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cloneshipping7567 · 1 year ago

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Romantic Confessions Part 17

Part 17/30

17. "For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence."

Pairing: Dogma x Tup

Rating/WC: G/4545

Warnings: internalized ableism, experienced ableism, mild self-hatred, angst, angst with a happy ending.

Notes: This is a request made by LuminousBug on ao3. The request was for autistic Dogma saying this line. While I have written autistic characters before, I have never written a story from the POV of an autistic person. For this first time, I chose to use what my sister describes as her personal experience, and go from there.

LuminousBug, I hope you like this one!

~~~

Tup has nightmares about it. He tosses and turns, and sometimes he wakes up with a jolt, as if he were physically dragged out of sleep somehow. Sometimes he has tears on his face, the emergency lights glinting off of his cheeks in a way it normally doesn’t. Sometimes he’s panting and gasping for breath, chest heaving from running away from the torture his mind put him through. Sometimes he rolls over and tries to go back to sleep; sometimes he has to get up and cool off, heading to the ‘freshers to wash his face or perhaps take a full shower. Sometimes he just lays on his back and breathes, staring up at the bunk above him.

For the longest time, Dogma wanted to crawl into bed beside him, like when they were little and allowed to share their pods with their batchmates. He wanted to lay beside Tup and tell him that it would be okay, that he would keep watch and make sure Tup was safe. That he killed Krell, and the fallen jedi can’t hurt him or any of their brothers ever again. That he’ll find a way to make sure they never find themselves on such a horrible, rotten planet ever again. That he’ll convince General Skywalker to only go to the pretty planets, the ones with the flowers Tup likes so much. Or maybe the ones with millions or billions of bugs, so he can tell Tup about each and every one of them, so he doesn’t have time to be afraid.

Tup likes listening to Dogma talk. Not a lot of their brothers do. Some of them are nicer, they let Dogma talk anyway and they don’t tell him to shut up. Like Echo and Fives. But Tup actually likes listening to Dogma talk, no matter what he decides to talk about or for how long. He nods along and makes noises that Dogma has learned means someone is listening but doesn’t want to interrupt. He even asks questions sometimes or adds something he knows too.

But Dogma doesn’t really know how to say any of the things he really wants to say. Sometimes, when Dogma says how he thinks or feels, his brothers look at him with wide eyes or curled lips. Sometimes they don’t really look at him, except from the corner of their eyes as they face away. Dogma knows that this happens sometimes, but he’s never been able to understand what was wrong about what he says, or how to avoid doing it again in the future. It’s very frustrating, really. Dogma is very good at following rules, if only he could figure out what the rules were. No one can tell him, either, it seems like. The closest he got was when Kix told him ‘we just know the rules, and know when someone breaks them. There isn’t a list or anything.’

He had told Kix that his commentary was extremely unhelpful, and Kix had sighed and told him that was a rule Dogma just broke. It isn’t polite to tell someone they’re being unhelpful.

Which doesn’t make any sense at all, because his brothers seem to have no issue with telling Dogma when he’s being unhelpful. Rex, especially, when he used to come to him and tell him all the rules and regulations his brothers were breaking.

Sometimes, when Dogma tells people that he likes them, they react positively. When he had told Echo that he found his presence comforting after Echo had asked why Dogma had just come in to sit with him without saying anything, Echo had smiles and told him that was very nice of him to say. But when he had told Sergeant Appo almost the same thing, he had gotten that same look on his face that Dogma thinks means something between horror and discomfort.

He wants to tell Tup that he would do anything for him, that he would die if it would help Tup. But when he had said something similar to Hardcase, the other soldier had told him not to say things like that. That Dogma wasn’t going to die, and especially not for him.

Tup whimpers in his sleep, and Dogma looks over the side of his bed to look at him. He frowns, wanting to fix it. He isn’t sure that he can. He’s already reminded Tup several times that they will never go back to Umbara, and that Krell is dead and cannot hurt them. It does not seem to make a difference. Tup still has the nightmares.

Dogma cushions his hands under his head, laying on his side and watching Tup twitch and wince in his sleep. His eyes flit to a new source of movement, and notices Fives staring at him. He has a frown on his face, and he pulls Echo closer to his chest. Echo scrunches his nose, blinking his eyes open and whispering something. Fives whispers something back, and Echo’s eyes find Dogma.

Dogma moves his eyes back to Tup, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. If they’re talking about him, then that’s fine. He trusts Echo to be nice to him, and he mostly trusts Fives too.

Tup whimpers and his fist clenches and unclenches on his chest. Dogma watches him, wishing yet again that he could save Tup from his nightmares. He wonders if Tup would even want him to, if Dogma could figure out how.

The next morning, he sits down next to Tup and across from Hardcase. He likes Hardcase a lot, because he also talks for a very long time sometimes and sometimes that’s good because Dogma doesn’t have to think about what’s the right thing to say.

He does that now, talking more at Tup and Dogma than to them, about what he’s going to do today and what weapons he wants to train with and asks if they’re going to join him for sparring later without pausing to let them really answer. Tup nods along occasionally, chewing his breakfast slowly. Dogma just watches him talk, mostly his hands and how he uses them so often when he speaks.

Echo sits next to him some time later, and Fives sits next to Hardcase. “You definitely need a sparring partner,” Fives chimes in, interrupting Hardcase. Dogma fights back the annoyance that flares through him. It isn’t polite to interrupt people, he’s been told that lots of times. Why does Fives get to do it? “All that energy in you today, you need to get it out.”

Hardcase laughs, which only confuses Dogma more, and knocks elbows with Fives. “Offering yourself up, vod? It's been a minute since I’ve put you on your ass.”

Dogma takes a bite of his breakfast, then puts his fork down carefully on his tray. He pushes it just a bit so it’s more straight on the tray, then folds his hands in his lap.

“You wish,” Fives scoffs, shoving at his arm playfully. “I’ll destroy you.”

Dogma’s nose twitches, and he turns to look at Tup. Tup is always much more interesting than anything else going on. Plus, Dogma just likes to look at him. Tup looks very appealing.

Tup pauses in his chewing to look at Dogma, then resumes and swallows. “You okay?” he asks softly.

Dogma nods, moving his eyes to Tup’s bun. He likes Tup’s hair. It’s against the regulations, but Tup thinks it’s pretty. Besides, Rex would be the last person to lecture them about their hair. His hair is naturally against regulations, but he also chooses to buzz it far shorter than the rules require.

“Dogma?” Echo calls, and Dogma turns to give Echo his full attention. “When is your shift today?”

“1200 to 1800. Third shift. I am to report to the hangar for inventory duty.” Dogma feels himself relax a bit, already appreciating the most structured portion of his day. His brothers all appreciate the shorter shifts of space travel, but Dogma doesn’t. Sometimes, when Rex has the time, he will give Dogma an extra schedule-one in which accounts for every hour of his day, including when he is meant to spend time in the gyms and when he is meant to spend time in the barracks to relax. Rex is, however, a very busy man; he is the Captain of the 501st legion, even though that title shouldn't exist. Rex is supposed to be a commander of the 501st legion, and a captain is supposed to be in charge of a company. Technically the 501st is a battalion, back when their general was still a commander working under the larger 212th legion. But General Skywalker chose to keep the 501st and Captain Rex, and therefore the technicalities stopped mattering to most people.

This is one of things Dogma isn’t supposed to talk about anymore.

“So that means you have some time before your shift starts, right?” Echo clarifies.

Dogma nods. “It’s currently firstmeal, first served at 0500 and open until 0700, so I have several hours.” He sees Fives roll his eyes in his peripheral vision, and silently wonders what he said that was wrong.

“I have second shift,” Tup mumbles, squinting his eyes to read the chronometer on the wall. “I still have half an hour,” he declares, turning back to his meal.

Dogma watches him, wondering how Tup can have such a loose internal drive for knowing the time and being where he is supposed to be. He wishes he knew how to not care all that much, like his brothers. They’re usually never late; Tup is never late, but he doesn’t worry or panic about it.

Hardcase is like him in this way. He’s always checking the chronometer, always double checking that he’s not late or meant to be somewhere. He is, however, often late. Or half an hour early, depending on the day.

“Will you come with me and Fives to the gym after we finish eating?” Echo asks. Dogma is grateful he phrased it like that. Sometimes Dogma forgets that ‘can you’ is also a request to do something instead of inquiring about his ability.

“Yes,” Dogma agrees, grabbing his fork. “I still need to log six hours in the gym before the end of the week.”

“It’s only Taungsday,” Hardcase reminds Dogma. “Not even halfway through.”

“I know,” Dogma says, giving Hardcase a smile. Hardcase was not insulting Dogma’s knowledge, Dogma had a hard time accepting. Hardcase just appreciates reminders like that sometimes, so he gives them out.

“We aren’t even halfway through,” Tup repeats suddenly, groaning and rubbing at his forehead. “I’m so tired. When is our next leave?”

Dogma perks up, turning his full attention to Tup. “Two more standard weeks after this one,” he supplies. “Assuming our next campaign does not get extended, which we should land for on Primeday.”

Tup sighs, and Dogma wonders if he’s complaining about the upcoming campaign or if Dogma has said something wrong. He takes another bite of breakfast and clatters his fork against his tray. Dogma watches him swallow and then check the chrono again, before standing. “Come on Hardcase, we better get geared up and head down there.”

“I have second shift too?” Hardcase asks, shoveling the rest of his food in his mouth in a panic.

How he wasn’t aware of that, Dogma can’t begin to imagine, but he knows he isn’t supposed to say that.

“How did you not know that?” Fives asks, slapping a hand on Hardcase’s back and making the other man choke a bit. “Hopeless, vod.”

Hardcase swallows thickly, and glares at Fives. “Fuck off,” he says, somehow both much meaner and kinder than if Dogma had said the same thing. He stands as well and collects his things on the tray, before waving at them. “I’ll see you guys at latemeal.”

Dogma waves back, and watches him head to the receptacle. He turns to Tup, who collects his tray and smiles at Dogma. “See you later, Dogma.” He looks over Dogma’s shoulder, nodding at the others. “Later.” Dogma watches him leave, sprinting a few steps to catch up with Hardcase.

“Bye,” Fives calls, scooting to take over Hardcase’s seat. Dogma fights the urge to say something; he doesn’t understand why Fives would feel the need to change seats. He already had a perfectly good one.

“Dogma?” Dogma turns his gaze to Echo, who’s smiling at him. “Is it okay if we talk a bit before we go to the gym?”

“Yes, it’s recommended to wait at least half an hour to perform any physical activity after eating,” Dogma says, though he’s sure Echo already knew that. He likes to read the regs just as much as Dogma does.

“Right,” Fives says, tapping his fingers on the table. Dogma wishes he wouldn’t; he doesn’t like the lack of rhythm. It seems random, the way his fingers land on the hard surface. But Dogma fidgets as well, and he knows it annoys his friends; though they never say anything. Usually. “Listen, Dogma, I wanted-Echo and I wanted to talk with you about something specific.”

“Okay,” Dogma says, putting his fork down again. He looks at Fives until the other man looks down, and then turns to look at Echo. “Am…I supposed to choose the topic?”

Echo laughs softly, a smile on his face. Dogma doesn’t think it’s mean. Usually a smile has more teeth if someone is laughing at him instead of simply finding Dogma funny. “No, we just-we were arguing over who should start.”

“But you weren’t arguing…?” He means to say it as a statement of fact-because it was one-but it turns into a question as he trails off, because he doesn’t think Echo would lie to him.

“I’ll start,” Fives says, making Dogma look at him. “You have a staring problem.”

Dogma looks down at his tray immediately, wringing his fingers together under the table. Dogma has trouble with appropriate eye contact. He finds it difficult to do with people he isn’t very comfortable with, and he has a hard time knowing how much is too much and how much makes people think he isn’t listening. He didn’t think it bothered his friends anymore, after he revealed his difficulties.

“Fives,” Echo says, almost hisses, before turning to Dogma. “Not at us, Dogma. You’ve made a lot of progress about that with us, actually, it seems to be a lot easier for you.”

It isn’t any easier, but he knows that’s supposed to be a compliment. Dogma feels warm, and itchy, and the sounds of the mess hall are starting to be too loud.

“Dogma?” Echo whispers, and he looks up slowly. Echo gives him a small smile, reaches out to touch him before thinking better of it and running a hand through his own hair instead. “What Fives meant to say was that you seem to stare at Tup, specifically, a lot.”

Dogma pulls at his thumb, looking between him and Fives. “Okay…and that’s a problem?” he asks.

“Yes,” Fives answers, placing both hands flat on the table. “It’s weird, it makes him uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Dogma says, looking to his lap as he pulls at his fingers. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Is there a reason you stare?” Echo asks softly, scooting a bit closer. “Like last night, we saw you staring at him. Was there a reason?”

“I like to watch him sleep,” Dogma says easily, wincing at Fives’s scoff.

“Come on, you have to know that sounds creepy!” Fives says.

Dogma frowns, feeling himself squirm. “He has nightmares,” Dogma whispers, half hoping Fives doesn’t hear him.

“Is that why you stare?” Echo asks, moving his hand so Dogma sees it and looks up. “Because you’re worried about him?”

Dogma nods, feeling relief at Echo knowing how to say what he doesn’t. “I want to help, but I don’t know how. I don’t want-” he looks to Fives and then back to Echo. “I don’t want him to think I’m weird.”

Fives sighs, making Dogma look at him again. “I’m sorry, Dogma, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just-I’m just protective of Tup. He’s my best friend.”

“I thought Echo was your best friend.” Dogma says, forgetting to accept Fives’s apology.

Fives hesitates, eyes wide with that mix between horror and discomfort Dogma hates inducing, and looks to Echo. “Well…”

“Dogma?” Dogma turns to look at Echo. “Fives and I, we um…we’re dating. Fives is my partner. Did you know that?”

Dogma frowns. “Yes, that’s why you share a bunk even though you’re not supposed to.” Echo ducks his head, and Dogma feels bad. “I’m not going to tell, I was just saying.”

Echo smiles, looking up again. “I know you won’t tell. It was just the way you phrased it was-it was kind of funny.” Dogma cocks his head to the side, but Echo shakes his head. “Nevermind. My point was that-Fives cares about Tup very much, but not in the same way that he cares about me.”

“Okay,” Dogma says, although he doesn’t really understand why any of this is relevant.

“Dogma, I’m just going to ask it plainly,” Fives says, and Dogma turns to look at him. “Do you care about Tup in the same way that Echo and I care about each other?”

Dogma nods. “Yes, I do. I love him very much.”

Fives’s jaw drops, and his eyebrows move up his forehead. Echo makes a surprised noise, and Dogma turns to look at him instead. “You love Tup?”

“Of course I do,” Dogma says, furrowing his brow at their reactions. “Why are you surprised? He’s very nice to me. He makes me feel safe. He’s my favorite person in the whole galaxy.”

“Why haven’t you told him, if you’re so sure?” Fives asks, voice slightly higher pitched than normal. “It’s not obvious that you…are sure about, we couldn’t tell for sure.”

“Oh, no,” Dogma says, looking down to his hands. “No, I can’t do that. Tup doesn’t deserve that. I’m lucky enough as it is that he’s willing to be my friend.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Dogma looks up after long enough he wants to leave. Echo and Fives are looking at each other, until Echo finally turns to him with a sigh. “What do you mean, he doesn’t deserve that? Deserve what?”

Dogma shifts, wanting to be anywhere but here. It already makes Dogma sad to think about it inside his head, he doesn’t want to talk about it. “I’m…broken. Inside. I know I’m more of a burden than anything else, I know how much effort everyone puts into being nice to me and figuring out how to talk to me.” He swallows thickly, exhales shakily. He won’t cry, not here. It’s not something he’s supposed to do in front of other people. “I don’t deserve to have Tup love me, and Tup doesn’t deserve to have me be that reliant on him. That extent of a burden. He deserves someone who’s good and who can take care of him and who doesn’t need help figuring out how to do it. Someone who just knows how to comfort him and save him from his nightmares and who doesn’t always say the wrong things and make everyone think he’s creepy and weird.” He looks up, makes a frustrated noise. “Someone who doesn’t make people look at them like you’re looking at me now.”

“Dogma,” Echo whispers, eyes wide and back straight.

Dogma stands abruptly, holding his tray close to his chest. “It’s been thirty minutes, which means we can go to the gym now,” he announces, and leaves without waiting for them to join him. He doesn’t know if he wants them to follow, but he doesn’t know how much it would hurt if they didn’t.

“Tup,” someone says, sounding so very far away. “It isn’t your fault.”

“He saved me,” Tup cries, and Dogma wants to cry too. He’s made Tup cry, he’s made him sound so very sad and angry at the same time. “He pushed me out of the way and he got hit because of that. How is it not my fault? He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if he didn’t try and save me.”

“Dogma made a choice,” Kix says, and Dogma is glad he’s able to identify the other voice. They sound clearer, and everything seems a bit brighter than before. “Not you. You can’t blame yourself for something someone else does.”

“I never told him,” Tup sobs, muffled by something. Maybe his hand. “I never told him what he meant to me, I was too scared.”

“He’s not dead, Tup,” Kix says, and Dogma can almost start to feel things again. He thinks he feels something on his hand. He thinks maybe he’s in a lot of pain, if only his brain would register it. “He might wake up. He might be just fine.”

“Might,” Tup whispers, choking after the syllable. Dogma wishes he could remember how to move. He wishes he knew how to help Tup stop crying.

“I’m going to give him another sedative, Tup. I can give you one too, if you want.” Dogma wonders, as everything starts to fade out again and go dark, if he maybe dreamed the whole thing.

When he wakes up, it isn’t as if he’s very far away like the first time. He opens his eyes and sees, and he hears the yelling and shuffling of the med bay. Dogma thinks they must be back on the ship; there are walls and it seems too clean to be on the dusty planet they had been fighting on.

He definitely feels the pain this time, too. It’s all over his entire body, it feels like, and he whimpers softly as his brain finally allows him to register it in full force.

“Dogma?” Tup asks, voice shaky and unsure, so Dogma turns his head to look at him. He has tears in his red rimmed eyes, and bags under them to prove how little sleep he’s gotten lately. His hair is an absolute mess, half out of the bun and dirty, so completely different from the usual care Tup puts into keeping his hair. Tup leans closer, and Dogma realizes Tup is clutching his hand. “Dogma?”

Dogma swallows thickly, winces at how dry his mouth and throat are, and takes a deep breath. “Tup.”

“Kix!” Tup yells, making the whole med bay get a bit quieter. “Kix, he woke up!”

Dogma turns his head slowly to see the CMO running over, a needle in one hand and a datapad in the other. The needle is jabbed into Dogma’s neck and he winces in pain, before Kix is smiling at him. “You gave us a real scare, Dogma. The painstim should kick in soon. How are you feeling?”

“Pain,” Dogma says, trying and failing to sit up, Kix and Tup both rush to help him. “Thirsty.”

Tup reaches behind him and brings a cup with a straw to Dogma’s lips. Dogma drinks a few sips before he starts to feel sick to his stomach, and pushes it away. “Dogma,” Tup whispers.

“What happened? Where are we?” Dogma asks, looking to Kix.

“You got banged up pretty good on the campaign. You’ve been knocked out for a standard week. We won, and the 501st is on our way back to Coruscant. You did great, kid. You’re a hero. You with me?” Kix furrows his brow, waving his hand in Dogma’s face.

Dogma nods slowly, sinking back into the bed. “‘Stim is…working. Doesn’t hurt as bad.”

Kix smiles, patting Dogma’s knee and tapping something into his datapad. “I’ll let everyone know you’re awake, but I’ll give you two a few minutes.” He looks at Tup for a few seconds, before leaving to check on other patients, probably.

Dogma turns his gaze to Tup, frowning when he sees that he’s crying. “Are you-are you hurt? Should we call Kix back?”

Tup makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, reaching out and running the back of his fingers down Dogma’s face. “Why did you do it? Why did you save me? I’m just-I’m just me, why would you ever-” he cuts himself off with a gasp.

Dogma blinks, confusion making his already foggy mind worse. “Just you?” He asks, shaking his head. “Who else would you be?”

Tup laughs, sniffles, holds Dogma’s hand. Dogma realizes that he doesn’t mind it, not one bit. “No, I meant…I meant…How do I say this?” he asks, looking down at their hands. “Why did you save me? You could have died.”

“Because I love you,” Dogma says simply, watching Tup’s face morph into something that isn’t quite discomfort but a little horrified. “I have for a long time. For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence. I didn’t want-didn’t want to burden you with it. But I had to save you. There is no other option.”

“Dogma,” Tup whispers, kind of squeaks, his grip on Dogma’s hand tightening.

“It’s okay that you don’t love me back,” he says, hoping that he hasn’t already scared Tup off from wanting to be his friend. “I know that I’m broken, and I’m a lot to deal with. But that’s why I saved you.”

Tup makes a noise Dogma doesn’t recognize, and suddenly his lips are on Dogma’s and Dogma’s brain kind of stops working.

Tup pulls back after a few minutes, kissing all over Dogma’s face instead, one hand cupping his jaw gently. “Dogma,” he cries, kisses him again, and this time Dogma is ready enough to really pay attention to the kiss. It isn’t gross like he thought he would find it. It’s rather nice, actually. He doesn’t want Tup to ever stop doing it.

He does, though, pulling back and smiling at Dogma. “I love you too, so incredibly much. For so very long. I was just too scared to tell you, because I couldn’t tell if you liked me. I didn’t know if I would make you uncomfortable to be around me anymore, and I wanted you to be comfortable with me so badly. I wanted you to trust me more than anything. I was so scared to ruin that, I never said anything.” Tup pulls Dogma’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles softly. “If I knew that was how you thought of yourself, I would have spent every second of every day telling you how wrong you are.”

Dogma blinks rapidly, reaching up to cup Tup’s face. “You don’t think that I’m…?”

Tup shakes his head rapidly. “I think you’re perfect, Dogma. I love you, and I’ll tell you every single day. I’ll say it until you can’t remember a time when I didn’t. I’ll make you believe it, I’ll make you see how much I love you.”

Dogma feels tears start to build in his eyes. “Will you kiss me again?” he asks.

Tup smiles, and he’s so pretty it makes Dogma gasp. He leans down and connects their lips again, curling their fingers together gently.

Even though he hurts, he hopes this moment never ends. Because Tup is kissing him, and he loves him, and Dogma loves him back, and he’s never been so happy in his entire life.

#cloneshipping #my writing #tup/dogma #dogma x tup #clonecest

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sortasirius · 4 years ago

Text

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.

My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

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court-of-forever-undone · 3 years ago

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I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary: While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence.

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude.

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

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Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

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scoobydoofenshmirtz · 4 years ago

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The Horny Cinematography of Seasons 4 and 5 of Supernatural

So I made this kinda silly post about how horny the late Kripke era of Supernatural was and it was mostly meant as a joke, but then it got me thinking. So I did a little bit of digging, went through some memorable scenes, and noticed some actual patterns in the way Dean and Castiel are shot versus other characters. Disclaimer: this is not exactly a scientific analysis. I didn’t rewatch the entire two seasons for this and there are probably shots with other characters that I missed that go against it, but this is just the general trend that I noticed.

Click on the images for higher resolution. Analysis is under the cut.

So the general premise of this analysis is that Cas and Dean are shot noticeably close-up, typically staring intensely into each other’s eyes. I think we all know about the whole staring thing, but the actual close-ups were way more intense then I think some people might realize, especially when compared to other interactions between different characters. Cas in particular is shot very close-up frequently whether he’s talking to someone else or by himself (there are so many gorgeous close-ups of Misha in season 4), but the intense eye contact is pretty much only with Dean.

It starts off almost immediately in 4x01 Lazarus Rising where in Dean and Castiel’s very first interaction, they stand very close and the camera focuses on their faces. First we have two close-ups, then in what is maybe my favorite shot in all of Supernatural, Castiel steps in closer to Dean and the close-ups get even tighter. He tilts his head and stares thoughtfully at Dean with those big blue eyes. Cut to Dean’s look of discomfort after being told (very accurately) “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

Things amp up in literally Castiel’s second appearance in 4x02 Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester with one of the horniest Destiel scenes in the show (again this is only their second interaction!) We have Castiel unexpectedly showing up at Bobby’s house, Dean sassing him, and Castiel stepping very close to Dean and saying “You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” This is a very tense interaction with some beautiful low key lighting that pretty much went extinct after season 5. Notice how tight the frame is, even compared to 4x01. These are extreme close-ups where both Dean and Castiel’s chins and foreheads are cut out of the frame.

Castiel’s third appearance in 4x03 In the Beginning is a lot more prominent as he has many scenes throughout the episode instead of just one. I’m not gonna include pictures of all of them because there’s lot, but there are plenty of close-ups and intense gazes between the two (e.g. sitting on the bed, “Hello Dean. What were you dreaming about?” which according to Misha, Kim manners said was “too gay” but they did it like that anyway) and contains the first time they touch and the first time they are shot in more high key lighting. Go rewatch the episode if you want to see more lovely close-ups between Dean and Cas.

Next I would like to draw your attention to episode 4x07 It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. This is Castiel’s fourth appearance and the first time we see him interact with a character who’s not Dean. This is where the differences between how they’re shot start to become apparent. First we have Sam’s first interaction with Castiel (greetings blood freak) that is shot with standard close-ups. Eventually, Dean comes in, conversation happens blah blah blah and we get to the more intense discussion about how the angels want to destroy the town. The discussion is between Dean, Cas, Sam, and Uriel, but Dean and Cas get most of the focus. The camera tells us that they are the main subjects in this scene. Dean and Cas are shot more close-up and tighter and they are standing closer and looking in each others eyes unlike Sam who is looking back and forth between them and standing a few steps back.

Of course this doesn’t stop in season 4. Here is a similar example from 5x02 Good God, Ya’ll! but the difference between Dean and Cas and Sam is even more obvious. This is the “I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you,” exchange which I find interesting. Some people could say here that Cas means “you” plural as in Sam and Dean but the Camera is so focused on just Dean and Cas while Sam just sorta hangs there in the background.

One thing that I think is interesting is that these types of shots-extreme close-ups with two characters looking into each other’s eyes and standing no feet apart-are not necessarily exclusive to Dean and Cas, but they are usually in a different context. Pretty much all (at least that I could remember) the other examples of this type of shot are between one character and a villain. Below we have three fairly intense confrontations between characters, Sam and Uriel in 4x07 It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester, Dean and Alastair in 4x16 On the Head of a Pin, and Dean and Cas in 4x22 Lucifer Rising. The composition is almost exactly the same with similar lighting as well, but one of these things is not like the other. Very obviously Cas is not a villain and this scene in particular is a huge moment for his character that cements his decision to fully rebel against Heaven for Dean.

Also characters that tend to be that close together looking into each other’s eyes in two shots are usually villains except for Dean and Cas. Below we have a shot of Ruby and Sam very close together right before he drinks her blood and a very close-up shot of Dean and Alastair both in 4x16 On the Head of a Pin. Compare that to the two shot from 4x02 Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester above for example. There is a certain sexual nature in these two villain scenes (and a lot of villain interactions on Supernatural in general). Obviously, Sam and Ruby are literally having sex, but Alastair is also portrayed as a villain who sexually objectifies his victims (the torture scene with Ruby, calling Dean “Daddy’s little girl, etc.) but Cas is not a villain and yet the framing is very similar.

Now I want to compare two fight scenes, one in season 4 and one in season 5. Here we have the fight scene between Ruby and Sam in 4x09 I Know What You Did Last Summer. Ruby is of course a sexy lady who Sam sleeps with in a sexy fight scene where she “proves” that she wants to help Sam by killing the other demon instead of Sam. But of course, the fight scene in 5x18 Point of No Return is shot way more close-up and Dean and Cas are inches away from each other. While I wouldn’t described this scene as “sexy” (Cas is literally beating Dean to a pulp) it is way more charged...intimate isn’t exactly the right word but there’s a similar but more intense erotic energy than in the fight scene with Ruby.

Unrelated side note: there is a great use of breaking the 180 degree rule in this scene that I think works way better in this instance at disorienting the viewer than the shaky cam does.

Next I have some random examples I noticed that show some of the different shots between characters. We have Anna in 4x10 Heaven and Hell right before she has sex with Dean. It’s fairly close-up, but still pretty loose framing compared to a lot of scenes between Dean and Cas. Anna’s entire face is still in the frame. Then we have a scene between Sam and Ruby in 4x09 I Know What You Did Last Summer that is also not as close-up as a lot of Dean and Cas scenes. On the bottom is a shot from 5x17 99 Problems which is I think the closest Sam and Cas physically get in these seasons before they ever hug. It’s more of a medium close-up than most of the scenes between Dean and Cas where they get that close. Lastly I have probably the tightest close-ups between Dean and Cas from 4x16 On the Head of a Pin. It’s similar to the shots from 4x02 but the context is pretty different with Cas trying to reassure Dean about the apocalypse. I know these don’t really have a theme but I thought they were good examples of the general pattern.

Finally I would like to point out a scene that is sort of the opposite which is the infamous staring scene in 4x21 When the Levee Breaks that goes on for like an hour. I don’t really know what to say about this scene only that I can’t believe it’s real. They literally just stand and stare at each other.

So what’s the point of all this? I honestly don’t really know. None of these observations are hard and fast rules and I’m sure there are times when other characters are shot like this. However, Dean and Cas seem to be the only ones consistently framed this way-tight close-ups, staring into each other’s eyes standing zero feet apart. What does it all mean? To me it shows that their bond is unique and special (profound you might say). It’s not even like they’re shot in a similar manner to love interests, it’s that their framing is unique, it stands out. Was it on purpose? Maybe. How shots end up looking is interesting because it really is the work of a lot of different people including the director, the cinematographer, the editors and more. I don’t think they were thinking “we should film Dean and Cas in this very intense way because they’re in love” or anything, but they obviously recognized there was something special between these two characters. And truly, the intentions don’t matter all that much to me. What’s there is there, and watching it the first time around I noticed how close Dean and Cas always were and watching it back post 15x18 all those shots stand out even more to me. There’s really no conclusion here, but I think it’s interesting to look a bit more closely at the cinematography in TV shows that we don’t always think of as having the highest quality production. There’s a lot of layers to be discovered outside of scripts and acting and things we tend to focus on more as viewers.

#destiel #spn meta #supernatural #the cinnamon tography #yes i went to film school and this is what im doing now

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lottiebagley · 4 years ago

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Have you ever been in love? - Cedric Diggory

The Diggory family had lived next door to her family since she moved house when she was only 4. He had been in his garden on a kids broom, his parents sat on the patio in front of the grass watching him play, when the new next door neighbours had burst into their garden.

It was like life itself injected into the small and quiet village. Twin boys, maybe 7 or 8 with loud laughs and boisterous attitudes. A young girl who had a desperation to keep up with her brothers running out after them.

The parents had talked over the fence and Amos invited the family over for dinner, insisting that after the stress of the move they shouldn't be cooking.

The daughter ended up being only 2 months younger than Cedric and immediately they were joint at the hip.

They grew up together. Swimming in the lake in hot summers, cuddled up under blankets whilst drinking hot chocolate at Christmas. They made promises of a lifelong friendship in the small village and neither had any intent to break it.

The boy was the epitome of kindness. He was caring and sweet. Always patient with her when she got into stupid situations and loyal as they come.

She was just different enough it worked. With two older brothers who she always wanted to impress she was brave, some would say to the point it was stupid. She could be reckless but she was also passionate. If she cared she would do anything for someone and she really, really, cared about her best friend.

It was no shock that they were placed in different houses. It was also no shock to anyone that knew them that they stayed best friends. Joint at the hip.

He grounded her and cared when she felt like no one else would.

She stood right by his side through anything.

It was natural. The love that blossomed in her heart. He had grown up to be an attractive boy. With perfectly tousled hair and a tall stature. Milky skin with bright eyes and a sharp jaw. But he was more than that to her.

He was warm smiles and easy laughs. He was her rock. The one thing she could always rely on. Of course she fell for him. Fell hard. It was only ever natural.

"Ced!" Her voice sounds through the hall, she leaves the Weasley twins' side, they were her closest friends in her own house.

He can't help the wide smile on his face when he turns to see her jogging down the corridor to catch up to him. His dorm mates rolling their eyes and calling him whipped jokingly before continuing on their way to breakfast. Leaving him to be with his best friend.

"Morning love," he grins down at her when she reaches his side, his arms wrapping around her. She can't help the blush on her cheeks at the pet name. "You sleep well?" He asks, his arm stays tightly wrapped around her as they walk to the hall.

"I slept okay. Angelina has a cold so she was snoring which kept me up a bit," the girl admits. Rolling her eyes when she sees the worry over taking her best friends features.

"You should have just come and slept in with me," he reprimands gently

"Oh yes Mr. Prefect, let me just break those school rules with you," she teases

"Since when did you care for the school rules?"

"I don't want to bring you down with me,"

"Ah. But you're the only one I would let drag me down," he laughs

"Seems like your reputation will stay crystal clean then,"

"You're a pretty bad bad influence," he chuckles giving her a tight squeeze "I mean it though. I never mind you staying in my bed," he smiles lightly.

"Thanks Ced," she grins. They arrive at the hall and she drags him to eat breakfast with her at the Gryffindor table. He pretends to protest, knowing she will never let him actually not come. The love-struck grin on his face lets everyone near the pair know that he could never say no. Even if he wanted too.

The pair talk easily over their breakfast, playing footsie under the table like it's a thing all friends do. He makes sure she's eating a balanced breakfast and she laughs calling him a mother hen. Both of them mistake the love in the others eyes to be platonic.

"Sorry love birds but y/n we have to get going. We have Herbology," George smiles down at the girl waiting patiently for her. Trying not laugh at the bright flush overtaking both their features at the name.

"I'll see you in divination?" She asks the Hufflepuff in front of her.

"See you there love," he grins. She smiles pressing a kiss to his cheek over the table. Before flouncing out of the hall with George.

If she had looked back she would have seen the smile he can't wipe off his face. The way his hand subconsciously touches his cheek. The way he laughs at himself quietly. You got it bad Diggory. He can't get the thought out of his house as he watches her laughing figure turn round the corner.

"You're playing with fire you know," George mutters to the girl as they stand working on a mandrake in a tucked away corner.

"What on earth are you talking about Georgie? You must have inhaled some fumes," she jokes

"Flirting with Pretty boy Diggory. You're only going to get yourself hurt if you are with him all the time and don't tell him you feel," he states "I mean you're clearly in love," he adds on the end, laughing when her face turns beat red.

Y/n sits with Cedric in the library. It's late, the library will close within the hour, and a Friday night. Most students are having a night off and relaxing but the girl had vowed to finish all her homework by midday on Saturday, freeing up all day Sunday to spend with Cedric.

He had asked in divination if she would like to sneak into the Hufflepuff common room, something not uncommon for her, and join him and some of his friends in a games night. She had politely declined, too embarrassed to say the reason she wanted to get all her work done tonight, instead telling her friend she was behind.

Ever the good friend, he had decided to join her in the library. With their OWLs being at the end of the academic year their was always work he could be doing. He would rather be studying with her than having fun without her in any case.

He's noticed she's been distracted ever since breakfast. Arriving in their shared second lesson and slipping into a seat next to him, in some form of trance, lost in her own thoughts. He wishes he knew what it was making his best friend so stressed. Wished he could help.

"Ced?" She questions into the silent room. Looking up to see her friend peer at her from behind the book he's copying notes from.

"Yeah?" He replies, placing his quill down and smiling gently to her.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asks.

See it wasn't the idea of it being dangerous to be close to the boy she was crushing on. She knew that. Knew she was setting herself up for a heart break. It was the word love. Was she in love?

"Yes," he answers without a doubt. No question in his mind. He was in love with the scared looking girl in front of him. He had never seen her look scared before.

"Really?" She questions mouth agape. She tries so hard to ignore the ache in her chest. The feeling of her heart splintering. The way her whole world crashes down. "How did it feel?"

He is worried. Who did she think she might be in love with? The pair are practically inseparable. What boy had captured her heart whilst he had sat next to her blissfully unaware she was being snatched from him?

"It feels nice. Like home," he starts. He's nothing if he's not honest. He prides himself on that. He will help his friend through what she's feeling, he would always help her. "She's the only girl I ever want to see. Only person I ever want to see. I wake up and she's my first thought. If she's okay? If she slept well? When I'll see her?" He admits.

She nods. That fits. He is always her first thought.

"I don't stop thinking about her all day. She just occupies my head without even trying. Anytime I hear a joke I think of her laugh. When something upsets me if vision her hugging me to cheer up. When I'm in the same room as her I can't pull my eyes away," he continues.

That fits. Doesn't she always turn to see if he's laughing at a joke? Always relies on him no matter what.

"She's the first person I tell when anything happens in my life,"

That one hurts a bit. That there's some girl out there finding out the ins and outs of Cedric before she does.

"I would do anything for her. Break any rule. I'd move earth if she asked. All I have to do is vision that smile and I'm putty in her hands," he finishes.

It all fits. And it hits her like a ton of bricks. She's in love with Cedric.

"Have you?" He asks. Trying so hard to swallow his jealousy. Maybe it one of the twins. He could come to accept that. They're good to her. They would be worthy of being her first love, stealing the title he has been dreaming of since they were 11 and she broke into the hospital wing in the middle of the night to check on him.

"I think I might be," she admits. Not looking at him. It's even harder to hear than he had imagined.

"Really? Who?" He asks. God why is he torturing himself? He feels helpless. The last thing he wants is to hear and yet he just has to know.

"I don't want to tell you. It's silly," she whispers.

"If there's a boy on this planet who could have you and would choose not to then he is stupid. If he's stupid you don't want him in the first place," he's never been so sincere. What boy could ever say no to her?

"He's not. He's beautiful. And he's kind. And he's smart. I know he loves me. I just-well- I think it's platonic," she admits. There's something about how she says it. About how she's looking at him that makes hope spark in his chest. He squishes it down. This is painful enough without letting himself think it could ever be him.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't know how to form words. Doesn't know what he can say that won't let her know she's just broken his heart.

She doesn't say anything. She is so certain he knows she's talking about him, that she'd made it so clear. And kind, sweet Cedric is trying to think of a nice way to reject her.

"We don't have to do this. You don't have to say anything," she whispers. Gathering her books grabbing her bag. "Night Ced," she tries so hard to smile but there's tears pooling in her eyes as she slips out of the door.

His heart snaps. Grabbing his own bag and leaving the book on the table chasing her through the quiet corridors.

"Love, just wait, hold up. Just-" he calls out for her. She stops in her tracks. She can never bring herself to walk away from him.

She blinks rapidly before turning around, the moon shining through the window the only thing lighting the pair. He can't help but think how ethereal she looks, the moon illuminating her.

"What's going on?" He asks, hands holding her arms, rubbing gently with his thumb in an attempt to comfort her. Heart breaking at the tear dripping down her cheek.

"Look Ced, you don't have to. Yknow- say it. We will be fine. Just- I need a bit of space. Not for long- just- just for a bit," she steps out of his hands. She can't let him comfort her right now. Not when she's so in love and only just realised. Not when he's breaking her heart.

He is confused now. Why they would need space. Why she doesn't want him to say anything. It all falls into place and he struggles to say it. Maybe it's true. Maybe it's his desperation causing him to see things that aren't there.

"Who are you in love with?" He whispers. Scared to talk any louder.

"Are you really going to make me say it?" She questions, trying to bite back the sob "I just- if you're going to force me to hear you reject me you don't have to make me say it," she whispers. Refusing to look at him.

His heart explodes. He's in front of her in two steps. One arm wrapping around her form keeping her there. The other hand cupping her cheek, the thumb reaching out to dry a tear.

"I've been practicing asking you out in my mirror since I was 13," he admits. Her eyes widen in shock before he presses his lips to hers. Kissing her with so much passion and desire that there's no doubt in her mind. He feels the same.

She's desperate for more. Kissing back with as much fervour. Grabbing at his school shirt to pull him closer, impossibly close. She can feel him everywhere as her hands squeeze the fabric. His arms hugging her whilst he kisses. They pull apart panting.

"Can I take you on a date?" He smiles "I wanna do this properly," he admits, if it was anyone else he would feel shy. Not with her.

"Sunday?" She asks, she couldn't be more glad she had cleared the day. He nods a beam on his face.

"I know you want to this properly and I do too. But please tell me we get to kiss again before the first date," she smiles, he chuckles

"Whatever you want love," he grins, his lips pressing a gentle kiss on hers now.

"Love?" She whispers against his lips. He's called her it forever but it means something so different now.

"I love you," he states. No one can ever question it, not when he says it with that much confidence,

"I love you," she repeats. "Merlin, we really have done this in the wrong order," she laughs

"Whoever said proper had to be what everyone else does," he smiles back.

He's right of course. It was just right. It was them.

Masterlist

#cedric diggory #cedric x reader #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x y/n #cedric diggory x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction

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flowerflamestars · 3 years ago

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I'm in a very angry-with-the-IC-and-Rhys-in-particular mood, and since I'm just rereading Daylight I was wondering, what is going through Rhysand's mind throughout the events of Daylight? Because it's basically his entire life CRUMBLING around him and I'd love to see the mental gymnastics he does to fit it all into his "I'm the good guy, actually" narrative. Or just his general reaction.

this is a FABULOUS question, thank you!

Daylight! Rhys is, in my opinion, the closest to a canonical (pre-acosf) character representation that I go for. He's so SO fucked up, and sublimating and burying all that trauma has, of course, failed, and it's all manifesting, in all these different directions.

To understand the level on which Rhys is losing his shit, it's important to go back to the very beginning: Rhysand, to Rhysand, is always, always the hero of the story. The down on his luck knight with truth in his heart. The struggling, just man.

He CANNOT seeing beyond himself for even a second. He casts himself in the most important role, as the only person whose personal consequences exist.

His mother, at probable great risk, takes him to Illyria to be trained- the precious, first-born, godly son of Night. To learn to fight- to learn, presumably, her culture- to see what that culture is reduced to, a harshness he will on day have the power to change. Rhys had to be, at some point, a great hope for Not High Fae denizens of the Court.

What does Rhysie learn? Illyria is harsh. Illyria is bad. Backwards and cruel.

He hates his father for...presumably, the crime of being a pretty traditional High Lord? Rhys hates the cruelties! the Court of Nightmares! the broken system!

So what does Rhys do when he has power? he fires everyone. He doesn't like them, he doesn't like whatever they did under his father...so instead of hiring new people, he removes himself entirely from a potential role in changing/mitigating those policies. See also: the Court of Nightmares, cowed occasionally, but not in any way governed by Rhys.

But he's the hero! He's destroyed the oppression! His Court of Just his Bros is made of women and Illyrians!

(Rhys removed the terribleness from his direct experience...because only his experiences matter)

So, Rhys in his head: the struggle, the hero, the man just trying to do it right.

Which brings us to Daylight....and Feyre. I know we can attribute the way the characters stop even remotely being sympathetic between acomaf and...everything else...to poor writing, but I also think there's some (maybe accidental but PERFECT) character work there: in acomaf, pre-acknowledged bond, Feyre is an important possession/ally- she's on the same level as the other members of the Court of Dreams, if the jewel of the collection, a high point in the story Rhys tells himself: HE saved the HERO OF PRYTHIAN

(which...let's not even touch on the fact that the deal he makes in acotar is CREEPY and he can only justify it later. she wasn't someone he wanted to work with in acotar- she was a vulnerable, hot young woman he fully took advantage of)

And then they're mates.

And then, slowly but surely, Feyre's personhood disappears. For two reasons: 1) Feyre is on a pedestal so sky-high it blots out everything. Good, pure, true hero Feyre whose adoration Rhysand needs like air. the happy end of his story, the prize and the salvation, the one who sees him.

and 2) ultimately, to Rhys, Feyre is an extension of him. A symbol: his happiness, his peace, his endless power, what he fought to keep.

She's his whole anchor staying sane, which isn't great, considering...ya know, everything. But the Story is Over. They are Happy.

Except- except- nothing is over. Post fifty straight years of torture, a freefall into war and fuckery, teen marriage and literal death, the consequences for all those things AND THE SHIT RHYS WAS PULLING LONG BEFORE AMARANTHA TURNED HIM INTO A CHEW TOY, are still present.

But now, he has something to protect. His golden future. His puppy Mate.

Because Feyre's safety is the safety of his power and vice versa. Anything he does is justifiable because the loss of Feyre is Not an Option. She is Happy. They Are Happy.

It bleeds into everything- and then it intensifies, because this is the breaking point.

The Az/Lucien thing and Feyre incredibly hurtful blindness? No Rhys isn't going to interfere- Az is so private anyway- if Feyre believes its a romantic bond, Feyre is right, she knows her sister, not that it matters because Elain is totally out of her mind.

Sending Cassian to Illyria? Illyria is a backwards shithole right? They're fierce fighters and that's what Rhys values them for- as the hammer of his power- and nothing else? why would there be anything else? Look at them fighting and hurting each other.

Nesta runs and Cassian is left throwing himself in battles actively trying to die and Rhys? Rhys is totally smug. A problem that hurt Feyre and his brother is GONE.

But it's not gone. Az isn't talking to anyone- and Rhys thinks this probably means Lucien is probably, finally fucking him- but even Feyre understands that Azriel knows where Nesta is. When this is proved (when Elain surfaces and they have the very fun kitchen fight) Rhys isn't happy- but he understands. Azriel has always felt responsible for broken things.

But thats not his job, it's Rhysands job, and Rhys has already made that tough choice for the safety of his own: Nesta has no place here. When she resurfaces inevitably, broke and wanting something, Rhys will stop her before she gets close enough to upset (hurt) Feyre. It's his job.

Cassian goes missing, and Rhysand sets upon what will become his eventual move: Illyria's value is strength. (a martial strength that belongs to RHYS). But they think they can take from him? They can destroy their own best chance? (Rhys recognizes Cassian's value to Illyria even while, you know, ordering him to slaughter Illyrians) They would threaten his power? hurt his family?

Rhys will not allow a world to exist where Feyre can be hurt.

If Illyria can't be controlled, Illyria will be put down, like the rabid creatures they are. (They were always backwards, Rhys thinks. Freeing my mother was the one good thing my father ever did)

But Cassian lives.

Rhys asks Azriel if he's been cursed. Az laughs in his face.

And Cassian is a terrible enemy to have. The strategies the loyalists are using? His, filtered through Rhys. The magical contingencies? Cassian and Az, trying to prevent bloodshed.

Feyre thinks, for a long time, that maybe the rebels have Nesta. What else could compel Cassian to even care? these people keep trying to kill him. they want to kill Rhys. the brothers suffered in the frozen mud at the hands of these monsters, what is Cassian doing?

And then the massacre happens.

And Feyre sick to her stomach, cries when she hears. Rhysand thinks about a little hazel eyed boy who'd never had a bed, a present, who'd been nothing until Rhysand plucked him up- a little boy who'd grown into a dangerous man, who'd just killed every person who ever contributed to his pain. Rhys thinks, knowing he'll have to punish Cassian for this, that it's over.

The camp lords are dead, it has to be over.

(Azriel hears and understands- because he knows damn well Cassian was something before Rhysand, and after despite him. That beneath those repeatedly broken ribs is a heart that was once so big so save him, grown strong enough now to save everyone who was like them: forgotten, abandoned, used.)

It's not over. The mountains are burning. Banners fly on northern wind in a language long dead. They're singing, the spies say, they call him dawn. Loyal-heart-as-dawn.

It's Cassians name. Not that Rhys, who never knew more than a few vile insults in the language of his mother's ancient, proud people, understood it then.

Rhysand, the long-suffering hero of his own story, has been betrayed.

He can risk no more- it's time to end this madness. It's Feyre's idea to use Elain- it's Feyre who is left crying, a betrayal Rhysand will never forget- when Elain, who they've given everything, Elain, perhaps just as broken and wretched as her eldest sister, refuses to help keep Feyre safe.

(Elain refuses to participate in what she sees as genocide, but as we've established, what consequences exist? the ones Rhys feels right in front of his face)

Azriel, Elain, and Lucien run.

Of course, if both Feyre's sisters are capable of betraying her, of course, both of Rhysand's brothers would as well. They are one in the same, aren't they? Marked by destiny, by fate for this hard and terrible work- of course it hurts. Of course- but Rhysand will stop it from hurting Feyre any more.

There's one force in the world that can stand in truth against Illyria. The Darkbringers- their ancestral, ancient conquers.

(Yes, I do think Rhys knows the shitty, shitty history of his court! He just doesn't care! He didn't do it. He's different. He's in Velaris with the common people. He has wings. He's not his father.)

(He is, in fact, far worse)

When he thinks of it, it seems perfect. Illyria will be destroyed- a loss, but a safe one. Keir, will, almost certainly, also be destroyed or at least critically weakened.

Rhysand will stand alone, the man who was willing to do anything for peace. He will rule over an emptied playing field, secure in a world where Feyre is safe.

The Hewn City empties, the armies march- Rhysand holds tight Feyre's hand, says nothing about the fact that nothing, nothing, will stop Keir from killing anyone in front of him when battle starts, and reaches once more for Cassian's mind.

His brother, his friend, his loyal right hand- he begs him to come back. To come home. That they can put down this rebellion and in his love for Cassian everything can go back to how it is meant to be, all of them together.

It does not occur to him to address the hundreds dead. The system he was complicit in and responsible for that ground a culture to dust and ash- what matters is brother against brother should never have turned, and Rhys, in his kindness, will offer Cassian this last chance for honor.

Rhys doesn't want Cassian to die- he wants Cassian by his side- but he will drown the world in blood before he'll lose his crown and hope and Feyre.

And when Cassian dies, falling to the earth in Rhysand's arms, Rhys thinks of penance.

A circle closed.

But of course- Cassian wakes. Death is not done with her right hand anymore than the contract between Lordship and land in immutable. Cassian brought the magic back, brought Illyria back.

Rhys is fighting for something personal- Cassian is fighting for a whole world and future, with everything in himself.

When the new border is drawn, Rhys doesn't despair- sure he's shaking, he's covered in Cassian's blood, his twelve thousand year old walls are smoking and the whole world smells like fucking Nesta Archeron- he's been the victim of curses before.

He won't let it keep him down. He'll be fine. He has Feyre, they're safe. Illyria is going to implode- and maybe, maybe, he'll save some of those that remain when the violence is too much, when they need a real High Lord.

They'll come home. Just like Feyre's sisters will. Rhysand's brothers. They fought for peace and Velaris has it- it is their home.

It's what they fought for, the happy ending, and it's all worth it.

It has to be worth it.

#Rhys is deadset a huge narcissist #and in the middle of a breakdown the entirety of daylight #he's SO HURT #But's turning all that hurt into anger #and an even stricter paranoia #its all catching up to him #everything from imperialism #to the shitty way he treated his friends #to the Winter Massacre that yes was absolutely him #this is more of a Shoreless Concept but all of feysand can be summed up #by Feyre making teary BUT WE'RE FAMILY demands and Rhys immediately committing a literal warcrime #and like #I do think Rhys hates himself too #but for wildly the wrong reasons #and never more or in a real way that overcomes how much he thinks everything he does is right #Cassian's death was a cost to them #as Nesta tells Feyre: what's done cannot be undone. Rhys chose wrong #the truly bonkers Rhys thing in canon #will always be that he's both represented as Most Powerful Ever #and the wrongly ignored underdog #when in fact he throws around power constantly for petty shitty reasons

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favefandomimagines · 4 years ago

Text

The Girl He Told Her Not To Worry About (j.m.)

Summary: the rumor mill is in full swing on the outer banks.

AN: took a quick break from soul surfer and decided to post something i’ve had in my drafts for a hot minute. i promise chapter 8 is coming soon!! xx

The Outer Banks never felt like a small island to most. It certainly didn’t to the Pogues 90% of the time. And it didn’t to you either.

As a Kook, it was normal to feel like the Outer Banks was keeping you from living a fabulous adventure. But everyday was an adventure to you when you were with your friends and your spontaneous boyfriend.

You had known John B, Pope and JJ as long as you’ve known Kiara. You, her and Sarah Cameron were all friends once upon a time. But then battle lines were drawn and you were forced to pick a side. And that side was Sarah’s. But you always loved Kiara and soon your friendship was rekindled. Way sooner than hers and Sarah’s.

However, when it comes to rumors, the Outer Banks was the smallest of towns. Rumors and information spread like wildfire amongst Figure 8 and the Cut. Which is how you and Sarah ended up storming to the Chateau, a fire in your eyes as all you saw was red.

Half of your ‘friends’ have been texting you all day, sending you the same picture that had somehow started circulating around the island. A picture of JJ and Kiara kissing each other on the beach at night.

Of course you were sad. You were devastated. But your anger took over your sadness for just a short while. Sarah was just as angry because why hadn’t John B put a stop do this? Did John B even know? She thought Kiara was different but she was being proved wrong.

The two of you entered the small home to see the Pogues all sitting on the couch. “Hey, baby, I didn’t know you were-” JJ started before you cut him. “Shut up, JJ.” You sneered. “What?” He questioned, taken aback by your tone.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Seriously, do I look that dumb to you?” You snapped. “Find out what?” Kiara asked. “That you’re a backstabbing bitch, Kiara.” You yelled.

No one had ever heard you call Kiara by her real name. She was always Kie to you and you always found it weird whenever someone except for her parents called her Kiara.

“Whoa what are you talking about, Y/N?” John B asked. “They’ve been screwing around behind my back. All the times you both were coincidentally busy at the same time. Kiara was no where to be found and JJ was AWOL.” You answered. “Half of the fucking island got that stupid picture of the two of you.” You added.

John B and Pope looked at their two friends, both surprised at what they were hearing.

“Was this payback for Sarah’s stupid birthday party? You thought now I was friends with your friends good payback would be to sleep with my boyfriend?” You questioned. “No,” Kiara started, not knowing where you were getting this information from.

“Y/N,” JJ started trying to reach out for you. “You told me I had nothing to worry about.” You told him. By that point, once you looked at him, the anger had completely melted away. “I-I came to you, worried out of my mind about you and her and you told me I didn’t have to worry. That you were just friends. You are a liar. Because this picture looks like a little more than friends to me.” You finished, the tears rolling down your cheeks as you shoved the printed off picture into his chest.

Sarah walked over to you and grabbed your hand pulling you towards the door. “Please, Y/N.” JJ begged. “Please just stay away from me.” You cried before Sarah pulled you away from the scene.

The Chateau fell silent, no one being able to find the words to break the silence.

JJ slowly looked down at the picture in his hands and furrowed his eyebrows. “What is it?” Pope asked. “This picture is from two years ago. That time we got too drunk and kissed thinking we’d like it. Before the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule.” JJ explained.

“And Y/N wouldn’t know that because she was still hanging around with the Kooks.” John B assumed. “Who would do this?” Kiara asked. Clearly she was distraught that her best friend thought she was sleeping with her boyfriend.

After about a week of radio silence from both you and Sarah, the Pogues decided to make the trip to Figure 8 and try to get the story from Sarah. Sarah was closest to you out of the group so they knew she’d have more of an answer.

JJ was a mess. The way you looked at him before you left was something he wished he could get out of his head. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you and yet he did without even having done anything. He told himself he’d never hurt you the second you agreed to be his girlfriend. He didn’t want to end up like his dad.

They arrived at Tanny Hill, all of them clearly feeling out of place. They knocked on the door and were met by the infamous figure of Rafe Cameron.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked. “Where’s Sarah?” John B asked. “Upstairs. Oh and uh, I heard about you and Y/N, Maybank. You’re dumber than I thought.” He answered.

JJ clenched his jaw before John B pushed past him. “Tell Y/N I say hi.” Rafe called. The group marched up the stairs and followed John B in the direction of Sarah’s room.

John B knocked and heard Sarah instruct them to come in. “What are you guys doing here?” She asked crossing her arms over her chest. “The picture of JJ and Kie is old. From two years ago. I don’t know who got it or who sent it around but we think they did it to hurt Y/N.” Pope explained.

“You better be 100% positive. You didn’t see her face when she got that text. I’ve known her for 10 years and never once have I seen her look so, broken.” Sarah said. “What did she say?” JJ finally spoke.

Sarah looked at him before answering. “Nothing. She didn’t say anything. She just cried.” She answered. JJ closed his eyes momentarily, hating himself even more for not making more of an effort to set the record straight.

“I should’ve tried harder.” He spoke. “She wouldn’t think I cheated on her if I would’ve tried harder to explain to her what really happened.” He added. “You know how she gets. Once she hears one thing no amount of proof can prove otherwise. Like anytime she brings up a conspiracy theory.” John B told him.

“She’s at the beach. Teaching surfing lessons. If you really wanna set the record straight, you’ll find her there.” Sarah said.

JJ took Sarah’s advice and headed to the beach shortly after the group left Tanny Hill.

You were just about done with teaching surfing lessons. You were rewaxing your board for your day off tomorrow when you felt like someone was staring at you.

JJ spotted you kneeling in the sand, wind blowing your hair to one side, still in your swimsuit as you waxed your surfboard. You looked up and made eye contact with him which you quickly regretted and he could tell.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked towards you. You could sense he was approaching you which was why you didn’t bother to stop your task.

“Hey.” He started. You barely looked up at him but stopped waxing the board. “There has clearly been a huge misunderstanding. That picture you got sent was from two years ago.” JJ said. “Before I met you and way before we even started dating. Kie and I were really drunk and we thought we would see what it felt like to kiss and it was wrong and weird and it felt like I was kissing a relative. I don’t know who sent you that picture or why they’d want to do that, but I would never cheat on you. The last thing I could ever think about doing is cheating on you. I love you too much to do that.” He finished.

You were silent and listened to what he had to say before you stood up. JJ wanted to be serious so he did his best not to let his eyes wander your figure.

“Do you swear to me it was an old photo? This isn’t just you covering your ass?” You questioned. “I swear. On everything good in my life, I swear that it’s an old picture.” He answered.

You nodded your head slowly and looked up at him. “I’m sorry for what I said. Calling you a liar. You’ve never lied to me before. Except for that time when you told me you saw a shark just to freak me out.” You said.

JJ laughed lightly as he took your hands. “You know I love you right?” He asked. “I love you too.” You replied.

“Can I kiss you now? Not being able to do that has been the worst form of torture on the planet.” JJ asked.

You laughed at him before practically launching yourself at him and pressed your lips against his.

#imagine #imagines #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #kiara carrera #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rudy pankow #john b routledge #sarah cameron #pope heyward #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow imagine

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Note

I literally found this blog recently and it’s awesome! But for your alternative ending, I was wondering what would everyone’s reactions be of Marinette missing for 5 months, to fighting her?

I honestly wasn’t really sure what this ask was asking for. I ended up writing their feelings about her going missing and seeing her for the first time in months. Sorry if this wasn’t what you wanted :(

(Also, thank you!!)

First part

Second part

Next part

@solangelo252 asked to be tagged

Everyone ready? Let’s go!

Dick

Dick is the one who has to stay strong for the family. He’s always been aware of that. It’s fitting that the guy whose biological family died due to their lack of safety net as trapeze artists ended up being the emotional safety net for his adoptive family. He is always there with his calm smiles, his bad puns, his warm hugs.

… that being said, who was to be his safety net? Marinette had served that purpose as of late; many hours had been spent in a rented out gymnasium, stretching and venting about their problems. It was the closest he’d come to a give-and-take relationship emotionally since his parents had been alive.

But now Marinette was missing. How was he supposed to vent about his anxieties about the fact that she was missing when she wasn’t there to vent to? Could he somehow vent to himself?

No. But he had to stay strong. His family needed him to. Without the Grayson safety net, his family would fall into early graves yet again.

So, he’d pull on that perfect smile of his and get to work. He’d force everyone to eat and sleep, he’d go out on patrols and make sure no one broke The Rule or too many bones, he’d make sure they didn’t close themselves off emotionally, he’d remind them they weren’t at fault, he’d listen to their problems, give them advice, hug them, help them, help them help them helpthemhelpthemhelpthem --.

Days stretched endlessly but weeks whizzed by.

And then Marinette was there.

His eyes had landed on her and he almost couldn’t believe it. Maybe he’d finally snapped. He’d held in his emotions, his grief and his guilt and his anger, and he’d held them in too long. And now he was hallucinating her. Now his mind had created a new her.

Maybe he actually could vent to himself now.

But then he’d glanced at everyone else and found that they’d stopped walking, too. That their eyes were still glued on that one spot. That they could see her and she was there. She was really there.

Emotions bubbled in his throat and tears stung his eyes and she was there.

“Mari?” His broken voice broke through the silence.

She brought a hand up to rest over her heart, almost as if she wasn’t quite sure he was talking to her despite him using her name.

Jason spoke next. “Is that really you?”

“Maybe,” she’d said, a bitter smile stretching across her face.

But Dick didn’t care about the warning signs, about the new demeanor, about anything because she was THERE.

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt. Held him back. He hadn’t even realized he’d been moving towards her, but that didn’t matter to him. Because now he couldn’t reach her.

His gaze fell on Tim and his brother had better have a good explanation.

“You’re pale,” Tim pointed out, blue eyes never leaving hers.

She giggled a little, but it was a broken sound. It was the kind of laugh a person made when they were trying their hardest not to cry.

“Yeah. Lack of sunlight and chemical baths do that.”

Tim’s grip on his shirt had lessened but it wasn’t necessary at all anymore. Instead, an icy hand clutched his heart and held him there.

Because now he could take in the chill in the room despite the roaring fire under where Marinette had perched herself. The way her eyes were now a dull blue instead of the almost unnaturally bright shade they usually were.

He hadn’t been around to be her safety net, and now the Marinette he knew was dead and gone. He was staring at what was essentially Marinette’s corpse. She even had the pale, bloodless skin of one.

He’d failed her, and he had already learned that there’s nothing that can be done when someone’s already hit the ground.

Jason

It was his job to keep her safe, and yet he couldn’t do that. She’d been captured by the Rogues. It was possible she’d never come back. If she did come back she wouldn’t ever be the same.

And it was his fault.

He should have tried harder to get her to stop. Made her take a break when she’d accidentally killed that man in the convenience store. He’d killed before, he’d KNOWN how that would affect a person. He’d seen how distracted she’d been the previous few days, seen the cracks. He should have seen this coming. He should have benched her when he’d had the chance.

And now his protege -- his SISTER -- had been captured by the Rogues and who knew what kind of horrors she was facing at that moment.

Because they weren’t going to kill her. The Rogues were never that merciful, and especially not when they’d been slighted.

Marinette had betrayed them, had been sent in to pretend to be their friend and gather information and sabotage some plans. Rogues were many things, but they weren’t ones to fake being friends. They all knew their real standings with each other, their real opinions of each other, for good and for bad. No, to them, she was a heartless monster.

And they were going to make sure she paid dearly.

“Is that really you?” He asked, though he knew what the answer would be. There was no way she could still be the same her after what she must have endured.

And she’d said “Maybe”.

And, though he’d expected it, the confirmation and the way her voice had cracked just slightly on the word had made it all the more real.

“You’re pale,” Tim pointed out.

Oh god, he was right. She looked so much like…

“Yeah. Lack of sunlight and chemical baths do that.”

Jason’s heart clenched at the words ‘chemical baths’. Because he knew what that meant. He may not have been there for when Tim had become Joker Jr., but he hadn’t needed to be in order to know just how completely fucked she had to be. He’d heard about the weeks of torture he’d endured before Batman and Batgirl had found it. Seen the way his younger brother still tensed slightly upon seeing Joker or Harley.

Five months. Marinette hadn’t been gone for a few weeks like he had. She’d been gone for five months. If that was what he was like in less than a month, then what about her?

He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let go, to never let HER go again, to make sure she’d never come to harm.

But one thing was stopping him.

Because he remembered what Joker Jr. had been created to do. What she must have been forced to do.

And he could see how much she hated it. In the lines in her forehead, in the slump of her shoulders, in the sad smile playing across her lips.

But she was doing it. She felt like she had to do it thanks to whatever she’d endured.

She wasn’t meant for murder. She especially wouldn’t do well with murdering someone she had once cared for. Whatever pieces of her old self that remained would crumble to dust until she would be completely unrecognizable. Completely broken.

He’d failed her, she’d been hurt, and he was going to have to hurt her more in order to keep her from hurting herself.

Tim

You’d think that it would be easy to figure out where she was. After all, these were the biggest Rogues in Gotham. Surely, they couldn’t hide out for long without people noticing them.

But no.

Nothing. Common henchmen were out of jobs, competitors were encroaching on their territories, allies called for help… and yet they refused to make an appearance. It seemed the Rogues had just grabbed Marinette and gone off-world.

A painful memory kept replaying in his mind. Taunting him.

The two of them had been sitting on a park bench on one of their many not-exactly-a-date-but-yeah-it’s-basically-a-date things that they loved to go on.

He remembered her in the Red Robin themed hoodie. The brilliant smile she’d given him. The twinkle in her eyes. The teasing lilt to her voice as she explained why he was her favorite hero:

‘Of course! He’s super smart! I mean, I know Batman is supposed to be the greatest detective of all time or whatever but, considering ages and experience, I think that Red Robin is probably going to have him beat in… I don’t know, a few years?’

She’d been laying it on thick, he knew, she’d been aware of his identity by then and was doing it to fluster him… but he could tell she wasn’t lying. Even if that was more blunt than she tended to be, it was still what she really thought of him.

The memory used to make him blush. Now, it hurt.

He downed his third cup of coffee at the hour, eyes locked on the screen in front of him. There had to be SOMETHING. There was always something.

And, yet, there wasn’t. The place she’d been taken had clearly been prepped for her kidnapping. There was hardly any blood anywhere outside of a bit on the wall where she must have hit it, someone must have set up a tarp or something. The only things they could find were the broken pieces of her comm and two ears. Forensics confirmed they were hers; the earrings they normally bore were missing, but they could hardly care about that when the first -- and likely tamest -- thing they’d done was cut off her ears.

That was it. There were footprints, sure, but they got lost in the millions of footprints on the streets of Gotham.

He threw his empty mug across the cave, but when it splintered on the ground he didn’t feel any better. It didn’t help him find her.

The moment his eyes landed on her, he knew.

He could recognize that look anywhere. Bleached-white skin, cherry-red lips… her usual pigtails had been raised in an imitation of Harley’s signature look...

Just like Tim had been Joker Jr., she was now Harley Jr.

Part of him wanted to assure her that she would be fine, that he was living proof that she would be okay again eventually. The other part knew that it was a lie, that she, just like him, would likely never be fully ‘okay’ ever again.

He blinked away the tears threatening to spill over.

He should not have allowed Dick to make him sleep, should have widened the scope of his search, he should have simply done so much more than he had.

No mystery was completely unsolvable. He had to have missed something.

He’d failed her, and now she was paying the price for his shortcomings.

Damian

Mother had taught him that relationships were a liability. They made you weak. They made you lose.

Father and Richard had taught him that relationships were tricky, but they were worth having.

But, if relationships were worth having, why did they cause him so much pain?

First Father had died. Then Richard had ‘died’.

Those had been temporary, at least. He had started to have difficulty feeling sad when people died. There had been three deaths in the family since he’d joined including his own, and they always came back within a few months. It had started to feel like the Wayne family was untouchable.

Then Alfred had been killed brutally by Bane. Even now, years later, he had yet to make a miraculous reappearance.

So, no, they weren’t untouchable.

They were assuming she was alive, that the Rogues were keeping her around for some big thing. But, as time stretched on with no progress or proof that she was even alive, he started to lose hope. Why were they so quiet? What were they planning? Had those plans gone awry? The Rogues could never match him on impulse control, so something might have happened…

He told himself it didn’t matter if she was alright or not. He knew it was a lie.

Despite their rocky start, he’d found himself attaching to her far faster than he should have. He was regretting it now. Maybe he should have put a distance between them, maybe then this wouldn’t have hurt so much.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. It was the little things that seemed to hurt the most. The smell of coffee or baked goods, the place where she’d scratched her initials into a chair to claim it as hers, even the color red...

It was making it hard, if he were to be honest, to fight properly. He was constantly distracted. His mother had been right, his attachment to her was making him weak.

Not to mention the ring on his finger... He couldn’t bring himself to transform, not without his partner. Part of him wanted to tear it off his finger, to toss it off a pier and get rid of the constant reminder that she was gone, but he couldn’t.

It was all he had left of her, after all.

“Is that really you?”

��Maybe.”

No. The answer was no. He could see it in her eyes. Whoever was in front of them, they weren’t Marinette anymore. Not really.

“You’re pale.”

“Yeah. Lack of sunlight and chemical baths tend to do that.”

He clenched his fists tightly. The ring dug into his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

After all, he wasn’t stupid. He was aware of what had happened to Drake during his tenure as Robin. He knew what he’d been forced to do, and he was sure she was there to finish the job.

He readied himself for a fight.

He’d failed her, yes, but he couldn’t afford to lose another person.

#marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #maribat #alternate ending #alternative ending #shit's been Happening in my life recently so this fic may get updated again soon oof #joker #harley quinn #harley quinzel #tim drake #red robin #timinette #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin

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sevenofsorts · 3 years ago

Text

Monday:

She’s started baking again. The other members of the Syndicate drop by sometimes to taste-test her recipes, and she shows them the progress she’s made in the construction of her underground city. They compliment the flower paths outside the city, the bridges and floating lanterns and the gorgeous high ceilings and furnishings within, the little subterranean forest and the waterfall, the decorations and details that make the cavernous space cozy. They see what she’s built and they praise her for it and it is exhilarating. She’s grown stronger day by day with the Syndicate in her corner; they pull her up to stand on equal footing with them, and when she expresses her concerns, they listen.

There are days, however, when she can’t bring herself to bake; on those days the heat of the furnace crawls uncomfortably against her skin and the knife block rattles in the corner with each item she sets down on the countertop. On those days she’ll climb. Buildings, mountains, trees—anything that’ll get her to a height where her lungs strain from lack of oxygen and the ringing in her head eases. She jumps, sometimes. They don’t know she does this. They don’t need to know; she’s strong enough to deal with that herself.

Yesterday was their leader’s birthday, and she’d left the party with leftover cake and cookies and brioche. Today is a good day; maybe she’ll share the cookies with Jack.

—

Tuesday:

He’s called the harbinger, the omen, the angel of death. Crows perform at his bidding and the great, lumbering bears of the north shake the ground as he directs them. He emerges from impossible battles with nary a scratch on his body. People across the earth have speculated that he’s a demon, or contracted with a demon, or one of the acolytes of the Blood God like the Blade. He likes to collect these epithets and rumors; when his crows perch on his shoulder to recount the news of the land or messages from his allies they update him on the tales they tell of the angel. They’re all wrong, in the end. Death herself graced him with her favor long ago to act as her representative on the mortal plane.

She’s been dormant recently; her absences had never affected him so strongly before, but ever since he’s entered this land, he’s felt weaker, more fragile. He watched his son destroy the country he founded with a haze across his vision, and then he killed his own son, and the act of it didn’t register until days later. Months fly by in a blur and the only person who can enforce any sort of focus is the Blade and so that simmering anger became his own and it fed into his own pain. There was something rotting in the land and it killed his son and he felt it his duty to purge it with the same TNT that destroyed his wings. He doesn’t regret it.

Today, he finds some measure of peace in building his training room. His son is back and everything is not-quite-broken and his body still aches.

—

Wednesday:

There are too many variables, too many uncertainties. He’s placed his fingerprints on too many projects and lives, and the guilt of his cooperation and his associations claws at his lungs. Dream, neutrality in the midst of war, Dream and his prison and the damned prison rules, Quackity, Las Nevadas. He doesn’t know what he considers his worst fuck-up: Tommy’s death, the torture he’d permitted in his collaboration with Las Nevadas, his betrayal of Ponk’s love and trust, or his inability to save anyone during the banquet.

The hotel stands as a testament to his failure to protect the youngest resident of the land. He plans detours around that plot whenever he travels between the bank and the prison; the little robot stationed by the hotel tells him the boy doesn’t come by anymore, and he knows automatons don’t feel emotions, but he grieves for it anyway. He sees his valentine walking along the wooden pathways and his heart aches to see the damage he had caused. He checks the prison’s security footage and he tells himself guilt has no place in his heart for what happened. He’s surprised the captain and the god and all the rest of the banquet victims still talk to him. But they do, and it gives him hope. His friends are back and free and even though one of them is trying to start a little scuffle with a god, today he’s having fun throwing weednip around and sliding down the pyramid with his closest friends.

The present’s a gift, and he intends on cherishing this moment.

—

Thursday:

He’s building a pub because Wilbur owes him a pint. He knows that man can’t be completely trusted, not now. Not since he died by his crossbow. But it feels good to be acknowledged as someone worth an apology, someone important. He has been abandoned and pushed aside and pushed into lava pits and into hell all within the span of a few months. No one cared. He hates it, he hates the way he’s been made irrelevant and a shadow of his friends’ stories. Even his plans for revenge had been inconsequential, unfruitful: the boy had lived and his accomplice had left him to brood in his own anger.

He’s held his grudges close to his heart and he’s let them fester and he won’t admit he’s tired of it all. If he lets go, then it all disappears and he’s really, truly dead, and if this is his afterlife, if all he can do is lag after the people he cares for, then it’s a fucking shit deal. So today, he’s continuing his work on the pub because he burned down his own home and because the hotel feels too sterile and empty, because he wants to have a space built with his own two hands where he can speak and someone will finally, finally listen. It’s not quite moving on. He’ll take it anyway.

—

Friday:

She tries to live by the code of kindness and reciprocity; that’s how she lived on the high seas of her youth, or so she suspects, based on the journal she found at the site of the shipwreck. Since the day she joined this land, she has made friends and found love and taken the young residents under her wing and vowed to fight against evil. She gives stacks of items to those who need them and she fixes up the holes in the road and offers therapy on difficult days.

The world isn’t as kind as she is. A country was erased from the map for grudges she still doesn’t understand, and no one will tell her the why discs, of all things, are so important. Two boys would have lost their lives to a monster she housed, had it not been for the money Tommy paid a mercenary for his aid. She mourned the loss of Tommy’s life as she fought to keep the hotel in his name, and when he requested therapy upon his resurrection, she was horrified at the effects of trauma he’d exhibited. The friends she’d tried to pull out of the Egg’s influence celebrated a young boy’s death and killed her son. And now this man has taken her friend’s turtle hostage for no reason she can comprehend.

She’s tired. She’s breaking; they’d presumed her kindness was a weakness and maybe it is. Today, she plans on destroying the red menace on the edge of her son’s land. It’s her turn.

—

Saturday:

He’s not sure how many sandstone blocks he’s carved out of the desert at this point, nor how many quartz chips and gold nuggets he’s pulled out of the Netherworld. The villagers know him by name and chat with him when he stops by to trade for emeralds and other goods. His hands bleed gold ichor from the opened blisters dotting his hands, and burns line the edges of his fingertips. Lately, his whole world is rushing by in colors of beige and yellow, green and white and blue. The color red started it, the scramble to build more and more—and it stopped it too, if only for a little while. Ponk asked him for permission to build on his land, told him it was a gift: a peace offering and an apology and a new beginning. It’s a silly build and it doesn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of his summer home, but it warmed his heart, to see the giant red refrigerator rising up from the top of the sand dunes for the first time. Ponk built it just for him. Quackity told him he was alone, and that he didn’t matter if he didn’t assert his powers like he did in the past, and he was wrong. Ponk stays, loves him for who he is now and not for the destruction he wrought.

He doesn’t know what to do now; his father destroyed the build for some grudge she holds against his friend, and he’s exhausted. He’s tired of being pulled into conflict. A vacation from all the tension occurring on his land would not be unwarranted, at this point—a few days, a week. It sounds relaxing—and he’ll do it, he’ll take a vacation, and he’ll tell Ponk that he’s in charge of the summer home later today. He has some packing to do.

—

Sunday:

He likes to splash around the pools and fountains in Las Nevadas when he has to visit. Sometimes he’ll climb up the needle and lean on the bannisters to feel the fresh air ruffling his hair and he thinks about jumping—the air turns hot and stale and the ground burbles up in orange and red—but his brother pulls him out of it, usually. Otherwise the place is boring. He’s not allowed in the gambling den or the club, so he hovers around the forests away from Las Nevadas when Wilbur and Quackity want to speak alone.

Today is one of those days. It’s fine by him; dealing with the two of them together makes him uncomfortable, with the way they push and pull him to their sides. The cigarette smoke lingering on their breaths remind him of the ravine, the explosions from the first war-second -Logstedshire-doomsday-nukes-prison. He’s escaped, for now. The air of the forest is crisp; he can spot flowers in the meadow ahead and he plucks them to form a careless bouquet. Alliums, lilies-of-the-valley, daisies; poppies and cornflowers and dandelions. He threads them together to form crowns and rings, places one on his head and cradles the rest to his chest to stash at home. It’s been a while since he’s made them; before he moved to this land he’d make them for his brother and his brother’s father, the dogs and cows and sheep around the farm. He feels like a child again and his lips twist at the bittersweetness. He’s found himself a bubble and soon Wilbur will barge his way in to speak of his loyalties and Dream and whatever the fuck he’s stormed up with Quackity, but for now, he’ll pick flowers and make chains and chains and chains that, for once, won’t drag him down.

—

Monday’s child is fair of face.

Tuesday’s child is full of grace.

Wednesday’s child is full of woe.

Thursday’s child has far to go.

Fridays’ child is loving and giving.

Saturday’s child works hard for a living.

And the child born on the Sabbath day is bonny and blithe, good and gay.

#again not accurate to the cc's story i just wanted to write something #based on the nursery rhyme but with twists #dsmp #nihachu #philza #awesamdude #jack manifold #captain puffy #foolish gamers #tommyinnit

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

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Overall thoughts on V8? Assuming you didn't answer this already.

I meant to do a volume wrap up review but I got incredibly busy and it fell to the waste side. The thing about me judging RWBY I have to come at it from two angles or I won’t feel like I judged it appropriately. There’s the casual, first time seeing the episodes and seeing this through the lens as a casual watcher who probably only sees the episodes once or twice. But then there’s the other side to that coin. I review these episodes, write aus, theorize, check extended lore, listen to the music, etc; that means I have to go back and watch episodes several times for any given reason and that’s when you start noticing the holes or picking up on things you didn’t before.

As a casual watcher, I’d give this an 8/10. There’s plenty of moments where characters do things that got me excited and plot points I wanted explored. This volume actually gave a decent amount of things I wanted for quite some time and some things I didn’t know I needed. Certainly there are things I don’t like in this but I’m open and curious to see where RT takes their storie because it’s their story.

Okay, now as a someone who’s had to deep dive and take a step back multiple times for a variety of reasons. 6.5/10 maybe a 7/10 if I’m being generous. A lot of my problems with this volume are problems that aren’t new to RWBY and that’s just how surface layer portions of arcs are and how a variety of choices/bonds don’t exactly make sense with what we were previously shown, or they only make sense because the writers don’t want introduce other complexities even though they should be there realistically. I’ll give a couple examples of these and yes, I’m aware what I say doesn’t bother everyone but it bothers me.

Qrow was never angry at or brought up Robyn being the reason their airship crashed in the first place because she started the fight; which aids in Clover dying.

Emerald follows Cinder, not Salem. Even if Cinder is working under Salem, why would Emerald be so willingly to complete shift to the side that actively goes against Cinder? There’s been no grand revelation to make Emerald believe Cinder doesn’t give a damn about her. Leaving made sense because she was about to get tortured. Going full turncoat right now doesn’t. No change happened. Emerald always hated being near Salem but adored Cinder no matter the crimes and the show hasn’t done anything to switch that view point.

I’m happy Whitley and Weiss had a touching sibling moment that implies they’re okay and making/made up, but there was never a conversation about the actual problem and thoughts that had them at odds in the first place. Weiss saving his and Willow’s life shouldn’t be the thing that smooths things over. It would’ve been terrible if Weiss do something to save their life. Whitley helping Penny is okay I guess because he really had no reason to contribute but did anyways. Even so, a person doing a morally correct thing doesn’t automatically warrant the conflict between him and Weiss’s resolved.

We got Cinder’s backstory; it didn’t tell us anything about how she eventually came into contact with Salem. Honestly her back story felt more in line of her main goal through the series was an absolute freedom by the means of breaking down the systems that trapped and didn’t give a damn, rather than her quest for power. Yes you can argue gaining power means it’s easier to maintain her freedom to do whatever she wants but I personally think that’s a little off the mark when you gave her a story that involves her trapped by rules and time rather than being too physically weak to gain freedom.

This show has built up that the Schnee family has suffered various types of abuse because of Jacques and uses Weiss as a medium to build towards breaking free from that. Not just overcoming but confronting the abuse by cementing it’s place below you. We don’t really get that. There will never be a moment where the siblings and mother truly get to break out of Jacques grasps emotionally and then put him in his place because he’s dead! Yeah they never have to worry about him again but even last volume they showed Winter still having turmoil and being able to get strung along by him. We don’t even really know how Whitley perceived his father. It feels so lackluster. Then they care to mention how it’s Weiss’s idea to save him like it’s an empowering moment when in actuality, it would be against her character, values of a huntress, and morality to let a person die in cell when you’re the reason they’re in a cell! Letting him die in there would just terrible. I don’t even know why he wasn’t let out in that scene! He’s a coward! He’d follow their orders to save his skin. All he has to do is shut up and walk through a portal.

Ironwood and Oscar both knew they could remove that staff to use it and Atlas wouldn’t drop immediately. Why did nobody have any kind of compromise with one another since there’s nothing stopping them from using the staff for something and then putting it back? They had this morally gray thing going on which I liked but then they decided to make Ironwood go full evil. I’ve never had to say this before but the song he got in V7 and the character they made him be in V8 just don’t connect. I got upset listening to that song recently because I liked that Ironwood.

Clover’s importance. RT tried making a character who had no more than 9 minutes in the series and one meaningful line of dialogue into the cornerstone of a side plot. Clover is such a nothing character. Vine did more than Clover. They try to make him have such a profound impact to the people around him but we never see him bond with his team; Harriet specifically. We get one scene of Clover telling Qrow the kids are fortunate to have Qrow even if he doesn’t think so. First, I doubt Clover knows Qrow decided to get drunk in a ghost town and the kids nearly died and cellar while he did it so that compliment doesn’t hold much weight for me. Second, We see nothing meaningful between the two. V7 has a time skip and just expects viewers to be on board with Clover being this influential change on Qrow without showing anything outside of a witty remark and Clover flexing his semblance. I would’ve bought it more of Qrow almost relapsed and Clover stopped him then had a real meaningful conversation.

Ruby goes against Ironwood only to then want to do a plan that’s aligned to longer term thinking than even his, talks about how everyone should be working together, but then adds a part in her video to actively antagonize and vilify Ironwood. Afterwards, she wonders where everything went wrong and doesn’t think of a plan or do anything to immediately help either kingdom until the final hour between the ultimatum being made, to everything getting destroyed. The inciting incident was disagreeing Mantle should be left in favor of Atlas but the main character didn’t do anything to help Mantle 90% of the season and hindered Atlas’s safety up until the final plan.

Yang is used to be the devil’s advocate in a bunch of situations, but she’s wrong most of the time or her lines just don’t make any sense. They weren’t doing just fine before Atlas. They almost died every step of the way. The team didn’t beat a Leviathan; silver eyes and a robot take credit for that. Why would Blake think less of Yang for wanting to go save people immediately? Blake was never mad at anyone to begin with. Yang consistently calls out people for following orders as if it’s objectively wrong, but is never called out on the fact she hasn’t followed anybody’s orders but her own and added discourse to every situation. I get RT is making her ask questions because that’s what Raven told her to do, but all she’s really doing is picking fights and disobeying every order. Yang states to Ruby they accomplished more than they expected. That’s false, getting Oscar back is correcting a mistake caused by her own plan that she didn’t even complete.

It took 6 volumes before Yang had anything to do with the Summer Rose subplot again and 7 volumes before her and Ruby had a sister to sister conversations; 5 if you wanna count Yang telling Ruby to leave at the end of volume three. The reason I bring this up is because in V8 , they treat their argument as if it’s a big deal but then have every character say it wasn’t that big a deal; but then have two circle back to that conversation later after having neither character discuss to anybody that the argument actually did weigh on them. Yang doesn’t think about Ruby until she sees her again and the closest we get with Ruby is Blake reassuring her that people need her and how Blake admires her. I like that scene but it’s not the same as Ruby actually airing out the specific point that Yang said something that Ruby found hurtful. Vol8 in general people trying to comfort others but nobody ever actually addresses what made them uncomfortable to start with. Except Ren.

This one is a nitpicking but I’ll say it anyways. Penny getting hacked only served as a purpose to go to the vault, a thing Ironwood already wanted them to do. Nobody got her because she was hacked. You can’t even say her getting hacked is the leading factor to her actually dying because Penny became a vulnerable human afterwards that can’t be rebuilt. Pietro was gone, and already stated last volume he doesn’t have the aura to build Penny again. If she died as a robot then it’s still permanent death. No core, no Pietro, and no aura; hacking her was just to create a Hound reveal situation and make them go to the vault on a different set of terms. I’m not exactly upset with this, but I don’t understand why the extra steps. The Hound was hunting her anyways. I would’ve brought some kind of value if she hurt a friend and it caused them to potentially hinder the plan later on or remove them entirely. Penny could’ve rekt Yang and it only adds value to Yang getting one shot later. I don’t know. I’m rambling.

I think I’ve wasted enough people’s time. Honestly, I do like this volume. I’ve enjoyed a bunch of it. But there’s things that legitimately make me think it’s not as good others and makes V7 even worse.

#rwby #rwby volume 8 #ask me stuff

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queensdivas · 4 years ago

Text

Peonies Chapter 5

This took me a little longer than expected because school has me wrapped up in papers and research projects. Someone do this work for me so I can sleep since I haven’t slept well in nights!!!!!!

But anyway. This chapter was interesting to write and I hope that y’all enjoy!!!

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Damn him. Damn him damn him! Grabbing the closest random vase to chuck it against the wall. Me! Sleeping with Peter? I would rather die in a pile of shit that had smallpox than sleep with that moron! It’s been a day and I still find those words making my stomach curl! Maybe another vase? Ah these this naked porcelain statue. Chucking it against the wall as it finally made me feel a little better.

How did I allow one man to have such control over my emotions! To flood my mind, body, and soul as if he is a flash flood in the valley! I don’t even..I’m going to drive myself into a pit of never ending darkness. That damn man with those...beautiful blue pools of his eyes that sparkle in the sunlight. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes in my life. Those strong cheekbones that could cut someone with a knife.

FUCK!

Maybe write a letter..I imagine the family is missing me and I’ve only written two letters so far here. Father is probably worried that I’ve been converted to the Orthodox ways. (Well I’ve been breaking the laws of the catholic church but luckily these people are too busy with themselves). I sat down at my desk to begin thinking on how to send back a positive message when I’m dying on the inside.

Dear Father.

Remind me to never make allies with Russia if I ever become Queen of Italy. These people are uncultured, disgusting horny toads! It feels like I have walked into a brothel except they’re not a bunch of dirty poor people. Now it’s a vast amount of extremely broad people on the court.

I’m not asking for you to save me or come galavanting from the homeland to come save me. Catherine still needs a lot of help and it’s getting worse before it gets better. To think that I gave the Russians the benefit of the doubt because I knew Catherine would be a little sensitive to the whole situation. But this is just horrible. I literally witnessed the Emperor laying with someone in the middle of the hall!

This is definitely a reminder of what not to do when I become Duchess at least. No wild parties at court more than once a week, and no.

My chamber doors bursted open to see Marial storming in, closing the doors behind her. She turned her back and leaned against the door. A panic expression was written on her face as I was waiting for an explanation.

“Yes Marial?” Asking as I continued to work on my letter.

“We’ve got a problem?” I took a sip of my wine that I had sitting out with me.

“Don’t we always?”

“It’s Catherine.” Putting down the quill as I turned around in my chair to stare at her.

“Is Catherine alright?”

“Now that she's Leo , yes. But the ladies..they did something bad. Not extremely bad but bad.” Is this a situation where I should be extremely worried? Worried? Or just a pat on the shoulder should make her feel better.

“After we passed out the eggs to the ladies of the court, Lady Svenska invited her to the tea party she threw, they were in a dance and one of the ladies punched her in the noise and caused her nose blood.” No. NO! NOT WHILE I’M AROUND!

“Are they still at their dance?” Popping up from the chair as I walked over to my trunk.

“Yes. They will be for another hour or two.” Which means pastries and tea will be required. Did I bring it? I really thought I brought it YES!

“Please let Catherine know that I will be handling these women the way they should’ve been. Tossed back down to the station they truly belong in, not what they thought.” Ordering Marial as I rang my bell for Fernanda. She came in as I placed the bottle on the end of the desk.

“Yes M’Lady.”

“Did we bring tea dance attire?” Asking her as she nodded.

“Great. Get my full attire ready, I’m going to way these peasants.” AS before you know I hate wearing the wigs, corsets, layers of face paint, and the dress. But duty calls in this situation because no one lays a hand on my cousin!

Taking off my boots as I heard someone come running into my room as I waited to see who it was. Catherine slid in as I was still sitting there taking off my boots. If she thought she could talk me out of this then she’s surely mistaken.

“Chiara please don’t!” Catherine begged as Fernanda came in with the dress as Catherine looked like she was going to explode.

“You don’t have any idea how this country works and if you do something like this then you could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.” Catherine stood directly in front of me as I leaned back against the chair.

“Well your last plan turned out to be a disaster and look what they did!”

“Minor setbacks tend to happen in these situations.”

“You’d call that minor?” Pointing directly as her nose as I got up from my desk.

“Please Chiara just because this works in your country doesn’t mean the same thing here. Peter will see this as an attack and were right in the middle of a war! He would be more than happy to send soldiers just because you caused half the women of the court to suffer.” Rolling my eyes as I began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Marial poked her head into the bedroom as we both turned to face her.

“There’s always smacking me down.” See we wouldn’t be in this situation if Catherine would’ve just listened to Marial and I!

“Yes! Look if you don’t smack her down then I’ll be taking this matter into my own hand. And of course it has to be in public. And you’ll really have to say something to really piss off Catherine.” She knows that if she doesn’t do it then I’ll be doing what I do best.

“The horse fucking.”

“Cause allegedly you did. Though I don’t know how you would but maybe if you sort of..”

“Fine. Tonight Elizabeth is throwing a party in honor of the archbishop being selected so I guess we’ll do it there. Can we talk privately?” Catherine whispered as I looked at Fernanda to leave the room. Marial followed suit to close the bedroom door for me to sit back down at my desk.

“Though I appreciate you willing to avenge my attack. I think you enjoy getting ahead of yourself.”

“We’re family. No one hurts la mia famiglia.” I turned away from her to walk over to the small liquor table that sits in my bedroom. Pouring her a glass of wine then grabbing mine from my desk.

“Here. Something to make you feel a little at home.” Handing it to her then she looked at the bottle.

“Gaja Ornellaia. Dark and sweet.” Clinking glasses together as we both took a sip. Motioning her to sit as she sighed.

“How do you deal with women of the court? Sucking up to them sounds torturous and there’s no way that I can stoop to their level of living.” Catherine sat down on one of the loveseats for me to sit down at my desk.

“This court is one that I won’t be forgetting till the day I die. It’s one that has been let loose to do their own bidding. For the moment I wouldn’t suck up to them, but obviously we’re on a mission to make everyone in favor of you instead of Peter. So gifts. Not like your golden eggs but something that will truly aid them in their boring day to day lives. Maybe a better doctor for instance, or even a dentist. Lord knows how rotted their teeths are and could use at least some sort of cleaning. Though they say their modern, it’s more a barbaric modern.”

“You’re the empress Catherine. You have a lot more power at your fingertips then you realize and they’re trying to make you inferior because you’re new to the court. If you really wanted to you could strip down Svenska from her station if you truly wanted to. Lord knows I would at this point in my mind.”

“The ladies are led by Svenska with the amount of money..”

“Who's the Empress of Russia? Who rules Russia? The donkey face can’t even work up the courage to hit you she sends one of her ladies to do it. I really need to find that mean bone in your body and drag it out of you. I’d hate to say it but there is no such thing as a loving Queen. Most of us who are in royal power must rule with an iron fist but that doesn’t mean to be a monster onto the people like your moron of a husband.”

“Be truthful and fair to the people. Gain their trust in the way they need it, not you.” Close enough.

“Tell me Chiara. What exactly were you going to do with the ladies if I hadn’t come by to stop you?”

“Remember that cruise two years ago?”

“Chiara!”

“What! It worked last time, why wouldn’t it work a second time.” It really would’ve and if something like that happens again while I’m around it will work again.

Catherine put her glass of wine down to then lean a little more towards me which caused me to lean back against the seat.

“You’re a lot more bitter than usual. Is everything alright?” No. Everything is not alright! How can any of this be alright! This country! These people! Backwoods! Horny toads that just do whatever they Goddamn please without respecting..Oh it’s not even that! Fucking Grigor accusing me of sleeping with the moron Emporer who has a mind of a child! How dare he accuse me! I wouldn’t have any sort of sexual contact with him if he was the last man on this earth. If the gates of hell were open and the choice for me to go into Heaven was having sex with Peter I still wouldn’t partake in it!

“Peachy. Just absolutely peachy.” Chugging the rest of my wine to then throw my empty glass against the wall.

“You know that scared me for the first few weeks of being here. But now..” Finishing her drink to then chuck it against the wall. Shattering against it as she laid down on the love seat.

“But now it’s become a permanent sound in my mental wallpaper.” Grabbing the bottle to then walk over to where she was laying then sat down next to her. Getting comfortable as I pulled the cork out with my teeth to spit it across the room. Taking a drink to then give her the bottle.

I’ve yet to look at the top of my room since I moved in. They’re cupids that are dancing around in the clouds. Not sure who exactly designed this room but those cupids...they're so masculine..Why are they so muscular? I know no baby ever comes out this muscular no matter who the father is. Zeus himself could not ever make a baby this muscular!

“Catherine. Catherine. Lookup.” Pointing directly at them as her head tilted in curiosity.

“They’re cupids.”

“Yes they’re cupids. But have you ever noticed that they’re extremely muscular. They’re babies and have more muscles than Zeus himself. Just look!” We began laughing as the bottles continued to go back and forth between the both of us. This is exactly what I think we both needed. No men, no Government, not worrying about anything and just laughing at extremely masculine cupids.

“How is Leo? How is having a lover in your life?”

“It’s..intoxicating and confusing. When I first arrived I planned to make Peter fall in love with me as I am a romantic. Then tossed into a wheel of uncertainty. Leo says that he has fallen for me and..it feels so wrong from everything I’ve once believed in.” That’s one word to describe everything I’ve gone through so far.

“Our worlds are messy. We always think that it will be easy as those before us. But the world...people..him..it’s unclear.”

What am I doing? I’m to be a Grand Duchess in the next year or two, there’s a possibility of being a Queen and I’m in a tiny crisis on how to deal with some Russian that’s just using to get back at his wife? That didn’t even feel like the case till he brought up Peter and the accusation. But...look what he’s going through in his life as I imagine he doesn’t want his wife to be behaving like this.

Grigor...Grigor...for some reason the thought of his arms being wrapped around me is helping me fall asleep..so peacefully. He does this thing with his thumb where it glides up and down where it’s placed and it brings such comfort.

After drinking for a little longer than predicted. Catherine and I ended up sleeping directly where we were sitting for more than two hours. Alcohol is such a good night medicine. Fernanda came in to wake us as we both felt like brand new people and we had to get ready for Elizabeths party.

Per usual I truly didn’t feel like getting shoved into a dress and from what I’ve gathered about Elizabeth this party will end up becoming a clothes off party. So why not just dress the part but not get involved. Besides...I want to piss off Grigor for his accusation so why to wear as little as possible for something he’s not receiving.

My beautiful crafted corset that was pink with gold floral designs all around it. My plain white long sleeve shirt was underneath the corset with my nice pair of black pants and boots. Quite the scandal some would say. (But as you know it’s me just trying to be comfortable.)

“Boot dagger.” Fernanda tossed the sheathed knife onto the bed as I placed my boot on the bed and placed it in the boot. And now we’re set.

“Feel free to let loose tonight. I should be able to get myself ready to sleep and probably will be extremely intoxicated.” She nodded as I fixed my shirt so that my chest would be a little more exposed than most times.

Wait, something is missing. Rings yes, boot knife yes, and OH! Necklace! Walking to the desk to pull out my jewelry box to pull out my pearl necklace. The first few rows of pearls were tight around the neck itself then relaxed across my chest. Oh yes. Much better.

Walking out of my bedroom to already hear the madness going down near the end of the hallway. I really need a break from this palace. I’m in Russia and I should be going into the cities to at least see them! Maybe Catherine would be up for a trip to Moscow or Saint Petersburg sometime soon. I think that it would do her some good to go out and see the people to get a complete understanding of the country that she lives in. It does no good for a rising Empress to preach about change when she hasn’t met her own subjects. At home I would constantly go out and about to see my people. Support their businesses and make sure everything was doing okay. Yes her and I are in different situations but going out every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.

Walking into the party to see people were holding snakes, animals, and...a bird? I must admit this is one interesting party. Reminds me of when we had an animal exposition a few months back and I got to see a Tiger from China! But I imagine that would be impossible here due to the fact that the tiger would eat all of them up.

Looking around to see the ladies were sitting around the fireplace laughing as I wanted to choke the donkey face till she turned a different color. Ah and George. The Emporers would be where you had the audacity to become angry when Grigor and I were fooling around. The hypocrisy that spills from her mouth is exhausting.

Speaking of Grigor, where is he? Trying not to look suspicious as I searched the room to see him sitting with Peter and children as they drink wine? They look around 10? Mother didn’t even let me touch a drop besides communion till I turned at least 12! He looked directly at me to form a smile on his face. Maybe I over blew the whole situation. Tends to be a problem of mine which I need to fix.

“These parties..so interesting.” Catherine commented as we continued into the party. A waiter passed by with one glass as I snuck it for myself.

“Remember the plan.” Winking as we both sat down with the bitches.

“So. Tell me of your lives here.”

“All is bliss in the court of Peter.”

“Of course life is bliss here. But if tiny improvements could be made, and I could help you as Empress, that would gladden my heart to be a friend and a use to you all.”

“Why don’t you stop the war?” Why don’t you stop being a child? Impossible. They all chuckled as I wanted to scream.

“I will note it down. But it is probably beyond me at this point. Maybe more immediate things.” I can’t chime in on this because I don’t really live here full full time. (Though it feels like I’ve been living here for ages!)

“Well, the carriages are always in disrepair. They do not fix it fast enough.” George chimed in. Always being helpful in gaining her own glory.

“I see. I shall look into it. How is your son Tatyana? Boris. He was unwell?”

“Fucking Chekhow saw him, but...We need better doctors than the Chekhovs. Boris coughs blood, and the fool puts leeches on his throat. I do not know doctoring but it seems ridiculous. And my dearest Boris gets sicker.” I truly can not imagine the horror of how this country would handle an outbreak of any sort of disease. Even if precautions are made to keep them at bay.

“He basically killed Raisa.”

“Exactly.”

“Indeed. We must have the most modern medicine. We shall bring a new doctor from France.”

“What a friend you are to us. How is Leo?” Is her life so dull that she must pry her big disgusting nose into Catherines love affair? Looking over to Catherine who looked uncomfortable for just a moment then smiled.

“He makes my skin tingle and my heart gladden.” They all giggled as I wanted to scream. It’s a private affair!

“Surely more detail than that. If you really are our friend, we will need you to open up to us, if it is true and we are to feel you love us.”

“Shut up, whore!” OH SHIT! Taking a sip of my wine after Marial yelled at her. In reality I’m trying not to laugh because holy shit that’s funny!

“She cannot…”

“Apologize!” Her and Catherine exchanged a look as I was ready. C’mon Catherine! Use that mean bone!

“I will see her later. Go back to your quarters, Marial.”

“NEEEEEIGH!” Catherine stood up to slap the living shit out of her to the point she almost fell down on the ground. Everyone gasped as I was sipping my wine trying not to laugh at these dumbasses.

“Do not ever do that! That goes for all of you. Am I heard?” The ladies in the circle slightly nodded as my eyes were directly on Svenska. I know the ass face was responsible for this mess and I’ll be dealing with it even after this. Oh did you think I forgot about the whole tea dance? Far from it.

“I have spoken to my husband on this, and he sees it as a sleight on him. If it is heard again, no matter what family, what wealth, they will be a servant stripped of everything and we will slap the shit out of them on a daily basis! Am I heard?” And that is how you do it!

“Marial, wipe the blood from your nose. Pour me wine.” Catherine sat down as Marial began to pour her wine.

“Now, other things you ladies need from me? Lady Svenska, can I help you in any way?”

“No Empress. I am satisfied.”

“Mmm. Marvelous. Good day then.” Catherine got up from her seat as I stayed exactly where I was for a few minutes. I’m waiting to see if ass face will say something smart right after Catherine has left.

“What are you waiting for exactly?” Svenska commented as my focus went directly to her.

“Oh just..watching..and waiting.” Svenska turned back towards Tatyana as I noticed George was staring directly at me. What could she possibly want?

“I think we need to talk.”

“Need or want? I have absolutely nothing to say to you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Her eyebrow was raised at me as I put my drink down.

“And I find it hard to believe that you’re a good woman of any sort. If you want to talk then talk. You have the floor and are ready to tell me all about how you’re the victim and everything you do is for status. Truthfully you enjoy every moment of it that you go out of your own way to spend all your time with him.”

I waited for a few moments for her to say something back against my statement but what does she have against me? Being a whore? She’s already got that covered in her department so what would that even do against me?

“The Emperor is about to announce the new patriarch to the court.” A servant told us as I got up from my chair to then walk away. Stupid woman.

We walked into a large sitting room as the new patriarch was wearing his garments as Peter was standing on top of the love seat. I stood next to Leo as I noticed Grigor was coming to stand next to me.

“The new Patriarch! Huzzah!”

“Huzzah!”

“Oh! To the Empress! She is finding her feet here, and her fists.” Took her a minute but we managed to get it out of her.

“Apparently she fucked a horse before she got here!” Damn it….

“For I am all for fucking and after Archie blesses us we will all begin!”

“Huzzah!” Glad to know that after everyone is blessed that they’re basically saying yeah God take it back. Didn’t need it in the first place.

“Can we talk?” Grigor whispered for me to raise my eyebrow.

“You and your wife truly love to talk don’t you?” Not looking directly at him as I kept my head straight forward.

“Please Chiara. I really….” Maybe he is sorry. I feel like this is becoming a usual song and dance for us these past few weeks. Nodding for the two of us to turn around and walk out of the room.

We started down the hallway keeping absolutely silent towards each other. Who exactly was going to start this conversation? Not me because at this moment I have nothing to say on the matter besides saying sorry for being a little over dramatic, and that’s it. He stopped walking to move in front of the fireplace to warm himself up a little. Turning towards me to let out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry that I accused you of sleeping with Peter because of my own personal problems. It wasn’t right and I truly feel horrible for saying that…” I could tell that he wanted to say much more but was working on it. My hands were behind my back as I waited for him to finish his statement.

“Grigor it’s not a..

“Chiara I’ve fallen for you.” He interrupted me as I was confused by what he just said. What?

“I have fallen for you Duchess Chiara.” It sent shivers down my spine. What why? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks and now he’s fallen. Oh no...no no no.

“I am not the romantic type Grigor. I am not like my cousin who will bring you a twig to show love and unity. I..I don’t care for it.” Truth be told I’ve been avoiding the whole love marriage life ever since I was born. If I marry then I lose everything. The power will go to my husband and I am left to be nothing but a baby making device for my husband.

Yet...this feels different. I feel as if I should be comforting Grigor to hold one another. If I could keep him as a lover for eternity I might be okay with this idea. But marriage is something that I plan on never happening in my life.

“I don’t expect you to have fallen because why would you have fallen for a piece of shit like myself. You’re right about me..I’m nothing but a weakling who can’t even stand up against the moron himself..” He fell to his knees as he was beginning to have some sort of attack on the floor in front of me. Quickly approaching him as I got down on my knees.

“Grigor take a breath.” Rubbing his back as he was trying to catch his breath.

“My mind is beginning to chip away right before my eyes Chiara..” Oh no..no no. Holding him close to me as I kissed the top of his forehead. Okay so me swearing off love may just be a phase like mother said! Or is this just me feeling bad. I’ll figure that out later!

“This..this is just a rocky path in the road of life. We all go through it and eventually it becomes better. Just have to go through the rough path in order to see that beautiful green field on the other...this isn’t helping is it.” He shook his head as I thought I heard a door opening.

“A weakling… I’m such a weakling..” I’d rather the court not see Grigor falling apart in front of their eyes. Laughing was echoing from the hall as I had to get him out of here.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” Telling him as I lifted him up from the ground. We were stumbling around a little as we quickly walked through the palace till we made it to the apartments. No this isn’t meant for me to tackle him and have rough sex. Rather..rather not let the court see him breaking down when he’s the most important members of Peters court.

Opening the door to my apartment as he walked in then slamming the doors shut. Locking it as he fell onto the love seat. His breathing did calm down a little bit yet he was still in some sort of a panic state. Water.

“God how am I a man? Any man would’ve killed the other man for sleeping with his wife..you 're right..” Okay now I’m feeling horrible. I poured him a glass of water to then sit on my knees next to Grigor.

“Drink some water.” He sat up to take the glass from my hand.

“How could anyone love me...I’m such a coward. I can’t even fuck my wife...she has to go to someone else in order to fill that void...that desire that I can not fufill.” Well that’s utter bullshit because being railed by him was marvelous.

“Stop that! There is no need to bring down yourself because of your wife being a total whore. Grigor I’m sorry...I’m sorry for being such a cunt towards you. We both come from completely different worlds and I have to remember sometimes that this isn’t home..You’re not a weakling or a coward. This is just a difficult situation that probably doesn’t help that I’ve been acting so horrid towards you..” His glass was empty as I took it from him to place it down on the ground. My hands cupped his cheeks as he held onto them, he closed his eyes to put his forehead against mine.

“May I stay here for the night?” Grigor asked for me to nod.

“I can’t spend another night alone. Not another night…” Sitting up to then wrap my arms around him. He picked me up to then pull me into his lap which made me giggle a little. It’s kind of fun just being hoisted up into someone's lap.

“I don’t plan on making love with you tonight Chiara.” Oh really? This is rather shocking because I figured he would’ve found a way to seduce me into the bed.

“And why is that? Got tired of me already? We’re those three days….or five..still a little blurry with the amount of wine and food

“Never. You are the only good thing that has come from my dreadful existence here.” Somehow I think he’s right.

“I’m really wanting a glass of vodka. Care for some?” Asking as he was rubbing his eyes.

“Please.” Climbing off to walk over on my refilled liquor shelf. Two of my biggest glasses filled with vodka as I imagine it’s like water to him at this point. Just like how wine is like water, just drink it like water. Sitting back down on his lap to give him the glass, clinking out glasses as we both chugged down the vodka. HOLY SHIT THIS BURNS GOING DOWN STILL HOLY CRAP!

“Still getting used to it aren’t you?” He began to laugh as I shook my head then blinked a few times.

“Indeed. But it acts fast and my fingers are already feeling wonderful. How about another?” I’m just going to grab the glass bottle so I can stay comfortable on his lap. Skipping to the bottle as I pulled the cork off and placed it on the table.

“If you would’ve told me when we first met that I would be letting you sit on my lap after our first introduction. I would’ve thought they were mad.” Good times from a few weeks ago when I had a large stick up my ass. Sitting back down to take a swing from the bottle then hand it to him.

“Or me having some sort of relationship with you after I almost beat you with my sabre. How the world changes before our own eyes.” We both nodded to continue passing the glass bottle back and forth to one another.

I could feel it coursing through my veins like water rushing down a river after a rainstorm. It feels incredible! Vodka is truly a wondrous type of alcohol that loves to scorch my throat. Oof. As much as I would love to sit on his lap for a long time, my bed looks absolutely enticing for us to crawl in. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind crawling into bed.

“Would you mind if we got into bed? Your lap is comfortable but my bed just feels so much better. Please Grigor?” Without questioning it. He sat up as my legs wrapped around his back for us to start heading towards the bed. As much as I love not being pounded into oblivion in this position..this is fun! Wait for the corset. I can not get into my sleep mindset if I’m stuck wearing this cage.

He put me down on the bed as I sat on my knees to then begin taking off my corset. Crap Fernanda really tied the bow up high to the point I can’t reach it. His fingers began messing with the string as I felt the air entering my body once again. Tossing it across the room to untuck my shirt from my pants.

“Thank you.” Turning to face him as we leaned in to kiss one another. Softly kissing one another as he placed his hand on my cheek.

“Picnic with me tomorrow. There’s a beautiful tree that the leaves just dance with the wind that is just beautiful.” Yes. I said that I wanted to get some sort of fresh air and the timing could not be more perfect!

“It’s only been one day since I’ve been away from your bed, and I’ve missed the way it feels. Warm..comforting, can be a bit rough but eventually I become in a state of relaxation.” Grigor became comfortable down on the bed as I joined him on top of the covers. He placed his hand on my cheek as I kissed his hand.

“I know you don’t love me or have fallen for me...but thank you.” He drifted to sleep as I began to scoot closer to him. He must’ve felt me move because I was pulled closer to him and tucked into his chest.

This is nice.

Very nice.

taglist!

@mirkwoodshewolf @bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @johndeaconshands @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @radio-ha-ha @i-have-a-wonky-eye-too @deck-heart @actuallyanita @the-baby-bookworm @sadhwstudent @panagiasikelia @ewannmcgregor

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chaoswillfallrpg · 4 years ago

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RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE is TWENTY-NINE YEARS OLD and a DEFENCE BARRISTER in THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. He looks remarkably like JACK FALAHEE and considers himself NEUTRAL. He is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death, murder

Raised to have a strict worldview due to the fanatic attitudes of his parents, Rodolphus Lestrange has never had reason to question the nature of his reality. Rodolphus and his family resided in the beauty of Lestrange Manor in Nottinghamshire, Rodolphus’ childhood family home stood secluded on the outskirts of Nottingham. A gothic chateaux that took inspiration from their family home of the same name near Paris, it was surrounded by fields and trees, far away from muggles and cloaked in magic in the event any came for a walk in the forest. Brought up away from the Muggle world they detested, with only his mother and father for company until his younger RABASTAN was born, Rodolphus was absorbed in the thinking of his parents with very little reason to doubt anything outside of their word. MARIE LESTRANGE loved her children more than she loved herself and showered both Rodolphus and his younger brother in affection. Whilst most Pure-Blood families they associated with had nannies and school masters to aid in the raising of their children, Marie disagreed with handing her children over to someone else and insisted on doing everything herself with only the aid of a single house-elf Posy for help. She taught her children to read and write and ensured they were fluent in French by the time they went off to school and well versed in many authors that had been pre-approved by Marie for them to read.

Rodolphus and his younger brother were raised given almost everything they could ever ask for with a childhood spent taking afternoon tea in the garden and discussing the future she wanted her boys to have. His mother upheld tradition and longed for her children to make respectable Pure-Blood marriages to people who loved them. The relationship his mother and father shared captured the attention of a young Rodolphus, who longed to have a relationship like the one his parents shared and provide for them and the rest of his family. Though the Lestrange family were wealthy, their ancestors had wasted a lot of the Lestrange family fortune throwing balls and having custom couture outfits made to line the walls of their wardrobes. The building of the British Lestrange Manor cost their family a great deal and began the long tradition of the Lestrange family working in government and slowly rebuilt the fortune the rest of the wizarding world had no idea they had slowly lost, beginning with Radolphus Lestrange of who he was named. His father THIEBUAT LESTRANGE worked directly for The Minister as her Senior Undersecretary, a job which he believed was beneath him especially in a traitorous administration and had aspirations of climbing higher. His plan would be to groom Rodolphus to work in government and have him infiltrate The Department of Magical Law Enforcement to keep an eye on the goings on there and report back to him.

Before Rodolphus was sent off to Hogwarts he was given one particular request from his parents and that was to grow close to influential families within the wizarding world, particularly the Pure-Blood families who his father remarked he might need in the future. BELLATRIX BLACK was of particular interest to his parents, with a father who worked in Wizgamot and wealth and beauty that would make a good wife. Rodolphus went to school in the knowledge she’d be someone he’d need to at the very least befriend but was disappointed with the person he found. Bellatrix was incredibly loud and opinionated with a fondness for torturing other children and an inability to follow even the most simplest set of rules as did her friends CASTOR WILKES and EVAN ROSIER. An intelligent young man, Rodolphus had a high opinion of himself which was solidified by the praising of teachers and almost flawless grades which made hanging around Bellatrix and her posse even more difficult for him. He tried to keep them sweet by sitting with them at parties and occasionally handing in a page of homework for them but mostly preferred to seek the company of his roommates LUCIUS MALFOY, ARISTAEUS GREENGRASS who he found far less tiresome despite Lucius’ over inflated ego and Eirik’s constant mood swings. Though he narrowly missed out on being a Prefect due to PROFESSOR SLUGHORN’s clear favoritism of Lucius, Rodolphus did graduate a celebrated member of the Slytherin Quidditch team and Slug Club which greatly pleased both his parents.

Upon graduating from Hogwarts, Rodolphus was quickly swept up into a job at the Ministry and began training under Bellatrix’s father CYGNUS BLACK. Rodolphus wasn’t quite sure if it was his legal knowledge, spotless record from Hogwarts or a polite word from Bellatrix or his father that had made Cygnus agree to be his mentor, but either way he was glad to have such a respected name in the wizarding world teaching him how to practise law. Training to become a barrister was certainly grueling and required Rodolphus to sacrifice the majority of his personal life in order to be taken seriously by Cygnus. When he wasn’t at the office, he spent the majority of his time at the Black family home helping Cygnus prep for his cases and eating dinner with his family who had come to slowly replace Rodolphus’ own due to the amount of time he spent with them. Bellatrix thankfully was hardly ever home, supposedly travelling or working on personal projects her father hoped would be beneficial to their family Rodolphus had chalked up to meaning a polite term for finding some direction beyond sneering at mudbloods and barking at her sisters. The Black family seriously lacked direction from Rodolphus’ point of view, NARCISSA seemed harmless but if you looked at her often enough you’d see the way she looked at men with eyes like a snake, burrowing into the souls of helpless men.

Rodolphus had been suspicious for some time that Narcissa's trained gaze had been on his younger brother, considering he’d notice him acting strangely lately and spending a lot of time at the Black home, which he disliked. Bellatrix was Bellatrix. Then there was ANDROMEDA, the middle daughter who was quiet and studious. She cared not for parties and rolled her eyes at the idea of finding a husband often along with a rude quip that made Rodolphus chuckle to himself. The two exchanged the odd piece of polite conversation, though Rodolphus only fully began speaking to her when he took over her father’s job when he became a judge. Andromeda had graduated from an accomplished witch with a longing to learn and better the world she’d been raised in which he found both admirable and misguided considering she came from wealth and privilege as he did. Nevertheless he agreed to train her using the same methods her father had used on him. The life they had chosen was a lonely one and whilst Andromeda did have friends and a personal life he noticed she spent the majority of her evenings in his apartment in High Gate attempting to find something useful which would help them win their cases and slowly became more than just his mentee. He began to learn things about her that he found interesting, her relationship with her sisters and her theories on blood purity he hadn’t really considered before.

Rodolphus still thought being a Pure-Blood made you better than others, but he did consider those he knew of the same blood as them who were not fit to wipe their shoes. As Andromeda nears the end of her training, Rodolphus has come to regard her as a close friend of his and a much needed warmth in his life he’d been missing in the pursuit of greatness. Though their caseload is often petty crimes such as underage wizards using magic, there have been a few more interesting cases recently that have kept both him and Andromeda busy as Aurors attempt to find the culprit of those kidnapping and killing multiple people across London. Most recently the pair have been defending SILAS CRUMP, an unregistered werewolf frightened he’d be framed for the killing of his daughter. Supposedly found by a witch and wizard he can’t recall the names of, Silas was put under the Imperius Curse and given a false memory both he and Andromeda can’t seem to break through. Curious, the pair have been trying to find other cases of other magical creatures with similar stories, until the case took a turn. The Minister’s son BOOKER BAGNOLD was found dead in the Ministry’s fountain on Halloween with one named attached to the killing. Silas Crump. Confident there is more lurking underneath the case, Rodolphus won’t rest until he has won his case but with his client missing, people closest to him keeping secrets and dark forces at play has no idea what else he may be uncovering in the process.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality → Up To Player

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Societies → N/A

Family → Thiebaut Lestrange (father), Marie Lestrange (mother), Rabastan Lestrange (brother), Ilar Travers (uncle), Vivienne Travers (aunt), Isolde Travers (cousin), Evora Travers (cousin)

Connections → Aristaeus Greengrass (best friend), Andromeda Black (close friend/mentee/potential love interest), Lucius Malfoy (close friend), Decius Flint (friend), Bellatrix Black (friend), Castor Wilkes (friend), Isolde Travers (friend), Cygnus Black (ex-mentor), Silas Crump (client), Regulus Black (assistant)

Future Information → Eventual Member of The Death Eaters, Husband of Bellatrix Black

RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE IS A LEVEL 7 WIZARD.

#rodolphus lestrange #jack falahee #connor walsh #how to get away with murder #htgawam #harry potter rp #wizard #neutral #magical law enforcement #wizgamot #magic #lestrange #taken #taken wizard #taken neutral #tw: death #tw: murder

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kadomoni · 5 years ago

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I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that it’s true…

I really can’t tell you what to think of Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz. I can’t. It’s something you have to decide for yourself, but I’m going to explain why she’s one of my favorite characters of the show, but I also think she is the villain.

Now, I know what Pink Stans are saying, “She’s not the villain! She’s morally grey and trying to change!” And, to that I say, yes clearly. She’s an incredibly well-written, nuanced, and complex character. But, as much as she has done good, she has also done very, very bad. And, I’m here to explain why I think Pink is not evil—she’s just bad (and she knows it).

There is no doubt about it that Pink was raised in an abusive family. White is a pretty typical narcissistic parent (over-reliance on perfectionism, wanting people to please her and be like her but no one ever living up to her expectations, trouble with empathy, ect.). Yellow and Blue love Pink but have no idea how to raise her. That’s pretty typical of dysfunctional family dynamics. None of them had a good role model, so they can only replicate a bad role model.

I understand this dynamic. I had a “mother figure” who was very emotionally (and sometimes physically) abusive. My parents were nice and good parents but they had anger issues. I went from being petulant to shutting down, but I think I fit more into a Pearl archetype because instead of acting out my pain, I kept it inside and felt like it was me that was wrong. Pink does this, but not before causing a lot of issues, and often exploding outwards.

((Major Steven Universe/Future Spoilers under the cut))

We’ll start with what we know about Pink, which is very limited.

The first ��memory” we have from her is the astral projection dream Stevonnie had where she threw a tantrum about wanting a colony. It was childish, yes, but Yellow response was no better considering she just yelled at her. They both threw tantrums, and no doubt, she was going to get locked up in her tower after. Pink got angry, she punched a mirror (hopefully, she’d only punched mirrors, please, Rebecca, don’t hurt me like this).

Secondly, we have the dream Steven had about Blue, who begged Pink to stop being combative and letting her “organics” loose, but ultimately just ended up admonishing her further. It’s also implied that she had her stay in the tower room.

Also, that tower is even more fucked up than just isolation. @singlepalerose explains this in her meta that Gems need light to live, not food. Rebecca says in an interview when asked that she “can’t say” what would happen if put in a place with no light. But, @singlepalerose comes to the conclusion that this might be literally akin to starvation, which is torture. There’s a good chance that Pink was literally tortured by her care-givers.

And, poor Pink Pearl. I don’t know what happened, but whether it was a scream or some physical altercation, it was frightening enough that she broke her pearl so badly, it couldn’t be repaired, which as seen in RS’s concept drawings, Pink is really fucked up by this. She becomes more introverted with her feelings because of this.

Don’t Break This One.

I’m not going to comment on whether these actions make her “bad” or “abusive.” She was clearly a child in an emotionally maladaptive environment, and she did decide to change and to keep her anger and frustration internalized at the risk of harming the people around her.

But, unfortunately, the information after this is where I begin to feel disturbed by Pink’s actions.

She got a colony. At first, she liked it, but clearly, she either grew bored or disenchanted with managing it. I feel as though she was expecting some sort of freedom, when really, the extra responsibilities probably just weighed her down even more.

The events of ‘A Single Pale Rose’ come into play now. Pearl suggested they go down to Earth, and Pink felt her first taste of unrestrained freedom. She liked interacting with other gems, liked interacting with humans, and finally decided that she didn’t want to destroy the Earth. And, she did beg all the Diamonds to let her give up the colony, but not only had Pink kinda shot herself in the foot with this one because she begged so hard for a colony and made so many big scenes about it, White and Yellow are incredibly steadfast in tradition and rules, and this wasn’t going to fly.

So, she decided to take drastic action.

I personally think that the idea to fake her own death was…weird. And, pretty extreme. I understand her reasoning, but this was the first time where she made a decision that benefited her far more than it did others (and I’m not talking about the planet right now because that’s a whole separate thing). This action traumatized Pearl to the point where she doesn’t eat, won’t shapeshift, and can’t talk about it. Yes, I know she commanded Pearl not to talk about it, but this caused significant emotional distress for her later on in the series.

This also traumatized the whole gem race, specifically the Diamonds, because she’d framed it as a terror attack. It would be way different if she stood up to White herself publicly, but there was so much deception going on that it fundamentally changed the course of Gem Culture and the fate of the Earth. Mostly what bothers me here is how manipulative this action was and how unnecessarily complex it was. Pink did everything she could to wipe her slate clean, be seen as a martyr of Gemkind, and also live freely on Earth.

It was a very good way to get her freedom, but it was also extremely harmful to all parties involved.

The War only escalated at this point. They had to fight Homeworld as a full-on army, and countless of gems were shattered.

Now, yes, of course, these actions saved the Earth, which is good in our perspective because we live on Earth. Earth is essential to us because it is our only frame of reference. But, something that continually complexed the Homeworld gems was why someone would fight for one measly planet at the cost of so much. It makes sense to us because we would sacrifice a whole heck of a lot to keep our planet from being invaded by space aliens, but the gems were colonizing tons of planets and destroying them for energy. It was obviously horrible as colonizers are horrible, but it’s sort of like how different armies will invade other countries, but because we’re being told that it’s for good, most people don’t really care.

From the gem’s perspective, this was all a horrible disaster—a loss of countless life, resources, and pride.

And, for The Crystal Gems, the “loss” of the war meant that all of their friends were corrupted, except Rose’s closest friends (which I’m personally unsure if this is completely truthful. I would hope it would be, but it’s also very suspicious because letting only the people that trust her the most survive would make it easier to control her own story).

Speaking of which, wtf is up with her bubbling Bismuth? It just feels like it would be easier to hide her away instead of trying to explain why she doesn’t want to shatter the Diamonds. But, Rose shattered Pink, anyway? I personally believe Bismuth was too close to figuring out her story, and she didn’t know what to do. I can’t think of any other explanation that would explain her actions and make sense with telling the Crystal Gems she’d been shattered. It feels very manipulative and selfish.

All of this obviously traumatized Pearl (we see it in her Pearl within a Pearl within a Pearl), and it had to have traumatized Garnet considering her reactions to mentions of the war and the “fusion” experiments. It was especially bad on Garnet’s end because she thought the war was actually what Rose said it was, which is why she freaked out when it wasn’t.

She kept secrets from everyone, even Her Pearl. But, Pearl didn’t know that she didn’t know everything. You could call Pearl delusional, but I think this is more proof that Rose never did something in front of her that made her feel like she was being untruthful.

And, I said y’all don’t want to get me started on Rose’s treatment of Pearl because I go feral when I get worked up about it. I would like to personally thank @theroguefeminist for their meta on Rose/Pearl and Fandom Ableism. It’s super good, and it was the meta that made me finally sit down and watch all of SU way back in the day. But, it illustrates the point that fandoms tend to look down on characters that act “bitter,” “weak,” “jealous,” “depressed,” or “neurotic.” It’s even more sinister because the reason why Pearl acts the way she does in the first two seasons is because she’d been manipulated by Rose.

She was Pink’s Pearl, her partner in crime, her renegade. They were the Heroes of The Rebellion. Pearl admitted she had feelings for her, and Rose’s response was enthusiastic (“Don’t ever stop!”). From what we’ve seen, the disregard of her feelings only began when she started dating Greg, considering Pearl didn’t see “the men who came into her life now and again” as threats because they “didn’t really matter until [him].” But, the treatment that we see of Pearl in “Story for Steven” and “We Need to Talk” is dismissive at best and cruel and uncaring at the worst.

After Greg was trying to flirt with Rose, Pearl said defensively, “I can sing!” and they laughed at her. Even Rose beamed. They were basically making fun of her when Pearl was only reacting that way because she loved Rose and felt threatened by Greg, even at this point.

I do want to add that I think Rose was trying to be a good person by telling Greg to go away. She made a good point that he shouldn’t give up on his dreams to be with her (especially considering that she knew that nothing would become of him in a place like Beach City). But, she was wooed by him. She laughed and gave into her instincts to surround herself with people who look up to her (even Vidalia said something about how Greg worships her).

But, I find Rose’s treatment of her in “We Need to Talk” to be unnecessarily flippant. Obviously, Pearl was very upset during the whole “What Can I Do For You?” song, and her last ditch effort was to show off Rainbow Quartz and try to belittle his efforts, but Greg was rightly defensive. This doesn’t mean Pearl was being “salty” or “abusive” or “bitchy.” She was reacting negatively towards the emotional neglect that Rose was showing her. Of course, we don’t know every interaction that Pearl and Rose had, but it’s very heavily implied that Rose never communicated with Pearl how their relationship was developing.

I do not, I repeat—I DO NOT—think that Pearl was owed Rose’s love. What I think is neglectful about this situation is that Rose didn’t either apologize or properly explain the nature of their relationship. It’s implied that Rose made her believe they were an item and then proceeded to sleep around and eventually find an alternative partner. No one is owed affection with someone who doesn’t want to be romantically involved, but to lead someone on for thousands of years is horrible, and the idea makes me nauseous, especially since the fandom is more likely to blame Pearl even though Pearl was literally her glorified slave and only able to break out of that thought process years after Steven was born.

Pearl was so emotionally fucked up by Rose’s possible emotional neglect that she had several traumatic episodes starting from “Indirect Kiss” and culminating in her “Cry for Help.” She literally believed she was powerless and felt so weak that she thought the only way to feel agency was to manipulate and extort affection from Garnet. I’m also not defending Pearl for doing this, but it’s clear that she did this because she was mentally ill and not because she was knowingly or maliciously disregarding Garnet’s feelings to fulfill her own needs. Trauma episodes often cause you to act in destructive ways towards yourself and others, but it’s also very different from how Rose did disregard the feelings of others to get her way, or have fun, or “play” with people.

It also reminds me of her treatment of Spinel. Pink was having fun with Spinel until they decided to give her a colony, and then, instead of bringing Spinel with her or sending her back to the Diamonds, she told her to stay there, and she abandoned her for 6,000 years with no plans of returning for her. To be fair, it would really mess up the Crystal Gem dynamic if she suddenly returned with a Spinel who was gifted to Pink Diamond. So, in Rose’s perspective, I get it, but as myself, I don’t think it’s right.

Greg, even, I think was taken advantage of. He’s so sweet and trusting and good that she would easily have been able to get him to do anything. I’m not going to go too much into this because there’s not too much evidence besides her behavior towards him in “Greg the Babysitter” and how she laughed at him in “We Need to Talk.” I just have the feeling that Greg knows something that no one else does and that his perma-sunburn might have something to do with Rose and/or Steven’s conception. Don’t take my word for it since this is just a theory, but I do think there’s something we don’t know yet.

Alright, now that most of the character stuff is out of the way, let’s talk Rose symbolism. In almost every episode, there’s a shot of Rose’s portrait with her eyes covered or something obscuring them. This is classic anime imagery of a suspect character, and it’s foreshadowing of her suspect actions. All of her organic experiments eventually go rouge without constant maintenance from Rose (see: the moss in “Lars and the Cool Kids,” the thorns in “Indirect Kiss”). We don’t know why this happens, but it points to the idea that there’s something malignant lurking underneath Rose’s creations.

Rose’s Room also has disturbing implications. The fact that it gives Steven whatever he wants, but more often than not, it turns into psychological horror is telling. It may be that Steven just doesn’t know how to use the room, but also, the Gems didn’t want him to go in there. (“It doesn’t know how to handle a task like that!” What do you know, Pearl????) The creepiest one, in my opinion, was how the Fake Connie he made in “Open Book” eventually turned on him, attacked him, and basically physically forced him to admit feelings he wanted to keep hidden. I’m not saying this is the intended purpose of the room, but I find it troubling that it can be used in this way and defaults to it when there isn’t anything stopping it. It could also be that when the illusion the room makes is broken that it reverts to an angry (and dare I say Pink Diamond-esque) temperament.

My final point is how her decision to have Steven, even though eventually for good, hurt many people, Steven included. To make the decision to die and have a kid was confusing to everyone, but more so, the gems. They don’t understand human reproduction outside of a biological level, and the fact that gems normally can’t sexually reproduce makes the concept even more foreign. It seems like she explained that she was doing it and would die but didn’t fully prepare the gems about what that would entail. I think this is most clearly seen in “Three Gems and a Baby” because the Crystal Gem’s behavior towards baby Steven reflected Pearl’s response to emotional neglect, such as acting impulsively and dangerously just for not understanding the complexities of the situation.

Their whole dynamic was screwed up, and they all felt deeply hurt by Rose’s death. If you compare how they act at the beginning of the series to the end, they were basically all at each other’s throats because they couldn’t communicate properly due to all the undealt with baggage that had been left behind. It ended up becoming Steven’s job to emotionally support the gems when he should have been the one being emotionally supported. This imbalance of “the parents being the child” and “the child being the parents” is a huge reason why we see Steven in such emotional distress during Future. He’s internalized the idea that he should be the leader, the supporter, the helper, and he hasn’t properly been able to find his own identity because Rose looms over all of them (see: “Rose Buds”).

It’s hard to say whether Rose intentionally left Steven to clean up her mistakes or if she just felt like he could fix it all when she couldn’t, but there is no denying that Rose’s actions have seriously messed up our boy. This is the clearest theme presented in the show, so I’m not going to go super hard on this topic because basically the whole show is Steven angsting over his mom.

So, the point of all of this is that, yes, Pink was abused. There is no doubting that she was very badly abused and developed her personality and coping mechanisms due to this trauma. However, Rose has hurt her friends, family, and gemkind due to her actions. A lot of abusers have been abused. I know my abuser was abused in the same way I was, but that doesn’t give her an excuse to enact that abuse on me. It’s the same as Rose. Her bad upbringing gives context about why she turned out the way she did, but it’s incredibly short-sighted to say that Rose acted in mostly good ways towards others.

And, she knows she’s bad. Whether or not Rebecca will outright admit what the song is about, we have enough context to know that “Love Like You” is Rose talking to Greg (if not the other gems as well).

“I always thought I might be bad Now I’m sure that it’s true ‘cause I think you’re so good And, I’m nothing like you

Look at you go I just adore you I wish that I knew What makes you think I’m so special”

Rose is admitting that she thinks she’s bad and isn’t special and doesn’t understand what Greg sees in her. She knows she’s done bad things, but in my opinion, she didn’t do enough to fix her problems. She made Steven instead. It was her final act of avoidance. Maybe she gave up on herself. Maybe she knew she couldn’t “Love Like You.” I don’t know the answer to that. I just know that Rose’s actions were abusive. She’s not good. She’s morally gray. She did good things, but she did many bad things as well. She’s not evil, but she is the series’ antagonist. She has good things about her, but she has many bad things as well. People can be two things. But, saying she’s not an abuser is making excuses for her behavior.

Here are my answers to a few common complaints on my shitpost meme.

Q: Rose didn’t want to cause war! She just wanted to free the planet/have freedom/save the gems, ect. A: If she didn’t want to cause war, she very well could have…not started the war? There are much less destructive options than pretending to be a rebel when she really was a Diamond. The double life thing is so ridiculous, no one in the show could even guess it. Q: Don’t discredit her Rebellion! A: I just think she cared more about herself than she actually did the Earth. The Rebellion did save the Earth, but not without crazy death and destruction. Q: Pink was good compared to Japser, the Diamonds, Lapis, ect. A: All of you saying that those other characters are bad while Rose is good totally misses the point. All those characters did abusive things. So did Rose/Pink. Pink is good and bad. It’s really showing your ass that you hate x, y, z but will cape for Pink even though she’s probably caused the most harm of the entire series. Whatever happened to all those morally grey arguments?

Q: This take is bad! A: soz bruh cry harder Q: This is black and white thinking. A: I shouldn’t have to explain every aspect of a character in a shitpost. This meta is my full explanation, so here’s my morally grey meme uwu

Q: Blue, Yellow, and White are colonizers and also really abusive. A: Yes. It doesn’t negate Pink’s actions, though.

Q: Pink Pearl was an accident! She changed after!!! That’s not abuse!!!!!!! A: Abuse isn’t always intentional, and we don’t canonically know it was an accident. Pink Pearl said that it was, but she admitted she was making excuses for her. But, accident or not, hurting someone deeply can be abuse if it’s not dealt with. Pink Pearl was not dealt with. She was brainwashed for 8,000 years, instead. Pearl-Pearl helped her deal with it. The continual explosive anger from Pink was abusive, hands down.

Q: She’s not a villain! A: She certainly is framed as Steven’s villain. Regardless of what you personally think of Pink, Steven is deeply disturbed and harmed by Rose’s actions. It’s literally the whole plot of the show! If Pink is eventually redeemed, I won’t mind, but she’s irredeemable in my eyes.

#steven universe #steven universe future #pink diamond #rose quartz #su #suf #steven universe future spoilers #steven universe spoilers #su spoilers #suf spoilers #mine #meta #abuse

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lilacandladybugs · 4 years ago

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What’s your current relationship with god? I’m very curious lmao

I’m sorry if this sounds incomprehensible and rambly and disjointed or pretentious. I care a lot more about this than almost anything else in the world and I wish I could do a better job of explaining myself. But I feel like why I believe in God or what my relationship with him is like is like trying to explain who I am. And I’m just the accumulation of everything I’ve ever experienced or that I think and I feel like it’s really important that I communicate it correctly so here is my attempt.

Here’s a video that’s really good that I think will give some good background information. If you don’t want to read all of this, the video is probably enough to explain.

youtube

TLDR: This isn’t the way things are supposed to be. Death isn’t supposed to happen, it isn’t a part of the natural order of things. God loved us so much he died to fix it, and rose again to defeat death. God loves me and I love him, and I’ve never found peace or fulfillment like that in anything else.

I hope this makes sense anon let me know if you have any questions or if I misinterpreted your question.

TW suicide // grief // abuse // rape mention (not v bad or graphic or anything)

Long version:

I think I've always thought that there's something naturally (for lack of a better word) poetic about existing. Not really meaning that it's good, but kind of that everything feels really purposeful it seems to flow together like an old epic. Everything seems intensely meaningful to me.

I've always thought that life was tragic. That death is a fracture in the way things are, like we live in the ancient ruins of a long lost civilization.

And I've always thought that life seems like an incomprehensibly wonderful gift, because how can there be tragedy if there isn't anything worth losing? But somehow it seems like peace is the basic way things are, that normalcy isn't normal at all but like this status quo of goodness which makes bad things happening not only heart breaking but surprising.

Reconciling all of those ideas is really confusing.

I'm a strong proponent of thinking analytically about what you believe since the answer we choose to the question of whether or not God exists is like quite literally something we bet our lives on. We bet our life that God exists or that he doesn't, that things have meaning anchored in an external source or that they don't.

So while I grew up a Christian I've never felt really dead in it. I want to be uncomfortable. I want to be stubborn in asking questions and I don't have a problem with questioning authorities on why they believe what they believe—especially if they really confidently assert it. I want to be able to know things and understand them.

My junior year of high school three of my closest childhood friends died, and several others almost died. I remember sitting up at like two am listening to twenty one pilots self titled album just like seething and exhausted asking lord why would you abandon me like that?

Some other really horrible things happened to people that I cared about, I felt abandoned and rejected by Christians just for being broken, some of them caused it or contributed to the trauma and abuse. How could people who claimed the name of God do that?

My debate partner's best friend killed himself the same year that my friends died, and he became an atheist and I stayed a Christian. We fought about it a lot. I really seriously considered becoming an atheist.

The thing that I couldn't accept was the lack of eternality.

Really ironically I think I stayed a Christian for the same reason that my friend became an atheist. We were both asking why all of the living world is crying out in anguish. We both wanted to die. We both were angry. We both were horrified.

My friend thought that the question of “where is God?” was harder to answer than “why is there meaning to death?”

I'm a Christian because I'm horrified. He's an atheist for the same reason.

If you don’t feel like reading it, here’s the TLDR: there is no reason for someone to do something or not do something if God isn’t there to tell them to. There isn’t a moral grounding for law.

Arthur Leff was an atheist law professor at Yale in the eighties, and he wrote about the moral grounding for laws in his essay, Unspeakable Ethics, Unnatural Law. The question he was asking was what can we do to ground morality? What can we do to prove objectively that there are things one ought to do and things one ought not do?

I am unwilling to accept that. There is something evil about abuse, neglect, rape, torture. There is something about these things that violates human rights, human dignity. There's something about them that goes against objective moral law.

But without God there is no moral law. So I wouldn't be able to say, "you should never rape someone, because rape is wrong." And everything that I had experienced flew in the face of that.

Dr. Leff wrote this about that question;

“All I can say is this: it looks as if we are all we have. Given what we know about ourselves and each other, this is an extraordinarily unappetizing prospect; looking around the world, it appears that if all men are brothers, the ruling model is Cain and Abel. Neither reason, nor love, nor even terror, seems to have worked to make us "good," and worse than that, there is no reason why anything should. Only if ethics were something unspeakable by us, could law be unnatural, and therefore unchallengeable. As things now stand, everything is up for grabs.

Nevertheless:

Napalming babies is bad.

Starving the poor is wicked.

Buying and selling each other is depraved.

Those who stood up to and died resisting Hitler, Stalin, Amin, and Pol Pot-and General Custer too-have earned salvation.

Those who acquiesced deserve to be damned.

There is in the world such a thing as evil.

[All together now:] Sez who?

God help us.”

In the end, it comes down to this; Do I believe that the complexity of the universe is because there was someone intelligent actively involved in its design, do I believe that information, reason, logic, emotion, and morality exist and are reliable because they have grounding in God’s identity? Do I believe that God is who he says he is?

And I guess the answer to those questions was yes.

I saw God. He was there in the stillness - in the sunrise and sunset and at 2 am after I couldn't cry anymore. I felt him. And I know part of his goodness that I wish I never had to know. I felt like I was lying breathless bleeding out in a gutter watching the stars. Almost like a pause - just a moment in time where I was hurt enough, still enough to hear his voice.

One of the most important things I learned is that life is not hopeless. If life is a story, then the last chapter of the book has already been written. This is the premise of the song It is Well with My Soul by Horatio G. Spafford.

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, God has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul”

The powers of evil and darkness can take away my friends, my sanity, my family, and even my life, but God has already saved me, and I can find peace in spite of my circumstances. Three of my friends died, but God has already conquered death. I feel powerless, but God is powerful. I feel abandoned, but God loves me so much that he died a horrible torturous death for me. Living in light of that is peace.

Whenever I felt like I couldn’t keep going there would be something to stop me. I heard his voice in music, and in my friends that held me when I cried, and in morning glories on my morning walk. I kept lists of all of the times this happened, every time that someone encouraged me to keep going, every time that someone would quote a Bible verse when I was crying out for God to answer me, every time that the world paused. Everything asked me the same question, do you think it means nothing? Do you think that there is a direction that we’re going? Are we coming from nothing and going toward nowhere?

I had friends who heard him too. He was so gentle to us. I wasn’t able to go to church, I wasn’t able to listen to worship music but the LGBTQ+ community took care of me, they were isolated from church as well. There was enough for me in that God promised he would take care of me, and he did. He died for me. He talked to my trans friend and said, “listen, your parents have rejected you and said you’ll never be your son, but I am a good father. I love you. Be my son instead.”

God mourned with me. He saw everything and he was angry. I was able to breathe because I knew that in the end there will be justice for abuse victims, because God said that he is the holder of justice, and vengeance will be his.

When one of my friends was hospitalized I stood outside during the beginning of a thunderstorm and watched the clouds and the sky darken and lightning flash across the sky.

Even the wind and the sea obey him. He asked me if I trust him.

I guess my answer was yes.

In spite of everything that I went through, I was more thoroughly convinced that I ever was before that things matter. I was convinced that abuse is evil. I was convinced that death is an abomination. I was convinced that these laws of morality are woven into the fabric of the universe. I was convinced that God died to save us from that reality. I was convinced he loved me.

I still am

#asks #about #eslyea #religion tw #religion #christianity #christianity tw #suicide tw #grief tw #suicide #grief #rape #rape tw #just mentioned but still #thanks for asking #c:#hope this is coherent

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