn’t want to confide in your best friend, it was just explaining everything meant that it was all real…

She stuck her head around the door, sounding momentarily confused. “What are you doing back already? I wasn’t expecting you until la– Y/N?” She caught the look on your face immediately and just like she knew something was up. She rushed over. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Instantly you felt your face crumble, tears blurring your vision. “It’s stupid really,” you insisted, wiping your eyes as she came to join you, a protective arm wrapping around your shoulders. The small action at least made you feel a little better. “I don’t understand why I’m crying.” You hadn’t felt the need to cry until now. Maybe it was because you could always be vulnerable with your best friend. You didn’t need to be strong. She’d seen you at your worst.

“Did…Did you guys argue?” She sounded unsure, confused as to what could be the issue.

You sniffed, composing yourself. “No. Not really,” you let out a groan, “oh, god, Soo. It was awful. Seokjin’s ex-wife turned up…”

You spent the next fifteen minutes telling her what happened, although a lot of it was a blur of raised voices and insults. One thing you knew for certain though, was that you’d never felt so awkward in your entire life. You’d watched your boyfriend arguing with his ex-wife feeling so incredibly out of the loop it was embarrassing.

You’d never demanded to know every single detail about his marriage – you hadn’t even wanted to know. It wasn’t your business after all, nor did you want Seokjin to relive things he didn’t want to, or dwell on the past. You understood that more than anyone, what with your relationship with Donghae, but he’d openly revealed a lot to you. He’d confided in you, shared some hurtful details of his divorce and in turn you had entrusted him with your own past, your own bad memories…

There had been many surprises this afternoon, but one certain revelation kept replaying in your head. It was all you could think about. To learn he’d left out something as major as getting cheated on… Having to find out like that… You were still reeling from the bombshell. Why hadn’t he told you? You’d both been through the same thing… Didn’t he trust you enough? You didn’t understand and you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling hurt.

“You don’t think he’s still in love with her, do you?” Soojung asked hesitantly.

“No,” you shook your head. Regardless of the mess that were your thoughts right now, you didn’t think that at all. Yes, it was easy to let your doubts take over in the first few moments you’d set eyes on Nana, she was beautiful, although you hadn’t expected anything less, but you knew not to feel paranoid when it came to that. Regardless of today’s shock, you didn’t doubt Seokjin’s feelings for you, and you knew very well he no longer loved his ex-wife.

“I think he’s just very bitter about everything,” you continued. “Mostly about how infrequently she sees Arin.”

“Do you think it’s a problem?”

Shrugging slightly, you didn’t really know what to say. “She’s been seeing her quite often lately. There was last weekend, but it shouldn’t have been that much of an issue.” Seokjin hadn’t been angry over that, or at least he hadn’t let on he was… Maybe he had and had just hid it well. With that thought, you remembered something. “It was just her face… while Seokjin was saying all those things to her. She looked so upset… I’ve never seen him like that.”

It had been jarring seeing him so angry. He was usually soft-spoken and well-mannered. Even when he was irritated he stayed silent. You understood that he was only human, everyone had emotions, and his had bubbled over today, but it was still surprising. You hadn’t been expecting to be in the middle of a shouting match between him and his ex-wife.

“But you knew they didn’t get on?” Soojung gently prodded, rubbing your upper back.

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “Just seeing it in person… I can’t believe he didn’t tell her about us.”

Your mind was all over the place, unable to concentrate on one issue for long enough. You really had been living in your own little world this entire time. So incredibly happy and blissfully content. It had been so easy to forget that Nana existed when it came to your relationship with Seokjin. To you, she was just Arin’s mom, who she spoke about sometimes, but not very often, in your presence. It was easy to put her to the back of your mind, it was easy not to think of her at all. Why would you? You didn’t even know what she looked like until today. All the photos you’d seen of a younger Seokjin, of Arin as a baby, had never once included her. You knew who she was, knew her name, but that was all.

So you’d just assumed she knew about you too. You’d assumed Seokjin had told her without needing any confirmation. You’d assumed she’d known that you would be looking after Arin last weekend. You’d assumed she was perfectly fine with it. In reality she had no clue you existed. You were almost certain Seokjin hadn’t done it maliciously, he wasn’t that type of man, but seeing him today, how casually he had brushed off her concerns… As much as it had hurt to be thought of as a stranger, you understood why that was the case. Seokjin hadn’t. As stubborn as always, he refused to see where he had done wrong.

“That is a bit odd,” Soojung agreed. “And even though she was a bitch to you, I guess I’d be pissed too if I found out the way she had.”

You snorted softly. Soojung had been ready to fight when she’d first heard the things Nana had said to you, but she knew you were fine, you could handle yourself. “Ugh, it’s all such a mess,” you groaned. “I would’ve never looked after Arin last weekend if I’d known Nana had no clue.” You should have made sure. Why hadn’t you?

“I guess Seokjin had his reasons,” Soo reasoned. “Maybe he knew how his ex would react.”

“Maybe,” you agreed before sighing. “I don’t know. There’s things he never told me either.” Maybe you were finding out that Seokjin was a very secretive person, who knew… “She cheated on him, Soo.” You were back there again. Soojung hummed in understanding. “Is it silly of me to be upset?”

“No, it’s valid.”

“I told him about Donghae,” you whispered. “I really opened up to him and he was so sweet and understanding. Why didn’t he tell me he’d been through the same thing?” No matter how many times you went through it in your head you couldn’t think of an answer. It didn’t make sense. Especially because he’d opened up to you so easily in regard to everything else. What made this so different?

“Maybe he just didn’t want to make it about him,” Soojung offered.

“I don’t know… Maybe.” You groaned, thinking you were being selfish. He probably had a good reason when he didn’t tell you. There were more pressing issues right now anyway… You knew that, and immediately your head begin to spin again.

“The whole stepmom thing,” you muttered, “it’s left me a little frazzled.”

Soojung kept up with your disorderly thoughts expertly. “In what way?”

You gave a little shrug, voice barely there because you didn’t want to admit it out loud. “It made me question things…”

“I thought you liked where things were heading?” Your best friend couldn’t hide the shock from her voice.

“I do,” you replied, “or at least, I did.” Where were things actually heading? You didn’t know anymore. “I just wasn’t really thinking.”

“Of what it all meant?”

You nodded slowly. “I lost myself for a while.”

In a way, you had been in your own little bubble for these past few months – you, Seokjin and Arin. You’d had the most amazing summer, falling harder and harder for Seokjin and in the process Arin had captured your whole heart. She was such a sweet little girl, humorous and thoughtful, Seokjin and Nana had brought her up well. Your time together had been incomparable, your happiness unmatched, but in the process you’d ignored a few things.

“So what are you saying?” Soojung asked gently.

Your throat felt dry. “I’m afraid it’s all moving too fast.”

It was a lot to take in. You had been together barely four months but here you were thinking about the word stepmom. How scary the word sounded, how scary it felt…

“You want to slow it down?”

“It’s probably too late for that,” you chuckled quietly. You felt your heart squeeze. “Soojung, I think I’m in love with him.”

It felt almost relieving to confess such a thing, despite your heavy heart over today. Your feelings had been harder and harder to ignore these past couple of weeks, but you’d tried your best, not wanting to rush anything. Right now you were confused and hurt, but one thing was blatantly clear. You loved him.

“It’s scary,” you whispered, feeling Soo rub your back again, listening silently. “Falling so fast.” Especially after everything you’d been through with Donghae. You were scared. Despite opening up your heart to Seokjin easily, this was different. Things seemed so complicated now, when not six hours ago they had been nothing more than simple.

“Today was a massive reality check,” you scoffed. “I’ve been spending these past few months playing house with Seokjin and Arin, it was bound to catch up with us sometime.”

“You liked it though,” your best friend encouraged, voice gentle. “I’ve never seen you so happy… Not since… Well, not even then.”

“Everything just felt so… perfect,” you agreed. Everything had slotted into place easily. “And natural, and just, nice.” For lack of a better word. Your brain was pulp.

“Arin obviously felt comfortable enough to call you her stepmom in front of her own mom?” You didn’t even notice Soojung’s change of direction.

“I don’t know, I think she was just confused. You know what kids are like together. She heard her friend talking about it and they probably got excited.”

“Would you like to be her stepmom?”

You paused then, realising what had just happened. She knew you well, knew what was bothering you, conflicting your mind. You gave her a small smile. “She’s a sweet child, but it’s not that simple right now. It’s not only my decision either.”

Truthfully you hadn’t thought about it before today, but now it was one of the things at the forefront of your mind. If everything worked out okay then you and Seokjin would only grow more serious. From strength to strength and what did that mean? However, now you knew that Nana wasn’t exactly your biggest fan… You felt fresh frustration, deflated yet again. Today had gone terrible.

“You’re right,” Soojung agreed, “but it’s something you need to be comfortable with too.”

That was true. These were things you needed to talk about with Seokjin. Then again, maybe you should’ve talked about them before. You had no clue how he felt regarding the topic, well… not explicitly anyway.

“Seokjin comparing the both of us made me feel horrendous.” You found yourself admitting. “I’m not trying to be Arin’s mother. I wasn’t even trying to be her stepmother. Not yet. I haven’t thought about it until now. I just… I loved being a part of her life in my own little way.”

You never wanted to replace Nana. You hated thinking like this, but what if Seokjin had been looking for that the whole time? A new mother for his daughter… You were almost positive that wasn’t the case, but you were so drained right now, your mind was all over the place. You kept replaying in your head what he had shouted at Nana over and over again.

“He can’t expect you to take on that role, not when she already has a mother,” Soojung said carefully. “But you can be there for Arin in other ways – in similar ways. You’ve been teaching and caring for kids for years, so I hope you’re not undermining your capabilities.”

You smiled then, grateful, leaning on her shoulder. “Thank you.” You definitely weren’t doing that but being a teacher and a mother were two totally different things. Especially when it wasn’t your biological child.

“Ugh, I’m just exhausted,” you groaned, laying back against the sofa and shutting your eyes. “My head’s a mess.” You didn’t want to talk about it any longer, switching off sounded really good right now and Soojung understood that perfectly.

She tapped your arm. “I’m going to cancel my plans with Tae.” You opened your eyes, mouth open ready to fight. “He’ll be fine.” She insisted. “Me and you are gonna get takeout and ice cream and just stop thinking. We’re going to pull the One Tree Hill boxset out and pretend we’re still in high school.”

You weren’t going to lie, that did sound like fun. It was also foolproof. You’d been doing it since you were seventeen, when Soojung had got dumped for the first time. “Great idea.”

She leaned in for a hug. “You told him you need space to think, so that’s what you’re going to do. But not tonight. No rush.”

As she pulled back you took her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she grinned. “Now, let me grab my phone.”

You woke up early the next morning, like really early, 5am, which wasn’t ideal seeing as you’d struggled to get to sleep the night before. Your mind and heart felt heavy, but you forced yourself to get up and shower because there was no point trying to fall back to sleep for an hour. You had school, and that meant you had to try your best to look presentable for the kids – and happy. A bunch of 6-7 year olds were scarily talented at reading an adult’s mood you’d come to find out.

You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, which wasn’t a surprise because when you were stressed or sad you never felt practically hungry anyway, and left for work long before Soojung even had a chance to wake up, thinking your classroom so early in the morning might give you some sense of clarity. Either that or stop the buzzing of your thoughts that couldn’t seem to keep away. The change of scenery would hopefully do you some good.

You were at your desk trying to organise your planner for the week ahead, 7:04am, when your cell phone began buzzing. You looked across at the device, face up a few inches away from you and felt your stomach squeeze. Filling the screen was a picture of Seokjin and you at an amusement park he’d dragged you to over the summer, like the big kid he was at heart. Seeing his smiley face made your heart hurt. You thought about leaving it ring, you could pretend you were busy and let him leave a message, but no matter how much you wanted to do it, you couldn’t.

The phone felt heavy in your hand as you picked up. Your voice didn’t sound like yours. “Hello.”

“Y/N,” he breathed, sounding somewhat relieved. You had taken a while to make your decision. “Are you free to talk?”

He sounded tired and unlike his usual self, and a part of you wanted to rush over and talk to him in person, to check in on him and see how he was doing, because as much as yesterday hadn’t been nice for you, it hadn’t been too great for him either… However, you knew that was a bad idea, you’d said you had needed time. A few hours wasn’t that.

“Um, yeah,” you replied, opening your mouth again to remind him about what you’d said yesterday, but already he was rushing forward, eager to say his piece.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night, I guess… I guess I needed time too.” He sounded hesitant, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had never been expected (nor wanting) a phone call. “Do you want to meet up for lunch?”

Your voice was gentle. “I don’t think that’s a good idea today.” Maybe he’d misunderstood you, you needed longer, besides, things weren’t going to get sorted out in under an hour during your lunch break from work. It wasn’t as simple as that – you wished it was.

There was a pause his side, then – “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Seokjin, I’m not mad,” you sighed softly. “I’m just…” What were you? Frustrated more than anything. It was hard to explain. In a way you felt sorry for him, but you also felt sorry for Nana. “I have a lot of questions that I don’t think I’m ready to ask just yet.”

His voice was careful as he asked you, “When do you think you will be ready?”

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. “I need time to think and it’s pretty hard when I have work all week.” Neglecting your job was foolish – impossible to think of, actually.

“I understand.” Of course he did. He was nothing but understanding when it came to you and your relationship together. That’s the Seokjin you knew and adored… the one you loved…

“Is Arin okay?” You found yourself asking. You knew you should probably say your goodbyes, but you’d woken up feeling terribly guilty that you’d just upped and left her like that yesterday. “I’m sorry I ran off without saying goodbye to her.”

“She’s doing okay, I tried telling…” He trailed off suddenly, and you guessed he thought he was overstepping the mark. The mark you’d put in place. “She asked where you went, I said something came up.”

“Oh.” You’d thought about popping your head around the door and saying goodbye yesterday but just couldn’t do it. You hated to think she’d thought you had left her too. “I really am sorry about that.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. Please never be sorry,” he murmured softly.

You smiled sadly at his sentiment. “Are you okay?” You shouldn’t really ask, not when you needed to hang up and take that space you both needed, but you couldn’t help yourself. It felt wrong not to check in.

“Could be better,” he chuckled slightly. You appreciated his honesty. “You?”

“The same.” There was no point pretending. “I think some space will do us good. Let’s just think about everything and then we can talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed simply. There wasn’t much else he could say. If he disagreed in any way you knew he would never tell you. He wanted to respect your wishes.

“I’ll call you towards the end of the week?” You could get through the work week, have some time to yourself in the evenings and then meet up on Saturday.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I agree.” Yet, he sounded a little dejected.

“Okay.” You had to leave it at that. “I gotta go,” you told him, even though you were in no rush to leave for work, already in your classroom.

“Of course, bye, Y/N.” You heard some background noise and then a familiar voice in the background – Misook. As it was for you, life went on. Arin had to get ready for school, he had to get ready for work… You couldn’t both wallow in self-pity all day. “Take care,” he told you. It sounded awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“Bye, Seokjin.” You felt just the same. Even right at the beginning your phone conversations had never been this wooden.

You hung up first, and then there was silence, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall opposite. You watched the red second hand move, feeling as if it was mocking you.

The week was slow. It was an average one, but it dragged by. On Monday you had to sit through the usual chitchat inside the teacher’s lounge during lunch, catching up on everyone’s weekends. When Eunbi asked how yours had gone you’d breezed past it, expertly changing the subject to her weekend visiting Jungkook’s parents. Other than that, there was really no need for Seokjin to come up in conversation, which you were thankful for. You spent the rest of the week busy with the children, staying behind a lot later than usual just because it was easier inside your classroom.

At home you found yourself missing Seokjin like crazy. Ever since your first date you’d been in regular contact throughout the week, and then when things had gotten serious, you’d spoken to him every day – even if it was just on the phone in the evenings once school started back. For all contact to be gone was strange. You hated it, felt as if a part of you was missing. But you knew it needed to be done. As the days went (dragged) by you no longer felt overwhelmed by Sunday’s events. The shock had worn off and you had time to dissect it all, whether it be over dinner on your own when Soo was working late, or when you were in bed for the night, waiting to drop off. The more you broke it down the easier it was to place things in different categories. All the things that had shocked you, the things that had hurt you, and then finally, the things that had made you feel guilty.

On Thursday night you promised your mom you’d have dinner with her. Jonathon was abroad visiting his children and she hadn’t been able to get time off work to join him. She was bored at home all alone, so you really couldn’t say no despite a part of you wanting to. Before you arrived you’d made the decision not to tell her about your…what could you call it? It was hardly an argument with Seokjin. A disagreement..? Whatever it was, you didn’t want to worry her. After all this time she was over the moon you’d finally met someone you really cared about and you knew it was stupid, but you didn’t want to make her worry.

However, that all went out the window as soon as she opened the door to you. She was your mom for crying out loud, who could you confide in if it wasn’t her? She listened to you attentively. All your thoughts, all your worries – even if the potatoes were at risk of cremating, and it felt good to have your mother by your side.

“Seokjin is a lovely man, anyone can see that, but he’s allowed his flaws. He’s only human,” she reasoned, your conversation coming back to the way he’d acted around Nana. You knew your mother was right, and you were in no way judging him for it, but it had been very jarring seeing him change so suddenly. “Obviously he and his ex-wife bring out the worst in each other. Sounds to me as if they’re so used to hurting one another it’s become the norm.”

You nodded in silent agreement, thinking back to them hurling abuse at one another as if it was the most natural thing. In a way it had turned into a competition. Who could hurt one other the most. In the end, Seokjin had dealt the final blow. You. You could still see the hurt on Nana’s face now, even though it was days ago. It made your chest heavy all over again. You told your mom just as much.

“There’s no need to feel so guilty, love,” she told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “None of this is your fault. Seokjin, whether it was intentionally or unintentionally, used you as a way to hurt Nana, and you need to tell him that you’re not okay with that.”

That was the part that had hurt the most now that you’d had enough time to think. Above all else, not telling Nana about you, the catalyst that led to his divorce, it was being used as some kind of weapon that stuck out. You had never wanted that. You had never asked for it.

“You are his girlfriend first and foremost.” Your mom continued. “Yes, you care for Arin but these things need to be spoken about first. You have never wanted to be, nor felt like you were the child’s mother. You know your boundaries and so should he.”

She was correct. You’d been so hesitant not to overstep the mark these past few months. You’d even been in two minds whether or not to offer to babysit Arin that weekend. You’d thought Seokjin understood that, your cautiousness when it came to the role you played in her life. After all, your relationship was still new, and Nana was very much a part of Arin’s life. However he had disregarded that all to throw a few cheap shots.

Your conversation shifted to Arin then. It was easy to sympathise with her, after all you’d been in her shoes once. Parents who seemed to fight more than they did talk. It had gotten better for you though, their relationship turning amiable once the divorce had settled. For Arin, it seemed to be only getting worse. You wished you could talk some sense into Seokjin. He might’ve thought that Arin was okay with her parents barely having any contact but you knew that wasn’t the case. It had been very telling to hear that Arin never brought Seokjin up in conversation with her own mother. That’s why it had taken Nana so long to find out about you. Deep down that little girl knew that her mom didn’t want to hear her dad’s name, and that was heart breaking.

Somewhere along the way, your mom asked you what you thought about Arin calling you her stepmother. Despite it being done innocently, the weight of the word meant so much more to the adults in the situation and you agreed. It had been strange to hear, and not just because it had come from Nana’s mouth. You were serious about Seokjin and could see a future with him, and that meant being in Arin’s life permanently. That word wasn’t so farfetched and you’d had plenty of time to think about it this week. What it meant for you, Arin, and of course Nana.

“How did you feel when dad first met Dahae?” You asked your mom. These things had never really come up in conversation before, which was surprising, but right now you needed any advice and insight you could get. Your mom had been in Nana’s shoes once after all. All those years ago.

“I was…happy for him,” she replied hesitantly. “It took time. It’s a confusing thing. I no longer loved your father but it felt strange to see him with someone else. Of course, everyone is different. Not one relationship is the same,” she added.

You nodded in understanding. Your father had met Dahae, his wife, when you were twelve. You had grown up with her and it didn’t feel odd to think of her as a second mom. You still called her by her name but when in conversation with others you often referred to her as your stepmom. Always had, for as long as you could remember. Maybe it was after the wedding, but you couldn’t be too sure. Definitely before she gave birth to your siblings though.

It was different with Jonathon. He’d always been “your mother’s husband” and not because you didn’t care for him or think he was a lovely man. He was, and you liked him very much, it was just… You were an adult when you met him, twenty to be exact, living across the country for college. The bond wasn’t quite there like it was with Dahae, but your mom understood that – so did Jonathon. But it made you pause and think. You’d never asked your mom how she felt hearing you call Dahae your stepmother. It had never crossed your mind until now.

“I didn’t like the idea at first, I have to admit, but who would?” She confessed. “It’s hard not to feel hurt or threatened, a whole load of different emotions,” she gave a small shrug, “but meeting Dahae, and seeing how kind a woman she was, and how much you meant to her made me see things differently.”

You smiled, silently hoping that one Nana would think and feel the same way when it came to you. You could only cross your fingers and try your best in the meantime.

Your mom nudged you, a playful lilt to her voice. “I think you’re very lucky to have two wonderful women in your life that love you and want the best for you – and yes, that’s a brag on my part.”

You laughed with her, but your worries were getting the best of you again, turning you sombre. “What if Nana never accepts me though?”

“I think you should only think about that if it happens,” she replied. “There’s no point expecting the worst right now.”

You still didn’t feel very hopeful though, it was probably written all over your face. Sweeping some hair out of your eyes, your mother’s voice was soft. “Love, she had no idea you existed, I think her anger was warranted.” A pause, tone changing. “Although, not at you. I’m not very happy about that.”

You chuckled at that. “It’s fine. You know I can look after myself.” You were feisty when you wanted to be, or scrappy as Seokjin had so comically put it once.

Wrapping an arm around you once more, she squeezed you gently. “Talk to him.” She urged. “You miss him. This time apart is getting pointless, you already know how you feel.”

You did. Your feelings were as strong as ever.

You had been itching to pick up the phone last night and just call him already, but you’d said Saturday. You only had one day left at work, you could hold out until then. It would be better that way, you didn’t want to interrupt a potentially busy day. Friday’s were often crazy for him, you didn’t want to be a distraction.

However, come morning break you bumped into Hoseok coming out of your classroom, eager to rush to your car and grab the apple that must have rolled out of your bag and onto the seat. (Hopefully – if it was on the floor it was going in the trash ASAP).

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He politely asked.

“Fine, thank you.” Talking with Hoseok always came easily, regardless of his position as the principal. “Glad it’s the weekend tomorrow. How about you?”

“My thoughts exactly,” he laughed, before adding, “Although, I hear Arin’s started hers early.”

“Oh?” You were immediately lost. Had you missed something? You hadn’t seen Arin at school all week, which wasn’t strange. Your paths rarely crossed these days unless you were on yard duty, and if you were being honest, you were glad it hadn’t been this week. She must have had an inkling something was wrong right now, she hadn’t seen you at all since Sunday, so you were relieved to know you didn’t have to answer any awkward questions. It was selfish, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it.

Hoseok looked confused by your reaction, but carried on regardless, shaking it off. “Seokjin called up yesterday, said she’d be visiting her mom earlier this weekend if it was possible. I figured maybe you and he had plans for tonight.”

You froze, forcing yourself to reply because your boss was waiting for one. “Oh, no.” You swallowed, coming up blank. “No plans.”

If Hoseok noticed your woodenness he didn’t let on. “One day couldn’t possibly hurt her education, right? But don’t tell the board I said that,” he added with a laugh.

You made yourself join in, although your mind was racing. “Secret’s safe with me.”

He smiled at you, giving you a nod. “Enjoy your weekend, alright? See you Monday.”

Thank God he had somewhere to be. You nodded back, watching him already begin to walk away. “And you, Hoseok.”

You proceeded to sit in your car for twenty minutes, half eaten apple already turning brown as you racked your brain. It wasn’t Nana’s weekend to have Arin. Was something wrong? You were probably being silly, conjuring up the worst case scenarios for no reason. If something had happened, Seokjin would have contacted you. He knew he could always count on you, but… You had told him you needed space and he’d agreed. He was a man of his word, so if something had happened, what if he thought he couldn’t call you?

You pulled your phone out of your bag at the thought, clicking on his contact but stopped yourself when you saw the time. You had just under five minutes to be back at class… I’m being irrational, you told yourself. If something was wrong he would have informed Hoseok, and the principal sounded absolutely fine. You were worrying for no reason. If something had happened, something bad, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach out to you. You knew that, and so did he. Only a few more hours and you’d get to talk to him. Most of those involved sleep. You could wait until tomorrow morning. You could.

You couldn’t.

It was half 9 and you were home alone. It was Soojung and Taehyung’s date night and she was spending the night at his place, so all you had for company were your own thoughts – and RJ, the alpaca plush Seokjin had won for all those months previous. You couldn’t possibly wait until tomorrow, your mom was right, what was the point in waiting when you knew how you felt. You wanted to see Seokjin, to talk to him and feel him. You missed him like crazy.

Turning the television down low you grabbed for your phone which had slipped in between the sofa cushions. This time you didn’t hesitate, no work commitments calling your name, and dialled Seokjin’s number straight away. He picked up after only two rings.

“Y/N,” he breathed, sounding more than surprised.

“Hey, you,” you smiled into the receiver. It felt good to hear his voice again.

“I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight.”

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not. Well,” he paused to laugh, “I was just about to head to bed.”

He sounded a lot like his usual self tonight, it eased your mind. You laughed along softly, a confession slipping past your lips. “I was going to wait until tomorrow but Soojung is with Taehyung tonight and being alone means I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You heard a sigh of relief his end. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week.” The longing in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Are you ready to talk? I’m willing to answer any questions you have.”

“I’m ready,” you nodded. “Should I come over? I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

“I can come to you?” He suggested instead. “Arin’s with Nana until Sunday.”

“Oh.” You thought to ask him how come, but stopped yourself, you could get to that in person. He didn’t sound upset, which you took as a good sign. “Okay. Now?”

“It’s not too late?” He checked.

“No, it’s fine.” You were eager, shaking you head as you replied, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “I really want to see you.”

You could hear his smile too. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Really soon.” You heard his footsteps along the floor, the sound of a drawer opening as if he was finding something to wear.

“Don’t speed,” you added, as a joke more than anything.

“Of course I won’t,” he laughed. “I’m going to hang up now but I won’t be long.”

“Okay, see you soon, Seokjin.” It was silly, but you didn’t want the phone call to end even though in under half an hour he’d be here.

But you could be patient.

You could.

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

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