#if he decides to turn up somewhere else this year and we get more? we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it i guess. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kasagia · 1 year ago

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❄️️Warm my heart pt. 1❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: December. Everyone in the Little and Grand Palaces is excited about the upcoming holidays. Only the Black General seems rather... depressed. Like every year when these holidays are coming closer. Maybe this year, since you've been promoted to his second-in-command, you can make the general's holidays a little more enjoyable? And you're not doing it because you're in love with him and you want to see him finally careless happy... not even a little bit. Nonsense from me: A spontaneous Christmas mini-series. We'll see how it develops... I hope you will like it 🩵🖤 P.S. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't know if there's any equivalent to our Christmas… let's just say there is and I'll try to find out to be sure😅 Word Count: 3k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Oh saints, I'm freezing here." Fedyor complains as he walks next to you through the snowdrifts.

"Don't be such a grump." you say, adjusting your black fur coat that protects your neck from the cold wind. You look at the sky. The clouds were swirling above you, and the snow was still falling. In moments like these, you kind of wish you were Inferni.

"Grumpy? We had been walking around, searching for this stag, the whole day. I start to doubt if that tracker can find it."

"That tracker had seen it." Mal's voice is coming behind you. You turn to see him helping Alina walk through the snow. "It had to go somewhere to await the snowstorm."

"We should do the same." you tremble as you hear General's right behind you. You feel his warm body and beating heart before he stands next to you. "It's getting worse with each hour. We should go back to camp." he says, looking at Ivan.

"Yes, sir." Ivan who came with him nods to him and looks at the rest.

All of you are following him. You see Zoya and the general talking to him about something in the front. Mal and Alina whisper something quietly to each other. The tracker looks distrustfully at the three Grishas in front of him. You decide to stay with Fedyor a little after them.

"Lovers' quarrel?" you ask him as you see him trying to stay as far away from Ivan as he can. He also has not looked at him even once since you all got together after hours of searching Morozova's stag.

"You can say that. I want to go on holiday with my family and take him with me. He refused... well, it's putting it mildly."

"He needs time. I'm sure he will gladly come with you to meet your cousins and siblings." you defend him.

You know very well that Ivan wasn't necessarily eager to leave the Little Palace. He rarely saw his family. Like you, he didn't have many... people in his family who accepted him as Grisha. Fedyor was lucky to have someone to write letters to and visit during the holidays. Ivan was also more conservative; he did not engage in closer relationships with people, except for his fiancé.

Just like someone else you know...—you think, staring at the back of the general's head.

Snowflakes fall on his black kefta, making it even harder for you to take your eyes off him. You stopped counting the number of times you just wanted to go up to him, run your hand through his hair, hug him while simultaneously hiding in his black kefta, or kiss those temptingly soft lips that gave orders to thousands of soldiers.

The beating of his heart has become wonderful music for you to work with since you somehow became his second-in-command and started to spend more time with him in the war room.

It also worsened your crush on him… but it was a sacrifice you could bear for the sake of Ravek and Grishas.

"I hope so. I haven't seen them for a year. I wanted to finally introduce Ivan to them. Especially after our engagement." he sighs sadly, staring blankly at the footprints in front of you. You look at him sympathetically. As you notice snowflakes gathering on his shoulder, you think of an idea to make him laugh and maybe feel a little better.

You stand for a moment and bend down to your shoe, pretending to try to tie it. Fedyor stops and waits for you, his eyes patrolling the area and the forest surrounding you. You weren't that far from the capital, but some of Drüskelle's unit could always show up. You take advantage of his moment of inattention, form a snowball, and throw it at him.

You laugh quietly as the snowball hits his back. Fedyor gives you a surprised look before smirking and accepting the challenge. You silently throw snowballs at each other from behind, trying to stay silent enough so that no one notices what you two are doing.

At one point, you dodge a snowball thrown by Fedyor, causing it to hit Alina. The Sun Summoner turns towards you and lets out a small huff of laughter as he sees the two of you covered in snow. He nudges Mal with his elbow, and soon the four of you are left far behind the others, throwing snowballs at each other.

You laugh as you form teams against each other. You and Fedyor do quite well against them... at least until, instead of throwing a snowball at Mal's face, you manage to hit General Kirigan, who seems to have noticed your absence and come back to find you.

You all freeze, watching the snow fall from his face onto the kefta. Beside him, Zoya tries her best not to burst out laughing. Ivan, on the other hand, gives the four of you an irritated, disbelieving look.

"Ten minutes… we can't let you out of our sight for ten minutes," Kirigan says, wiping his face with a handkerchief and brushing away the remaining snow from his face.

"Our apologies, General." Fedyor says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight.

"Whose genius idea was it?" he asks, hiding his handkerchief and brushing off the excess snow from his black coat. To no avail, judging by the snow still falling on you. But that didn't change the fact that he was as intimidating as he was in any setting.

You see Alina take a breath to take the blame, but you cut her off before she could. "My, sir. I wanted to lighten the mood. I apologise; it won't happen again. We won't delay our return."

Your remorseful look and tone of voice make him relax. His stern gaze softens, and you can practically hear Fedyor teasing you about it.

"Just don't get left behind." he says and turns on his heel, leading you all again back to the camp.

Zoya stares at you, surprised at how smoothly you managed to pull off something like insulting the general of the Second Army by throwing a snowball at his face. However, she quickly comes back to her senses and tries to catch up with the general to talk to him about something. Ivan, on the other hand, just shakes his head and wordlessly follows the Black General like his shadow.

"Seriously? If it were me, he'd tear me apart just by looking at me," Mal grumbles to himself.

"Don't worry so much. He would do it to anyone. He has a soft spot only for Y/N. Well, and maybe Alina, since she is one-of-a-kind." Fedyor says quietly and pats him on the back. Alina snickers and takes Mal's arm as they both follow the trail of the three Grishas. You roll your eyes at your dear friend's words.

"Stop it. It's ridiculous. Don't even insinuate something like that. With Zoya and Alina in the picture, I mean nothing more to him than a soldier, his second-in-command. At best, a friend."

"Sure. The beating of his heart every time you look at him is an obvious clue that this is the case. Besides, you've seen yourslef. You are the only one who can hit him with a snowball and stay safe and sound. He didn't even raise his voice at you. The two of you are so damn obvious and so damn stubborn that even if you ended up in bed together, you both would consider it an accident."

"Oh, shut up." he laughs, hitting me on the arm with his.

"What? Why do you think he made you stop your training as a healer and decide for you to be a heartrender instead of making you a main healer? You would have stuck in an infirmary far away from him. That way, he sees you often, plus you have black embroidery on your kefta." he says and winks suggestively. You huff in amusement, shaking your head.

"You are ridiculous. We work together. That's all. There's nothing more between us. At best, it's camaraderie. Besides, he can have anyone."

"But he wants you. Do you think he gives flowers to everyone on Women's Day? Or does he buy birthday gifts? Does he even remember about someone's birthday?" you blush, you feel your cheeks turn the bloody color of your kefta and it's not because of the cold.

"I remember him wishing Ivan a happy birthday." you mutter under your breath.

"Because he was standing next to us when I gave this idiot a gift." he says, obviously still angry at his fiancé.

"Give it up. Him and I—it's not going to happen. He's a womanizer. Zoya is not his first mistress. And I am definitely not his type or league."

"Well, now that you've brought it up... little birdie told me that he cut off all non-Army relations with her. And guess when? When you became his second-in-command. And guess who he pushes away, despite the fact that she's desperately trying to get back into his bed?"

"It does not matter. He probably has his eyes on Alina and wants to make a good impression."

Fedyor groans in annoyance at your response. Before you know it, you're back at camp, with no trace of the rest of your companions. The man next to you sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair.

"If you keep fighting it for so long and denying it, which makes no sense by the way, then yes. He'll find someone else. Take the opportunity before you regret it. Christmas is coming! Maybe some miracle will happen that will make you both see that you have to end together, because only saints can make the two of you see things together, you stubborn donkeys." he says and leaves you alone, going saints know where.

You sigh, walking back to your tent. However, before you strip off the layers of clothes that protect you from heat loss, you notice that you have no firewood. You go back to the forest and collect twigs and small logs of wood that you can use to light a fire at night.

You go back to camp, dragging a small wood sled behind you. You think about Fedyor's words and whether they might actually turn out to be true. You blush as you remember the countless late nights spent in the war room talking to the general about plans, reports, new recruits, or just drinking his kvass with him and talking about anything and everything. It's true, you were close... but would you be willing to jump in and risk everything—your entire career and the life you created in the Little Palace—to try to be more to him than just one of his soldiers? Especially when he could have had a Sun Summoner?

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice familiar, dark shadows starting to swirl behind you. You scream in shock, both from the feeling of someone suddenly pulling you into his chest and from the fact that the skin on your neck and face meets the icy snow.

General Kirigan's laughter, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the warmth emanating from him calm you enough to realise that you are not in the arms of anyone dangerous. Well... if a shadow summoner could be considered such. But the coolness of the snow he rubs into your face and neck effectively shakes you from thoughts of him as you try to fight back.

He chuckles and holds you tighter with one hand as you kick and struggle in his arms.

“A good soldier knows when to surrender, Y/N.” he whispers into your ear, clearly amused. His silky tone of voice was as mischievous as it was slightly defiant and dangerous. "Shouldn't you have enough honour to obediently endure the punishment of your general?"

"Punishment? What for?" you ask as you manage to wipe the snow off your face enough to keep it from sticking in your mouth as you speak.

"Do you think I would let your little stunt get away with it? I wonder if you can still throw so accurately with snow in your kefta…" he says, slowly scooping up more snow and guiding his hand with it under your coat.

"NO!" you scream, amused and scared at the same time.

You use your powers to stun him for a moment and pull yourself out of his arms. You don't get very far, though. His shadows chase after you, and he keeps you tightly against his chest again. You struggle with him so much that you both fall screaming into a large snowdrift.

You land on top of him, blushing furiously as you realise this. The snow around you cools you a little, and you start to feel the cold seep into your bones despite everything.

"Armistice?" you ask him, your hand full of snow ready to attack.

He chuckles, amused, which only makes your smile widen. You had rarely seen him so… carefree. Especially now that he was so focused on finding Morozova's stag.

"For now. I will still look for my revenge." you whine, dissatisfied.

"It was only one snowball, Aleksander. I wasn't even aiming at you!" you protest. You squeak, surprised, as he switches, so now he is on top of you. A dangerous smile played on his face as he looked at you with a mischievous spark in his dark eyes.

"You think so?" he asks with a cheeky smirk, the hand holding the snow coming dangerously close to the buttoms of your kefta under your coat.

"All right, you won! Please don't. I'm freezing."

He frowns when he hears that you are cold. He lets go of the snow and wipes his hand on his coat before touching your cheek. He sighs, feeling how cold you are. He stands up first and helps you up, still watching you carefully.

"Let's go back to the camp. I wouldn't want my second-in-command to get sick because she decided to play in the snow" he says, and you blush slightly.

He only makes you redder by taking your hands in his and breathing warm air on them. You see the nostalgia in his eyes, and you can't help but ask him a question.

"What is it?"

"It's just... it's been so long since I did it. The last person I threw snowballs with was my sister. It feels like... centuries ago." he whispers thoughtfully, not letting go of your hands.

Unconsciously, he starts drawing patterns on your hands with his thumbs. You see him going back to his memories. How his eyes darken with sadness, even hurt. You don't know what must have happened to make him so depressed, but you feel the inner need to fight off all his worries just to see his smile again—the gleam of joy in those dark, hypnotising eyes.

"Well… maybe you can do it again? After all, the holidays are coming. You'll definitely want to visit her. Or she you." you say, choosing your words carefully. He didn't talk much about his family. Even his name was a big secret. And from your information, as long as it was good, you were the only one who knew it.

"It's a little more complicated." he says it gruffly and pulls away from you. You curse yourself in your mind, not even knowing what you did wrong. "Neither of us sees anything... special about it."

"You don't have a family meeting? Never?"

"We're not close. I don't remember when was the last time we got together. Not to mention something as insignificant and trivial as all this exchange of gifts, celebrations and prayers to the saints." he replies, pulling your sled of wood as you both walk back to camp.

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so you change the subject and ask about the next steps in his plan to capture the deer, and he perks up a little more.

Little does General Kirigan know that you're half-listening to him, thinking about something entirely else. The distant look in his dark eyes when he talks about his family—that hidden longing for something he pretends not to want—tells you one thing.

You will make sure he feels different this year. You will do everything to replace his clearly unpleasant memories with harshness from his loved ones, memories he doesn't want to share with something better.

"We'll discuss the details in my tent tonight. I hope you don't get sick. We don't have time for any delays. We have to finally catch that damn stag by the end of the year at the latest. Although our only tracker who saw it will keep hanging around the Summoner Sun instead of tracking, I don't see it well." he says, and anyone else would find his words harsh and irritated, but you've long since learned that his eyes are the true reflection of his feelings and emotions.

The one thing he couldn't control. He gives you the rope of the sled, and before he leaves you, he ties his scarf around your neck, mumbling something about how you don't know how to pack the most necessary things for the mission.

You go back to your tent and light a fire. After a while, a fabricator comes in and hands you black leather gloves without saying a word. He's gone before he can see you smiling and blushing, realising WHO told him to make them for you.

You shake your head, trying to get past Fedyor's teasing words from the hours ago. It's just a friendly gesture. Nothing more.

But this is the moment when you make your final decision.

You will see the general again, as happy and carefree as he was a few moments ago. So relaxed and calm as he deserves to be, at least in this time of year...

Even if, along the way, your stupid heart had to completely and hopelessly fail for a man you could never have.

Thank you! 🩵🖤🩵🖤

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

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causeitsagame · 2 years ago

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Ok syke one more. Doesnt need to be a whole fic or anything (obviously you do whatever you want) but Fuyuhiko breaching the aforementioned torture subject with Hajime? Like hey bro you're gonna hate this but uh if anyone ever gets captured, you need to let me get tortured bc it's the safest thing for everyone. OK SORRY IM JUST EXCITED. -xoxo hajihiko

OKAY follow-up (or prequel, really?) to this one:

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"I'm taking Kaz's plane and going."

Blinking, Hajime straightened from where he studied the radar. Most of them were edging into panic mode, and the only thing keeping things together was the collective trust they had in him to pull some sort of rabbit out of some sort of hat. "What?"

Fuyuhiko stared at him with a grim sort of calm. "He's going to set the plane to autopilot right toward them. You're going to get everyone else off the island in some other direction."

Well, it was some plan, at least. Grimacing, Hajime began, "I hate to give up that plane he put together, but if it can hold their attention for even a little while—"

"Hajime."

"I'll figure out a way to make it work."

Fuyuhiko stepped forward and gripped his wrist. "Fucking. Listen. To. Me."

Hajime stared back at him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. "I did. You said that you're sending Kaz's plane toward them."

"For fuck's sake, we don't have time for this." Fuyuhiko's grip tightened. "A plane is not bait. I am bait."

Heat washed across Hajime's face, and his mouth quivered. "No. This isn't how we're doing it."

"This is the only way to do this. We need someone who can slow them down. I can take whatever they throw at me—"

"God, are you serious?" Hajime cried, and wrenched his arm out of Fuyuhiko's grip. "Whatever they throw at you? You mean fucking torture?"

"Yes," Fuyuhiko said simply. "I can, and everyone else can't. They'd be fine with killing most of us, too, the second they get their hands on us. But not me or Sonia, 'cause we had the most information. They'd keep both of us alive to wring it out of us. Years' worth."

Hajime's vision went blurry with sudden tears.

"Who'd stand up to it better?" Fuyuhiko demanded. "Me or her?"

He couldn't swallow, suddenly. Gasping, Hajime turned away.

"I need you to promise me you'll get them away. Everyone." Fuyuhiko's voice wavered, and he coughed hard. "That'll make it all worth it."

"You… fuck. Fuck!" Hajime slammed his hand into a metal support post and turned back to Fuyuhiko as the post crumpled. "We'll come get you out. We won't leave you there."

"No, you fucking won't."

Hajime stepped toward him, eyes blazing, and leaned forward to put every bit of height he had on Fuyuhiko to good use. "We are not abandoning you, and fuck you for even asking."

"You are not rescuing me," Fuyuhiko spat. "If anyone else decides to try, I guess I can't stop them. They shouldn't; they'll just be caught and killed. But I can't stop them."

Hajime's jaw twitched. "You can't stop me, either."

Fuyuhiko reared up and caught Hajime's shirt in his fists, and gripped it with iron intensity. "They'd keep me 'n Sonia alive for some torture. They'd keep you for an entire lifetime of it. They want you more than anyone else on this island, and I'm not letting them get anywhere close."

"So you throw yourself at them, on purpose, but I'm not even supposed to try?!"

"What they'll do to me is nothing compared to you. If you come for me, you're throwing away every last thing I'm about to go through." Fuyuhiko's hands trembled before he shoved Hajime away. "If I see you again, I'll never forgive it. You got that?"

Stunned, Hajime rocked back on his heels. Tears dripped off his chin and splattered against the floor. "A… a week. It won't be me, fine. But a week, and we'll come for you."

"Don't be an idiot," Fuyuhiko muttered, and swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. "It'll be a damn year until you're settled in somewhere new. Settled in well enough to monitor intel, anyway."

"A month."

Fuyuhiko's eye closed. "Hajime, please…" He turned away, and for one vulnerable moment, emotion threatened to overcome him. "Please, don't."

"Two months. Final offer. Imposter and Peko, in and out." Hajime swallowed hard. He could play dirty, too. "If you don't want to accept that, then you have to tell Peko that she's not allowed to try to rescue you. If there's a way to do it, she'll figure it out. You have to tell her that she can't."

"She already knows." Fuyuhiko's gaze went very distant, and he had to shake his head before it re-focused on Hajime. "There's not going to be any point in an attempt, by then. Don't bother."

"Don't bother?" Hajime repeated in disbelief. "No point?"

"Peko knows the whole plan. She'll tell you… in two months." Fuyuhiko's eye filled with renewed purpose as he confirmed, "In two months, you'll hear why a rescue attempt won't be worth it."

"But—"

"We're out of time," Fuyuhiko said simply, and turned for the door. "You'd better get everyone out."

"Fuyuhiko!" Hajime pleaded, and ran to follow him.

A sure hand caught his wrist as he left. Hajime turned in surprise to Peko, who'd been waiting outside the door. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy, but her gaze was filled with grim acceptance. "Let him go," she whispered. "He's made his choice."

"But… I can't…"

"If we do not save everyone else, we will diminish that choice." Peko's jaw clenched, then released. "What we can do for him now is to not let his efforts be in vain."

Something about her grip on his wrist kept Hajime there, even as Fuyuhiko vanished into the distance alongside Kazuichi. "I'm supposed to ask you in two months," Hajime said with a shaking voice. "About a rescue attempt."

Peko slowly nodded.

"He said that, in two months, you'd think it wouldn't be worth it."

"I know why he said that," Peko softly confirmed. "I do not agree with him, but I know why." Her hand tightened until the nails began to dig into Hajime's skin, then suddenly released. "We should round up the others. I refuse to let any of them die."

"…Right," Hajime agreed, and felt his shoulders slump.

I'm sorry. But I'll save everyone. I promise.

Two months.

Everyone. Including you.

#Anonymous #fic prompts #my fic

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legacyshenanigans · 5 months ago

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Little facts about my Cats 😺

I don't know why I wanna do this, I just do, so here! Take my kitty information!! 🤣

I was there when Xavier was born, He was really teeny tiny compared to his big sister who was HUGE.

Xaviers name was nearly Moogle, after the Moogles from the FF games, because he had a mushy little face and his little pink nose when he was born.

We found Storm inside the hood of our car when he was around 5 weeks old. He was covered in tics and oil, we have no idea where he came from.

After taking Storm to the vets, I asked my fella if we could keep him, he said "I'll think about it" and never actually gave me an answer, it's been 8 years since then so I assume that's a yes lmao, but we joke sometimes about the fact what if he just turned around NOW and said "Thought about it, nah" 🤣

It took Xavier AGES to get used to Storm being around, he never really attacked him, but he HATED Storm being around him, like he'd get up and walk away if Storm tried to snuggle with him, and then one day he kinda realised "Ok fine, this fuckin THING is gonna be around, I guess" 🤣

Storm has a genetic mutation in his tail, which causes his tail to curl upward and lay completely flat up his spine when he's walking around.

Storm STARTS fights with Xavier on the sly, then will run to me meowing if Xavier hits him back, like a little sibling trying to get their big sibling in trouble 🤣

Xavier HATES and will hiss at anyone who isn't me or my fella. He TOLERATES ME at best tbh lmao, he ADORES my fella though. But if anyone else besides us tries to stroke him he'll whack them with his paw and hiss.

I swear Storm is more like a dog, I first noticed it when he was around a year old. If anyone comes to our door, he runs to the window and GROWLS and SNARLS at them like a dog 🤣 But when they come inside, he'll either hide or be fine.

The only other cat on the street that Xavier is chill with is next doors cat, her name is biscuit, and I see them together outside pretty regularly. She's the only one he doesn't try and fight with.

Xavier knows our car, and quite often when we've been out and enter our road, he'll be waiting somewhere and if there's no other cars coming we'll stop and open the door and he hops in and we drive up the street to our house with him in the car.

Storm is extremely vocal, and Xaiver is fairly mute. But weirdly, Storm will meow and make noises at Xavier, and Xavier just looks at him like he's a weirdo haha.

Storm will always let Xavier know when it's food time. If I walk out of the kitchen with their food, he runs to Xavier and meows at him as if to say "BRO, FOOD!! COME ON!!"

Storm knows the word "Treat" and god forbid if I say it, he's YOWLING and screaming at my feet, circling me until he gets a treat.

Unlike Storm, who uses a litter tray and is an indoor cat, Xavier prefers to go outside to do his business, and to let me know that he wants to go outside, I have this little bell thing by the kitchen door that he paws at to let me know he wants to go out.

Storm is a VERY jealous cat, especially when it comes to me. If Xavier on the rare occasion decides he wants to sit on me or have my attention, that just doesn't sit right with Storm, and he let's it be known 🤣 He also doesn't like it when me and my fella cuddle on the sofa, and will literally try and slot himself between us.

Xavier can reach high places in our house, whereas Storm can't, Storm has never been a confident jumper, and whenever Xavier has decided he's has enough of Storms shenanigans he'll go to the highest point, and Storm just sits at the bottom and makes nosies at him.

Xavier has claimed one of our living room chairs, that's HIS chair, and if anyone sits on it, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like Storm being on HIS chair either.

Both of my cats fucking HATE children 🤣 They have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to kids hahaha. And whenever my mates kids come over, I have to remind them to stay away from my cats lmao. Aslong as the kids don't go near them, they're fine. But they WATCH their EVERY movement from a distance haha.

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twoidiotwriters1 · 6 months ago

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Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Happy anniversary of The Daughter of Olympus! -Danny Words: 2,255 Series' Masterlist Book II // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Talking To Myself' -by Gatlin

I: Born to Say 'Fuck Off' Forced to Say 'Yes, Sir'

Ara can think of ten different things she could be doing outside of this musty old place that would make a difference in the world instead of this. I'm the daughter of Olympus, she sulks, giants fear me, monsters want me, but I can't get rid of Marcus from Spanish class.

First day of High School. She's looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, hyping herself up to survive the last three hours of the day. It would be less aggravating if Percy had qualified to attend his last year at Goode's, but apparently, disappearing in the middle of the school year gets you expelled, go figure.

Arae Jackson.

The girl gives a start and looks over her shoulder at the stools, where none other than Poseidon meets her eye. "My lord," Ara's voice trembles. "This is a girl's bathroom."

The god raises a brow as if silently asking if that's truly her main concern. "I'll be brief with this visit. My son needs you."

"Which one? Tyson?" That sentence immediately puts her on edge. "Percy? What happened?"

"Oh, nothing yet," the god sighs. "Percy must do a series of tasks and Zeus has forbidden me from aiding him, yet he never mentioned I couldn't bestow upon you the duty to ensure Percy's triumph."

She stares at him. "You mean a quest, sir?"

"As daughter of Olympus, you must do what the gods ask of you, I hope you haven't forgotten?" He crosses his arms.

"Of course not, my lord, but I'm a little lost," she raises a brow. "Why are you drafting Percy into this if I could do the tasks myself?"

Poseidon smiles but seems tense. "My son will explain everything to you. Goodbye, I expect good results."

The god leaves, and Ara turns to the mirror. "This is what you get for bitching."

When Ara gets home, she finds Grover at the door. "Hey, man," she musters a tired smile. "Came for dinner?"

"It's your first day of High School and Percy's senior year, of course I'd come," he grins. "How are you?"

Percy opens the door and welcomes them in. "Hey! I was wondering where you two were..."

"I brought strawberries." Grover shoves the basket in the boy's hands. "Is that tofu stir-fry?"

"Hello to you, too," Percy answers, throwing a bemused glance at Ara.

"I love tofu stir-fry!"

"Ara and Grover are here!" Her brother announces over his shoulder. "They brought strawberries!"

Sally comes out of the kitchen and takes the basket. "They smell wonderful! Perfect dessert!"

"Last crop of the summer," Grover informs them. "Now we have to get ready for gourd season. Don't get me wrong. I love decorative gourds, but they're not as tasty."

Sally pats his shoulder as she walks past. "We'll make sure these berries don't go to waste."

Ara stares at them. Everyone thought Leo would be back by the last week of August... She keeps smiling like his absence does not bug her much, partly because she doesn't want to be like those girls who whine about their boyfriends, and also because a General being sad about a boy is plain stupid, but it's more than that. Now that their curse is—presumably—broken, nothing assures her that he'll love her still, he didn't address her in the scroll he sent, after all.

He has a whole life ahead of him, and he might decide that even if they share soul lights, his calling is somewhere else, somewhere she doesn't fit in. He's free, but nothing has changed for Ara. Hercules warned her, and she didn't take it seriously at first, thinking she'd die before she could get a chance to see how that would play.

"Who's hungry?" Paul enters the room, and Ara feels slightly better.

While the family catches up, Percy shares his conundrum: He's been asked to get three recommendation letters from the gods by doing three separate quests. "Well then, we'll do these quests together!" Grover speaks before Percy can even finish.

Percy's shoulders relax. "Grover, you don't have to—"

"Are you kidding? A chance to do quests, just the four of us? Like old times? The Fantastic Four!"

"The Beatles," Annabeth smirks.

"The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," Percy adds.

"The Golden Girls," Ara finishes.

"I wanna be Betty White."

The teens laugh, and Paul raises his drink. "The monsters will never know what hit them. Just be careful, you four."

"Oh, it'll be fine," Grover brushes it off, but he's anxiously nibbling a napkin. "Besides, it always takes a while for word to get around among the gods. We've probably got weeks before the first request comes in!"

It did not take weeks.

The next day, Ara notices a guy seated next to Percy at their favorite smoothie bar, one that she knows. "Ganymede." Her smile is one of intrigue. "The hell are you doing here?"

Usually, she doesn't speak to godlings like that, but Ganymede's like the cousin you see once a year and with whom you sneak out of the family reunion to talk shit about your aunts and uncles, and heck, he talks. She met him during the winter and summer solstices that she attended as the daughter of Olympus.

"Oh, is my disguise worth nothing?" He huffs. "It doesn't matter. Dear Arae, I require aid. I would've come to you, but..." he makes a face. "Well, if I use you, the gods might find out about my problem."

"What problem?" Ara sits next to Percy, taking a sip from his smoothie.

"I have to be sure this is completely discreet," he leans forward. "You cannot tell anyone else. Is that understood?"

"Discreet is what we do," Grover says.

"How much do you know about my responsibilities on Mount Olympus?" Ganymede questions.

"You're the cupbearer of the gods," Annabeth replies.

"Must be a sweet job," Grover sighs. "Immortality, godly power, and you just have to serve drinks?"

"It's a horrible job."

"Permanent waiter position with no chances of promotion," Ara nods in understanding.

"When it was just at feasts," Ganymede continues, "that was one thing. But now ninety percent of my orders are deliveries. Ares wants his nectar delivered on the battlefield. Aphrodite wants her usual with extra crushed ice and two maraschino cherries delivered to a sauna in Helsinki in fifteen minutes or less. Hephaestus... Don't get me started on Hephaestus. This gig economy is killing me."

"Okay," Percy shrugs. "How can we help?"

"My most important symbol of office... Can you guess what it is?"

"Since you're cupbearer of the gods, I'm going to guess... a cup?"

"Not just any cup!" Ganymede hisses. "The chalice of the gods! The goblet of ultimate flavor! The only cup worthy of Zeus himself! And now..."

"Oh, it's missing, isn't it?" Annabeth guesses.

"Not missing. My cup has been stolen." He bursts into tears.

Percy looks at Ara, she gestures at him vaguely and he reacts stiffly. "There, there."

The waiter hands Ara her usual drink, then he notices the crying boy. "Is the smoothie not okay, sir? I can make you something else."

"No." Ganymede sniffs. "It's just... I can't stand seeing so many cups. It's too soon. Too soon."

Ara looks at the waiter and flashes him a smile. "Thank you, Steve. I'll make sure to tip fifteen percent." The guy seems satisfied with that and leaves them alone.

Grover turns to the god. "You know, the kids at Camp Half-Blood make some great arts-and-crafts projects. They could probably fashion you a new goblet."

"It wouldn't be the same," Ganymede whines.

"Or you could look into single-serving cups made from recyclable material."

"Grover," Annabeth intervenes. "He wants his special cup."

"I'm just saying, single servings might be more hygienic. All those gods sipping from the same goblet—?"

"You said it was stolen," Percy moves on. "Do you know who took it?"

"I have some ideas," he glares at the table. "But first, you have to promise that this remains confidential. The goblet makes drinks taste good to the gods. But if a mortal got hold of it... one sip from it would grant them immortality."

Ara and Percy make the same face. "If it's so powerful, why would you trust us to get it back?"

"I couldn't trust anyone else! You've already turned down immortality once, Percy Jackson."

"Yeah, what a weirdo." Ara retorts sarcastically.

Percy kicks her foot. "Okay. Totally confidential."

"And these others?" Ganymede looks at her friends.

"These others know how to keep a secret," Annabeth smiles. "Loose lips are never a good strategy."

"Totally," Grover nods.

"We're all best friends," Percy says. "You can trust them as much as you can trust me."

"Yeah, besides, you and I come from way back," Ara states confidently.

"Fine," he sighs dramatically. "I suspect someone on Olympus is trying to embarrass me, make me look bad in front of Zeus. If he finds out I lost my cup... No. I have to recover it."

"You have enemies?" Percy asks.

"Oh, yes. Hera, for one. She's hated me since the day Zeus snatched me up to Olympus. Zeus was always complimenting me, you see—how handsome I was, how much I brightened up the palace. It's not my fault I have nicer legs than she does."

Ara wants to erase that sentence from her memory. Annabeth shivers. "Let's hope it's not Hera."

"No... Probably not. She would consider it beneath her." Ganymede mumbles. "But there are others—Everyone on Olympus hates me, really, because I'm a newcomer, an upstart kid made immortal. They call me a gold digger! Can you believe that?"

Percy and Ara share a look again, having a tough time not blurting out their silly thoughts. "You suspect anyone else in particular?"

"Before I was the cupbearer," he lowers his voice, "there were two other goddesses who had my job. First Hebe. Then Iris."

"Iris seems kind of chill to be stealing chalices," Grover replies.

"Perhaps." Ganymede pouts. "But Hebe..."

"The goddess of youth," Annabeth hums. "But, Ganymede, you're, like, eternally young and beautiful. Why would she want to embarrass you?"

"Oh, you don't know her," Ganymede scrunches up his nose. "In the early days, every time I would serve drinks at the feast table, she'd mutter Spill it, spill it as I walked past. She's so immature."

"Well, if she's the goddess of youth..." Grover starts.

"That's no excuse! She needs to grow up!"

"Okay," Percy brushes it aside. "Do you have any proof she took it?"

"Proof? That's what I need you for. Don't you heroes dust for fingerprints, analyze DNA samples, that sort of thing?"

"You might be thinking of CSI. But okay, we'll start with Hebe. Then check Iris."

"Fine." Ganymede takes a sip of his drink. "Hmm. Not bad. Maybe when I get fired and turned back into a mortal, I could work here."

"You'd make a great himbo," Annabeth nods. "So how long has your chalice been missing?"

Ganymede squints. "A century?"

"A century?!" Percy squeaks.

"Or a week? I always get those time periods confused. Not long, anyway. So far, I've been able to fake it with my delivery orders. The other gods kind of expect to-go cups with those. But if I don't get my proper chalice back before the next in-person feast, everyone will notice. I'll be humiliated!"

"When is the next feast?" Grover inquires.

"I don't know! Zeus is unpredictable! He might schedule one in twenty years. Or it could be tomorrow. The point is, I need that goblet back before word gets out! Question those goddesses. See what they know. But don't offend them. And don't say I sent you. And don't give away that my cup was stolen."

"That'll make it hard to question them," Annabeth responds. "Any idea where these goddesses hang out?"

"They stay close to Mount Olympus. I mean Manhattan. They should be around here somewhere. Do this for me, Percy Jackson, and I will write you a letter!"

"This recommendation letter will be positive?" Percy lists. "And you'll actually sign it?"

Ganymede scoffs. "You drive a hard bargain, but very well! Now, away with you, before I am undone!"

The moment Ganymede is gone, Percy turns to Ara. "You're friends with that guy?"

Ara puffs out air through her mouth and leans back tiredly. "Dude, when you work part-time in Olympus, there aren't many options."

"Well..." He looks at the others with a little smile. "This should be fun. Any ideas where to start?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Grover pouts. "But let me finish my drink first. We're going to need our strength."

Compared to what they used to face when they were younger, this is easy, and they also have each other. It surprises her how easily her brain accepts this and moves on. For years she'd been part of this family and felt the same they did about most things, but being a daughter of Olympus was shifting her character in ways she couldn't even notice until it was too late.

Ease up, sunshine—She can hear Leo's voice in her head, twisting the perspective so it looks like something fun instead of dangerous. Before meeting him, that voice was her own, but now... all things joyful are him—this will be such a cool story at parties.

Ara makes a beeline to her room and stops only when Percy calls after her. "Yes?"

"Wanna play?" He's showing her the PlayStation remote with a strange look in his eyes, almost holding his breath while waiting for an answer.

Ara replies awkwardly. "Ah—I've got camp stuff to review. Bunker, cabins..." Her feet are already moving forward. "Sorry..."

The girl enters their shared room and closes the door. On her side of the room, right above her bed, she spots the Polaroids Leo gifted her a few months ago, and her smile drops. Gods, she's dead worried. Ara presses her back against the door and steadies herself. You got this. Her hand dives into her pocket and closes around Almighty with a tight grip. She takes a few steps forward and collapses onto her bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

#twoidiots writing #leo valdez x oc #doo #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic

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kay-wren · 8 months ago

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I’ll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 20

When they finally got back to the house it was clear Rafe didn't want to talk. He walked straight to his room but before he could get there he heard Jessie's voice.

"Rafe." She commanded. Her voice always perked his ears. Some things never changed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ignore that sweet voice. Rafe stopped in his tracks, not daring to turn around and look at Jessie.

"Can we please not let it end like this." Jessie pleaded. She sounded on the verge of tears, maybe this really did tear her apart as much as it did him? He took notice of the desperation in her voice. Still, his heart hardened back like it did years ago.

"You've let things end way worse." Rafe spat, still looking at the floor in front of him as he tried to get his anger under control.

Jessie deserved that one. She couldn't argue, but she had to keep Rafe engaged. She convinced herself it was strictly for strategy.

"Let's do something." Jessie hinted as she walked closer to him. "Let's... go find a party to crash or something... like we used to. Something to get our minds somewhere else." She whispered as she touched his shoulder to spin him around.

Rafe looked at Jessie with teary eyes and yet with so much rage. Jessie didn't flinch, she still knew Rafe better than anyone.

"Come on, Rafe. You know it'd be fun. It'd be good for us."

"You really think partying is good for us?" Rafe scoffed.

Jessie thought for a second. That is what got in the way of them in the first place, but it was also what brought them together.

"You always told me you wanted my freedom. You always said you appreciated my ability to just let go and have fun. Well now you have that freedom. Use it." Jessie whispered as she cupped the side of his face. Rafe couldn't help but calm down just a little when she did that. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"You've got 10 minutes to change and meet me back down here." Rafe commanded as he walked away.

Jessie breathed a sigh of relief. She was back in the game.

Jessie ran upstairs to find a cute dress in Sarah's summer closet. She opted for a short, satin, olive green dress with spaghetti straps and a loose v neckline. She wore her very old, very dirty converse, she knew Rafe would remember them.

Jessie slipped down the stairs, this time waiting on Rafe. Rafe came around the corner in a white button down shirt and some simple jeans. Rafe stopped when he saw Jessie, eyeing her up and down with lust in his eyes. He laughed when he checked out her shoes.

"You're still wearing those dirty old things?"

"You know I don't party without them." Jessie simply replied. Rafe knew she was right, she never was much for heels. Jessie extended her hand. "You ready to go?"

"I don't know where we're going but sure." Rafe exclaimed as he met his hand with Jessie's. Jessie tightened her grip and pulled Rafe out the door.

Neither one of them knew exactly where they'd end up, but they landed on a local hot spot, a hidden club down in the depths of the city.

Rafe and Jessie bellied up to the bar. Jessie secretly wanted her high noons, but she figured in a more upscale place like this, she better settle for an actual mixed drink. She decided on a Moscow mule, she did enjoy those from time to time.

"I'll have what she's having." Rafe said.

"Two Moscow mules please." Jessie asked kindly to the bartender. Rafe looked over at her inquisitively.

"What about your high noons? Not even a mai tai or..." Rafe furrowed his brows in confusion.

"This isn't exactly our old party scene, Rafe. This place calls for something a little more fancy than what we used to drink. I don't think we'll be drinking out of solo cups." Jessie joked as the bartender passed them both of their drinks.

"Yeah, but still... when did you start drinking stuff like this." Rafe questioned as he took a sip, not liking the very acquired taste.

Jessie laughed at his puckered face. "Since I grew up." She joked as she brought the copper cup to her lips.

"Well you've grown up alright, that tastes like something an old lady would drink." Rafe retorted as he puckered his lips like a child eating lemon for the first time. Jessie put her hand over her heart pretending to act offended.

"Well this old lady has still got it." Jessie sassed as she got off of her chair and tried to pull Rafe with her to the dance floor. Rafe stayed planted and looked at Jessie knowingly.

"You know I don't dance." Rafe slightly yelled over the loud music with a half smile. Rafe never was one to dance at parties or clubs or anything of the sort, the only exception was when he would get to slow dance with Jessie, and this clearly wasn't one of those times.

"You are in a city thousands of miles away from home in a club where absolutely nobody knows you. And you still can't find freedom in that and just get off your butt and dance?!" Jessie challenged Rafe with a knowing smile on her face. Rafe tried not to get lost in her longing eyes as he just smiled at her and shook his head no.

"I'll watch." He answered plainly.

"Oh I'm sure you will." Jessie scoffed followed by a smirk. With that, she left Rafe to sip on his drink. He took another taste, completely forgetting that he hated it. He was reminded very quickly as he tried not to spit it out.

"Hey man," Rafe waved the bartender over, "Can I get something different? Literally anything." Rafe laughed. The bartender understood the assignment as he chuckled.

"Whiskey on rocks coming right up."

Rafe admired Jessie as she weaved through the crowd of people. She didn't have a dance partner but she didn't care. She never did. That's what made Rafe fall in love in the first place. Just like the first night at the Island Club, Rafe watched Jessie's every move. Jessie knew Rafe was watching, and she intentionally calculated every move because of it. She was going to get him on the dance floor, no matter how long it took. This assignment had nothing to do with the gold, it was strictly for her pleasure knowing that she could still pull Rafe in, hook, line, and sinker.

After a few songs and a few more sips of her drink, Jessie made a few friends out on the dance floor. How could she not? Jessie loved this scene, she was never afraid of anyone. Rafe loved that she didn't care about social graces or being awkward, she genuinely had never met a stranger, and nobody was too good or too bad for her. After all these years and Rafe still couldn't have the freedom- the zest for life- that she had. He couldn't let himself be truly careless no matter how hard he tried.

An hour went by and Jessie still hadn't made her way off the dance floor for more than enough time to get a drink. She wasn't drunk by any means, not even tipsy.

"You're not drinking a whole lot?" Rafe questioned the next time Jessie brought herself back to the bar.

"I told you, I don't really drink much anymore."

That was true, Jessie really hasn't drank since she left, not enough to get drunk anyways. She didn't really miss it like she thought she would, but she most definitely still enjoyed the change of pace.

Rafe wanted to ask why, but he knew what the answer would be. She'd grown up. She'd moved on from her old life. Rafe couldn't say the same. Rafe hung his head a little lower with a tinge of sadness as he realized that him and Jessie were most likely in two different stages of life. Maybe there was no hope for them after all. Rafe began to think he'd just be holding her back if he tried to pursue her any further. He didn't know what specifically she was doing nowadays, but he could tell she was successful and happy in her own way. Rafe loved her too much to mess that up.

"Are you ready to dance yet?" Jessie asked with annoyance as she pulled on Rafe's arm, successfully pulling him out of his running thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, no I'm still watching." Rafe replied with a smile as he quickly grabbed the lifeline that was his drink and gripped it tightly as he brought it to his lips.

By the look on Jessie's face she still didn't like that answer, and was clearly judging him for it, but she went back to dance with her newfound friends with a very visible huff and puff of annoyance.

"If I gave you every piece of me I know that you could drop it."

The song began to play and Jessie could once again feel her body move in a way that was all too familiar. The sway of her hips and the placement of her arms was like riding a bike. She let the music take over as she danced to the beat with perfect rhythm. As Jessie perused across the floor, every movement making Rafe's body ache with longing, she made sure to steal a glance over at her husband every chance she got. Jessie seemed to move in slow motion for Rafe, every movement seeming more isolated and intentional as the blue lights bounced off her dress and illuminated her skin perfectly. He watched her hair cascade and fall perfectly with every flip of her head along her exposed shoulders and trailing neckline. He noticed every little detail like her dress riding up a little too much for his liking or her body getting a little too close to the others around her. Jessie knew Rafe was undressing her in his mind, and that was how she wanted it. She missed the feeling of being Rafe's vice. She could see the hot anger welling up inside him, the same anger she used to see from him when they were teenagers and she was dancing at parties with him just lurking along the sidelines, waiting for his moment to intervene when a man got too close.

Rafe finally couldn't take it anymore. She knew what she was doing. He finally stomped out on the floor and took her hips in his hands to stop them.

"You know what you're doing." Rafe hummed with a clenched jaw. Jessie turned around to face him with a smirk, placing her hands on his chest and moving closer into him, still lightly dancing.

"Oh do I?" Jessie smirked as she fixed the collar of Rafe's shirt and unbuttoned the top button with one quick snap of her fingers. "Well you need to let lose." She stated as she looked directly in his eyes with just as much lust for him as he had for her. Rafe stood there motionless, not wanting to move, but scared to stay.

"If I showed you all my demons and we dive into the deep end would we crash and burn like every time before?"

Jessie turned around and placed Rafe's hands on her hips as she had one arm snaked around his neck. She swayed to the music as she leaned into Rafe, him enjoying every second of it. It was growing increasingly difficult for Rafe's hands not to roam.

Jessie spun around and wrapped her arms around Rafe's neck as she moved with the music. Jessie looked directly into Rafe's eyes, seeing he was having a hard time staying focused, she laughed to herself.

Rafe's hands couldn't help but explore her body more, moving up and down and any which way he could among the sea of people. Rafe clenched his jaw as if to not say something he'd regret. He began to squeeze Jessie's hips tighter in an attempt to release some of the energy he had pent up in the moment. Jessie noticed, and she didn't mind.

One thing is for sure, their chemistry never left. After four years, their bodies still moved together in perfect rhythm, and their flirting was timeless. Jessie still knew exactly how to get under Rafe's skin, and Rafe knew exactly how to get what he wanted.

Jessie began to close the distance as she connected her forehead to Rafe's, he leaned down a little to make it easier for her. Jessie tried to control her breathing, which was growing increasingly hard to do as she had been dancing for a long time.

"You still feel like partying wasn't the best idea?" Jessie smirked as she never broke eye contact with Rafe. He didn't say anything. Hell, he couldn't. What he wanted to say was not for anyone else to hear.

"If the only other options letting go, I'll stay vulnerable."

Jessie and Rafe couldn't help but listen to the message of the song playing above them. They both agreed in their hearts that they would rather crash and burn by the hand of the other as many times as they could than forget about what they had.

"You know what we used to do after parties?" Rafe asked seriously.

Jessie just nodded with a sheepish smile. She knew where this was going. She couldn't fight against it any longer. She didn't want to let Rafe go, not again. She needed to stay vulnerable to save what they had.

With no more words left to say, Rafe pulled Jessie off the dance floor with her hand held firmly in his and left the club. Rafe secretly wished that they weren't on his motorcycle. At least then if they were in a chauffeured car like the night before, Rafe could do what he had been wanting to do all night. Instead, he had to wait until they got home.

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itsmyfandomandilikeit · 1 year ago

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A Minor-to-Medium Prediction for Prodigy Season 2

All right so I'll admit, I haven't gotten to the TOS episodes about Organians yet, so I'm kinda making a lot of assumptions.

(season one spoilers under the cut)

So I've been thinking about Dal's Augment abilities, and I think it's really important to the story that they remain fairly minor. The series is about Dal's growth as a person, and him getting a bunch of random superpowers does not help that. I find the story of someone who starts from nothing and fights to become somebody very inspiring, so I do truly hope his character remains more important than his DNA, and I also think it would be a mess if we had to sit through an episode about each of the minor traits he gets from each of his component species. He's his own person, that's like the point of the series.

But I do think he'll still have some variation in ability. He's got his neck-tail thing, he seems to be pretty acrobatic, and telepathic abilities seem to be a recurring motif.

I think he might not be able to really rely on his ability to swap bodies, at least not to the degree that he can cheese it like a Quirk or anything, but I do think he'll be able to use it and skills like it again. I think it will be interesting to see how the minor telepathic abilities of his component species can interact, especially since the way they work seems to be so... undefined. He can swap bodies with a person he knows, so long as there's SOME form of physical contact, like a phaser beam across starships. It's transitive. But we don't know what all this can interact with, and how else it can be used.

Next season will take place, it seems, largely on Solum. A planet that exists in two separate timelines, one in which it is almost entirely devoid of life and one in which its future remains uncertain. It sort of reminds me of Dal, whose past is pretty dark and empty but whose future could be better, we'll have to wait and see.

Anyway I'm kinda rambling but I think next season he's going to swap bodies with Gwyn. I don't know when and how this will impact things, but I think it's where the story is going. Honestly he'll probably go to a place where she is in the other timeline and think about how he misses her, and they'll swap places and have to deal with each other's situations. That's my theory. I don't think this will be the ending to the season or anything but I think it'll happen in the middle somewhere so they can provide some insight to the other's situation that helps but doesn't entirely solve some problem. It also, as in Mindwalk, really doesn't allow them to talk.

I think it's going to turn out that the reason Solum was so conflicted about joining the Federation is that they would have to give up genetic engineering. We've seen they have advanced technology in other fields, but I think we saw in Kobayashi that Gwyn was genetically engineered. I think the reason the word "progeny" was emphasized so much is because it has to do with how Vau Nakat reproduce. Gwyn isn't an exact clone of her dad- they don't have the same facial markings.

Overall I've almost convinced myself that Dal will learn and grow under Janeway, but ultimately leave Starfleet to forge his own path. It's unfair but I think neither he nor Gwyn can join Starfleet and for the same reason- and we're less than a year out from the events of Picard S1. But I think, if things are going the way I think they are, it'll be a powerful story nonetheless. I think Dal as an independent actor who attains far more success and influence than the likes of Okona could be a very satisfying ending. Not to mention the fact that I don't think I'd like watching him be treated like garbage by Starfleet and still decide to dedicate his life to it.

At the very end of season 1, Janeway walks off and asks the children if they're coming with her on their new ship. They all chase after her, except for Dal, who stops and watches Gwyn’s shuttle leave. I think that was foreshadowing. I think he'll grow under Janeway's guidance but ultimately become his own person.

#star trek #Star trek prodigy #dal r'el #gwyndala #This was supposed to just be about the mindwalk thing but I just kept typing #My bad #I've been thinking about this for months so it's not really coherent #Also I wrote part of it sitting on the toilet

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cyndalyssa · 5 months ago

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Here, let me give you a real cool hamster.

Bio under the cut.

Iceham (Gnawles) Merrimouser is a lot more mature than your average 14-year-old. This hamster is the most cool and collected of the bunch, and often has intense focus on what he deems important tasks. He has no time for petty things like the social hierarchy at school, and one look with his icy gaze can scare someone straight. He's quite intelligent and well-read, being a straight-A student who takes his studies seriously.

Between his smarts, his general seriousness, and his status as the oldest boy of the Squad, it's really no surprise that he is co-leader with the oldest girl, Bita. He is the cooler head to Bita's hotter head, and the strategist to Bita's enforcer. Even when they clash, the two have the utmost respect for each other.

His powers of ice suit him so well, it's a surprise that he wasn't born with it--he just happened to be chewing on ice cubes when he got empowered by the Great Comet. In any case, with the power to create ice and snow, he's got a handy way of catching baddies by simply freezing them in their tracks. He can survive in subzero temperatures while wearing light clothing. He even has a bit of weather manipulation in order to create blizzards, a miniature polar vortex, or his signature "Ice Hurricane" attack--though those are always last resorts because he wants to keep damage to a minimum.

He isn't without his pleasures, though. As stated before, he's well-read, so he clearly has reading as a hobby, and he likes to do puzzles and play chess to keep his mind sharp. He's even fond of writing poems, short stories, or even songs (sometimes Bita's band likes to play them, since he has a taste for rock). But on the flip side, he has a fondness for winter sports, snowboarding in particular. He doesn't even need to buy a board, he could just make one with his ice powers and away he goes. He's not above playing video, board, or even sports games with his siblings, and takes a little pleasure in frustrating them by beating them at more strategic games (though he'll lose gracefully if one of them gets lucky). And while he technically doesn't need it, he wears the jacket because he thinks it's cool.

He does have one fear that he would find a little embarrassing if not for the reasoning behind it--he's afraid of the dark. He can be even cautious of his own shadow at times. On the surface, it's laughable and breaks any coolness factor he may have. But if anyone were to learn about how his biological brother turned into a shadow thanks to the Great Comet, proceeded to consume their parents, and is still out there somewhere... yeah, it's a miracle that he still has a mostly level head. He just appreciates how there are three in the Squad that can emit light in some form (Fireball, Electrex, Lucia) that can keep that living shadow away, and it's been five years since that night and the official creation of the Squad and nothing happened. Still, Bita was the only one who knew for a while; to everyone else, his family just straight up disappeared.

(We'll get to why Mr. Shadow Brother hasn't shown up in those five years at some point in the future)

Overall, he does desire to keep being the big brother of the Squad, even if he often has to put his own troubles by the wayside.

~~~

Iceham was originally created by my brother as an addition to the Squad when we were kids, though his original name was Iceball (as an ice version of Fireball). Since bro has moved on, I've kind of adopted him. As part of a SRS revamp a few years back, I changed his name so he was less of a Fireball ripoff (he was also initially a dwarf hamster, but I decided that him being a regular Syrian hamster was just fine).

I did want to keep his more cool leader character intact, though I want to focus more on him being a more serious and level-headed character as opposed to him being that generically cool character that's cool for the sake of cool. So I decided to amp up his intelligence and more sophisticated side, though not to the point of making him a complete stereotypical nerd. A nice balance, if you will.

#super rodent squad #iceham #hamster #ice #ice powers #cryokinesis #oc #original character #lyssa draws

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years ago

Text

Part 26 - New Year's Day

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 25 -- Part 27

Summary: The morning after the New Years party, the kitchen gets rather crowded...

Warnings: mention of eating disorders, mention of horrible parents and divorce, and also chaos. This is a kitchen scene, after all.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: So this includes some talk about eating disorders, some jokes, even. Obviously those are always very personal, so if some of this makes you go 'that's not a realistic thing to say', please remember that for some of us, it absolutely might be.

@geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos @deandoesthingstome

"Good morning." If anything, Geralt sounded a little tired, but that was all. He looked around the still mostly empty kitchen, where his greeting was met with a more hungover-sounding growl. Leon looked like he'd seen better days, for sure, but the most striking thing about his presence was the absence of Ariel.

"You still struck out last night? Man, you- ow!" Dani elbowed Mikey in the ribs to shut him up - a strategy that worked perfectly - before looking at Sol and rolling her eyes.

"Don't act all high and mighty, ladies - please move, too," August said as he came up behind them, moving to do what no one else seemed inclined to do: make coffee. "I know how you talk about us."

"In private," Anjelica countered.

"In excruciatingly graphic detail," August snapped, raising his voice to a point where apparently Leon's hangover couldn't handle it.

"Shh," he groaned miserably as he let his head hang. August scoffed.

Solveig and Anjelica shuffled to the other side of the kitchen.

"We can't fit sixteen people in here," Sol noted casually.

"Well, for starters," Mike said with an unbearable smirk, "it's fifteen at best. Right, Leon?"

"Mike, don't be a cunt," Marshall said behind him right as he swung his hand into the back of Mike's head. All heads turned to him immediately. He looked like shit - really, any other way to describe it would by no means cover just how terrible he looked. Now, it was just a matter of time before someone would bring up what happened.

The girls watched in awe as none of the guys said anything. Even when Elena and Sherlock, and later Charles and Sloane came into the kitchen, everyone pretended like nothing had happened, and Marshall's face didn't look like a raccoon that had been run over by a monster truck.

"I'm sorry, this is nuts," Anjelica snapped after a while, as she tore herself away from August and walked over to Marshall, who had slumped down in a chair.

"Ange," Sy said from the doorway leading into the kitchen, "before ya open that can o' worms… Fourteen people can't cook no breakfast in here at the same time." He was right, though: it was incredibly crowded in this kitchen.

"That's the bigger problem to you?" Dani asked in disbelief when Ange looked around and seemed to actively work on a solution for the issue.

Ange turned around to her. "It is. They'll get hungry. If we don't want these big babies to break the house down, we'll have to feed them."

"I'll be outta your hair, anyway, Sy," Alicia said softly, barely loud enough for anyone but Sy to hear. She turned away immediately, making her way to the door.

"Liz, wait!" Sy followed her into the hallway. "I'd love to take you out soon. I-if you'll let me, 'course."

"Alright, text me," she said before giving Sy a quick kiss and disappearing.

Back in the kitchen, the girls had decided that, since they had cooked for the boys a few days before, it was now the guys' turn to make them food. The motion had made it through by unpopular vote, which meant no more than that each of the girls had given their respective boyfriend that look, and the boys - who would really like to get laid again somewhere in the next month - had agreed. Now, Mike was on pancake duty, August in charge of bacon and eggs, and Sherlock was making more coffee. The smell of food made Leon's face paler than it had been when he had first sat down at the table, and it wasn't long before he disappeared into his room - well, after a rather unpleasant sounding stop in the bathroom.

"None for me, thanks," Sol said as she took another sip of her orange juice, absentmindedly waving the plate August held out to her away.

"Sol," Geralt started, but he didn't get very far.

"Geralt, drop it," she snapped back at him.

"One egg, please," he tried again. Sol whipped her head around and scowled at Geralt.

"Geralt, over the course of two weeks I have moved to another country, been surrounded by far too many people almost constantly, suffered through a party where I didn't even know most guests, and I took care of you when you were overwhelmed… Now look me in the eye and listen: I don't. Want. Breakfast." Without saying another word - and almost burning herself on the pot of fresh coffee Sherlock was holding - she paced out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving the boys behind in a state of bewilderment. The girls, less so…

"Eating disorder?" Anjelica asked Geralt point blank.

He nodded, disarmed by her bluntness. "I don't get it, she looks fantastic, I…" Anjelica rolled her eyes and waved at him dismissively before getting up on a chair, putting a hand on either side of his face and pulling him in.

"Listen," she said, "that's not what that's about. Right now, it's her coping mechanism. She's overwhelmed - and who can blame her - and she doesn't know what to do. We'll all keep an eye on her, but for now you just focus on helping her wind down, okay? She's going to be okay." She let go of his face and stepped off the chair.

"How do you know?" Geralt asked hesitantly.

"I'm the same way," Ange answered, "I mean… I have August to slap the shit out of me now…"

"Always happy to help," August interjected dryly.

"Oh, shut up," Anjelica chuckled. She looked at the table, where Elena, Dani and Sloane were sitting. "Ladies?" Her eyes were asking a question, but the boys couldn’t put a finger on what it was until the girls began to answer it.

"I mean, you've all met my mother," Elena half-joked. All eyes were on Dani next.

"Gymnast," she answered in between bites of pancake. Apparently, that was all the explanation the others needed, leaving the guys looking confused. "Slo?"

"I was a dancer, classical ballet. Puberty hit early, I got a little too much shape… Bada-bing, bada-boom, next thing you know, I'm thinking two rice crackers before a four-hour pointe class is plenty," she said, "Ange?"

"Hockey and horseback riding," she mused, "plus, I went to private school. Boulimia was like the newest Marc Jacobs bag. No one actually liked it, but you just had to have it."

When the girls laughed about Anjelica's story, the guys looked at them as if they had gone absolutely bat shit crazy - which didn’t change much, even after the explanation that being completely miserable about it all of the time wasn’t going to do anyone any good, either.

"Right," Sloane said after she finished her toast and eggs, "I should get going. I have studying to do, because med school is a bitch!"

"Alright, let me…" Charles tried to get up from his chair, but Slo pushed him back.

"Your front door is right there," she said, "I can see it from here." And with those words, she just got up and left, leaving Charles behind in a somewhat… befuddled state. Not that it fazed him for long: he seemed to have no trouble at all going back to his toast and eggs, holding up his cup to ask Sherlock for more coffee.

“After this, it’s every man for himself, I would also like to eat,” Sherlock said calmly as he poured out the last of the coffee to whomever came first.

“Yeah, you should be hungry enough,” Mike teased, wiggling his eyebrows as he quickly shoved a whole pancake in his mouth before handing the plate with what started as a stack - and was now just a pile - to Geralt. Sy and Charles laughed, and there was a hint of a smile on Ange’s face as well, but Mike must have been glad neither Dani, nor Marshall and Geralt could reach him.

“Speaking of,” Elena bravely interjected, “what the hell were you two doing last night?”

“I don’t remember,” Dani muttered with a red face and a mouth full of pancake.

“We were making out on my bed,” Mike said, clearly missing the slight but distinct edge of embarrassment in Dani’s voice, “and suddenly we were accidentally making out next to my bed… It was pretty funny.” His tone was so casual that even Dani couldn’t help but laugh as he talked.

The result of breakfast for eleven people was an ungodly heap of dishes that needed washing, and although the house did have a dishwasher, that hadn’t even been stacked with the other ungodly heap of dirty dishes - namely the ones from the party the night before. Mike, August and Sherlock immediately washed their hands of the task. After all, they’d already cooked everyone breakfast, which left Geralt, Sy and Charles grunting by the sink. Geralt’s appeal to check on Sol was denied by the other two, and he got put on dishwasher duty. The only person who was absolved of any involvement with breakfast: Marshall.

Anjelica pulled up a chair in front of him and sat down, with Dani and Elena flanking him - possibly so he wouldn’t run away, but what were they going to do if he decided to leave after all? Mike, August and Sherlock looked at each other. He wouldn’t talk, would he? Maybe if Ange asked him nicely?

“Marshall, what the fuck happened last night?” So much for ‘asking nicely’... The boys, however, had to watch in awe as Marshall covered his mangled face with his hands, and when he started talking, his voice sounded strangled and broken.

“What’s there to tell? I think everything is pretty self-evident,” he groaned.

“If I had to guess,” Dani said, “you slept with your best friend’s sister, regretted it, hoped he’d never find out, but he did because she told him after she saw you sneak off with whoever the fuck that was, and then he very nearly punched your lights out.”

“Off by a few,” Marshall groaned again.

“He didn’t regret it, he’s in love with her.” Elena almost sighed her romantic realization.

“And I ruined everything by trying to get over her. That’s it. That’s the whole story.” He pulled his hands away from his face, leaving the guys speechless. He was crying. “Happy now? I fucked it all up. For good.”

“Marshall, do you remember what I told Mike the day I made him send that text to Dani to ask her out?” Anjelica said to Marshall - before turning to Dani briefly: “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I distinctly remember ‘God, men are stupid, you all know jack shit about women’,” Sherlock helpfully provided.

“Exactly,” Ange confirmed. “That definitely still applies.”

“Hey, is anyone else coming on the ski trip?” Mike asked after the girls had decided to cease their interrogation of Marshall. “Not enough people signed up, they’re cool with non-freshmen tagging along.”

“I ain’t got the grades,” Sy said - Charles had the same reason for staying put. August offhandedly mentioned that he’d been thinking about it - to which Ange responded that she had already signed him up. ‘Just in case.’ She, of course, played a major part in organizing the whole thing.

Dani looked up in surprise when Anjelica mentioned that her name had also been on the list.

“I’d have to ask my parents for the money,” she warned Mike, who just shrugged.

“My mom paid,” he said plainly, “worst case scenario I call my dad and ask for the money. He’ll pay up.”

Anjelica and Dani both looked at him in shock when he said it, but Elena was the only one brave enough to say something: “Mike, that’s incredibly dishonest.” Understatement.

“Listen,” Mike snapped, startling all the girls - and the guys, too, even though they probably wouldn’t want to admit it, “I had to repeat my junior year because I got caught in the middle of their horrible divorce. They were literally fighting all day, every day about fucking everything.”

“Mikey…” Dani started, but he held a hand up to get her to - bluntly put - shut up.

"No,” he said, “Give me a minute.” He took a deep breath and continued: “I move in with mom, because dad moves away to God knows where, I barely talk to him for a year, and I make it through my second junior year just fine. Then, during my senior year, my mom gets a new coworker who she really gets along with. The coworker is always talking about her husband and her kids, things are fun. She’s been together with him for five years, she says, but they’ve only been married for one, yada yada. One night me and mom are invited over for dinner, get to her place, only to come face to face with her husband, who just so happened to be my fucking dad, okay? Sent my mom into hysterics. I got caught in the middle of that hot mess - and didn't graduate that year, either. So forgive me if I’m not overly worried about lying. Between my dad’s new family and my mom’s fucking midlife crisis, the only thing I ever get from either of them nowadays is money.”

Sy, who had been listening while finishing up the dishes with the others, turned around with a puzzled look on his face. “Come again?”

“Alright, TLDR: My dad married his side piece after divorcing mom. Side piece became mom’s work friend without knowing who she was, and then she turned out to be the woman my dad had been cheating on mom with for years, got it?” Mike clarified with a grin on his face. The girls looked at each other in awe. Even Marshall - whose face was barely in any kind of state to portray any kind of emotion other than agony - looked completely stumped.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Elena said, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Mike said in a small voice. Dani wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“The trip sounds fun.” Elena turned to Sherlock, who looked at her.

“It does,” he agreed, “and you were probably invited to go.”

“My study advisor did mention I could take a spot, yes,” she said coyly, waiting for him to catch on. Of course, he had caught on. He had caught on immediately! Now, all he wanted was for her to stop playing these infernal games! “Oh, for God’s sake, Sherlock, would you come along, too?”

“I signed up a week and a half ago.” For a brief moment, Elena looked like she wanted to slap the smirk off his face. And who could blame her?

“I think I might go, too,” Marshall suddenly said, surprising everyone. The guys - and Ange - knew he loved snowboarding, but they wouldn’t have thought he’d be in the mood to tag along. The man could brood for a while.

“You should!” Anjelica said immediately - maybe a tad too quickly, and too enthusiastically.

Seconds later, a message appeared in the girls’ group chat:

Guess who’s name is also on the list… Carson, Alexandra…

#henry cavill #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #august walker #geralt of rivia #napoleon solo #charles brandon #sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes #mike hellraiser #captain syverson #walter marshall #geralt of rivia x OFC #mike hellraiser x ofc #august walker x ofc

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sukunasun · 8 months ago

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i think about your kendallroyfication of gojo at least once a week

*gazes longingly at the succession poster on my wall*

its impossible to compare two icons against one another but i will say gojo would cope better than kendall ever did. only he suffers a fate worse than not becoming ceo. (i would have wanted satoru to have it, his name is on the building people, it was literally named the GOJO deal. wake up.)

do you think he's ever stomped his tiny foot down exclaiming "i am the honoured one!" when his favourite double XL digimon t-shirt had been confiscated in exchange for yet another haori because he insists on wearing it to every formal event. who cares about a tea ceremony with the royal family, he needs everyone to know about his beloved agumon.

some corrections should be made, he doesn't actually drown himself in a fishbowl's worth of alcohol because he's not even a fan of it. not a single drop. pure dislike. gojo's infamous creator has unfortunately disclosed that information after i decided to turn him into an alcoholic slash drug addict slash rehab enthusiast. yes, he's been to a few. so we'll just have to believe he'd deal with the pain of privilege in other ways. makes you wonder how much of a bore satoru actually is when he doesn't drink, doesn't fuck, only takes drugs when he has a boo boo, and most probably spends that allocated funding for idk...parfaits and sanrio themed desserts. saccharine and colourful, unlike the kind geto likes which are reminiscent of red beans and taro.

there's a nice place somewhere in ginza they frequent. although 'nice place' is rather generous considering suguru calls it a "piece of shit chain with the best fucking ohagis in japan." satoru rolls his eyes because geto says the same thing about everything he tries. the novelty doesn't last very long before he gets bored. rice crackers, pain au chocolat, satoru's actual body and soul for like three years in college.

ugh, that's a can of worms he doesn't want to unleash on a depressing and grey rainy morning. he's got no time for this when he really needs to get suguru's opinion on what to do about bankruptcy. something about his father borrowing billions of dollars. whatever it's complicated and the asshole had never really cared for consequences. gojo doesn't need to remind the world of his father's iron fist and small ego. but he explains just enough of the situation to geto. in corporate jargon with an eerily uncharacteristic 'i'm in deep shit' tone. he's never been one to panic.

"so what do you think?" he rushes geto for an answer and to the untrained eye, geto seems like he's hardly listening because he's busy tsk-ing and rolling his eyes at the servers who are obviously ignoring his request for extra napkins. not that they're busy with the morning rush or anything. 'they just hate me because i'm pretty' yeah yeah, we know suguru. your face card is platinum and so are your graff rings. please. you're perfectly capable of getting your own napkins. (it's purpose is less to do with wiping the crumbs off his lips and more as a buffer between his oh-so-sensitive hands and this piping cup of tea. you want me to touch this cup? with my bare hands?preposterous. it's filthy!)

"what if we came in, took the whole thing off your family's hands," geto suggests like it were so simple and not at all a ploy to bring gojo's family to ruins. that's the thing with suguru. he doesn't know how or why he says these things so casually.

jokes aside, he genuinely wonders if his best friend even likes him. there's this awkward tension to prove they're more than just two guys who get coffee every week. maybe if he stared at him for a second or two longer, he'd give in and comfort satoru like no one else in the universe ever had or will be able to.

they leave with umbrellas in hand and coats that are so expensive it's the same price as a car. or a down payment on a house. not that they'd know. they don't pay for these things like normal people do. satoru doesn't have a thing for labels, too gaudy, too showy. it comes off as some stealth-wealth bullshit but the truth is he won't admit his mother buys his clothes for him and now, that task has fallen into suguru's authority.

this might be a good time to note that he's barely gotten a pastry for himself. and the news of his father's company has yet to hit the headlines. it's enough to drag him out of his thoughts and back to reality before he smirks and shoots geto a sweet little "yeah? go fuck yourself." turning his suggestion down.

suguru laughs cheerily and it's so beautiful the clouds part for a ray of sun to catch the droplets off the edge of canopy shielding geto's profile. "you know i'd never...i'm on your side, toru," he whispers so fondly. a soft, gentle pull of syllables masking something he knows geto is dying to add to that sentence.

right then, they reach the street crossing where they usually part. he wants to ask him for more advice, more options, something that'll stop him from staring down the glass panes of high-rise windows. "i'll figure something out," suguru assures him, leaning in close because they wouldn't want any spies to hear, and leaves a kiss on his lips tasting like tea and glutinous rice.

satoru's gonna be sick.

#me and jesse armstrong collab when #blowing a kiss to my niche group of readers who know about succession!gojo #ask #anon #succ au

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carinavetreblogs · 7 months ago

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This touches on a problem I have with the way a lot of people talk about Cullen's character arc over the course of the games. They say that Cullen was never redeemed because he didn't have to suffer, and because he didn't make direct reparations to the group he harmed most.

Well first of all, the first isn't really accurate: he did suffer, a lot, only it was that suffering that led to his FALL, not his redemption. And I think that's an interesting thing for the story to say about what suffering actually leads to. He is still suffering, but we'll come back to that in a bit.

They're right that he didn't make direct reparations to mages, but like... what reparations do you want, exactly? Should he have tracked down every mage that had been under his care in the middle of a war so he could apologize? How do you make up for a lifetime of imprisonment and abuse at the scale of the entire Circle of Magi?

What he DID do was decide to be better. What he DID do was put himself in a position to be better: to make better decisions than his past self had, AND to make better decisions than the people who had sent him down the wrong path in the first place.

"But he hasn't changed. He still favours the Templars--" Yeah, of course he does. He knows better than anyone that the Templars are ALSO people suffering under an intentionally cruel system so that they cause more suffering in return. Yeah there are assholes in there who joined to be the oppressor, but there are also 14-year-olds from Honleath who joined because they wanted to protect, who were given an addictive substance and whose trauma was then manipulated into extremism.

His reparations are not geared towards trying to make up for atrocities that can never be fully addressed, but towards making sure they don't happen again by saving the broken hands that carried them out. He is giving the former Templars somewhere else to go, better deeds to do, a better ideology to protect -- which will in turn give the mages the freedom they're looking for by means of just removing a huge part of the problem.

And remember how I said he's suffering now? That suffering comes from lyrium withdrawal, because he is very intentionally removing the last hold the Order has on him, and in the process showing the other former Templars that they can break that hold too. Or, if you tell him to keep taking the lyrium, instead of withdrawals, eventually his mind just breaks.

Now I guess some people's problem with this is that it's not an in your face sort of suffering. It's not a cathartic pain that comes as a direct consequence of his actions, or righteous retribution from someone he harmed. No, instead of that we get slow but steady continued harm from the people that broke him so that he would break others. We get more of him as a part of the Templar Order. And more of the same doesn't count as retribution, does it? It's suffering, but it's not the right kind of suffering for us to be satisfied.

Because it's not meant to be satisfying. This suffering isn't presented as being Good. It is Brave, but not Good, because it shouldn't be necessary in the first place. The only reason this is a problem at all is because of an intentional act of cruelty meant to keep the Templars under Chantry control.

It shouldn't be a problem, because suffering is not Good. All suffering leads to is more suffering.

So no, Cullen does not engage in pointless self-flagilation so that we get to feel like he "earned" his redemption. Instead he just decides to be better, and follows through as best he can. He he does what is in his power to create an Inquisition and a world with less pointless suffering.

Because suffering is pointless.

Something I think fandom as a whole could benefit from is viewing narrative redemption as an action a character takes rather than as a reward they earn. There's a tendency in fandom to look at how much harm a character has done and how much suffering they have endured and to use these metrics to try and figure out whether a character's suffering is enough for them to have "earned" their redemption. Sometimes this results in fandom clamouring for a redemption arc for a character that has absolutely no interest in doing better (Moc Weepe Midst, Ludinus Da'Leth Critical Role in some circles) and sometimes it results in resentment when a character who is not deemed to have suffered enough is narratively redeemed (Jonas Spahr Midst, Essek Thelyss Critical Role), even as they've chosen to do better and are actively trying to do good in the worlds they live in.

But it's the choice to do better, the choice to be good, that makes a narrative redemption satisfying. A character being given infinite chances and being dragged kicking and screaming into a redemption they don't want because they've suffered in a way another character or the audience is sympathetic to is always less satisfying than a character making a choice to change and do good (compare Kylo Ren Star Wars to Darth Vader Star Wars). Because narrative redemption is an action to be taken, not a thing to be given.

#dragon age #cullen #meta

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potatocockoli · 10 months ago

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the grey sky and vacant clouds try and pretend they want to celebrate today, but it's not in their nature to not help me in the only way i can help myself

hysterical is how id describe the strain between the simplicity i could allow and the dive i take every year to give myself some grace i dont deserve by doing everything i know will give me what i do instead

soaking wet in a graveyard seems a fine way to be place to be could you place me

better?

a day that would have been yours if the fates allowed, and would have been yours if brakes allowed, and would have been yours if God allowed, but instead He gave it to me

to hold in my hand, clasped tightly in my sweaty palm for show and tell

today was supposed to be yours and still is, but is it okay if i make it mine too?

is it okay to make it mine too?

i'm sorry i feel so foolish but i need it to be mine too

it is mine too

shut up i really just need you

but i want to set it down

i want to set you down

maybe on the kitchen island, it will be your stage, or woven in the beer stained carpet and we'll melt in, or in the ashtray outside, it will be the place we go before He decides to let you go without letting me know

but i wasn't ready

are you still there? or here? or somewhere else?

the table is set for a tea party and i've turned every cup

i dont like a single person sitting on this porch

you're calling olly olly oxen free when you know it's too far to drive, we said we wouldn't go easy on eachother

so thanks for that

and i know i know i know i need to stop crying because you're not coming back and shut up yes i do know i know i know i'm sorry i know, i know you hate when i get like this im sorry im sorry but hold on just one please please just one just one more question last one i swear real quick

where do i put you

where do i place you

i just dont know where to put you

do i keep you in my pillowcase or under the bed

or the jacket pocket so i can share a secret i've never said

i really wish you

no let me finish

i really wish

okay well i - okay -

but today you have to let me do whatever i need, please

i know today was supposed to be yours and still is, but is it okay if i make it mine too?

can you allow yourself to let everything go and let me hold it instead, just in this moment

how can i say i am gifted the burden to carry you into every moment after

because i have to

because its all i have left

im carrying you in my hand, in my pocket, wrapped around my finger, interlocked, ring finger, middle finger, pinky promise in the dark, mom's laundry room across the river, under the bed holding on to each other's favorite stories we tell about each other

funny how my stories are left there and yours are here now

but i ask again

can i tell it again

i ask again

and again

is it mine or yours

are you holding me there

or pulling me somewhere else while

im pulling you out of the reeds

im putting you in the basket

im calling for you as you jump a second ahead but i promise im coming right after you

i gather the family in the living room in front of the mantle and you're here and you're mine just for a moment that will never really happen or maybe it did and it's someone else's or it didnt or it did and it could have in a dream or never at all again and again and again

but it doesn't matter either way because i'm looking at you looking through me in every moment that ever was and my favorite game is catching up with you to the ones that havent happened yet

but if its mine im still holding you in my hand and placing you on the highest shelf and making you pose for the picture

and you can hold me there

0 notes

unseededtoast · 11 months ago

Text

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twelve

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"Don't take another step."

Someone nudging my shoulder wakes me from my sleep. I lazily blink my eyes open and see Joel staring down at me with his chocolate brown eyes. He probably either found something, or it's time to keep walking. Either way, my time on this mattress is coming to a sad close, and I wish I could stay here forever. My limbs stretch out before I get up, soaking in one last moment on the soft bed.

Joel moves out of my way as I get up and put my bag on my back. He picks his up as well and opens the camper door for me. The day is hot, the air is sticky with humidity.

"Follow me." He says and walks ahead of me, leading me further into the campground. Joel has some unusual pep in his step, and it's getting my hopes up that he found something good.

The rest of the campground is desolate, it's probably been abandoned for a decade now. It's almost like a time capsule, everything is exactly where it was left ten years ago. There are children's bicycles left, tents that have been blown over, and remnants of happy memories everywhere I look. Once upon a time, this place would have been a lovely destination for a weekend getaway.

The campers become less densely packed as he keeps walking deeper into the woods.

"I thought you said you weren't going far." I call him on his lie. His shoulders shrug in front of me.

"I guess it's all a matter of perspective." He refutes and I let out a short laugh.

"I'll have to keep that in mind." I say as we pass a rusted out truck.

We walk a few more paces until I see a blue pickup truck sitting out by itself. It looks a little out of place, like it should be back towards the front where most of the campers are. Joel comes to a stop in front of it and lightly smacks his hand on the hood. I'll admit, it's one of the nicest looking cars I've seen in a while. The rust is at a minimum, it still has all the doors and windows. In my eyes, this truck is on par with a Rolls Royce.

"Does it work?" I ask before my hopes get too high. This truck could need parts before it runs. And if that's the case, who knows how long we'll be here searching for them.

"It runs, we just need some gas." He says and I nod. I knew we couldn't get lucky enough to find a car without any sort of issue to deal with.

"Okay, then let's find some gas." I say, hopeful that in this campground there's fuel stored somewhere. Sure, it's frustrating that our trip is being delayed, but the thought of finally having a car offsets any negativity about searching for gas.

The two of us split up, each taking one side of the campground to make the most of our time. I start at the front and decide to make my way back towards the truck. I search through the unlocked campers and cars left to rot, finding nothing of real use in the front. In the back half of the campground I find a gas container with a quarter tank, it's better than nothing. Other than that, I don't find anything.

Joel and I reconvene at the truck after thoroughly searching. It seems his search was more fruitful, he's got two full containers in his hands.

"Where'd you find all that?" I'm not sure how he got so lucky. He just shrugs,

"Was just layin' around." He opens the gas cap of the truck and pours the gas into it. Hopefully this gets us a few hundred miles at least.

I watch as he tosses the empty gas can aside and climbs into the driver's seat. He rubs his hands together excitedly before turning the key in the ignition. The truck makes a few clicking sounds before it finally roars to life with a deep growl. It's music to my ears and I can't keep the wide smile off my face.

"I can't believe it." My voice is awestruck as I climb into the passenger side. The seats are faux leather and the air in here is quite stale and stuffy. Joel begins navigating back to the road as I roll the windows down and let my arm hang out the window.

He drives us out of the campground and we're back en route. The wind whips my hair around in the truck and my eyes close as I take in the feeling. It's been so long since I can remember enjoying driving with the windows down. We drive for miles as I soak in the almost forgotten feeling.

Opening my eyes, I look over to Joel, who has a small smirk on his face. His eyes glance from the road over to me before flicking back to the road. I roll the window halfway up, the air becoming a little much.

"Thought you fell asleep over there." He says. I shake my head and try to tame my hair from the wind.

"No, I slept pretty well. I think we can count that as a five star hotel." I flip down the mirror attached to the visor on the ceiling and use it to part my hair the correct way before glancing over to Joel. He just shakes his head with the same smirk on his face, and then we fall back into our usual silence.

Deciding I can use this time for something other than looking out of the window, I grab my bag and unzip it, grabbing the map. It's torn around the edges from wear, but is still intact enough that it won't disintegrate if it gets folded the wrong way. My eyes find the spot where we just passed through, marked with the star. The stars must mean other groups, so we'll want to avoid those in the future.

I look ahead in our route to see what we'll be coming up on. The next group we should be crossing paths with are the Fireflies. It'll be interesting to see what happens when we get to that point. I know both Joel and I dislike them, but they're also involved in the slaughter of children in QZs. For that reason alone I want to seek them out, just to see if there's any information we can get from them.

But then again, if Joel was there when Marlene died, other people might know about that and it might complicate things. I heavily sigh as I weigh the pros and cons of finding them.

Then again, Joel doesn't have to go with me to seek them out. He's more than welcome to keep going and if he wants, we can meet back up after I'm done. One way or another I know I need to find them, and I need to see for myself the extent of their involvement with the T group. In my mind, there's more to lose from not finding them and not getting every ounce of information that I possibly can. From my estimate, if we keep driving for the rest of the day, we should reach them by tomorrow afternoon. That's assuming we don't run into any obstacles.

I fold the map back up and put it inside my bag and my fingers find the two scraps of paper I found in the fire back near Boston. The word "immune" strikes me, and my thumb runs over the ink. What could this mean? What context was it written in? Does it even have anything to do with this?

Surely it has to, it was among other vital pieces of information like the note and the map. But why would they burn this letter and not the rest?

Joel glances over to see what I'm holding and his eyebrows draw tightly together. He reads the word on the scorched paper and his eyes trail up to meet mine. His jaw sets and he swallows hard. It reminds me of the night we spent in the little suburban home, how he went over all the evidence.

"What is it?" My mouth blurts out before I can stop myself. I have to know why he's acting this way about the evidence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand grab the steering wheel more tightly and his knuckles turn white. But his face relaxes and he shakes his head,

"Nothin'." His subpar answer lingers in the air between us. I have a gut feeling he's not telling the entire truth, and it's really starting to get under my skin.

"It's not nothing. What do you know?" I ask him, my voice firm. My eyes scan over his face for any clues, but his demeanor is cool and collected, save for his death grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know anything." His voice is deep and has a tone of finality, urging me not to continue on. I bite my tongue before I begin accusing him of things I'm not even sure of and look back out the window.

An anxious feeling creeps up my spine as I try to rationalize why he would want to keep information away from me. It's plain as day now that he definitely knows something, and it has to be centered around this one scribbled word. He reacted to it back in the suburbs, and he reacted to it again just now.

If he's willing to go out of his way to save me not once, but twice, and is sincere enough to keep his word about tagging along until Omaha, then what could possibly be so classified that he won't tell me? It just doesn't make sense. And in that moment, the man who once made me feel safe, makes me feel uneasy. Maybe I wrongfully placed my trust in him too soon.

Quietly, I place the scrap of paper back in my bag and zip it up. The bag now rests in my lap and I crane my neck even more so that I can't even see him out of my peripheral vision. My heart thumps in my chest and I try to calm myself. Wild thoughts run rampant in my mind with theories about what's going on, but not one theory is able to check every box of the situation.

As the day goes on, the trip continues to pass in silence. After hours of mulling over my theories, I still can't settle on anything that makes total sense. Everything about his behavior is paradoxical to me. Until I can figure it out, I think it's best if I keep my distance and and keep my mouth shut. He already knows a fair bit about me, but I know practically nothing about him. There's a power imbalance here and that adds to my uneasiness.

Our silence is now filled with tension once more, and my nervously tapping foot is the only thing that fills the quiet cab of the truck. The sun has set and the headlights of this truck are very dim. Truthfully, it's probably dangerous to be driving with such dim lights but I don't care. I just want this truck to get us as far as possible.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep driving through the night. No, he finds a rest area off the highway and stops at it, pulling the truck over the curb and into the woods for cover. As soon as the truck is put into park I get out and sling my bag over one shoulder. My feet can't carry me fast enough as I make my way to one of the small buildings.

I duck behind one and revel in the feeling of being alone, being away from the suffocating silence and tension. My chest deflates with a sigh and I turn my attention towards the dark sky, dotted with bright stars. For a few moments my problems melt away, it's just me and the wide open sky. My fingers wrap around the gold chain around my neck as I gaze at the stars, hoping that somehow the right answer will come to me. Should I stay with Joel? Should I go on my own? I just don't know.

I don't have enough time to dwell on it as I hear Joel's footsteps crunching in the woods next to me. Fixing my posture, I bend over and make it look like I was tying the laces of my boot and not debating whether or not I should take off. As casually as I can, I look up through my eyelashes and see Joel coming out of the woods in front of me, logs tucked underneath one of his arms. He looks at me quizzically, and I think quick to excuse my hightailing.

"Sorry I um, I just had to go." I say, implying that I ran off for the bathroom. He nods his head once and then clears his throat.

"Was thinkin' we could build a fire out here." He gestures to the sidewalk that borders the woods. Like last night, there's a risk to it, but it's not a detrimental one, at least I don't think.

"Yeah, that's fine." I say and stand up from my kneeling position. He walks in front of me, his shoulders tight with tension and I'm not entirely sure it's from hauling firewood.

I stay a few feet back as Joel constructs the fire, much like he did last night. He does it with an expertise that shows how long he's been out here for. Leaning against a nearby tree I chew on my fingernails, my brain unable to let me be calm. Joel lights the fire and he takes a seat on the plush grass, stretching out.

"I can take watch tonight." He offers. While the offer is nice, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. There are several reasons why I should trust him by now, but there's also one major reason why I can't. I shake my head, turning down his offer.

"That's okay, I'm not even really tired. Plus you drove all day." My lie comes quick and smooth. He looks up at me, and I worry he's going to see through my facade. He shrugs his shoulders,

"Doesn't bother me." His voice sounds sincere and I wish I could accept his offer as easily as I did last night.

"I might stay up and plan a little." This isn't the entire truth, but it's not a complete lie either.

"Plan for what?" His brown eyes are illuminated by the fire. Nervousness crawls over my skin.

"Um, just, just for our next stop." I say, deciding that this conversation has to happen eventually.

"What stop is that?" He readjusts his position on the ground so he can look at me easier.

"The Fireflies. We're going to run into them next." I flatly state, waiting for his reaction. Joel's eyebrows shoot up,

"Thought you hated the Fireflies?" His voice is gruff and he sounds irritated. My head nods, agreeing with him.

"I do. And as much as I hate to admit it, I have to talk to them. You saw, their emblem was on that letter. They're involved in this and I can't just pass it up." I feel slightly more confident. He huffs with annoyance and I try to keep my facial expression under control, he can't know how apprehensive I am right now.

"Damn Fireflies." Is all he says, and I think I was hoping for more insight. I decide to leave the conversation there, not wanting to tread on rough waters with him again.

Eventually I take a seat on the grass across the way from Joel. The fire's smoke burns my lungs each time I inhale, but I don't mind it. My thoughts are too occupied with my own internal conflict.

Am I overreacting about what happened earlier? After all, this is the same man who helped me over the barricade, saved me from the perverted men in the town, and insisted he stay with me until Omaha. If his intentions with me were foul, he's had plenty of time to act and he hasn't. But there's something about how defensive he got that's concerning.

My repeating thoughts are interrupted as I hear twigs breaking in the woods behind me. My hand reaches for the curved blade and I'm on my feet in the blink of an eye. There's a shadow moving in the trees, I see it coming closer. Joel stands by my side and pushes me behind him slightly, a knife in his hand as well.

"Don't take another step." Joel's voice threatens. The footsteps stop. It's not an infected. My head turns from side to side to watch for anyone else that may be tagging along with his person.

"I'm just passing through." A manly voice calls back and the footsteps resume. My grip on my knife gets tighter, ready to use it if things go sideways.

"Walk towards me with your hands up." Joel demands. Through the darkness I see the man's hands fly up in surrender and he takes slow steps towards us. I back up so that the man can come to the light, so we can see his face.

He's a young kid, maybe early twenties. His hair is all disheveled, clothes tattered and torn. There's a fear in his eyes as he steps out towards us, like he's never been in this situation before. Raised high above his head, his hands tremble.

"Sit on the ground and cross your ankles." Joel instructs, knife still at the ready. Quickly, the young man nods his head and follows Joel's instructions. I put my knife away, seeing as how Joel has this covered apparently.

"Who are you?" Is Joel's next demand. The kid's eyes raise to meet his.

"Name's Tate." His voice cracks as he talks. From his perspective, Joel has to be terrifying. He's a large man with a knife, of course he's going to be scary. And I'll admit deep down he scares me too.

"What're you doin' out here?" Joel's form is rigid and tense.

"Like I said I'm just passing through." The kid's wide eyes turn to me and Joel snaps his fingers.

"Don't look at her, eyes stay right here." Joel points to his face. The boy nods his head and tears his gaze off of me. The kid's nervousness causes him to keep blabbering.

"I swear man. I'm headed to Pittsburgh. I've got family out that way." Joel shifts his weight, refusing to lower his weapon.

"Pittsburgh is full of raiders and hunters." The kid swallows hard at Joel's words and a look of exasperation comes over him.

"What? No, no that can't be right. How do you know?" Joel sighs and adjusts his knife in his hand.

"Went through there a while ago. Checkpoint's been abandoned. I can almost guarantee that your people aren't there anymore for one reason or another." The kid looks down from Joel's face and I think he might get sick.

I look over what the young man has on him and see that he's travelling suspiciously light. In fact, I don't even see a bag anywhere. If he's travelling all the way to Pittsburgh with nothing but the clothes on his back, he has to be trying to evade something, or someone. Finding my voice, I speak up.

"Where's your stuff at?" Both Joel and Tate look over to me. Joel looks angry and Tate looks confused. Tate's mouth hangs open for a few seconds as he digests the question.

"This is all I have." He confirms my thoughts, which makes me even more curious about why he's out here.

"You're travelling to Pittsburgh with no supplies?" My voice is obviously skeptical. This could be some sort of trap for all we know. Tate's head nods.

"I didn't have a choice. The Fireflies are losing their damn minds, everyone's trying to take charge and it's a mess." His voice seems to calm down as he speaks to me.

"How many are left?" I ask, hoping that there's enough there that someone is bound to know something. Tate shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't know, maybe thirty, maybe less by now." His voice trails off at the end of his sentence and he glances back to Joel, who has not stopped staring him down.

If Tate is fleeing from the Fireflies, he might be more likely to spill what he knows. After all, if he has no loyalty he doesn't have to worry about covering for anyone. Within seconds I'm fishing out the pieces of paper from my bag and I bring them over to Tate. The documents are fanned out in my hands and I sit beside him, letting him look over the materials. His eyes scan over them, reading the instruction note twice.

"What do you know about this?" My voice is low and somber. Tate's eyes meet mine,

"I don't know. This looks like serious shit though. I wasn't high ranking enough to know about stuff like that. No, I was the one who they sent out to kill infected and to be people's bodyguards. But if you get to their base, I'm willing to bet Trevor knows something." His words seem genuine, and I pack all the documents back into my bag.

"Trevor." I confirm and he nods his head. It seems like he's being honest, lies usually aren't that thorough. Standing from my spot beside Tate, I walk to Joel and meet his hard gaze.

"I think we should let him go." I whisper so Tate can't hear. Something tells me that Joel doesn't want him making it out of here alive, but I don't think Tate is going to be any sort of threat to us. Joel's eyes bounce between me and Tate, looking uncertain.

"What if he's lyin'?" Joel asks and I sigh.

"I don't think he is. Look at him, he's scared. Doesn't seem the type to hurt others." I glance over my shoulder at the skinny kid sitting with his ankles still crossed.

"Fine. You can let him go, but you're taking watch if you do." Joel grumbles and brushes past me. I roll my eyes at him before I turn around to meet Tate once more.

"Get out of here." I say, kicking the side of his shoe.

"Really? You're going to let me go?" He sounds shocked, and I nod my head and gesture for him to get going. Tate scrambles to his feet and takes off through the woods again without another word. I hope he finds whoever it is he's searching for, poor kid.

I watch him until I can't see or hear him anymore, and then take a seat across from Joel at the fire once more. He's obviously angry, but I don't care that much. In a passive-aggressive protest, he's turned his back to me to sleep, and I try to make myself comfortable on the sidewalk for another long night of keeping watch.

Part Thirteen

#joel miller #joel miller hbo #joel miller tlou #tlou #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #pedro pascal

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tuulikannel · 2 years ago

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5, 14, 15, 19!

5. where do you buy books?

I used to work in a bookstore (for over 10 years), so at that time I naturally bought pretty much all my books there, and I'm still in the same habit. ^^ In general, I do prefer physical stores to online stores. Its more fun to browse there. Sometimes I buy books from Adlibris (a Swedish online book store, which is pretty big in Finland too).

14. do you ever mark/dog ear books you own?

…no. Or, I'm sure there are occasions that I've done this in the past... >_> I'd still say no. I own a gazillion of bookmarks, tho most often there just some random piece of paper stuck in-between the pages. ^^;;

15. recommend and review a book.

……a book? As in only one? What am I to choose…

I'd like to pick something from C.J. Cherryh or Clifford D. Simak, couple of my favorite authors, but maybe I'll choose instead Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes (published in 1966). It's a beautiful book, I think… moving, but quite sad. I think I'll start with the back cover blurb:

"Charlie Gordon, IQ 68, is a floor sweeper, and the gentle butt of everyone's jokes, until an experiment in the enhancement of human intelligence turns him into a genius. But then Algernon, the mouse whose triumphal experimental transformation preceded his, fades and dies, and Charlie has to face the possibility that his salvation was only temporary."

Now… one thing I would like to point out is that this so-called 'salvation' isn't so black and white to begin with. Is being smart really the only thing that matters?

Out of curiosity, I checked 1-star reviews on Amazon. There's three kinds of them: 1) those who didn't like the swearing/sexual references and who had bought this book for kids (I mean… what about it made you think it's a children's book?), 2) those who found it too hard/boring to follow (I'll refrain from any comments), and 3) those who complain about spelling errors. The last thing is hilarious to me. This book is basically Charlie's diary, and like I said, his IQ in the beginning is 68. He doesn't know how to spell (in the beginning). So yes, there are spelling errors. A lot of them. Here's the first sentence: "Dr Strauss says I shoud rite down what I think and remembir and evrey thing that happins to me from now on." If this kind of writing gets on your nerves, maybe you should skip this book. XD

19. most disliked popular books?

First I couldn't think of anything but…… there's this pretty popular (I think?) fantasy author, Tad Williams. And I do like him too! Some years ago I got this urge to read some proper fantasy, and I ended up rereading his Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn series, and I loved it just as much as I did back when I first read it. And then I noticed he had just decided to continue it (after 25 years or so, impeccable timing from me, isn't this!) The little book that connects the old trilogy to the new trilogy(?) is called The Heart of What Was Lost and… it's so bad. So bad. ;_; People and places just had common names with the old, familiar things, and that's all; change the names, and it could have been just any other (quite mediocre) fantasy book, set somewhere else. The world-building, part of what had made the original series so fantastic, wasn't there either.

And people love that book! There are reviews under such titles as "Magic of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn Recaptured," "An Excellent Re-Introduction to Osten Ard," "A great followup to Memory Sorry (sic.) and Thorn trilogy!" and "Williams hovers on the edge of greatness," and I'm just like, have we read the same book? O_o I personally found it bad as a book, and awful as a continuation to that series! (Sorry if it's your favorite book. >_>)

(Also, the followup series… it's okay~ish, but again, nowhere near to the original series either. I've only read the first two books. The third part has apparently come out last year. Maybe I'll read it some day. Or maybe not, we'll see.)

Huh. Ok, rant over. ^^;;

#books #asks

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im-657-mv · 3 years ago

Text

blue eyes

henry creel

[II] [III] [full]

word count: 723

Every night you always had a dream. Ever since you were 15 years old there wasn't a day when you didn't dream of him. A man in all white calling out to you. At first, you thought nothing of it, but when he was continuously there night after night in your mind, you decided this was something more, that he was something more.

He was tall and had perfect blue eyes. He was beautiful and the way he talked made your heart flutter. He always knew how to sway your mind. And he was always there, comforting you after all your troubles and problems you went through.

So every night you slipped into a sleep-like coma, expecting him, expecting Henry. And he was there. He was always there no matter what. He whispered sweet things into your ear while you sobbed into his all-white clothing. Tucking your hair behind your ear so as to not get into your eyes. He always said he loved your eyes the most.

"It's okay, my love... It will all be better soon. Plus, I will always be here, in your mind. No matter what."

He whispered caressing your face which soothed your broken state. Henry was right. He will always be here for you, no matter what because he has been already. Each night he has been here more than any of your friends. So you believed him. You looked up into his blue eyes and touched his face.

"Thank you..." You smiled as you leaned into him pressing your lips against his.

You pulled back away from him and took a closer at his facial features, trying to commit them to your memory. God you hoped he was real and not a figment of your imagination.

"You're real right?" You asked as Henry tried not to burst out laughing.

"Of course I'm real. And I promise we'll meet very soon."

"What does that mean?"

"Shh... Our time is up, my love."

______

You were frozen.

"Henry Creel is Vecna."

Those words... just four words were something that made you freeze completely. Your mind going into overdrive and your body starts to panic. Henry Creel was Vecna. The man that was in your dreams every single night. The man that was always there for you in every way. That man was Vecna.

"I know him..." you whispered to the group. You knew more than what you wanted to admit or tell them, but you had to say something, but not everything. You would never admit to loving him... that Vecna was someone that you called "my love".

You tried to look up at them, at someone, but you couldn't even manage to do that. You kept your head down and braced for the reaction of what you were about to confess to. And all their eyes were on you, waiting for what was about to be said.

"He... He was in my dreams. For a very long time... and we talked."

"You talked to him!" Steve practically yelled causing you to flinch just a bit.

"All he said was his name was Henry, he never said anything more about who he was. That he was... Vecna."

"Y/n did he ever talk about anything that's worth mentioning?" Nancy whispered trying to calm you down.

"Like if he had an evil plan to take over the world or something?"

"I don't think he ever said anything about his "evil plan". You told Dustin.

"Henry... I mean Vecna, never told me anything that hinted at him being a murderer. We never talked about that sort of stuff while we were together." You paused gaining some strength in your posture and voice. You just hoped that they wouldn't question you more on what you and Vecna actually talked about.

"All we ever talked about was me, and other things, but that's beside the point. He never told me about anything that he did outside my dreams." You breathed in and out of your nose, your senses finally calming down. But all of a sudden you got goosebumps along your neck. You turned around only to see a different landscape, a different world. You weren't in Will's house anymore, you were somewhere else entirely.

"Y/n..." You heard his voice behind you. Henry...

"I told you... you would see me very soon..."

#stranger things #yandere stranger things #stranger things x reader #x reader #gender neutral #peter ballard #hanry creel #001 #vecna #peter ballard x reader #henry creel x reader #vecna x reader #001 x reader

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