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nightwishesworld · 4 years ago

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Life of Death

You’re gonna need tissues for this one folks! A huge thank you to @addictedtodinosaurs for allowing me to write this wonderful headcannon! Hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: Angst. Whole lot of angst

It hasn’t even been a day since Alcina’s world collapsed. Ethan Winters managed to flee Castle Dimitrescu with his life and topple the hierarchy Mother Miranda worked so hard to achieve. Everyone is gone; Angie, Moreau's house, Mother Miranda, even her baby brother Karl. They never stood a chance after the fall of the great Mother Miranda. Without her protection, they were left helpless. Of course, Ethan only saw them all as monsters; filthy bloodthirsty creatures that needed to be slain. That’s all anyone ever saw them as. They’re different so that must mean they’re wrong. They’re abnormally different from anything I’d ever seen so that automatically means they’re evil.

But they’re still a family. Lucky for Alcina, she never let herself depend on anyone other than herself. Well, except for her daughters.

She was wandering around the ruins of the castle in search of them. They were nowhere to be found since Ethan escaped. It was a grueling task but obviously, one that needed to be done. They need their mother’s tender love and care to nurse them back to health.

Cassandra was the first to be found. Naturally, she was found within the comfort of her basement. Where else would that silly girl be hiding? Just like Daniela, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds. Alcina carried her upstairs to her bedroom slowly and carefully to not make her feel any sicker to her stomach. From there she bathed her and wrapped whatever wounds she had in delicate cloth before putting her to rest in her bed. Alcina tousled her wet hair before leaving in search of the rest of her brood.

Daniela was the easiest to find. She was left lying face down in the parlor soaked in a pool of her own blood. Her body was riddled with bullet holes to the point where her abdomen resembled Swiss Cheese. Alcina was quick to scoop her up and bring her upstairs to tend to her wounds. Until she got Daniela in the bath she used the ends of her dress to put pressure on her abdomen. Just like Cassandra, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds.

Picking each individual bullet out of her body was an uphill battle, but Alcina was the eventual victor. Even better, she managed to not disturb her youngest’s slumber as she patched her up. Daniela was now free to rest as much as she needed in the sanctuary of her mother’s bed.

“What a mess we’re left with, hm? Don’t you worry about a thing my little Tasmanian Devil, Mother’s here now. I’ll protect you.”

The girls remained motionless as Alcina tucked Daniela in next to her sister.

Alcina watched as her little bundles of joy rested comfortably under the warm blankets and plush pillows. They look so sweet and at peace. It was rare for the matriarch to see them like this, but it always brought a smile to her face.

“You just rest now, my lovelies. I’m going to go find your sister so she can rest easy as well.” Alcina bends down and kisses each daughter on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

It took a few hours of searching to find her eldest daughter. Doing countless laps around the castle finally brought Alcina to explore the labyrinth of hidden passageways. There were a few times when said passageways brought her right back up to her bedroom. She wasn’t complaining too much though. Every time it happened she simply checked on her girls and reminded them how much she loves them.

Bela was by far the hardest to find. The sounds of scurrying behind a row of bookcases alerted Alcina to her presence. Following a single passageway eventually led Alcina to find the blonde buried from the chest down in rubble. The tunnel had collapsed from then on.

Alcina made quick work of removing the rock and rubble from her daughter's body. Rats fled back into their holes as she did so. The eldest Dimitrescu never moved even an inch. It took a while, but Alcina did manage to get her out in one piece. She whispered promises of a warm bath and offered to deep clean the dirt and dust out of her hair.

Bela couldn’t respond but Alcina knew she heard her. She could still sense her. She could sense all of them. They’re just weak, that’s all. They need as much rest as they can get.

It’s late evening by the time all three girls are bathed and tucked into bed. They were dressed in clean clothes and had their bandages changed again before Alcina crawled carefully into bed with them. She made sure to be extra careful when nudging them out of the way so she was in the middle; Bela on one side and Cassandra and Daniela on the other. Her arms wrapped around them all snugly.

It reminds Alcina of all the times the girls would burst into her room when they were little during a thunderstorm. All four of them would cuddle up just like this under the covers and either sing to them or read them a story.

“Tomorrow is a new day, my loves. We will start anew and we’ll be stronger than ever. I hope you sleep peacefully.”

The next morning comes slowly for Alcina. It’s quiet for once as the girls aren’t awake to cause mischief. Aching in her back and arms keeps her from stretching out. She smiled when she feels the girls are still snuggled up close to her.

“Good morning my darlings,” she says with a yawn. “How are we feeling today?”

Alcina kisses each daughter on the cheek and chooses not to notice how much more pale they were this morning. And certainly doesn’t recognize how stiff they were. She simply chalks it up to sleeping uncomfortably. After all, even she woke up with an aching back. Her arms wrapped around them must have really bothered them.

“It’s alright, girls. Take all the time you need to recover. You’ve been through quite the ordeal and need as much rest as you can get. I understand that. Mommy will be waiting for you right here to wake up. I’ll be the first thing you see when you open your bleary little eyes.”

The family lounged for the better half of the morning. Alcina takes her time stroking the hair of each of her girls’ hair and whispers words of comfort to them. “You’re so brave, my loves. And so strong; stronger than Mommy could ever hope to be.”

She notices a rather putrid smell coming from Daniela. One not caused by uncleanliness or a rotten meal, but something else entirely. Her immediate response is to change her bandages again, but can’t help but notice how pale Daniela had become overnight. Her lips were turning a shade of blue and the rest of her skin looked sickly. So did Cassandra and Daniela. Perhaps this is worse than simply recovering from injuries? Maybe....maybe they really were-

Alcina shook her head. They’ll wake up. Of course, they’ll wake up! They just need to rest extra long before they can really start to recover. So what if they get worse before they get better? At the end of the day, all that matters is that they do wake up. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.

The silence is suffocating. She feels the chill in her blood, coldness bringing the synapses of her brain to a standstill. Part of it is a pain, but one Alcina can endure. One she has to endure; for the sake of her daughters.

While she waited, Alcina called for a maid, the only one left, to fetch some documents from her private study that needed her attention.

They didn’t actually need her attention, of course. With the demise of Mother Miranda, the document's importance was nullified. But Alcina Dimitrescu is not the type of person to just sit around and do nothing. Especially when there are so many important things to do.

As soon as the maid steps into the room she understands what’s happening. She went through something strikingly similar when she had her miscarriage some years ago. Reality is a cruel plane of existence. Especially when you lose someone you loved suffering it with. It’s plain to see that her mistress is grieving her losses and she doesn’t have the heart to break whatever fantasies Lady Dimitrescu has built-in her head.

Instead, she chooses to play along. Delusional or not this was still Lady Dimitrescu, the woman will kill her if she tells her anything other than what she wants to hear. She gives a kind smile and curtsy to her Mistress and simply dies as she’s asked.

“Shall I fetch you some wine, My Lady?”

Alcina thought about it for a moment. It has been over 24 hours since she last fed and she was certainly craving sustenance. But ultimately decides against it in favor of her daughters.

“No. Keep what we have left safe for when my daughters wake. They’ll need their strength more than I’ll need mine.”

The maid waits a minute before trying again. She looks over at the girls still laying in bed. It’s obvious they are no longer there. She could smell the evidence of that from across the room.

“Very well, Lady Dimitrescu. I could send up a platter of-“

“Enough,” Alcina shouts but quickly catches herself from continuing. The girls don’t need to be disturbed by such a trivial matter. “Go make yourself useful and clean my daughters’ rooms. They’ll want them spotless when they wake up.”

The maid simply bows her head. “Of course, my Lady. Please forgive me.”

The next two weeks went on like this before the maid had enough. She wanted to help her mistress, she truly did, but there was nothing left for her here anymore. The last scraps of human food were officially gone and there was no reason to trek down to the village and come all the way back when she could just as easily take up residence down there. It was a gut-wrenching decision but it had to be done. She tried her best for Lady Dimitrescu and that’s all that mattered.

She slipped away in the dead of night. Normally the Lady would have any escapees hunted down and dragged back up to the castle only to be thrown in the basement. But there was no one to do that anymore. Heisenberg and his pack of lycans had perished long ago, even before the Lady’s daughters, and the Lady was too drained of emotions to care. Too weak to chase after her.

Alcina’s daughters are her everything. Every day she lived for them. She lived because of them.

Alcina took great pride in her tall stature. She is the image of beauty and elegance. The only real flaw in her design is its role in hunting down prey. You’d have to be blind or stupid to not see her coming after you. Even with her much larger strides, she wouldn’t be able to keep up. And Alcina Dimitrescu does not run. Prey is not worth running for.

So she depends on her daughters to hunt for her. They’re much more suited for the job; so young, and clever, and agile. They are her cubs and her, their lioness, too old to keep up with the hunting party.

Alcina looks at her girls and sees them as they truly are; dead. Lifeless corpses. Their bodies are decaying and cold. She has been changing the bed sheets every morning to keep away the maggots but failed to stop all of them. The smell of death is noxious even with all the windows open because Bela said she wanted to feel the crisp winter breeze.

“My girls,” Alcina sobs. “What have I done to you?”

She collapses at their bedside and finally allows herself to break down.

But looking up at them she still feels them. She can still feel their arms wrap around her shoulders as she cries. The smell of paint is still on Cassandra’s cloak and Daniela was sitting on the floor right next to her. The short ends of red hair tickled Alcina’s cheek. If they were truly gone, how is it she can still feel Bela kiss the top of her head and wrap her arms around her neck in an embrace?

“I never should have done this. How can I be so selfish? I never should have turned you to suffer as I have.” A new wave of tears blurred her vision. “What kind of mother am I?”

She knows she doesn’t have long now. How can she bring herself to care? Everyone she ever cared about was already gone. What’s the point of trying to survive without her dearest family, especially when she’s so close to being reunited. Alcina wiggles her way back under the covers and pulls her daughters close once more. She’s crying in earnest now, happy that her pain is almost over. Even now she can see her daughters playing together, maybe even with Uncle Karl somewhere in the far off distance.

A smile spreads to Alcina’s lips as she closes her eyes and simply waits for her turn to join in on the fun.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #tall vampire lady #Lady Dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #KARL #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #mother miranda

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apixrl · 4 years ago

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DRIVER'S LICENSE.

katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

WARNING(S): angst. cheating. swearing because it's bakugou.

word count: 4.5k

song: drivers license // olivia rodrigo (i wonder why...)

note(s): so i captioned this *at the time of writing* 'hello and welcome to i've had the worst two weeks ever so i wrote a katsuki oneshot to cope' and it's probably one of my most personal pieces of writing tbh

"-come Tuesday and we'll potentially see an end to this heavy downpour of rain. Temperatures will be on the rise to around-"

The talk on the radio cut short at the jab of your finger, heaving a great sigh which faded into the muffled pitter-patter of rain from outside. The streets had been showered with heavy downpours for the last week or so, no sign of sun or a still and restful day. Notwithstanding the miserable outdoors, the windscreen wipers on your car never ceased in their duty to grant you a clear view of the road ahead. And whilst you were grateful for their devotion, it didn't feel clear in the slightest. In fact, the road had never felt so blurry.

Shivering against the cold night chill and tucking your knees cosily to your chest, you eyed the raindrops on the windows. They raced against one another before they dripped down to your car's body, their glossy presence obvious thanks to the many hues of street lamps that surrounded them. You could have watched them for hours, being honest. Something about the droplets of water battling it out quite enticing. Anything to take you away from the cruel reality you were living in.

Your heart ached and yearned. But to no avail, the one you ached and yearned for didn't love you back.

Not anymore, at least.

Just the mere thought provoked a pulsating pang to resonate throughout your entire body. A pang filled with grief and sadness. Anger and hurt. You missed his sun-kissed face on the sunny mornings. You missed his eyes and how they gazed at you from across the room. You missed the smiles and laughter he would only show for you and you alone. The sense of glee and euphoria that came with that honour. Yet all of it was gone and there was no way you could get it back.

The memories of what had been triggered more waterworks. Hot, salty tears dug at the corners of your eyes and trickled down your face. Your motionless car concealed your cries and sobs. Every thrash against the wheel as you questioned to nobody in particular what went wrong and why. How you didn't see the signs sooner. What you could have done better. When he stopped loving you. If he ever planned to stop loving you. Whether it would have hurt more if you found out sooner.

All these questions with nothing to answer them.

Katsuki Bakugou had always fascinated you. From the very moment you met. You accompanied your friend on a double date, and he was the guy who she matched for you. Whilst he originally acted as though a blind date was the last place he wanted to be, underneath the aggression you could tell there was something much more genuine and true.

And your assumptions were correct. Truth be told, Katsuki Bakugou was one of the most genuine and truest people you had met (at the time). Once it was just the two of you, he allowed his true colours to unveil. Through the smallest of kind gestures that still haunted your mind to this day. Then upon confrontation, as you bid each other goodbye at your back door, his denial resulted in a flirtatious contest which then proceeded to an intimate night that changed your life forever. From there your mind was set.

He was the one.

Emphasis on was.

So blinded with a fairy tale love you grew so accustomed to, you never saw it coming. Never in your two-year relationship - that had so much strength and commitment built on top of it, never did you think that Katsuki Bakugou would throw it all out of the window like it was nothing. Disregard your loyalty and adoration for a drunken one night stand that slowly became an occasional hookup. Which soon became a mandatory pastime once a fortnight. Then twice. Maybe more than that. You wouldn't put it past him with what you knew now.

He kept it from you for nearly six months. Six months. The only reason you discovered his lies and deception was because you were let off early one night from work. You worked a night shift, see. Your last job had fallen to shambles, and it was temporary whilst you searched for a new one. And whilst that did take a toll on your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou, mostly finding time for intimacy since his working hours were during the day, none of that gave him any right to go and do what he did.

That wasn't one of the only reasons, you knew that for sure. There were other motives for his lack of loyalty. But you were never told. After you froze at the sight of another woman under his hold and stormed straight back to your car to flee. After he chased you down the flights of stairs in nothing but baggy pants into the streets of a twilight Musutafu. After you screamed into the darkness and belted your fists against his chest. Fists that were driven with rage and hurt and every emotion that burned like the hottest of fires and froze like the coldest of ice. He never even told you. He never made an effort to address it. Nor had he attempted to call or even try to visit your Mom's house - where you stayed as you searched for a permanent place to live. Just because you retreated for your car and cried that it was over, he never tried. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed an explanation. An apology. Something to give you a form of closure and a reason to move on. But you never did.

That wasn't even what hurt the most, either.

As silly as it was, the thing that hurt you the most was the very car you sat in.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO . . .

The red glow of traffic lights hit Katsuki's vermilion irises as he stared dead ahead at the long line of vehicles, the ash-blond heaving a sigh into the air. His finger tapped impatiently against the steering wheel he gripped with one hand, the spare rested casually against your upper thigh affectionately.

"I can't believe we have to sit through this torture just to go to some damn party," Katsuki grumbled, taking a glance over at you. His brows furrowed when he met you peacefully slouched down, nose dug into your phone as you presumably played some sort of game to pass the time. Like you had no care in the world for your predicament.

"It's your best friend's birthday, love," You mused back, Katsuki surprised you even listened based on your focused expression directed towards your phone. "It's not like we can just miss it,"

"Yeah, but we could have missed all this pain by taking the train instead of driving across town during rush hour,"

"Trains are icky, the seats would have ruined your suit and my dress," You pointed out, looking at the blond over your screen, sending him a sweet smile. He cocked a brow, a smirk creeping its way onto his lips as a scoff of a laugh broke out between them.

"Right, and laying down like a sloth is gonna help keep your dress uncreased?" He returned, amused at your realisation. At his comment, you sat up faintly and pouted your lip.

"Driving means more time to play Gravity Pops, and so does traffic,"

"Seriously? That's the game you're playing? You're such a dumbass,"

"Yes! I'm in the top 11% globally! I need to get to number one!" Was your protest, your arms flailing ahead of you briefly for dramatic emphasis. Katsuki clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, though the small smile plastered over his lips betrayed his initial reaction. Unable to deny your determination, he spoke with confidence and almost a sense of pride.

"Number one, hm? Clearly rubbing off on you aren't I?"

"In a way, yes,"

"That's my girl," Katsuki remarked, earning a giggle from you that was uplifting to hear. It was there your attention went back to your phone, but Katsuki wasn't done. "So, speaking of cars, Y/N," Hearing his chosen tone - which sounded suggestive, you eyed him closely. Hesitant to reply as you had a sense of what he planned to say.

"...Yes?"

"Have you thought any more about getting your driver's license yet?"

Called it.

"...No,"

"What?" Katsuki began, tilting his head. He was surprised that he felt surprised. You had said those words in regards to this topic countless times. Still, he persisted. "Is that a no meaning you haven't or no meaning that you don't want to?"

"Both?" You half-guessed, sheepishly grinning at the look you were sent. "Look, cars scare me okay? And so do roads. And people. My nerves wouldn't be able to handle it! I can barely communicate with people face to face, so me being on the road is a recipe for disaster!"

"I know but -," Katsuki exhaled sharply, understanding your reasoning. You had voiced these concerns when confiding to Katsuki about your fears of the road. Something built and corrupted from social media as well as phobias and fears in general, it was a battle you had yet to overcome. You wanted to drive but was terrified of messing up or causing chaos on the road. Potentially inflicting harm to someone and yourself. You still weren't sure what triggered it all, but over the years it had manifested into something quite irrational, to say the least. Katsuki had been supportive of it and whilst he truly would love to always act as your personal taxi - you couldn't hide from it forever. It wasn't his job to keep you in your comfort zone. That, and he couldn't always be there for you that way. What if he was miles away and you had somewhere urgent to go like the hospital? "It's not as scary as you think. I know it's hard to believe that but seriously. The freedom you get from driving is amazing,"

"I'll think about it a little longer, okay?" You said with hesitancy, looking at Katsuki for a sign of confirmation. He nodded in defeat, knowing you probably needed more time and felt put on the spot. So he averted his eyes back to the road to check if the traffic had moved at all. It had not.

"Okay," Katsuki said. "But I can't be your taxi service forever,"

"But I like you being my taxi service," You jokingly said, a little sadness in your tone. "Your road rage is funny and I like watching you get out of the car and walk to my door after pulling up in my driveway,"

"What do you mean?" Katsuki asked, catching the twitch of a smile on your face upon saying those words. It struck his interest in what you could mean.

"You know, like when you say you're coming to pick me up?" You explained. "You pull up at my driveway and I don't know... simple things like that just remind me of how much I love you. It's dumb really, but it's important to me,"

"Really?" Katsuki questioned in disbelief. How something so small and meaningless could mean so much was puzzling. He couldn't understand why it was so special to you. But that didn't invalidate it in any shape or form. So he pushed that aside, replacing his wonder with gratitude. He returned to your bashful and flustered features, feeling a smile grow on his face.

"Yeah," You said, shrugging to downplay your words. "I love you. Stuff like that means a lot to me,"

"I love you too, even though you're a dumbass," Katsuki said, humbled by what you had said. The two of you shared a gentle exchange, your hand grabbing hold of Katsuki's as you gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, and silence ensued. Had he realised such a thing sooner, then Katsuki would have pulled up in your driveway much more than he had been doing. But at that a thought struck his mind, victoriously smirking as he had an idea on how to potentially sway your worries. Or begin swaying it. Something was better than nothing, after all. "But what if I wanted you to pull up in my driveway one day?" His words caused you to look over at him in curiosity, hearing the seriousness in the question. It caught you off guard momentarily, having to contemplate as you gradually concluded that he had a point.

"Well one day, maybe I will," You vaguely replied and sat up a little bit. The hand holding yours pulled back and lifted to land on your shoulder, gripping reassuringly tight.

"I hope you do, I'd like to get in on this driveway action," He joked and smirked, faith riddled in his expression. You giggled ever so slightly, tempted to lean forward and peck Katsuki on the lips in thanks, but never a thing was to happen as the alerting red light from outside switched to warm amber.

"Ah!" Katsuki yelled in triumph, his attention leaving you swiftly as he got back into the driver's seat. Giving you no opportunity to respond to him and overall ruining the moment. "Took fucking long enough!"

The light turned green, and he set the car in motion, leaving you with your thoughts and the words he had uttered that day as the traffic stood still.

All your efforts, all your time devoted to getting over your fear of driving and the road as a whole... all of it was pointless. You did it for him. You promised him you would overcome your fears and better yourself. He built that motivation up brick by brick until you could grab hold and seize control. He wasted all that time to get you to reach such a stepping stone only to abandon it once it was through.

Just so you could pull up in his driveway, just like he requested. And what did you get in return when you finally did? A stab in the back and the loss of your other half.

You wiped your eyes via the sleeve of your hoodie, dampening the cuffs. Sniffling and exhaling a shaky breath, your gaze landed on nothing in particular. Yet somewhere within your clouded mind, you found interest. As that was where your gaze remained for a certain amount of time. You weren't sure how long exactly. It could have felt like an hour and only been five minutes. Or it could have felt like five minutes and was actually an entire hour. Either way, the clock ticked on and didn't wait for you to stop.

It was a good thing you had pushed your fears down and rose above them. It just pained you that you didn't even do it for yourself. Without Katsuki Bakugou, you never had any intentions of doing so. As a matter of fact, you had set out to take the train or bus for the rest of your life. Hell, you were going to use a bike and scooter if you got desperate. Had he even acknowledged how much work you put in just to get where you were? Was all that effort part of the reason why he decided to cheat? There was absolutely no telling. Absolutely no telling at all.

You wondered what he was doing now. Was he laid in bed resting peacefully? Out with his friends for a boy's night only? Maybe cooking his favourite curry? Possibly on a late-night jog despite the harsh weather? It never stopped him other times.

Did he ever think about you? Regret what he did and the actions he took? Had he ever considered apologising? Would he ever apologise? What if he was celebrating the fact you were no longer in his life? Had there ever been any love there for you in the start? Did he ever actually want you to get your driver's license because he believed in you? Or was it so he could get rid of you with much more ease? Make his departure less severe and less selfish? A way to justify his choices because it's not like you were hopelessly left to suffer everyday life now that you had a means of transport. Was he really that cruel?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jingle of your phone, the device lighting up as it sat in the passenger seat to your left. It took two or three rings for you to glance over at it, E/C eyes sore and drained from crying out. You squinted them to read the caller, seeing the name 'Work' fade in and out on the brightly lit screen. For a second or two you argued back and forth on whether to even bother picking up. Something about reaching across for your phone requiring a magnitude of energy you no longer possessed. Having spent it all on your cries of agony and the deprivation of your old life as a whole.

However, you had ignored your work in the last couple of weeks too many times now. So many times that pulling the same stunt again would probably risk you losing your job. It's not like your work was interested in why you felt such overwhelming pain... all they cared about was you turning up to do what you were hired to.

So using a forceful hand, you leaned over to pick it up. You fumbled to grip your phone and accepted the call with a dainty tap of your thumb. Then you blinked away your tears and subtly sniffed, pressing your phone to your ear to address the caller.

"Hello?" You practically croaked, quick to clear your throat and push any signs of upset down. It was presumably dry from how much you'd cried in the last two hours.

"L/N! Hey! Glad you finally picked up!" Unlike the droll and unvarying tones of your boss, the person on the other end was much more lively and greeting. So much so you could only assume it was none other than your work colleague, Etsuko. Probably the only person you genuinely liked where you worked, and the only person who made the time pass by faster. "I was worried you were gonna leave me on answer phone again,"

"Hm, what? Oh right. Yeah. Sorry about that. Haven't been feeling too great," You lied, even though it wasn't a complete fib. You hadn't been feeling great at all. You had never felt so rock bottom. It all just originated from your mind over anything else. But when did work care about that?

"Sounds like it, I hope you've been okay!" Still cheery as ever, Etsuko followed up with a laugh to fill the silence you created by not saying anything. "Is everything well? It's nothing serious, is it?"

"No. It's not. Just some dumb cold I caught," You excused. "I'm better now, though," Slouching down in your seat, you decided to ask the question that had been roaming your mind the last minute or so. "So why are you calling?"

"Oh, right!" Etsuko said. "Mr Kobashigawa was just wondering when you planned on coming back - for schedule reasons and to get people to fill in for your shifts,"

"I er...," Not entirely sure how to answer, you stuttered as your words cowered away in your attempt to speak. "I don't -,"

"It's okay, he doesn't need an answer yet," Etsuko reassured. "Maybe in the next day or two, though? He wasn't really specific, being honest,"

You sighed at the guilt brewing in your stomach. You weren't even sick for crying out loud! Why were you lying just so you could wallow in your own sadness?! Like that was going to change anything! Sitting around and crying wasn't going to give you what you wanted. You weren't getting him back. Katsuki Bakugou wasn't yours anymore. He made that clear by cheating. By making minimal effort to give you an explanation. By causing you so much pain with little care or concern. Why couldn't you get it through your thick skull that your feelings didn't matter anymore?! That they were being wasted on a lost cause. A lost relationship!

"Well I mean -," You started, running a hand through your hair as you tread carefully on your words. "I could come in tonight? Has Mr Kobashigawa got someone to fill for me yet?"

"Um... no? I don't think so?" Etsuko answered, uncertainty in her voice. "Let me go check. Be right back!" And with that, the line fell dead. The call didn't end, just Etsuko placing the phone down to get an answer for you. Leaving you all by your lonesome once more.

Reflecting, you could see the logic in your thoughts. The best course of action would be to hold your head up high and live life the way it was before. When you were happy. Just... excluding the factors that actually made you happy. Which was him. Wouldn't that be healthier than crying all the time?

Yes, it would. But was it what you wanted? Not really.

"L/N!" The voice in your ear startled you to the point you nearly dropped your phone, panicking through a gasp as you fiddled to grab hold of it again.

"Wa-! Careful you nearly scared me half to death!"

"Oops, sorry!" Etsuko giggled softy, sounding as perky as ever. "I'm just excited to tell you that nobody's filling in your shift! You can still come in for ten-thirty!"

"I-I can?" You asked. After an upbeat 'yeah!' filtered through your ears, you considered your options. Remaining in the serene, quiet confines of your car with only the downfall of rain to accompany you sounded like utter bliss, given how you felt. But you felt an internal kick up the backside which told you - no... demanded you to just get over this moping attitude of yours and look on the bright side. To get over the lack of closure and simply... move on.

Yeah... if he found out you were an utter train wreck thanks to the damage he inflicted; Katsuki Bakugou would probably revel in it. He had a history of gaining pleasure from other's misfortunes... or it was rumoured he did (during his younger years, anyway). You had never wanted to believe it but you couldn't find a reason to refute it anymore. After all you had been through, it seemed to fit his character and personality more than ever. So with that fact apparent, you held a firm forefront and searched for a determined tone, and made your answer to your friend.

"You betcha I'm coming in! I'll see you in half an hour!"

Too enthusiastic? Probably. Still, it was better than acting pessimistic and hopeless. No matter, however, because that was exactly the attitude Etsuko had been hoping for.

"Alrighty!" She exclaimed, smile audible in her voice from the other end. "I can't wait to get our dynamic duo going again! I've missed you!"

"Yeah, me too, 'Suko," You hummed in agreement.

"Great! Catch ya later my partner in crime,"

"Heh. You too, dumbass," You found a reason to smile from her childish behaviour, though your choice of wording seemed to hit a nerve. It did more than that, it practically reverted all that confidence and progress you had made in the last ten minutes of being on the phone. All from one innocent word that escaped your lips.

Dumbass.

That's what he used to call you.

The phone call had ended without you even noticing, your phone still pressed to your ear as a small buzz sounded into it. You stared dead ahead, flashes of all the times he had said that word to you running through your memory. It was his form of a pet name. Some might see it as a little degrading on the surface, but you never minded. Once you learned the deeper meaning of the name, it became something equivalent to the likes of 'Sunshine' or 'Angel'. If anything, you ended up preferring it to those sorts of nicknames. Hence why Katsuki Bakugou had called you it on so many occasions.

No. Stop it. You can't let something like that bother you. Not after the efforts you just went to. Stop. Shaking yourself out of it, you returned to reality and permitted your phone to drop onto your lap. Your hand once holding it gripped onto your steering wheel, the other following shortly behind to do the same.

"I love you too, even if you're a dumbass,"

That rung in your head one final time, tormenting and mocking your present. The things you'd be willing to do to hear him say that to you one last time...

"No," You firmly shook your head, banging it lightly against the headrest to return yourself to reality. An attempt to knock those words to the back of your mind where you could lock them in a securely tight safe for the rest of eternity. "Just... just don't think about it. Easy. Just focus on what you're doing now," You reached for your keys which sat in the ignition, taking hold and turning them ever so slightly. Your car stirred to life, engine rumbling and the dials lighting up in a form of warm greeting. "You're going to work. No more feeling sorry for yourself,"

No more feeling sorry for yourself.

Your eyes set themselves on the road ahead. The vacant, dark and solitary road that didn't wait for you to make your decision. Life moved on after all, so if you were going to do anything - it was to catch up and take the winning lead.

So despite your circumstances; your inner desires and wishes and begs for what you wanted back but to no avail would ever get, you pulled out of your parking space (which had long exceeded the time limit, thankfully nobody was around to see) that drowned in pitiful rains of the night, and began to make your way down the street. In search of a place better than the one you were trapped in.

An endless road that wasn't all that clear, you were going to tackle it. Not for anyone else, unlike the last time you met difficulty and hardships. No, no, no. This time it was for your sake. All the mental energy to recover and become a better version of yourself, in the endgame it was all for you. You could push past all the deceit and lies you had been told and you could push past your normality which was him. Katsuki Bakugou. The man that hurt you as nobody had ever done before. You could create new normality without him.

A thought of forever he created and destroyed, resorted to driving alone past his street, never to be thought of again.

#katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #anime x reader #anime #x reader #angst #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou

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rotshop · 3 years ago

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get prankt this isn't an angst fic lol ,,

ANYWAY ,, i realized earlier that i could've just been calling 'auditor reader' employer reader this whole time and then i had a funny silly goofy little idea and now we r here,,,lol,,, ill proof read this later but i did this in one go no breaks so . help.

I might continue this later so!! consider this a sort of 'introduction' if u will,,

note ; auditor uses he / she / they pronouns in this bc ive decided im just going to push my propaganda onto all of you <333 also Hank uses he / they / xe

tw ; dissociation, dereality, some light body horror

Bloody Management

"This is out of your jurisdiction. You've wasted enough time here," you seethed dryly, staring down at the shorter being. "You've made no progress and have only proved your operation to be a strain on our relations and resources."

"Out of MY jurisdiction? YOU'VE never even been there before! You think you can just storm in and suddenly kick me out of my own work?" Auditor shot back, hands slamming down on the mahogany desk in front of her.

"Yes, actually, I do," you snapped, eyes narrowing. "I think you're forgetting just who you're speaking to. You've let this drag on for far too long and your ego has grown in tandem with its pointlessness."

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continued. "Look, I understand. You put effort and thought into this little pet project of yours, but the results have all proven zilch. You fucked up, that's fine, but you can't keep meddling with this reality in hopes something will suddenly work again! All you're doing is tearing and poking holes the rest of us will have to deal with later."

"If you just gave me a little more time I could-"

"We've been giving you time. We've given you more time than we've ever given any project like yours," you gave a desperate look, "It's over. You tried and we tried, there's nothing that can be done. If you just worked with us then we could help you."

There was a long silence as they faltered, hands falling into their lap as their gaze followed, landing on the floor.

"And what happens to my Nevada?"

"We'll try and clean it up again. Return it to..some sort of normalcy," you hummed, "Though, with some of those tears in the fabric it'll take a bit longer than anticipated. That..clown, is proving to be rather difficult."

You paused, grin finding it's way onto your face.

"It's been tricky, if you will."

"Not the time."

You gave a 'tsk' in response, shrugging lightly, "I don't regret it."

"You'll be going back to our depths, effective immediately. While this project was a failure, we're still curious to see if there's anything else that can be done in a different time and place."

"And what about you? Are you going to sit all pretty in this fake office for the rest of eternity?" She questioned sarcastically, eyes dragging up to meet yours.

"God, I wish. I mean, seriously, you have no idea how nice it is to have some peace and quiet after dealing with that fuckin' office."

With a dry snicker and -presumably- an eye roll, they finally stood accepting their defeat.

"I presume I'll be seeing you?"

"If your little posse doesn't cause me too much trouble, yes."

"Have fun with that, I do hope it's as grueling as possible," he hummed, turning and striding towards the door to nothing.

"Thanks, was nice seeing you too."

The door peering to the void shuts soundlessly.

"Was the pun really that bad?.."

---

"What do you mean they're just neutral suddenly? It's not like they all just suddenly unionized or sum' shit! There's gotta be something going on," Deimos groaned, irritation dragging onto him and clinging desperately.

"Well- What do you want me to say! I'm just as confused as you are," Sanford huffed back over comms, making a vague gesture with no audience.

Hank stood in the other room, staring down at the few agents that were on their knees with their hands held tight behind their heads. They'd made no attempt to attack Sanford and xem, simply staring in a bit of surprise when the two'd busted in. It'd completely thrown the raid off, leaving them both in a state of stunned confusion. The agent that they'd asked about the sudden change in demeanor just gave some shaky shrug, stammering out that they'd all received an order to not attack under any circumstances from some unknown contact. 'They really just listen to anyone then?..'

It was hard to believe, hard to find any reason or meaning in that lead to any conclusive endings. Which, had lead to a small dispute going nowhere and fast. Hank only picked up on little parts of it, the words being muffled and distorted through the wall. Xe didn't really have much interest in getting a clearer reading of it though, it didn't sound like it meant much.

"Look, I'm just going to try and look for any documents or actual recordings of this apparent 'ghost order,' alright?..." A pause. "Deimos? Are you there? Shit- Of course the line dies now of all times."

The line wasn't dead. It was somewhere else, some-when else.

---

The ground felt cold.

No, was it warm?

Wait- No no no, it wasn't warm..

Was it even the ground?

Did it even matter?

Deimos could fuzzily recall it. Arguing with Sanford over the line. The points he made exactly didn't seem to ring through the fog of confusion and numb in his mind. Something about the Auditor, the agents, blah bla..something.

He'd been making to say something else when he'd seen it, something off in the corner of his eye. It wasn't anything huge, if you asked him he wouldn't even be able to tell you what it was. There was something wrong, but there wasn't. The ground was cold, but it was warm.

Something was wrong.

Everything is fine.

He'd turned around, looking around for whatever in his vision wasn't right.

That's rude to say, you know.

He'd never found it, something reaching from the depths to grab him.

You're making me sound awfully cruel.

With a groan, he picked himself up off the ground to observe his surroundings. White and black stretched infinitely around him, the 'ground' underneath him was the deepest of not-color while the 'sky' was its blinding twin. A building stood in front of him, a mix of ivory and ink twisted to form its structure. The door faced him, standing tall and straight as a soldier in spite of how tilted and off the world felt.

Before he could even really register it, something was pulling him up off the floor. There were no hands or strings physically attached, nothing sticking from him to drag into the infinite beyond his comprehension, no no. It was something quiet, a ghost or a whisper in his mind that pulled him through the ocean and to shore. The door grew larger- closer. His mind grew blanker. His hand twisted the knob.

Color flooded into his vision finally, the room in front of him coated in it graciously. The floors were a velvet carpeting, a wine red that felt of lavish and glitzy. The walls were lined in bookshelves, each filled to the brim with titles somewhere between poetry and latin white noise where imagination fell. At the head of the room stood a desk, polished mahogany standing tall and still, frozen indefinitely in time. Behind it, you.

Me.

Once again, he was pulled forward. Each step fell in front of the other, unsure of weight behind them and noise that followed suite. He felt half there. Half of a man and half of a void. It was..something.

Not pleasant, not bad.

The ground wasn't cold, wasn't warm.

It just was.

He finds himself meeting your gaze as he plops down into one of the seats in front of you. He finds his neck straining and bowing under phantom limbs that aren't there. He finds his eyes training on yours which stare back pointedly, finds himself between hot and cold. He finds himself sitting down before you as he watches from the window.

There's no window in the room.

"You must be so confused."

Your voice is in front of him, right? That's where you are, so your voice should be coming from there. It isn't though. It's around him somewhere. Even as you tilt your head to the side the noise of your own voice doesn't seem to follow it.

"Don't think too much on this all, alright?"

You mutter something. 'These grunts really weren't made for this- to be here. I'm surprised he even woke up.'

Someone nods in agreement.

"Wh..who are you?"

Is that his voice? It is. It has to be, it fell from his own mouth. He barely even felt it move. Is it his mouth? It has to be.

You pause for a moment, seemingly caught off guard. He doesn't know if its because he spoke or because of what he asked. Nobody clarifies.

"Why don't you call me [name]? That'll be easiest for you. I do apologize for dragging you here rather than appearing there," you hum, leaning forward on your desk. "I just wanted to make sure we had the utmost privacy."

I wanted to make sure you wouldn't be able to forget.

"Now, Deimos," is that his name? "I need to tell you something, I have to work on restoring things for you, so I can't deliver this message to everyone myself in the most..effective of ways. You won't mind filling your friends in for me, right?"

He doesn't answer. He can't. His tongue is lead and his mouth is stuck shut, if he opens it will surely be left that way for the rest of infinity- for the rest of this place, this time. Someone says yes in his voice.

"Good. Now, try to listen carefully..."

---

He wakes up on sand. He's sitting up quickly, stilted as his mind finds his body. His tongue is lighter, teeth separated once more as his jaws are their own entities again. The cliff is still under him, wind passing by him peacefully. The horizon stretches infinite.

The ground is warm, there's no mistaking it.

"Deimos? Are you there?"

He pauses briefly.

"I need to tell you guys something."

#deimos x reader #SORTA???????#I MEAN. U GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS HIS ASS SO LIKE. TAKE THAT AS U WILL...#idk he's definitely in gay love w/ you but like in that 'aha hey bestie what if we kisses and you were a cosmic horror :flushed:'#madness combat imagines #madness combat x reader #madcom imagines #madcom x reader #auditor reader #employer reader #<- gonna be usin that tag too now ig??

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vostokovasmelina · 3 years ago

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— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson

word count: 3.1k+

warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution

Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.

However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.

For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.

For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.

“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”

Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.

“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.

So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.

“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”

Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.

“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.

In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.

“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”

You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.

“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”

“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.

“Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.

You seriously needed to get your shit together.

“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.

Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.

“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.

You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.

“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.

* * *

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.

Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.

Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.

Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.

It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?

"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.

And then he said hi and it all went south from there.

Sarah was obviously pissed.

She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.

Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.

"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.

When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.

"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."

Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.

Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.

Beautiful eyes.

Well shit.

"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.

Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.

But, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.

It made you want to commit a crime.

His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.

Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.

It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.

In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.

The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.

"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.

"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.

Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.

"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"

It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.

You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.

"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.

Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.

So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.

"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."

He can't be serious.

"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.

Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.

* * *

mini-series taglist – let me know if you want to be added

@softieyn

@mahvericks

@amirahiddleston

@fireghost-x

@samuelthomaswillson

@itsnottilly

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kitkat1003 · 4 years ago

Text

Tower Tales

6: I’ll be home for Christmas....you can count on me...

AO3 link

@asilcorner

(also recorded myself singing the song in this chapter, listen here!)

Their first Christmas in the tower is on the horizon, and while they try to remain optimistic about it all, it’s hard to be happy when you’re living in a prison.

Yakko, as usual, is shoving down his own sadness with ease. Wakko watches, with sharp eyes behind the veneer of dull suspicion, as Yakko cheerfully pulls out a Christmas tree from nowhere, has them all put up the ornaments one by one, instead of just throwing stuff on there. To elongate the process, perhaps, to force them to focus on the action rather than the lack of an escape.

Wakko sees, sometimes, Yakko’s eyes dart to the water tower door. He hears, at night, Yakko, going to the door and trying to wrench it open. Some nights Yakko spends hours, sometimes minutes, and sometimes Wakko hears Yakko stop, sit, and cry into his knees. He’s very quiet, but so is the tower, at night, and they have terribly good hearing for toons.

Yakko’s always smiling in the morning, with breakfast. Wakko worries.

The first few months after they’d figured out them being locked up wasn’t some prank, they’d thrown anything they could at the door to try and get out. After they’d ran out of ideas and materials, they’d quit, because it was more depressing to try, hope, be constantly disappointed than just to forget.

Or try to forget. Wakko guesses that Yakko can’t.

And Dot isn’t exactly thrilled, either. Wakko thinks she misses the outside more than she lets on. He vaguely remembers her, on days they felt like wreaking havoc would be boring, taking them on a picnic. The stock market hadn’t crashed yet, and then it did, so they didn’t have a lot of money. They did have the ability to steal, but even then they didn’t do it much because it wasn’t fun or right to steal from people who were already going bankrupt.

They’re mischievous, not cruel. Wakko wonders if the people who locked them in here knew that difference.

“What are we gonna do for Christmas?” he asks one afternoon, during lunch. “Do you think Santa can get in here with the door locked?”

The question has Dot suck in a sharp breath. She looks away, upset, and Yakko gives him a look, the one he gives whenever Wakko says something tactless.

Wakko doesn’t have a lot of tact. He thinks he might’ve eaten it, whatever it is.

“Santa can get in anywhere,” Yakko replies, hands on his hips, confident. “And we’ve been pretty good, despite the circumstances, so I think we’ll be getting plenty of presents from him.

That’s something that Wakko worries about. Presents. What is he even supposed to give his sibs that they can’t just create with toon powers? Making cards seems lazy, even if he would put all his effort into them.

Yakko, he’s sure, already has an idea. Because Yakko is smart. Dot probably has them figured out too.

“I thought you were off Santa’s nice list,” Dot says with a grin. “You know, for being a hypocrite?”

“I think he’ll find it in his heart to forgive me this year,” Yakko shoots back, hand on his chest, before standing up to put his plate in the sink. Wakko will lick them clean with his tongue, and Dot will put them in the dishwasher, and one of them will put them away when they’re done depending on when it finishes. They’re efficient, kind of.

“Should we decorate?” he asks, because so far they only have the tree, and the tower looks a little barren.

Dot’s eyes sparkle at the idea, and Wakko knows he is going to regret asking.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the end of the next day, the whole tower is put together, tinsel and twinkling lights that flicker hanging from the walls and ceiling. Dot puts mistletoe over every doorway they’ve made, and every time they happen to be beneath it, she makes sure they either give her a kiss on the cheek or she gives them one.

Yakko thinks it’s cute, if silly, and Wakko just shrugs it off.

They make a fireplace, with a chimney that they aren’t sure goes all the way through. Wakko tried climbing it, but halfway up he found himself shot back down, rolling across the floor covered in soot.

He couldn’t even try and argue to not take a bath that day. Yakko had dunked him in and hadn’t let him out until the black stopped coming off on Yakko’s gloves.

His hopes for Santa visiting are dashed, and he can see Dot deflate too.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko mutter, and Wakko wonders.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is very, very sure that this Christmas is going to be great. She knows it is, despite the fact that they don’t even know if Santa can come see them, despite the fact that they won’t be able to go anywhere to see snow, despite how the world around her wants to tell her it won’t be.

She will spite that because she refuses to let anyone take this season from her. She and Yakko and Wakko start a food fight in the kitchen when making cookies, and cookie batter splatters all over the wall. Wakko ducks behind the kitchen island, with her, and holds out his hand.

“Truce?” He’s wearing an army hat, comically large on his head, with the straps hanging down past his shoulders.

If she wasn’t astronomically cute herself, Wakko might give her a run for her money.

“Let’s give our brother a wet new coat,” she agrees, and Yakko becomes the color of cookie batter in seconds.

“Betrayal! By my own siblings no less! Is nothing sacred?!” Yakko cries, leaning heavily against the stove with the back of his hand placed dramatically against his forehead. Dot and Wakko giggle, coming around to face him.

“I don’t know, I think this is a good look for you,” Dot gives him a once over and hides a laugh behind her hand. Wakko reaches out a finger and swipes a bit of the batter off of Yakko, sticking it in his mouth to taste.

“Mmmm,” he grins, and Yakko gets a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“You know, you’re right Dot! I ought to share my new looks with you, don’t you think?” he reaches out and sweeps them into a goopy hug before either of them can escape, and all three of them share the wealth of the batter that was supposed to go in the oven.

Dot takes a bath, then Yakko does, and Wakko licks himself and the kitchen clean. He’d offered to lick them clean, but they politely declined.

“Slobber just isn’t a good look on me,” she’d told him, and Wakko had shrugged and eaten the demolished mixing bowl.

After that, they actually make cookies, because as tasty as the batter was to Wakko, they might want some warm, chocolatey goodness.

They make milk-free ones, too, even though Yakko says they don’t have to, because they want him to have a good time too.

Besides, the cookies taste fine without milk. Who needs lactose?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night, Dot is sitting at her vanity, and she looks in the mirror and is ever aware of the background of cold metal. The decorations look gorgeous, she put them up, she did everything she could to make the Tower become the season she loves.

(Well, she technically loves the spring the most, with its gorgeous flowers and sunny days for picnics, but still. Who doesn’t love winter? It has Christmas! And, now, it has Yakko’s birthday!)

But, even with all the decorations and fun, even with the mistletoe and the letters to Santa she can’t send, she feels...

Miserable.

She wants to go outside. She wants to play in the snow. She wants to harass street carolers by messing with the lyrics of their songs. She wants to be out there, with people, in the world, instead of sequestered away.

She sighs, remembering a tune from their previous Christmas.

I’ll be home for Christmas.

You can count on me.

Please have snow, and mistletoe,

And presents under the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me,

Where the love light gleams...

She trails off and sighs again, resting her arms on the vanity, and then her head on her arms.

She doesn’t notice the figure peeking from the third floor, frowning down at her in concern. Doesn’t notice the lightbulb appear over his head, before he ducks back upstairs.

She just sits there, thinking of the last time she saw a single snowflake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko locks up the third floor, a week and a half before Christmas.

When they ask, he tells them it’s a surprise. Because it will be. He finally knows what his gift for them, for Christmas, will be, and he can’t let them ruin it, because he really wants to see the pure surprise on their faces when they witness it.

He spends the days up till Christmas Eve working on it, finishing it Christmas Eve morning after breakfast and before lunch. He’ll have to double check it before showing it to them, but that’s fine. It’ll be about ten minutes security and then he can show them the magic he has in store.

Dot has swapped out her typical character modeled dress for a long sleeved one, with white fuzz trim on the hem and where the sleeves end. Yakko has a pair of deer antlers, and keeps calling himself Rudolph, whoever that is. Yakko says it’s going to be a hit a few years from now.

Wakko just puts on a Santa hat on top of his baseball cap and calls it a day. Dot calls him lazy, and he shrugs, cause that’s a fair assessment.

Christmas Eve is as fun as it is weird, because they don’t have anything anywhere to do to celebrate, but they cut out little paper snowflakes and angels to hang up and then watch and see how much eggnog Wakko can chug at once.

The answer is around 6 gallons, give or take, because Yakko capped him off there, worried.

“You’re such a mother hen,” Dot snickers, and Wakko tilts his head to the side with a hiccup.

“Isn’t a male chicken a cock?”

Yakko laughs.

“Goodnight everybody!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They meant to stay up, but they’re kids, so they fall asleep eventually. Wakko, kicking and squirming in bed, because even asleep he can’t stay still, wakes to the sound of frantic whispers.

“Please, just-just for tonight,” Yakko’s voice is quiet and pleading, and when Wakko blinks away the sleep from his eyes he turns into see Yakko, standing in front of Santa, hand gripping Santa’s coat.

And Wakko doesn’t have the time to process the fact that Santa is here, and real, because Yakko keeps talking.

“Please-just take them out, I’ll stay inside. We-just for the night, just let them see the sky again, some snow, it’s been months, please,” Wakko can’t see Santa’s face, but he does see the shake of his head.

Yakko’s voice cracks when he speaks.

“Just one ride? They’ll be good-I-,” Yakko pauses. “Okay, maybe they won’t be, you know them, but I’ll make sure they are, okay? They-they don’t deserve to be locked in here. It’s Christmas, so just for tonight-please.”

There’s something so young about Yakko’s voice, then. Yakko doesn’t sound like a kid, sometimes, and Wakko doesn’t always either, but for him it’s for laughs and for Yakko it’s because he’s tired.

Santa says something, puts a hand on Yakko’s shoulder, and Yakko deflates. Wakko doesn’t even notice that there are new presents under the tree yet, because he’s too busy trying to be quiet enough to hear.

“Just go,” Yakko’s voice is hard, and quiet, and cold, and sad. Santa pulls another present from his bag and sets it beneath the tree, and disappears up the chimney.

Wakko watches Yakko tremble in place, for a good two minutes. He counts the seconds in his head, because it feels like they go so slow. Yakko finally stops, takes in a deep breath, and sighs.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko repeat, and he pretends to snore as Yakko walks back to bed, and buries his face in the pillow.

It takes a long time for him to get back to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko wakes up on Christmas to the smell of peppermint hot cocoa at the crack of dawn-at the very least, it feels like the crack of dawn, because it’s earlier than he’s woken up in a while, but the elation of Christmas!!!! has him up in an instant.

There’s a large stack of presents beneath the tree, their names written in pretty cursive of the same handwriting. Dot is all cheer, and he watches her skip towards the kitchen. He shuffles over himself. Yakko sets two cups of hot cocoa on the table, and swirls the top with a large helping of whipped cream, before sprinkling some peppermint on top.

“Merry Christmas, sibs,” he smiles down at them, and it almost makes Wakko forget about the night before. “My gift to you is your menu of choice. The whole day, a la carte menu. Whatever you guys want, I’ll make. So, what’s for breakfast?”

Wakko’s eyes are blown wide. Yakko has no idea the can of worms he’s opened with that open ended gift. Or, maybe he does, because he puts on a chef’s coat and hat, and sets up the stove, and a grill, and the oven.

“Bring it on, little brother. But, uh, let me make Dot’s first? Something tells me hers will be a biiiiit quicker to make.” Wakko bites his tongue at that request, and Dot prattles off a normal order, because she’s boring.

By the time Yakko is done with Wakko’s order, he’s out of baloney in his slacks.

“I’ll put some more in there later.” He shrugs it off, and Wakko finishes off plate thirty seven with a grin.

After that, they open up the presents under the tree. Yakko gets some notebooks, a set of fancy pens, and a very expensive looking leather belt. He also gets some books, and a perfect replica of a Shakespearian outfit.

He seems happy, but his smile is strained. Wakko thinks he knows why. Yakko is getting better at hiding it, though, because he almost didn’t notice Yakko was sad at all. There’s still a trace, though.

Wakko wonders if he’ll start forgetting to look for that.

Dot gets the latest model of hair straightener and curler, and a wide breadth of makeup products, as well as a poetry book that she regards with half suspicion and half curiosity. She gets a notebook and pen, too, one with a feather plume sticking out the end. She uses it to brush underneath her chin, giggling.

Wakko gets some chew toys, some that he doesn’t see himself devouring just yet, and a necklace with a chew on too. He puts it on and nibbles on it as he opens up the others. He gets an engineering book, called “Building Without the Math,” and it sounds right up his alley. He also gets a tool kit, which he places in his gag bag for safe keeping.

The other items are mostly random toys they hadn’t known existed because they haven’t been outside. Wakko uses the propeller of a toy plane as a fan, and then spits in it to see the drool droplets hover.

“Eugh,” Dot growls out, looking away, before she sighs and reaches into her dress pocket. “This leads to my gift.” She hands both Yakko and Wakko a set of flash cards on a ring.

“Coupons?” Yakko flips through them, and then snickers.

“You two can do things that...,” Dot struggles for the world. “Make me uncomfortable. Cause you’re boys.” She rolls her eyes. “But you like to do them ‘cause they make you happy, not because they make me annoyed, so these are your passes for that. Valid for a year.”

There are ones like “Can lick me” and “Allowed to not bathe for 2 weeks” that Wakko thinks are specifically targeted at him but hey, why not? Baths are dumb, and he licks to show affection! He sticks the cards in his cap.

Yakko rips one out, hands it to her.

“Thanks, Dottie,” he stresses her least favorite nickname, and she bares her teeth in a very strained smile, snatching the coupon from his hand. But Yakko laughs, and soon enough, they all are.

“I’m also going to put away the decorations, no extra charge,” she waves a hand.

“Sounds good to me,” Wakko hops up, fidgeting with his long sleeves. “I...have to prepare my gift for you. Can you guys wait on the second floor?”

Yakko and Dot share a look, and then nod.

Wakko vanishes up to the third floor, heart in his throat.

He hopes this works.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He makes them put blindfolds on, pulling them up the stairs. Yakko holds Dot’s hand in one and Wakko’s in the other, helping Dot up as Wakko drags him along.

“What’s with the secrecy, Wakko?” He asks, and Wakko bounces in nervous excitement, tail curled around his leg.

“It’s a surprise,” he insists, and sets them up perfectly, on the mark he planned out. He’d checked, double checked, triple checked. If this doesn’t work he is going to lose it.

He turns off the lights, and pushes his contraption to the back of the room.

“Wakko, I would like to see sometime today,” Dot calls, and Wakko fidgets.

“Almost done!” The ice is in, okay, now just push the button.

There’s a series of clanks, and then a loud, grinding sound. Dot and Yakko shiver, and Wakko is glad he used scarves for blindfolds.

There’s a loud FWUMP, and Wakko bounces on his toes. His feet make indents in the ground.

“Okay, you can look now!”

Dot and Yakko pull down their blindfolds, and Dot gasps.

They’re surrounded by snow.

There’s a model of a crescent moon up by the ceiling, that acts like a lamp, and glow in the dark stars that glimmer pasted up on the ceiling, with constellations they find familiar. From the machine in the back, snowflakes are shot out, drifting slowly to the ground.

“I, uh, I made snow,” Wakko shrugs, a little self conscious. “Since we can’t go outside, I thought...,” What is there to say?

Dot takes one step into the snow, like she can’t believe it, and squeals when her feet crunches into it, jumping around.

Yakko is still dumbstruck, until Dot comes around and shoves snow down his pants. He jumps up comically high with a shriek, ears brushing the ceiling, and when he falls into the snow it makes a perfect imprint of him.

“Oh, that’s it!” he picks up some snow and throws it at her. Dot throws some back. Wakko runs into the fray, nailing Dot in the face, and she takes her revenge with deadly precision, before sprinting over to him and tackling him into the ground.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” she shouts so loud that Wakko’s ears ring.

“Merry Christmas?” he tries, and she laughs.

“I knew you were my favorite brother!”

“Hey, I’m offended!” Yakko sprints over, but he’s laughing too, and he drops on top of them, wrapping his arms around them and rolling over in the snow, so they’re on top of him.

He nuzzles Wakko’s nose with his own.

“Nice job, little brother. Think you got us beat with this gift.” Wakko blushes, looking away.

“Wanna make a snowman?” he responds, because you’re welcome seems too formal.

“Heck yeah!” Dot jumps up and runs over to a large pile of snow.

“Watch your fucking language!” Yakko barks without heat.

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Wakko giggles, and Yakko sits up.

“C’mon, let’s not let her have all the fun,” Yakko picks him up and sets him off to the side, and Wakko is off like a shot the moment his feet touch the ground.

He thinks about the night before, of Yakko’s words.

Who needs the guy, anyway?

Beneath the fake moonlight, where the snow still sparkles like Wakko remembers, with Dot giggling up a storm as they make the largest snowman they can, with Yakko looking lighter than he has since they got stuck in here, Wakko can’t help but agree.

Who needs Santa anyway?

He can hear the tune from before, in his head, and hums it as they work, smile widening when Dot and Yakko join in.

I’ll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams!

#animaniacs #animaniacs 2020 #kitkat1003 #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #christmas fic #tower tales

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levbug · 4 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄— 𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐤.

#pairing ー akaashi keiji x royal! gender neutral! reader

#warnings ー royalty au! a few curses here and there. also a mentioning of being locked up, not getting fed enough, arranged marriage (its the plot do beware), marriage to men older than 50 to a younger person, death of natural causes

#wc ー 2.2k

you lay on the grass with akaashi, enjoying the view of the stars above you. it had been months since you two have done this, and you could never tell when the next time would be, so you just savoured the rare calmness you only felt when you were with the boy.

as each day passed and your arranged wedding was nearing, you and akaashi found yourselves getting busier and not having enough time to spend with each other. it broke both your hearts' that, soon, you'd be married and it wouldn't be to him.

you desperately wished to be wed to him, but you were from different worlds: you being royalty and akaashi being the prince's, your brother's, most trusted servant. it wasn't acceptable in the eyes of others.

"so what if it isn't? it's not anyone's business on who i fall in love with. let them say whatever." you had responded angrily to akaashi after he brought it up. he shook his head and held your face gently between his calloused hands.

"i know, your highness, but it's not as simple as it sounds." he kissed your forehead. you relaxed as his lips touched your skin, smiling as you heard him address you by your royal title. his silly nickname for you made you forget about your anger. akaashi was the only one who could do that to you.

the consequence of marrying a commoner seemed like nothing, but it was everything. you would lose your royal status and be forbidden to ever see your family again. it was a cruel punishment, but you were tempted to disobey the rules and do it. maybe even start your own family with akaashi and live in the town.

but every time you saw koutarou's infectious grin, or heard your father's booming laugh that couldn't help but make everyone around him chuckle as well, or caught glimpse of your mother's soft (eye colour) eyes that matched yours, you would second-guess yourself. you loved your family, but you also loved akaashi.

akaashi had convinced you to stay with your family, despite wanting nothing but to go to marry and live the rest of his life with you. he had seen how torn you were and and decided to be selfless, saying he'd be happy to just be able to see you everyday surrounded by those you loved.

koutarou knew of your situation, but there was nothing he could do. he wouldn't become king soon enough, definitely not in time for your wedding, so he couldn't change the rules or call off the marriage. he knew how much you loved akaashi, just looking at you he could tell, and it saddened him that he was helpless in this situation.

your betrothed was the king of seijoh. he was a sleazy old guy with a bad temper and horrible manners. he was at least thirty years your senior and you'd be his sixth spouse. he disgusted you to no end. he touched you inappropriately on the first night you met and when you called him out on it, he dismissed it as a good ol' joke.

he had only chosen you to be his spouse because he saw a painting of you and deemed you physically acceptable. you knew if he found out about your courtship with akaashi, he'd have you executed, as he had with his last spouse. he was globally revered and he knew it, using it to his own advantage.

"keiji?" you called to him softly. he looked down at you with his beautiful dark blue eyes, awakening the butterflies in your stomach. 'gosh, keiji, you never fail to make me feel this way.' you thought, staring back up at him, cheeks heating up under his soft yet intense stare.

"yes, love?" he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. your heart rate sped up a bit at the nickname, as it was rare for him to call you anything but your given name or 'your highness'.

"i don't want to get married to that creepy old fucktard." your sudden statement caught akaashi off-guard and he couldn't help but chuckle. he found it amusing how even if you were raised to be 'proper' and speak only the politest words, you would do the exact opposite.

"well, you don't have much of a choice. when the king says he wants you, it's you he's gonna get." akaashi said, sitting up so he could look at you. "no matter how disgusting it sounds, it's our reality."

"i know, i know...it's just surreal how someone can just choose who they want to marry and the other has no choice but to accept, because if they didn't, it would possibly result in war." you sat up as well, glaring at the ground in frustration. akaashi noticed how riled up you were getting and held your hand in his, tracing small circles on the back of it.

"you know i love you, right?" he said, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "if i could, i'd fight that sorry excuse of a king for your hand in marriage."

smiling at his sincerity, you scooted closer to him and leaned you head on his shoulder. you felt tears well up in your eyes as you thought of all those days and sleepless nights you had spent imagining your future with the boy who sat next to you.

"i wish i could stay and keep the life i made with you." you sighed. akaashi closed his eyes and just listened to your soft voice. "it's true, i'll never be over you because i've built a future in my mind with you and now hope is gone. there's nothing left for me to do."

akaashi's eyes opened as he heard this. "that's not true. as much as i hate to think of a life without you, you don't need me. you're wonderful, bright, and young. you don't need my love to continue living. and don't bother arguing, because we both know i'm right."

tears threatened to fall from you eyes and it took everything in you to not cry. "listen, (first name), i hope you know i love you, because i really do and i can't say it enough, but with the king, you'll survive. you'll be safe with him, and i'll be content knowing you are."

the tears you had been trying to stop earlier were now falling freely from your cheeks. akaashi took you into his arms and hugged you tightly, rocking you back and forth in attempts to calm your crying.

when your sobbing had been reduced to small whimpers and sniffles, akaashi held you at arm's length to look you in the eye. "k-keiji, puh-please promise me you'll al-lways love me." you hiccuped, your puffy red eyes staring at him desperately.

"i promise. and you promise to always love me?"

"i suh-swear."

akaashi had been wrong about one thing; you were not safe with the king. it had taken years for you to return to your home because the king had forbade you from ever visiting fukurodani when he found out you and akaashi had been exchanging letters.

the old sleaze had treated you like a prisoner, only letting you out of your room when there was an event or when there were visitors and he needed eye candy.

his son, tooru, had been much kinder to you. he was a year older than you and was extremely attractive. you thought you would've fallen for him if you weren't already head over heels for akaashi.

tooru would sneak up to the tower you were locked in and bring you some food, knowing that they didn't feed you enough. you were eternally grateful for him and constantly let him know.

one day, though, tooru was earlier than he usually came and this time he was accompanied by two guards. you recognized one as iwaizumi, as he had also occasionally given you extra food, but the other one had pink hair and you weren't familiar with him.

"tooru, is everything alright?" you asked the taller male as you heard keys jingling in the cell's lock. you were sure there was no event tonight, since usually a handmaid would be the one at the door, never the prince. "did something happen?”

"i'll explain it to when you get out." his usually cheery voice was devoid of all emotion. the door swung open and you jumped back, startled. the two guards helped you stand up.

you were a bit wobbly on your feet, as you hadn't been let out in a month. the guards noticed though, and held you by your arms gently as you walked down the stairs.

a million thoughts rushed through your head as you descended down the tower. was koutarou alright? was this about your family or fukurodani? were you being sent to execution? tears welled up in your eyes at the last thought, knowing full well that the king was merciless enough to kill you for no reason.

when you had made it down the last flight of stairs, you were sat on a soft, plush couch which contrasted to the cold, hard stone floors in your tower. tooru sat in front of you with a somber expression.

"my father is dead. he died last night of natural causes." he said grimly. as much as you hated the king, he was still tooru's father and you couldn't help but sympathize with the grieving man. the king had taken so much from you, but your humanity was not one of them. "you can go back to your kingdom, now."

"tooru, i...i'm sorry about your father." he nodded, and you knew those weren't the right words to say. you couldn't grasp the idea that the king was dead and you were just stunned at the fact that you were free again. "when will your coronation be?"

"friday." he responded with not an ounce of emotion. his usually bright brown eyes were dull. you pitied the poor man and suddenly embraced him. he was surprised by this but didn't pull away. soon enough, soft sobs could be heard from him.

you had decided to stay until tooru's coronation and then head home. the brunette appreciated your thoughtfulness immensely and promised he would visit you whenever he would have the chance.

when you arrived to fukurodani, you were immediately swarmed by journalists and reporters on the docks. they asked questions about your time at seijoh and what it was like to marry an older guy like the late king. it was nerve-wracking to be surrounded by so many people after being isolated for so long and you felt your anxiety building up within you.

luckily your guards had gotten you out of their reach and now you were on your way to the palace. your home. where your family resided. where akaashi was.

keiji.

everyday for four years you had daydreamed of what your life would have been like if you had married him instead. everyday for four years you wished to see his face and hear his gentle voice. everyday for four years you longed to be in his embrace.

when you had stepped through the palace doors, you had immediately run into your brother's arms. the king had been surprised by your informal greeting, but hugged you back, as he had also missed his sibling.

one you had pulled away from koutarou's embrace, you caught sight of the familiar messy black hair and gun-metal blue eyes you had fallen in love with.

you ignored koutarou's protests as you sprinted into akaashi's arms, making the boyーer, manーgrunt from the force of impact and stumble a bit before catching himself from falling.

as a result of so many years of not getting enough human contact, you had become a touchy person, constantly hugging others or touching their hands or arms as if to remind yourself that they were real. that this wasn't some concocted reality. as if looking for comfort.

when akaashi wrapped his arms around you though, you felt a heat flood through your body. it made you feel human, after years of being treated lesser than a pet. it was like a warm blanket placed on your shoulders after jumping into a cold lake. it felt like the feeling of sipping hot cocoa near the fireplace after playing in the snow for hours.

it was like waking up from a bad dream.

akaashi felt you shaking, hearing you sob breathlessly between his arms and looked at you concernedly. but he noticed that you weren't crying because you were sad or scared, you were crying in relief.

he wondered how awful the king had treated you. it angered him that he could hurt you so much. you noticed akaashi's furrowed eyebrows and the dark look in his expressive eyes, telling him to relax because it was fine now. everything was good. you were okay. you were fine.

you were safe.

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years ago

Text

Disturbing || Tommy Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: Can you write one about tommy and reader breaking up, then months later tommy sees her with people he doesn’t approve, of drinking ( drugs eg if your comfortable) so he try’s to get her back? Maybe with younger reader

Warnings: Younger reader (20-25 yrs old), anxiety, maybe angst, drug use, heavy drinking, swearing (but, c’mon, it’s the peaky fooking blinders we’re talking about)

Author’s notes:

I’m sorry if the title sucks, I can’t think of anything better at the moment

This was my very first request and I was so tense while writing it, I guess I smoked a thousand cigarettes in the process! I’m praying that you’ll like it, let me know what you think and tell me if this is what you expected ♡

I myself suffer form anxiety, in the first part I just tried to explain how my brain works in certain situations and that’s why it is so long, I hope you won’t get bored.

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

You had been trying to keep control of your mind, you truly had, but in the end that familiar sense of pure fear took over you, again. A heavy form of anxiety had been haunting you ever since you were a little girl, but, as the years went by, you had learnt to cope with it well and when you met Thomas, things only got better, the strong bond between the two of you constantly helping you handle that issue.

Nevertheless, during the last month, things got definitely out of hand: Tommy was always caught up with business, rarely paying attention to you and your increasing fragility, he hadn’t spent a night home since ages and still, in those rare moments you were together, he was just so distant, totally lost in his own mind.

On the other hand, you never once blamed him for the way his life worked, after all you were perfectly aware of how hard it was for him to look after his whole empire, always trying to deal with countless problems without causing any harm to his loved ones, and that was surely not the easiest thing to do. But this time was different: you couldn’t prevent your brain from having obsessive thoughts about Thomas getting completely tired of having you in his way, you actually convinced yourself he was sleeping with other women in the nights he didn’t come home, and on those nights your eyes never shut, you spent hours alone in your king size bed, staring at the white ceiling with short breath and palpitations. That’s why you just couldn’t take it anymore, anxiety was once more sucking the life out of you and you absolutely needed to talk to your boyfriend about it, so, as soon as he entered the house that night, you practically run towards him, determined to calmly explain everything; too bad, your exhausted mind wasn’t working straight and your mouth immediately made it clear.

-Y-you have to tell me- Tears already streaming down your face while the handsome man in front of you gave you a confused look, not having a clue of what was going on. You could tell he also was in a bad mood, indeed your sentence was at first totally ignored as he walked into his study and quickly lit a cigarette, before filling his glass with whisky.

-What the hell are you talking about, y/n?-

You were now facing him again, your hands shamelessly trembling against your chest while you hardly held back the crying. -If there’s another woman, i-if you want to get rid of me, you have to tell me now, ‘cause I’m l-losing my mind, Thomas-

You slightly jumped when his now empty glass was roughly shoved against the huge desk separating your figures, then you unconsciously stepped back, noticing absolute fury burning in his glacial eyes.

-Are you serious right now, eh? Have you any idea how fucking difficult it is to keep everything working these days, eh?- His voice was loud and raspy as he stood from his seat -And you fucking come and tell me about other bloody women, how idiotic of you!- Heavy sobs started coming out of your throat, Thomas instead took a deep breath in order to calm down and stop shouting in your face; once he had partially blown off steam, he sat back in his chair, looking up at you almost with disgust.

-You know what? My brothers were right for once, you’re just a silly kid unable to fit in our world. This whole thing was a mistake, I need a fucking grown woman by my side!- A disturbing silence filled the room right after he spat those bitter words and you swore you heard your heart stop along with your breathing in that very moment, your eyelids instinctively tightened for several seconds, yet, when your eyes flew back open, you realized it wasn’t only a bad dream. Tommy was still staring at you with a stern expression, probably waiting on your next move, so you just looked into his blue irises one last time, unable to speak a single syllable, before leaving.

3 months later

Days went by fast after your break up with Thomas, since then you’d been trying to avoid him in every way possible, humiliation and pain being still too intense to let you face him without terrible consequences for your already vulnerable spirit. Indeed, everything around you was literally going to pieces right before your eyes and you couldn’t help it; even though you’d always been a strong girl, pretty capable of getting through life and its adversities, recent events had left you in a state of such deep sorrow, that the only thing you were able to do was seek any practicable form of anesthesia in order to escape from reality, even just for a brief moment. In fact, you’d been hanging out with a group of very low guys from East Birmingham, which led you to do drugs and bend your elbow more and more often, severely damaging your ability to think rationally, and the worst part was that you didn’t even care about what you were doing to yourself, as long as it allowed you to get along with your demons.

And then one night, your presumed new friends literally dragged you to the Garrison, despite your loud protests arising from the awareness of the fact that Thomas would’ve been there too. Luckily, long before the Shelby brothers made their usual entrance into their pub, you ended up being utterly intoxicated by alcohol and cocaine to the point that, when the moment finally came and Tommy showed up, you barely noticed him. Too bad for you, Tom’s eyes, on the other hand, never failed in spotting your silhouette among the crowd. At first, seeing you again after all those days brought pure relief to his soul, God only knew how much he had missed you, but soon after he remembered the reason why you were gone and his jaw clenched with regret and shame for the unforgivable way he had treated you. Conscious of the fact that he had already caused you too much pain, Thomas was about to go away and leave you be, until he saw you diving in some random guy’s arms while heavy drinking directly from a bottle. It just wasn’t like you to act in such a way, therefore he immediately realized that something must have been wrong, so, before his mind had a chance to catch up with the rest of his body, Tommy found himself taking long strides in your direction, roughly elbowing anyone who was in his path. All of a sudden, you observed your friend’s face turn pale and his eyes go wide with fear for no apparently reason, Andrew kept staring at a precise point behind your shoulders and when you turned around in order to understand what was going on, Thomas Shelby was in front of you in all his glory. For a couple of seconds he just stood there, sending deadly glares at the poor boy next to you, blood boiling in his veins because of the violent rage that affected him, then his attention entirely moved to your trembling figure.

-I need a word with you- You felt your chest shrinking in pain as his calm and deep voice reached your ears, but you still tried to play it cool with a strength you didn’t know you had. -Fuck you already, Thomas- A resentful laugh erupted from your throat while, careful not to look in his mesmerizing eyes, you attempted to turn your back on him, yet a gentle grip on your forearm stopped your movements, forcing you to stay in your place.

-I’m begging you, y/n, we need to talk- This time his crystal blue gaze successfully entangled yours and your mind went totally black for a moment, preventing you to fight against him as he guided you out of the pub. Birmingham’s cold breeze immediately hit both of your bodies, but you were hardly able to sense it, due to the effects that drugs and alcohol had on your brain; once you were far enough from the chaos, Tommy stopped walking, his large hand still on your arm. -What are you doing?- His thumb made it to your beautiful face, softly wiping away from your nose the traces of that familiar white powder. -This is not you, y/n!-

His tone raised, displaying all of his concern, you simply gave him a forceful shove in attempt to push him away, but his toned chest didn’t move an inch. -Why do you even care, Tommy? After all I’m just a silly kid to you!- You started screaming, prey of your frustration, as soon as you felt hot tears forming in your eyes; the realization of how you still hopelessly loved him stabbed you right in the ribs.

-Please, just listen to me, okay?- He said while cupping your face with both his hands, probably to make sure you were looking at him, so you managed to childishly close your eyes in a last desperate demonstration of your hard feelings towards him. -I know I hurt you, I know the things I said to you were cruel and unfair, you didn’t deserve that, nothing of that was true- Thomas leaned his forehead against yours, even though you still had your eyes closed and your fists harshly pressed against his chest, his voice now sounding a lot closer. -I was going through a hard time and I was a fucking bastard for putting it all on you. But I swear to God, love, look at me- he slightly rocked you in order to get your attention -Look at me, I love you, y/n- Your eyelids flew open instantly, that being the very first time he clearly admitted his feelings for you, and suddenly you were no longer able to control all of your destructive emotions: your body was now racked with violent sobs as you finally let him hold you properly, crying out loud against his waistcoat and shirt. -Shh, shh- Tommy’s thumbs gradually wiped the tears away from your cheeks, while his lips briefly pecked yours multiple times. -It’s okay, we’ll be fine- he mumbled in between kisses - let’s go home now-.

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cassandra-tangled · 5 years ago

Text

Cassandra Appreciation Week Day 3: Underrated

Hey guys!!! Here’s my one-shot for day 3: underrated! You’ll never believe, I actually got this one up before 12 o clock midnight, lol.

Here’s the AO3 link

The word count is 2,222

And a brief summary is: this piece touches on Cassandra’s childhood, and especially her relationship with Queen Arianna. I’m thinking about possibly starting a side project about Cass’ childhood, even though after this week my main focus will continue to be New Beginnings. Lemme know if y’all think that’d be a good idea!

Today’s one-shot doesn’t have any sensitive content. Enjoy!

Cassandra held the tightly-rolled scroll close to her chest, and made her way through the wide, pale hallways of the castle. Her father had, once again, sent her off to the throne room with a message for the King and Queen.

“You need to learn responsibility, Cassandra,” he’d say whenever he had a job for her, stooping down to be at eye-level and laying a hand on her shoulder. “The King and Queen are good people. They were generous enough to allow me to take you in and raise you in their castle, and one day you’ll repay that debt through servitude. For now, though, the Queen especially wants you to have a happy girlhood. That doesn’t change the fact that, come a day not too far along, you will begin to aid the other servants around the castle. You must learn how to interact with those you will soon serve. Do you understand, Cassandra?”

Cassandra would nod her head. “Yes, Father.”

“Good.” He’d hand her the scroll, tell her to mind her behavior, and send her on her way.

And so, she went--every time, her legs carrying her almost aimlessly along the route she’d taken so often, and her mind wandering to be anywhere other than where she physically was. Cassandra was young, but she’d understood--and detested--her place in society for as long as she could remember. Books were her best friends, and she’d often read fantastical tales of endangered princesses saved by noble knights. Although enthralled in the story for its duration, when she’d finish and close the novel, she was always left with a depressing, heavy feeling in her chest. Cassandra understood that her destiny was not to be the starring damsel in distress, nor the headlining knight in shining armor, but rather, she was relegated to the role of the servant who served the victory dinner. This simple fact of life left Cassandra with an ache to be more, a deep, unshakable yearning to surpass her station. It was a silly fantasy. She could never grow to be more than the role she was destined to, and she understood that.

In fact, despite being a girl of just nine, Cassandra had already managed to wrap her head around many of life’s truths. She understood the implications and division of status, the importance of wealth--or lack thereof. She understood that people were greedy, cold, and selfish, and that many would do unthinkable things to get by, or even just for fun. She understood that she would have to work to earn her keep, and that she wasn’t entitled to anything. She understood that her birth parents--whoever they were--did not want her, or love her, and that she was fortunate for her father finding her and taking her in. She understood that the world was a cruel, unforgiving, harsh place and that, despite her dissatisfaction with the status she’d been born to, she was most certainly one of the luckier ones.

Cassandra also understood that, despite all of the darkness and despair that clouded the world and her young mind, there was some light. The brightest light, for Cassandra, came in the form of Queen Arianna of Corona. The Queen was so very good to her. Not only had she allowed for Cassandra to be raised here and generously provided the necessities to facilitate her upbringing, she often treated the child to sweets or motherly pats on the head. Although she knew it could never be true, Cassandra liked to daydream of a world in which Arianna was her mother. Despite being her Queen, and despite the levels of class between them, Arianna was the closest thing Cassandra had ever had to a motherly figure who actually cared for her.

Cassandra could clearly recall the first time she met the Queen. It was the same night that she’d been found by her father. He brought her back to the castle with him, and instructed her to wait for him outside of a tall, wide set of doors. Although she didn’t quite understand what was going on, it was clear to her that it wasn’t any good.

After he’d entered the room and shut the doors, Cassandra pressed her ears up to them, and could just barely make out some phrases and mutterings of conversation through the thick, dark wood.

“Your Highnesses, I’m sorry we couldn’t...she cut the bridge and ran...we’ll search…”

“How could you let...we trusted you...my child…”

“Frederic, stop...tried his best...our most trusted soldier…”

“I know, Arianna...forgive me…heart is broken...”

“We’ll never...until we find her…however, we did...a child…”

“You what…”

“I humbly request your permission to...as my own…”

“Bring her…”

And, suddenly, footsteps towards the door. Cassandra jumped back and leaned up against the wall, pretending that she had never been listening in the first place.

The door swung open, and the man that rescued her--who Cassandra would soon know as Dad--stepped out. He reached down towards her and scooped her up off the ground.

“Sweetie, some friends of mine would like to meet you. They are very important people, and something bad has just happened to them. Please, be on your best behavior.”

“Um…” Cassandra wiggled, attempting to get free. “I want Mommy.”

“I’m sorry, dear.” The man averted his eyes from Cassandra. “You’re not going to see your mother ever again.”

Cassandra’s lip began to quiver, and tears welled in her eyes. In response, the man cradling her gave her an affectionate pat on the head.

“Don’t cry, little one,” he soothed. “I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of. There is no need to worry.”

“But, Mommy…”

“I know, but you’ll be taken care of. Please, just don’t cry when I take you in there. Okay?”

Cassandra wrapped her arms around the man’s neck and hugged him tight. “Okay.”

She felt the movement underneath her as the two made their way into the mysterious room. Within seconds, the movement had stopped.

“Here she is.” The man gave her a pat on the back. “Will you look up for me, sweetie?”

Slowly, Cassandra loosened her grip from the man’s neck, and shifted her gaze towards the direction that he was looking in. Her eyes met with two people sitting in huge, regal chairs--a man and a woman. They were wearing the finest clothes she had ever seen, and the room was as fancy and large as the rest of the castle, but Cassandra could tell that something was very wrong. They looked tired and defeated, their eyes puffy, and cheeks crusted with the salty residue of tears. The man was slumped forward, head in his hands and leg jumping up and down restlessly. The woman simply sat back in her chair, gazing off into the distance with a melancholy look. When her green eyes met with Cassandra’s, though, she managed a weak smile.

“Hello, dear.” The green-eyed woman then addressed her words to the man holding Cassandra. “Where did you say you found her again?”

“At the house where, er…”

The woman nodded her head. “Okay. You needn’t say more in front of such sensitive ears.”

Suddenly, the hunched over, stressed-looking man spoke. “Couldn’t you take her to an orphanage, Captain?”

“Frederic.” The woman swatted at his shoulder. “I know you’re upset, but don’t be so cruel. Look at her! She’s but an innocent babe. If the Captain wants to take her in, we should let him.”

The man raised his gaze from the table, and when his eyes met with Cassandra’s, they softened. “Oh, you’re right, Arianna. She’s just a child.” He paused, and returned his gaze to the table. “Captain, if you wish to take the child as your ward, you may.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll get her some food and put her to sleep, and as soon as I’m finished, I’ll rejoin the search. Rest assured, my men are scouring every nook and cranny tirelessly, sir.”

“Very well.”

“Before you go,” the woman interrupted, “may I hold her?”

“If you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Please. I do.”

With that, Cassandra was placed in the lap of the green-eyed woman. Her face was grief ridden, struck with melancholy, and yet she smiled, and was tender and gentle. She reached out a hand, and stroked the child’s hair.

“Hello, dear. My name is Arianna.”

“Ar...Ar-yanna,” Cassandra repeated.

“That’s right. What’s yours?” The woman cupped Cassandra’s face in her hands.

“Cassandra.”

“You’re a beautiful child, do you know that, Cassandra? The nice man who brought you here is going to take good care of you. You’re going to live here with him. We will make sure you are fed, clothed, have a good education, have toys to play with and books to read. Does that sound good?”

“Okay. But whaddabout Mommy?”

“Oh, dear.” The woman pulled Cassandra into an embrace, and Cassandra could feel her chest silently heaving. She spoke with pain in her voice. “It’d do you best to completely forget of that dreadful, dreadful woman.”

Cassandra had, in fact, forgotten her mother. Who she was, her features, anything about the woman that Cass had once known was pushed deep to the recesses of her mind. From that day on, she came to know the man who had saved her as Dad, the worrisome man as King Frederic, and the sad, green-eyed woman as Queen Arianna.

That night was the first and last time that Queen Arianna had hugged her, but to this day, the Queen was just as kind and caring towards her.

Suddenly, a voice pulled Cassandra from her thoughts.

“Yoohoo, kid! Another scroll from the boss?”

Jostled, Cassandra looked up, and realized she had drifted so far in her memories that she’d walked right past the throne room.

“Oh. Yes.” She turned around sheepishly and made her way to the doors of the throne room. The guard who had addressed her, William, swung the door open for her.

“The Queen is in there. You know she loves your visits,” he winked.

A smile came across Cassandra’s face. “Thanks, Will.” With that, she made her way into the throne room. Arianna was, in fact, perched in her throne, apparently reviewing some court documents. Cassandra silently made her way up the long carpet, and stopped just before the stairs that led up to where Arianna was sat. She bowed towards the throne, clutching the scroll to her chest, until she was addressed by the Queen.

“Your Majesty,” Nigel, the royal advisor, interjected after a few seconds of silence. “It would appear you have a visitor.”

“Oh! Cassandra. Thank you, Nigel. Hello, dear.”

Cassandra straightened out her back and smiled. “Hello, Your Majesty. I come bearing another message from my father.”

“Oh, good. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you for a moment. Nigel, if you will?”

Silently, Nigel descended from his position next to the throne, and retrieved the scroll from Cassandra’s hands.

“Thank you, Nigel,” Arianna smiled, as she was handed the scroll. She tucked it neatly into her lap. “I’ll get back to work in a moment. It’s been a while since your father has sent you here. You’re not getting into trouble, are you, Cassandra?”

Cassandra’s cheeks flushed red. “Oh, no, Your Majesty, I--”

Arianna let out a light chuckle. “I’m only making fun, dear. You’re a good child, that much I know. Have you been alright?”

Cassandra nodded her head. “Yes, thank you, Your Majesty. I am truly indebted to you for all that you do for me. I hope that you have been good.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I’m as good as I can be.” Arianna turned her attention to Nigel. “Nigel, do you know where that pesky bag of candy got to? Why don’t you give the child a treat or two?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Once more, Nigel descended the steps, and placed two pieces of neatly-wrapped candy in Cassandra’s hand.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Cassandra bowed slightly.

“You’re welcome. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” Arianna gazed at Cassandra for a moment, before glancing down at the floor. “You’re growing up so fast.” Her voice shifted, suddenly betraying a hint of sadness. “How long have you been with us now, Cassandra?”

“Almost five years,” Cassandra replied.

“Five. That’s a long time.” Arianna paused. “How has your training with the guards been going?”

“Very well, thank you. I’ve been enjoying it a lot. I’m blessed to have such an opportunity.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” A gentle smile spread over Arianna’s face. “Well, darling, I’d love to chat for longer, but I’m a busy woman.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I’m sorry if I intruded.”

“Oh, no! Don’t be silly, you’re perfectly fine. It was good to see you, and please send your father my regards.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Cassandra.”

With that, Arianna shifted her gaze back down towards her paperwork, and Cassandra made her way back to the halls. A heavy feeling clouded Cassandra’s head as she made her way back towards her father’s office, which doubled as her school space. She wished so deeply that she could spend more time with the Queen, that they could bond like mother and daughter. Cassandra sighed, and forced the thought to the back of her head.

No use in dreams that will never come true.

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pinnithin-writes · 4 years ago

Text

I Know A Place

The laugh that stumbled out of Gordon was pleasant to Tommy’s ears. It was genuine, mellow, not shrilled out from nervousness or anger like so many of his previous laughs had been. The sound pulled a smile from Tommy. He wanted to keep hearing it. He wanted to keep making it happen. “If you need to get away,” he continued tentatively, “I know a place. It’s quiet.”

Gordon and Tommy are tired and Chuck E. Cheese is too loud. They step outside for a minute and decide to get out of there. 3559 words.

The floodlights in the parking lot hummed like distant hornet’s nests, but right now Tommy would take that over the grating techno music inside.

It was his birthday. Of course it was, why else would he be at a Chuck E. Cheese – he and his dad had kept the running joke long into his thirties, so something as trivial as the world almost ending wasn’t about to get in the way of that. It was still a good bit the 37 th time around, especially since he’d actually had friends show up this year.

That didn’t take away from how loud it always was. The entertainment center was never really a calm atmosphere, and sometimes the music was too loud and the lights were too much and Tommy needed to take a breather. His tolerance threshold was particularly low this year. Probably had something to do with spending the past week surrounded by gunfire and full-volume yelling.

He sat on the curb outside, breathing in the cool desert night. Things were quiet out here. Well, quieter. There still was the chirping of crickets and the soft roar of the distant highway. Somewhere, a solitary coyote yowled into the sky. It sounded lonely.

Tommy was just catching a moment by himself. He could return to the party in a few minutes, his social battery recharged enough from the break to handle the sensory input. It was something about himself that he monitored closely, and had done so for years. Even when he and his colleagues were crashing through the underbelly of Black Mesa, there were a couple moments Tommy had to blink out of there, grabbing time by the shirt collar and telling it, “Hold up. I need a minute.”

The door behind him opened and the pulsing bassline poured out. Tommy recognized the heavy tread that approached and didn’t even need to turn his head to know that Gordon Freeman had followed him outside. The door swung shut, muffling the music once more. Tommy exhaled quietly.

“Hey,” Gordon said, drawing up beside him on the curb but not sitting down. “You know the party’s in there, right?”

Tommy offered him a polite smile. “I know, Mr. Freeman,” he said. “I’m just taking a break.”

Gordon crossed his arms, filling out the sleeves of his uniform’s undershirt. The top half of his coveralls were tied around his waist in a charming way that made him look more like a mechanic than a physicist. He had shed the HEV suit’s armor as soon as he arrived, bemoaning not even being able to change after enduring the apocalypse.

Tommy himself wasn’t a fan of that detail, either - he’d ditched the tie and the lab coat as quickly as possible. Oh, and he’d gotten rid of the blood. Chuck E. Cheese was a family establishment. It would just be plain rude for them all to show up covered in gore and grime - think about the kids.

Gordon was still looking at him. “You good?” he asked.

Tommy nodded. “I’m fine,” he assured him. “You can go back inside. I’ll only be a couple more minutes.”

“I actually think I’m gonna stay out here, too, if that’s okay,” Gordon went on. “My head is killing me.”

He was teetering there, still awkwardly staring down at him, and Tommy belatedly realized Gordon was waiting for his permission. Tommy flicked him a cursory up-and-down look. He was fond of Gordon, he really was, but the guy did have a tendency to never know when to shut up.

God, he looked bone-deep exhausted, though. His eyes didn’t used to look like that, faraway and weary, with purple half moons underneath. He probably wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep for 24 hours straight.

A little peace and quiet was the least Tommy could offer. He wordlessly patted the concrete next to him in invitation. Gordon picked up on the cue and gratefully eased himself down beside him. They were sitting close enough to touch, but they didn’t. The coyote howled again.

“So,” Gordon made it thirty seconds before breaking the silence. “Your dad is… Interesting.”

Tommy exhaled quickly out of his nose, almost a laugh. People said that about his dad a lot. “It’s okay, you can tell me he’s weird,” he allowed. “He’s been around for a while and he kind of forgets how to talk to people.”

A trait that Tommy had quickly learned he inherited. He said some pretty weird things, too. Well, weird to most people. Tommy always made perfect sense to Tommy, so Tommy was who Tommy usually talked to. The fact that Gordon so often sought out his company was still new to him.

“I mean, he did just spend like, ten minutes trying to tell me that Chuck E. Cheese’s wasn’t a restaurant,” Gordon said. His tone was bitter in a careful way, like he was trying not to offend for Tommy’s sake.

He only shook his head and gave Gordon a bemused smile. “It’s not a restaurant, though.”

“Oh - you - you, too, huh?” Gordon waved him off tiredly, his voice subdued and without its usual bite. “It serves food, okay? That makes it a restaurant.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy chuckled, astounded at this man’s ability to find the smallest possible hills to die on.

“Thanks, buddy,” he sighed, reaching out a hand to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

It was an unfamiliar gesture, if only due to the fact that not three hours ago Gordon had been missing that hand. Tommy’s father had bestowed him a new one - thank you for your service and all that - and while Tommy was used to a healthy amount of the surreal, this particular gesture stuck with him. Maybe it was because Tommy had been there when Gordon’s hand had been chopped off. Maybe it was because he’d seen what Gordon was like, on the edge of death from the injury. It made all the suffering he went through seem remote, like it hadn’t even happened.

Not that Tommy wanted Gordon to still be missing a hand. It was very good that he had it back. But the wound was invisible now, living only in both of their heads, not even a scar to show for the hell they survived. Tommy found himself staring at the conjured limb as Gordon returned it to his own lap. How had his father done that? Was it any different from his other hand? Had he just pulled a copy of it from the past and attached it to present Gordon? Did it hurt at all?

He wished he knew. He wished he could have fixed things for Gordon as soon as it happened. Would have saved him a lot of pain.

“Tommy,” Gordon prompted.

Tommy’s eyes flicked guiltily back to Gordon’s face. “Yeah?”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You seem a little spaced out there.”

“Yeah,” he answered tonelessly. Tommy didn’t know how to explain that he was thinking this hard about Gordon’s hands. “Does your head still hurt?”

Gordon rolled his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I mean, yeah, but - heh - felt worse before, right?” he attempted to laugh, not quite succeeding.

Tommy was sure Gordon hadn’t meant for the comment to sting, but he winced anyway. It felt like far too soon to be joking about what just happened to them.

Gordon noticed. “Listen, Tommy, it’s really nothing,” he said. His voice was careful, soft, the edges sanded down in the absence of the past week’s adrenaline. “Just a little too much in there for me right now. I’ll get over it, okay?”

“You shouldn’t... have to, Mr. Freeman,” he replied. Tommy sighed and removed the silly propellor hat he was wearing, flicking the spinner distractedly. “If it hurts you, you should make it better.”

“What, you mean, like, take an ibuprofen or something?” Gordon asked.

Tommy stared at him, deadpan. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a headache in my life.”

“If you need to get away,” he continued tentatively, “I know a place. It’s quiet.”

Gordon stopped laughing. Fixed Tommy with a curious look. “Right now?”

Tommy nodded despite the flush he felt creeping up his neck. “Mhm.” He’d been there many times. Alone, of course. It kind of defeated the purpose of going to a quiet place if you brought someone else with you. But Gordon was different. Gordon was okay.

“You want to just get up and leave your own birthday party?” Gordon asked, skeptical.

Tommy shrugged. “I can restart things. It’ll be here when we get back.”

The other man’s eyebrows furrowed with disbelief. “What do you mean, restart things?”

“Take us back; restart things.” He repeated, waving a hand vaguely. “Y’know, like, time? For a little.” He didn’t like to turn back the earth for more than an hour - things got weird if he did - but he didn’t imagine they’d need to be gone that long. Just long enough to make it better.

Gordon wasn’t entirely tracking. Tommy could see it on his face. But when he stood and offered his hand, Gordon took it without hesitation. Just like he had back at Black Mesa, when it was just the two of them against the cruel, cold world. Gordon had placed his unconditional trust in him, and Tommy had sworn to hold it close, keep it safe, never let it break.

He realized he was just standing there, staring at him. Hand in newly restored hand. Tommy blinked and pulled Gordon to his feet, the motion natural and reflexive after their week in hell together.

“Man, I still don’t know how you can just pick me up like that,” Gordon said as soon as he was upright. “You’ve gotta weigh what, a buck forty?”

“The soda gives me special energy,” Tommy replied dryly, just to make Gordon laugh, which he did.

He led him through the parking lot, patting the pockets of his slacks until he found his keys. As he pulled them out with a merry jingle, he and Gordon approached a truck on the far end of the lot. It was a Toyota Tacoma pickup, bright orange. Cheerful. Next to him, Gordon made a surprised noise.

“You can drive?”

Tommy gave him a curious look as he hit the unlock button on the key fob. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be able to?”

Gordon faltered, dark eyes thoughtful behind the lenses of his glasses. “I dunno, I guess I thought you grew up in Black Mesa or something,” he answered. “There weren’t a lot of cars there, right? Like, y’know how some people from New York never learn how to drive because of all the public transportation?”

Tommy just shrugged again, somewhat relieved Gordon wasn’t assuming he was too infantile to drive. It was a useful skill to have. Plus, he liked it. “I learned,” he said simply.

They climbed inside the vehicle, the ambient sound of the desert night muffled by the doors closing. Tommy started the car while Gordon put on his seatbelt.

“I didn’t really peg you as a truck person, either,” Gordon commented.

Tommy fastened his seatbelt as well, so the safety alarm wouldn’t sound off as soon as he hit the gas. A nice feature, he considered, if crashing and dying in a wreck was ever a concern to him. “It’s not always a truck, Mr. Freeman,” he explained.

Gordon snorted. “Of course it isn’t. Sure.” He gazed thoughtfully out the window at the parking lot while Tommy threw the Tacoma into gear. “You can just change your car into a different kind of car?”

He nodded.

“Is it always orange?”

“Usually,” Tommy answered, passing Gordon a fond smile. “I like orange.”

They drove. It didn’t take long to reach the highway, then to reach the access road off the highway, then to reach the little dirt track that snaked its way through the sand. The truck trundled past a barbed wire fence and Tommy rolled down the windows, letting the night air rush in to chill them. He didn’t play any music. It wasn’t the night for that.

“Where are we?” Gordon asked. “Where did your dad send us?”

“The Chuck E. Cheese is in Las Cruces,” Tommy replied as he cut the wheel. The Tacoma bucked and jostled them as they went off road.

“Las Cruces - so wait, we’re still in New Mexico?” Gordon tore his eyes away from the scenery to give Tommy an incredulous look. Well, as well as he could while he was bouncing around. “He just put us all back in the middle of fuckoff nowhere?”

“Yeah,” Tommy answered mildly. He thought it was pretty out here. “White Sands is just past those mountains.” He pulled the vehicle to a stop, put it in park, and pointed at the terrain in question.

To Tommy’s surprise, Gordon's eyes lit up. “The missile range?” he asked. “You know that’s where they tested the atomic bomb, right?”

Tommy was aware. He had fact-checked the Wikipedia article for WSMR several times during his employment at Black Mesa, and the topic was frequently touched on while he was getting his degree. But it was good to see Gordon excited about something, so he invited him to keep talking with an, “Oh, really?”

He listened to Gordon go on at length about the proving grounds and the Trinity detonation while he opened the door and let himself out. Gordon’s voice was animated and charming, and it brought a faint smile to Tommy’s face as it filled the desert night. In the backseat of the Tacoma was a tidy collection of pillows and blankets that Tommy piled into his arms. As he went to carry them to the bed of the truck, Gordon distractedly followed him.

“And then in the nineties they started hosting the Bataan Memorial Death March marathon there, and - oh, hey, d’you need a hand with that?” he asked as he clambered down from his seat.

“I’ve got it, Mr. Freeman,” he answered. “Thank you.”

Tommy tossed the blankets lightly into the bed and opened the tailgate. He climbed up, offering his hand once more to Gordon. The wind ruffled coolly through their hair as they paused. It wasn’t like the guy needed any help crawling into the bed of a truck - they both knew this - but Gordon gratefully took his hand anyway and let himself be pulled inside.

“Man, you’ve got this all figured out, huh?” Gordon commented as he took in the heap of blankets.

That he did. Tommy had come on many teeth-chattering night drives out to this spot over the years. Later on, when he’d come into his abilities, he would simply wink out of existence and end up here. The desert was peaceful, the mountain range enchanting. Tommy loved it. He kicked out the blankets and shuffled them into a more comfortable pile, trying to ignore the way his heart was starting to flutter.

He didn’t take people out here. This was his spot. But…Gordon was here. He’d put him in his truck and brought him here. And Tommy wanted him to be here. He really, really wanted him to be here.

“Whoa,” Gordon breathed as he settled back on one elbow to fully look at their surroundings. “This is… beautiful, Tommy.”

They were stretched out under the wheeling stars, the Milky Way tracing a smoky band across the velvet night. The southern Rockies bordered the desert like sentinels, guarding them and keeping them safe. Juniper and sagebrush cast the night in a heady scent, and somewhere faraway, a great horned owl hooted.

Tommy watched Gordon take it in. This was his place, and he desperately wanted Gordon to like it. His eyes were wide with wonder, the starry night reflected prettily in the lenses of his glasses. The tension that had built up in his shoulders was slowly soaking away in the quiet. He looked relaxed, for once. At ease.

The streaks of gray at his temples were likely new, brought on by the stress of recent events. Tommy fought the impulse to reach out and thread his fingers through his hair. He had done it in Black Mesa, when Gordon was half-conscious from blood loss, but now it was different. It would mean something else.

Gordon caught him looking. Raised his eyebrows in question. “What?”

Tommy blushed delicately and laid back to look at the stars. The stars didn’t look back. Usually. “Nothing,” he said.

They stargazed in silence, the desert sighing softly around them. It was a chilly night, and Tommy could sense Gordon subconsciously closing the gap between them for warmth. When they were close enough to be touching from shoulder to elbow, Tommy’s heart rate had worked up to a jog. It was bizarre; only yesterday personal space was out the window for the two of them, a cascading apocalypse forcing them to lean on one another to survive.

Now Tommy was keenly aware of the warmth radiating from the man beside him, and he found it incredibly unfair that the script had been flipped on him so suddenly.

“Hey, Tommy?” Gordon’s voice tugged him out of his thoughts.

Tommy turned his head slightly to indicate that he was listening.

“Did you…know? About like, everything that was happening?” He asked, his voice small. “The Resonance Cascade and the aliens and the - the weird shit with Benrey?”

“No, Mr. Freeman, I didn’t know about that.”

“Your dad just kind of let us take care of it without telling you anything?”

Tommy hesitated. “He didn’t… tell me anything, no.”

There were some clues he picked up on as they went along, but there was no way he would have been able to explain it to the science team at the time. Not in a way that made sense. He hoped Gordon didn’t think he was keeping anything from him while they were clawing their way through the halls of Black Mesa. The last thing he wanted to do was betray the man’s trust.

But all Gordon said was, “Pretty fucked up of him to leave you in the dark like that.”

“I...” Tommy faltered. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He had been dealing with his father’s tendency to play god all his life. The emotional detachment with which the man made decisions was prudent, but he often forgot how cold he really was. Yes, his father loved him. Tommy was aware of this. But loving someone and showing it were two different things.

At that realization, he turned his head to look at Gordon fully. The other man was already staring in his direction, the space between his eyebrows wrinkled in concern. It was sweet that he was worried. Gordon was the only member of their little ragtag team who had consistently asked after his wellbeing. Tommy reached out with a delicate hand and removed his glasses, folding the frames carefully and setting them aside. Gordon let him, watching expectantly.

God, his eyelashes were so long. It was a wonder they didn’t get all tangled up when he blinked.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Tommy told him.

“Okay,” Gordon answered immediately. “Is there something else you want to talk about instead?”

He smiled softly and shook his head. This was a quiet place. There was nothing left to say.

Tommy kissed him in the same way he did everything: with care and purpose. He thought about it first, decided it was right, and he did it. The brief, gentle press of Tommy’s mouth against Gordon’s was like a sheet of rain rolling over the desert, soaking them both with a muted calm. When he pulled away, his entire body felt weightless. Gordon was starry-eyed.

Tommy touched his fingertips to his own tingling lips, feeling his face go hot. He really just did that. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman,” he murmured. “I should have asked first.”

He didn’t regret it, though. He held Gordon’s gaze as the stars shifted silently overhead. Tommy realized he had done the impossible - he had rendered Gordon speechless.

Then his hand was on the back of Tommy’s neck and he was pulling him in again. Gordon kissed him in the same way he did everything: headfirst and with passion. It was blood roaring in his ears and fire burning in his stomach and as Tommy fisted a hand in Gordon’s hair, he thought he might never come up for air again.

They lay side by side in the bed of the truck, mouths meeting and parting and meeting again, slipping under each other’s skin. The trust they had built together bloomed into a lovely affection there in that desert night. And while they had to go back to the world eventually, Tommy was content to stay here for now, drinking in the quiet and the wonderful man in his arms.

The stars glittered brightly. The mountains stood tall and vast. Tommy would stop the world a hundred times over for this.

#ink #fanfiction #hlvrai #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #dont mind me

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

Text

Ragnarok

TITLE: Ragnarok

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1: King of the Dumpsters

AUTHOR: traveling-classicist

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you take care Odin when he was homeless on Midgard (based on the deleted scene from Ragnarok). You take him in and listen his crazy stories about Asgard and Thor thinking he’s just some crazy hobo who needs help. Then one day, Thor and Loki break into your apartment looking for their father. Hela returns in your living room and insanity ensues.

RATING: T

AO3 Link: Here

NOTES/WARNINGS: Mentions of homelessness and mentions of alcoholism in this chapter

————————————————————————————————–

Theo jockeyed through the crowd of pedestrians on the sidewalk. She had a skip in her step. She was finally ready. After Jacob moved out and she cleaned everything up in her apartment, she was finally ready for a new roommate and she knew just the man. As she reached Hell’s Kitchen, she started looking down the side streets and alleys, looking for him. This is where he liked to hang out. With Times Square and Broadway so close by, there were plenty of generous tourists to give him money or leftovers or even the occasional beer.

She was beginning to worry as she walked further down the streets. She hadn’t seen him yet or any pedestrians running away screaming, which was often a good sign he was nearby. She hoped he hadn’t been picked up again. The poor guy did not need to spend another night in jail. Sometimes this city was so cruel to its people, even the most unfortunate of them. Mostly the most unfortunate of them. She glanced down an alleyway and was relieved to find him digging through a dumpster. She walked towards him.

“Finding anything of use, today?” she asked. He was halfway in the dumpster, only legs sticking out. He jumped when she spoke and fell into the dumpster.

“Go away! This is the domain of Odin, King of the Dumpsters!” the old man shouted, his voice echoed in the dumpster. Theo walked closer. Standing on her tippy toes, she looked inside. She ducked just in time as a half empty bottle of whiskey sailed past her head. She crouched down beside the dumpster, putting her hands up to cover her face, as it slammed into the brick wall behind her, shattering and spraying whiskey all over her.

“Odin! Geez, you could’ve hit me!” she shouted at him. “It’s me, Theo! We talked about this; you can’t throw things at people. Wait, did you say, King of the Dumpsters?” Theo said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Mimir told me to use it. He said it was fitting,” he said, rising up from inside the dumpster. He wore a tattered red jacket and layers of stinky, dirty clothes. He wore the hat she had given him. His eye was still covered in grimy bandages. His breath stank of alcohol again. “You interrupted me, Theo. I was attending to very important, kingly, business.”

Theo’s expression fell flat. “In the dumpsters?”

“You don’t understand, girl. I have a kingdom to run.”

“Is that right?”

“I thought perhaps you might be the Einherjar. That’s the last thing I need is them, hauling me off to the prisons again.”

“You mean the police?”

“Oh, yes, that’s what you call them.”

“Come on, you crazy old fart, you’re coming with me today,” she said, trying to help him out of the dumpster.

“Oh, no! I’ve got a full day ahead of me. I’m meeting with the council on 47th street,” he said, turning around in the rubbish, looking for something.

“Is that right?”

“Yes. They need to know that the streets of Asgard are becoming very dirty. Look at all this rubbish! Can hardly walk anywhere.”

“Right. Well, you are in a dumpster—”

“And then, Mimir was telling me about the kitchens on 45th street. Apparently, they’re dumping a lot of good food out in their dumpsters. But I must stay away from that Thai food this time. Just like Vanir cuisine, that is. All those spices. Burns just as hot coming out the other end!”

“I don’t need to know that—”

“And then, my son is supposed to be coming soon. You know, I’ve told you. Thor? He’s coming to get me.”

“Odin, please,” she said.

“No! No! I know he is this time. I can feel it. That or the leftover curry I had last night. I can never tell the difference,” he said, rubbing his belly.

“I think it’s probably the curry. Will you please just come with me?” she pleaded.

“No, no, no. I’m busy. A king is always busy. Busy, busy, busy.”

“Yes, I know but there’s a Nor’easter coming in tonight, and I don’t want you out here in it. Please, come back to my place. I have a free room now.”

“Woman, I’m fine! Look,” he said, nimbly hopping out of the dumpster to Theo’s surprise. He walked to a stolen shopping cart and pulled out the sleeping bag she had given him months ago. “I have the blanket you brought me and the coat and the gloves and the hat and the scarf and the boots,” he said, pointing to each item in turn. “I’m sure I’m ready for any weather Midgard can throw at me.”

“No, Odin. Those are good for when it’s cold like this, but it’s going to get worse tonight. The shelters are already full, and I knew you wouldn’t go to one. Jacob’s moved out now. He got a job as a janitor and his own place in Jersey, so the room’s free now. Please, come with me.”

He looked up at her with his single, blue eye. He seemed to look right through her at the brick wall.

“Please?” she said, with a smile. A smile crept across his face.

“Theo! It’s good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too,” she said, pretending he had not just forgotten their conversation. “Odin, I have a free room now. It’s yours, okay, come on!”

“A room? Oh, you mean chambers!”

“Yes, chambers! And their all yours. Come on!” She quickly took his hand before he could change his mind and led him out of the alley. They walked a few blocks, Theo making sure Odin stayed right with her.

They passed shop windows and brightly lit theaters, restaurants lined with diners and cafes teeming with hipsters. Odin looked inside each window as if searching for someone. Theo took his arm to keep control of him. He turned to her and frowned.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to my apartment, remember? I’ve got your chambers all set up for you.”

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m very busy today,” he said, pulling away from her. “I have to wait for Thor, that’s what the Doctor said. ‘Wait for Thor,’ he said. And I have to meet with the council to discuss these filthy streets. And—”

“I’ve canceled your plans; you need a bath,” she cut him off before he could come up with some other excuse.

“I had a bath yesterday,” he said, folding his arms like a child reporting to his mother.

“Which yesterday?”

He shook his head a moment. “Oh, a few yesterdays ago. I can’t remember.”

“Alright, so you need one. And you need a good meal that’s apparently not Thai or Indian,” she said, taking his arm again and continuing up the street.

“Oh, and beer! Do you have any beer?”

She frowned at him. She knew he had an alcohol abuse problem that she did not want to encourage. She didn’t really blame him after everything that had happened to him. Abandoned by his family and the nursing home that had been caring for him, he had nothing else to turn to; no one else to turn to. Until she had met him, that is.

“I may have a little bit of beer at home but there’s some rules, so you’ll have to wait.”

“Oh, alright,” he said, gruffly.

They continued up 8th Ave towards the park. The air was cold, and the wind nipped at their faces. The storm was set to hit them that evening, so Theo knew she needed to get Odin settled quickly.

“Oh, look, a park,” Odin said.

Theo couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that’s Central Park.”

“How quaint. You know, I love the way you Midgardians rope off nature like this. Build up all around it like you’ve conquered your little world and made it yours.”

“You don’t get out of Hell’s Kitchen much, do you?”

“You mean ‘Hela’s Kitchen’. I was waiting for my son there.”

Theo smiled and shook her head. Odin was known around the streets as the crazy hobo god. He thought he was the Norse king of the gods. He always talked about Asgard and Midgard and his son, Thor. Like the Avenger Thor. No one believed him, of course. The poor old man was suffering terribly from dementia and probably schizophrenia as well. Theo had caught him several times talking to the air, speaking to someone called Frigga.

They cut across the park, taking some winding trails past ponds and huge trees and massive rocks. Odin looked around as if dazed.

“This doesn’t look like the city?” he said.

“We’re still in the city, silly. We just cut across the park. Central Park, remember? We’re going to my house.”

“You live in here? In the woods?”

“No!” she said, laughing and taking his arm. “I live on the other side of the park! Over there, see that’s the Met, I’m across the street and down a ways.”

“Oh, I was beginning to question your choice of a homestead.”

“You are so funny.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever described me that way.”

“Well, they’re clearly mistaken.”

They crossed in front of the Met Museum and walked down the street. The buzz of 5th Ave faded behind them, as they crossed into a quieter neighborhood. Quieter for New York, at least. Theo unlocked the front door of her apartment block and peeked inside. Her landlord didn’t like to see non-tenants in the building and he definitely didn’t like Theo’s homeless friends. Determining that the coast was clear, Theo led him inside.

“Why are we sneaking?” Odin whispered, harshly.

Theo snickered. “We have to steer clear of my landlord.”

“Oh, very well.”

She pressed the button for the elevator and waited. When it came to the ground floor, the doors opened smoothly, revealing her sleek-looking landlord, Alex. Her heart sank. Now, she was going to hear it.

Alex looked at her with contempt and then raised a brow at Odin.

“Bringing your little friends back again, Theo? You know, we talked about this. I’ll have to put another strike on your—”

Theo interrupted, “This isn’t one of my ‘little friends’. This is… my dad.”

“Your… dad?”

“Pleased to meet you, my lord,” Odin said, extending his hand.

Alex recoiled a little. “Eh, hi. How long will he be staying?”

“Well, that’s not really any of your business, now is it?” Theo said, glaring at the tuxedoed hipster. “You’re a landlord of an apartment block, not the manager of a hotel. May we get on, please?”

“Just make sure he doesn’t bother anybody,” Alex said.

Theo rolled her eyes and pushed past him, leading Odin in by his hand. Alex stepped off the elevator and watched them as the doors closed. Once they were closed, Theo flipped him off.

“Well, that’s very rude, young lady. He seemed like a nice young man,” Odin said. “He’d be a very good match for you, I think.”

“Pfft. I don’t think so. Guy’s a prick,” Theo sighed. “And if he knew who you were, he’d kick you out on the streets in this storm without another thought.”

“Well then, he is clearly very skilled in illusion, because I thought he was quite nice. You know, my other son is good at magic.”

“You mean Loki?” Theo asked, shuddering a little at the thought of the man that had caused her so much grief.

“Mmm. He was a strange boy but a good sorcerer. He had Frigga to thank for that. She loved him so much.”

“Right,” Theo said, rather shortly. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings but she did not want to talk about Loki, even the fake one Odin liked to talk about. She had assumed he was another who was traumatized by the Battle of New York. Traumatized to insanity.

The doors opened onto the 14th floor and they stepped out. The hallway was pristine and white, radiating a modern architectural aesthetic. Theo led him to her apartment.

“Okay, so we live in apartment number 1414. See?” She pointed to the number on the door.

“One thousand four hundred and fourteen people live here? It looks so small.”

“Welcome to New York,” Theo said, opening the door. Her apartment was as crisp and clean as the hallway. Wooden floors gave way to sleek, white walls and gray concrete. A great wall of windows gave them a lovely view above the surrounding buildings and just a bit of the park. She had house plants lined up on shelves along the windows. A small table and chairs took up one side, while a petite kitchen took up the other. The living room was made up of a couch and a few armchairs surrounding a coffee table. One whole wall was lined with a great, black bookshelf that stood from floor to ceiling, packed full with books.

“Come on in,” she said to Odin.

“Well, this is very humble,” he said, looking around with a smile.

“Beats sleeping out in the cold.”

He took her arm, gently. “Thank you, Theo.”

She smiled at him. “You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

She walked over to the kitchen and opened a cupboard. It was lined with boxes and cups filled with various toiletries in neat packaging. She pulled out a toothbrush and a little tube of toothpaste, along with some hotel-sized shampoo and conditioner bottles and a bar of soap.

“Let’s see, here’s some shower stuff. There’s a towel and washcloth in there already. Here’s a toothbrush and toothpaste. Do you want to shave?”

“Shave? This beard? What would people swear to, then? They can’t say ‘By Odin’s Beard!’ if Odin has no beard!”

“Alright, alright! No razor, then. Geez, men are so possessive of their facial hair. Here, at least take a comb and comb it out. Your hair, too.” He took the comb and toiletries and grumbled to himself. “Wait, wait! Don’t go yet! I’ve got new clothes for you too. Hold on.”

She ran to a closet by the door and pulled out a shopping bag. She gave it to Odin. He stared inside for a moment and then looked up at her with a tear in his eye.

“Oh, now don’t do that, or I’ll start crying,” she said, trying to choke back tears.

“Why are you doing this for me? A mad old man in the streets.”

“Because you’re my friend.”

He looked down at his feet. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense. Go on, go shower so you’ll feel better. Second door on the left.” She pointed down a hallway that led away from the dining room table. He shuffled off and closed the door. A few moments later, Theo heard the shower turn on.

“Phew,” she sighed. She’d finally gotten him to come with her. It wasn’t the first time she had offered Odin her spare room. Practically every time it became available, she would go to him first. He always gave an excuse about going to some council meeting or going to observe the kingdom or the armory or the weapons vault or whatever crazy excuse he could come up with. She just chalked it up to his age. People of his generation were so stubborn when it came to accepting help from others.

She had bailed him out several times after he had been picked up for public intoxication or aggressive behavior or petty theft from dumpsters. The police had no other contact on file for him, so they normally just called her to pick him up. He was a drunk, sad, old man. She felt bad for him.

She turned to the kitchen and started pulling out pots and pans to make dinner. The skies were starting to darken, and tiny snowflakes were beginning to fall. She wished she had more rooms to take more people in. She had been doing this for a couple years now and had helped many people get back on their feet or find help. But when winter came, she always felt bad for not being able to do more.

After a while, the shower stopped, and Odin emerged in his new clothes. Theo had gotten him a few outfits: a flannel button down and some jeans, some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and a nicer button down and slacks. He came out in the flannel and jeans.

She smiled at him. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” he said. He had combed his hair and beard. They were a much purer white now than the gray they had become with the grime. He was still wearing those filthy bandages over his eye.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Take off those old bandages. I have an eyepatch for you.” She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a black eyepatch from a pharmaceutical bag. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.

“Thank you.”

“Is that a recent injury, Odin? Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve had those on but has anyone ever looked at it?”

“Oh, this old thing is centuries old. I received it far before your ancestors even thought of sailing to this land.”

“Right, well, let me look at it anyways.”

“No, it’s very ugly. You wouldn’t want to see it.”

“Odin, please. I’ve worked in an ER before. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse.”

“Are you a healer?”

“Ha, no. I just admitted people, but I learned a lot there from the nurses and doctors, so please, just let me look.”

He removed the bandages, revealing a jagged scar across where his eye had once been. The eye was long gone but the hole it left was expertly sealed. Theo examined it. She was surprised with how precise the surgery to the eye was. She hadn’t really seen anything like it but then again, she was no MD. It was clean and well healed and that’s what mattered.

“Alright, well try this on. I had one leftover from a while back. I think it adjusts.”

He pulled the strap over his head. “Why did you have a leftover eyepatch?”

“I got in a fight at the bar… with a door.”

“Did you win?”

“You should see the door,” she said, laughing.

“Ha! Well done!”

They laughed for a bit before Theo returned to the kitchen counter.

“What are you hungry for?” she asked. “I was thinking chicken and steamed veggies. How does that sound? No Thai. No curry.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Theo cooked up the chicken and vegetables while Odin sat at the kitchen table and watched the storm move in. She plated their meal and served it to him, setting her plate down across from him. She returned to the cupboards for two glasses and poured them some water from the tap. She sat down across from Odin and started eating.

“Do you have any beer?” he asked, looking at the water.

She knew the question would come eventually. She was hoping that if she served him the water, he would drink it and not think about the beer.

“Why don’t you drink the water first, and eat, and then we can see if you’re still up for a drink.”

He nodded, though a bit disappointed. What sort of meal was served with water instead of beer or wine or mead? But, not wanting to seem rude, as he was her guest, after all, he nodded and ate. They ate quietly and listened as the wind began to pick up through the tall buildings.

“I’m really glad you decided to come with me, Odin. I was so worried you’d be stuck out in this. People die in storms like this, you know. I want you to stay here. You can stay as long as you need to.”

“That is very gracious of you, Lady Theo, but I know that Thor is coming for me soon.”

“Okay, well, in the meantime, I want you to stay here.”

He nodded at his finished plate. “Do you have any beer?”

Theo sighed. “Alright, you get one glass, okay.” She walked to the refrigerator and opened a can of Bud Light and poured it into a glass.”

She brought it over to him and he drank. He made a sour face and put the glass down. “Why don’t you people make good beer?”

“Well, that’s what I have, so.” He shrugged and drank the rest in one gulp. “We do need to go over some house rules, though, okay?” she said.

“Yes,” he said, giving his full attention to her.

“Rule number one: Don’t steal from me. That includes food and booze and anything else in this apartment. I do this because you’re my friend, but I won’t be taken advantage of.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Rule number two: Don’t invite any friends over. My landlord looks for every excuse to boot me out of here and if you bring someone over, he’ll kick us both out on the streets.”

He nodded his agreement.

“Rule number three: No drugs. I know you have an alcohol problem and I’m happy to help you work on it, but drugs are a no-no in this house.”

“You won’t have to worry about it,” he said. “Wait, an alcohol problem? I don’t have an alcohol problem!”

“Odin, you told me you were the king of the dumpsters today with a half empty bottle of whiskey in your hand, which you then threw at me.”

“I found it like that,” he said, folding his arms. “And you startled me.”

“Right, well, we’re going to work on that.”

“Do you have any whiskey?”

“No,” she said, firmly.

“Mmm,” he grumbled.

Theo felt strange being so firm with him. Normally, when she invited a friend to live with her, it was their choice. When they accepted her help, they accepted her full help, which normally meant getting clean or sober and getting back on their feet again, regardless of their complaints or withdrawals. She helped them manage themselves and that was part of the deal. Since it was their choice, she didn’t feel bad being firm with them, but Odin never wanted to accept her help. Even still, he had come with her this time.

“Rule number four: Clean up after yourself. I’m a friend, not a maid.”

“You don’t have any servants?”

“No, Odin, I don’t have servants. Cleaning up after yourself builds character, just do it.”

He shrugged.

“Rule number five: No weapons in my house. No guns, no knives, no bludgeons, no nothing. Understand?

“Yes. Oh, what about staves?”

“No. No staves either.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled again.

“Understand?”

“Fine.”

“Rule number six: My room is off limits. You can go anywhere else in this apartment but do not go into my room. That’s my space. If I’m here, and you need something, feel free to knock just don’t let yourself in. Just common courtesy, you know?”

“Seems fair,” he said.

“And I’ll respect your space as well. Just remember that rule number four applies to your room too.”

“Very well, what else?”

“Rule number seven: I’m putting my trust in you because I know you’re a good person. I just ask that you put your trust in me to help you.”

“That’s not a rule,” he said, smiling.

“No, but I would really like if you follow it.”

“I trust you, Lady Theo.”

“It’s just Theo, no ‘Lady’, please.”

“Very well.”

“That’s really all I have. I just want you to respect me and this house, to be honest. And I want you to be safe and off the streets.”

“I will accept your rules and agree to them. You are a very kind young woman, Theo. I am truly grateful to you.”

The wind whistled past the window outside, blowing thick flurries of snow against the windows. Odin watched somberly.

“Do you think my sons will come for me?” he asked after a while.

“Oh, Odin. I’m sure they will,” Theo said. She didn’t really believe it herself, but he seemed so saddened by the thought of being abandoned. “Do you have a way to contact them?”

“No. Not anymore,” he said.

“I’m sorry. Well, I’ll keep on the lookout for them. See if there’s anyone asking around for you. I’ll call my friends too and see if they know anything. In the meantime, we’ll wait here, okay?”

“Very well.”

When they were done eating, Theo cleared the table. After the servants comment, she thought Odin may have some trouble with rule number four. He watched her as she loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and washed out the pans she had cooked with. It was his first night here, so she didn’t care that much.

“Here, I’ll show you to your room, I mean, chambers,” she said, smiling at the way she had to talk to him.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” he said, standing.

She walked down the hall and pointed into the first room.

“This one is yours. There’s a bed and a desk and a lamp. The wifi is written down there on the bulleting board but I don’t think you have a phone, do you?”

“What’s a phone?”

“Right, well, don’t worry about that, then. Feel free to get settled in. I’ll be up for a while. You’re welcome to peruse the bookshelf in the living room if you want to read. I don’t have a tv though, I hope that’s alright.

“What’s a tv?” he asked.

She laughed. “Well, then don’t worry about that either. If you like to read, let me know. We can get you set up with a card at the library too.”

“Oh, that would be very nice. You know, I used to have my own library?”

“Did you?” she asked, folding her arms and leaning up against the doorframe.

“Yes, it was massive and marvelous. There were books from all nine of the realms there. Even yours.”

“Is that so? Sounds wonderful. Anything good from little old Midgard?”

“Well, I know your people are in love with that Shakespeare fellow but I rather preferred Sun Tzu.”

“You mean, The Art of War?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good classic too. You didn’t like Shakespeare?”

“No, blah!” he said, sticking his tongue out. “Never cared too much for plays, myself. My queen did, though. She went to plays with our son, Loki, all the time.”

“Ah, well, I guess Shakespeare’s not for everyone. Anyways, feel free to look over my little library. It may not be as great as yours was but it’s got some good ones in there, I think.

“Oh, yeah. My room is down there at the end of the hall,” she said, pointing back across the living down the other hallway. “Linens are in this closet, here, but I’ve put fresh ones on your bed already. I think that’s everything. It’s a pretty small apartment. Especially, for how much I pay for it. But it’s cozy and warm.”

“Thank you, Theo,” he said. She could tell he was very grateful. His whole demeanor had changed. He seemed more content than the man that had thrown a whiskey bottle at her head a few hours ago. Maybe giving him a glass of alcohol a night would help him stabilize. She had heard of therapy for alcoholics that utilized that method.

She left him and walked to her room. Quietly, she closed the door behind her and undressed, getting into her pajamas. She sat on the bed for a while and answered emails on her laptop. The wind howled at the window. She closed her eyes.

She hated these storms. They reminded her of all the storms she had spent out on the street. She would never wish that on another person but she knew there were people out there now. She only hoped they had found somewhere warm to spend the night.

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #traveling-classicist #chapter 1 #ragnorok

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doof-doofblog · 4 years ago

Text

"Michael Carter!"

Friday 6th November 2020

Hello again folks! Finally after this blog post I'll be completely up to date with EastEnders. I know I was only one or two episodes behind, but after today I'll be completely caught up. Regardless of being in a second lockdown, I will be still be working my every day job as well as doing my blog so I hope you'll all be patient with me, as you have been so tremendously and I can't thank you guys enough. I also just want to say thank you to anyone who has ever liked a post or commented on a post, please know that I do see you and I my heart soars every time I see you hit that "Like" button! It means the absolute world and I can't thank you enough for your ongoing support.

Anyway, enough with the mushy stuff, this week has been such a good week for EastEnders, secrets have been exposed and it's been quite a dramatic one full of secrets and lies and outbursts. I'm sure this episode is going to leave a great start to next week. I'm feeling excited about this one. So without further ado, lets jump right into it. The episode starts pretty much starts from where the previous one finished. Oooo I feel this is going to be brilliant episode between Shirley and Mick, I can just sense it! Shirley is pushing for answers from her son about Frankie. After witnessing a huge block approach Mick and warn him off of contacting Frankie, Shirley's mind is reeling. She's convinced that he's having an affair with her, but then who can blame her, considering he did have a fling with Whitney, but if Mick isn't going to tell her the truth about who she is, what else is she supposed to think?! Mick harshly says to her that even if he was having an affair with Frankie, her wouldn't come to her for help as she has never helped him in his life. I do feel that that was a bit harsh, but as soon as Mick walks away demanding that he doesn't want to hear another word from his Mum, she simply just says "Okay, I'll go and have a chat with Linda!" - now THAT stops him in his tracks! We all know that she means she'll tell Linda he's having an affair, and now that would make the situation even more awkward wouldn't it?!

Above the undertakers, in their flat, Rainie is still packing her stuff after telling Stuart she's leaving him. Of course something tells me she doesn't mean it, she just perhaps feels she needs to get away after realising she was never actually pregnant. Stuart can't understand and is desperate to stop her. He tells her that it doesn't make sense as they were both looking forward to the future with their baby. It's then that Rainie reveals to Stuart, not the full truth, but that she lost the baby in the accident, there is no baby anymore. Stuart can't believe what he is hearing, he appears absolutely devastated by the news. To me, it feels that Rainie is kind of making an excuse to leave, he does not smother her at all - Stuart has been the only person to ever show her true love. I know it sounds silly but I do think that Stuart and Rainie are meant to be together, they make the perfect couple and it was just wonderful how fate brought them together. Two lost souls who everyone looked down on, found company, solace and love with each other. He's shocked to hear that his wife was happy when the nurse told her about the baby, she is absolutely lying to herself and Stuart though, is she doing this because she doesn't want to hurt him and tell him the truth, being cruel to be kind, I really can't tell.

Returning to Mick and Shirley, Mick comes up with the explanation to his Mum that he was trying to get in touch with Frankie, for Katy. He tries to explain that Frankie had gone missing and he was trying to help because he felt he owed her Mum. But something doesn't make sense. Why would Mick do that for someone he hasn't seen or heard from for over 30 years?! It's then that Mick makes the awful dig at his Mum that Katy was the one who brought him up and did his Mum's job for her. Shirley is slowly starting to break, she has been trying to make it up to her son ever since she put him into care and no matter what she does, she feels it's just not enough. What else can she do? She looked after the pub and Linda and even went to prison for her son, but Mick just can't seem to forgive his Mother. We know that deep deep down, he feels she is to blame for his sexual abuse whilst in care, as if wouldn't have happened if she hadn't given him up. But of course, Shirley would never known it was happening, the only one that is to blame here is Katy. Shirley tells her son that something about Frankie is important to him, he has been speaking to him like dirt for weeks and it's now time that he needs to tell her truth!

Oh, I feel this episode is going to be completely focusing on these 4 characters, Mick, Shirley, Stuart and Rainie! Literally a 4-way episode between these incredible characters. Returning to Stuart and Rainie, Stuart is stopping his wife from leaving the apartment, literally standing in the doorway. Stuart is adamant that his wife is lying about not being happy. He knows full well that she is only saying that because he thinks she's lost the baby. What Stuart says next is completely and utterly true and very touching, and quite frankly, I believe what he's saying - they belong together like a jigsaw, they are actually meant to be together, its as if fate writ it in the stars for them. As Rainie continues to deny that what Stuart is saying is true, Stuart can be seen getting angrier and angrier, he starts to blame Keegan for the loss of their baby. He storms out of the flat and across the Square, Rainie following telling him not to take it out on Keegan, but it falls on deaf ears as Stuart bangs and hollers for Keegan at the front door. Rainie is pleading for her husband to stop, but Stuart says he wants to hurt Keegan as he's the one who's caused them to lose their baby, but then Rainie shouts out the devastating bombshell that there never was a baby, she completely breaks down as she finally admits the truth. Now I just want to comment on the amazing camera work during this split second, Stuart approaches his wife to hug her and console her, but Rainie lashes out and tells him not to touch her. I want to comment on the camera work and angle, of course EastEnders actors haven't been able to have close contact with each other due to the Covid-19 pandemic, did they use a stunt double for when Rainie slapped Stuart? I believe I read somewhere that cast are working with people from their own households to step in to do the up-close shots, I could be wrong though however. But I just wanted to say the camera work on that slap upon Stuart was very very clever!

Back at the Atkins household, Mick is searching for alcohol in Gray's cupboards. I feel like this is a very important scene, this is where Mick is telling his Mum exactly how his life was when he was being brought up in care. As they sit down at the table, Shirley listens to everything her son has got to say, she asks why Katy is so important to Mick, after so many years of not seeing her or being in contact with her? Mick begins to explain that he was the one who was always being picked on by other kids in the care home, but that Katy was the only one who looked out for him, as he describes it, she found something in him, potential maybe - something special? She'd feed him information about other children in the care home, even though that it was against the rules, she put her job on the line for him. To me, he's describing the act of being groomed. She groomed him while he was in child care, which must've let him to trust her, and feel like he was a somebody, which she took advantage of and ended up sexually abusing him, but of course being groomed, he wouldn't have seen it that way. He would've thought that she liked him, when actual fact it was something much more darker, which is what he's having to come to terms with. Of course whilst Mick is describing how amazing Katy had been towards him, Shirley is teary - does she maybe feel that it should've been her bringing her son up? Does she feel guilty for putting him into care? Maybe she feels a sense of jealousy towards Katy, thinking she gave him the upbringing that she never could, and that is why Mick has been so cold towards her lately?

Back at their apartment, Rainie explains to her husband what has happened and what the nurse has told her, that she has actually suffered the symptoms of a phantom pregnancy. She's had all the signs of pregnancy, missed periods, bloating and sickness, and her mind has tricked her body into thinking it's pregnant, when sadly there was no baby at all. Stuart is trying to get his head around what he's being told. He asks whether she took a pregnancy test, and Rainie confirms she did, however there are times that if you leave the test too long it can give a false positive reading. I am feeling absolutely devastated for the couple right now, this is really tugging at my heartstrings, it's making me well up. How Rainie states that she doesn't deserve a happily-ever-after just because of the bad mistakes she's made in the past, I felt like shouting at the TV screen "YES YOU DO!" everyone deserves to turn their life around and live happily, everyone deserves happiness and to have a family. Rainie feels broken and devastated, also because she knew how much her husband wanted their baby. Stuart pleads to his wife to let him help her, let him in and together they will get through this. Rainie breaks down into tears as she flees to their bedroom. My heart is totally breaking for the both of them.

Once again, returning to Mick and Shirley, they are sit sat at the same table discussing Katy. Shirley is fishing for more information on Katy and his upbringing. However, the discussion takes a nasty turn when Mick confesses to sneaking out of the care home just to go and see her. Something instantly doesn't feel right to Shirley, why is Katy having him sneak out when she should've really been looking after him. Mick then also admits to her giving him alcohol and getting him drunk, now that really doesn't sit well with Shirley! Why is she getting him drunk at such a young age? As Shirley starts to voice her opinion on Katy, Mick lashes out at his Mum. Warning her not to talk about Katy in such a way, how dare she! Once again, he points out that Katy was the one who was there for him, she was the one who didn't abandon him! He shakes the table violently, causing Shirley to jump in her seat and feeling his rage eating him up inside him, he leaves the Atkins house, leaving Shirley teary once again.

Returning to the undertaker's apartment, Stuart quietly walks into the bedroom to find Rainie asleep on the bed. As he goes to look out of the window, Rainie softly wakes, surprised to see her husband still with her. But of course he would be, why wouldn't he?! The next section of speech from Stuart is very interesting, it's made me think of something which I will explain in just a moment, he mentions his time in care - being told he'll always be the wrong-un, he'll never be loved. Now hear me out, Mick has also been speaking about his time in care, their stories being quite similar, being told they would be the wrong-uns, be the troublesome child ... am I right in thinking that Mick and Stuart were in care together? What if there was a huge twist in the story here, and that Frankie was in actual fact Stuart's daughter?! What if Frankie has mistaken the identity of her Father and thought it was Mick when in actual fact, her Father is Stuart? Just putting it out there - of course I might be jumping the gun and I could be completely wrong, but an interesting turn of events that would be!!! Anyway, back to the plot at hand, Stuart reveals to his wife that she was the one who actually saved him and as Rainie slowly lifts herself up, Stuart rummages for something under the bed. Eventually he pulls out a small cardboard box and hands it over to his wife, she takes a little look inside and pulls out a handful of small receipts and Stuart reveals he's been keeping a little box of trinkets of everything they've done together. (Which is incredibly romantic!) Rainie is visibly touched and informs her husband that no one has ever done anything so nice for her before, Stuart comforts his wife and tells her that no matter what they will face their demons as a family, whether that means it'll just be the two of them to which Rainie agrees, they gives each other a smile and Stuart simply asks his wife one little question, "Cuppa?" ... Absolutely wonderful script writing I have to say, this episode has completely blown me away!

Mick has finally returned to his own apartment, the buzzer is heard and he lets the person in. His Mum appears from the stairs and enters the room. Mick is very blunt with his Mother and just simply asks her straight out, what does she want. I feel sorry for Shirley here, after everything he has told her about Katy, maybe she has misunderstood. It had sounded as if Mick has been desperate to get in touch with her, wanting to see her. Shirley confesses that Tina had an emergency number for Katy on Frankie's employee form. She reveals that she actually gone and given Katy a call, saying that Mick might need to see her. Mick is absolutely mortified, he can't believe what he's hearing. I do feel sorry for Shirley as she is trying her absolute best to help her son, unfortunately she's only gone and called his abuser up and asked her to come and see him. Mick demands his Mum leaves the apartment immediately, he yells at her to leave, leaving his Mum once again in tears - in her mind, she's done nothing wrong and just simply trying to help her son. How could she have been more wrong?!

Oh the final scene between Stuart and Rainie is absolutely beautiful, Stuart puts together a nice cup of tea and bowl of ice cream and ketchup for them both as they watch a movie on the sofa together. Rainie is dressed up in her pyjamas as she makes herself comfortable, eating her bowl of ice cream and ketchup. The camera turns to Stuart and he has a huge smile on his face, these two are so adorable I can't stand it! Interesting fact:- Tanya Franks did actually eat ice cream and ketchup together, just so she would feel more in character - what an absolute trooper!

The final scene of this episode, Mick is slowly walking across the Square, in the background we see a black cab drive around the gardens. As Mick walks through we hear the car slowly pull up and a female voice thanks the cab driver. Suddenly a woman with long brunette hair walks towards him and says his full name, Mick turns to see Katy, the one person he has been dreading to see. What is going to happen now she has rocked up on the Square?!

I just want to say what an absolutely fantastic episode this has been, the performances from Danny Dyer, Linda Henry, Ricky Champ and Tanya Franks have been bloody incredible! I can't applaud them enough, fantastic script writing also. This has truly been the highlights of this week for sure. But now Katy has arrived on the Square, does this mean the identity of Frankie's father will be revealed? Will we find out more about Frankie, Mick's childhood in care and who Katy is?! I hope you've all enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing about this episode. If you wish to share any opinions or thoughts on this episode please feel free to leave a comment or message me, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Enjoy the rest of your weekend everyone and I'll be back very soon. Love you all xXx

#eastenders #mickcarter #shirleycarter #stuarthighway #rainiecross #katylewis

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