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the-busy-ghost · 5 years ago

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Shoddy History Edits: Mary Stewart, Countess of Arran

The oldest surviving daughter of James II of Scotland and Mary of Guelders, Mary Stewart was probably born in Stirling in July 1451*. Over the course of the next decade she would be joined by at least five siblings, four of whom lived to adulthood- the future James III (b.1452), Alexander Duke of Albany, John Earl of Mar, and Lady Margaret Stewart. Although their births secured the future of the Stewart dynasty, the early lives of these children were not exactly stable and Mary would lose both her parents by the age of thirteen. Following her father’s accidental death at Roxburgh in 1460, her mother took charge of the government of Scotland on behalf of the young James III, until her own early demise in late 1463. After this Mary’s powerful kinsman James Kennedy, Bishop of St Andrews, assumed a leading role in the kingdom’s affairs but when he died in turn in 1465, things began to get a bit out of hand. Possession of the king’s person was a valuable commodity during Scottish minorities and it wasn’t long before the favoured tactic of ‘rule by kidnap’ was employed by Robert, Lord Boyd.

In summer 1466, a group of Boyd supporters led by Robert’s brother, Alexander Boyd of Drumcoll, seized the fourteen year old James III while the king was out hunting near Linlithgow, and took control of government. A reasonable amount of nest-feathering ensued, which was not entirely unexpected. However the Boyds seem to have overstepped the mark when, on or around 26th April 1467, Lord Boyd’s eldest son Thomas was created Earl of Arran and wed the king’s older sister Mary. We don’t know what Mary herself thought about this sudden development but her brother certainly didn’t like it- James would claim in later years that he wept at the wedding, but was unable to stop it out of fear that he and his brothers would be destroyed. This bold move from the Boyds- whose chief representative was only a lord of parliament before 1467- may not have impressed the wider political community much either, especially since Mary was the eldest daughter and was probably expected to make an important match with another powerful European dynasty*. After all, several of her paternal aunts had married into princely dynasties- like the late Margaret (d.1445), who had married the dauphin of France, Isabella (d. after 1494) who married the duke of Brittany, and Eleanor (d.1480) who married the (Arch)duke of Further Austria, while three other aunts had also been involved in important, if obviously less impressive, marriage negotiations. During her mother’s negotiations with Margaret of Anjou in 1460, Mary herself had been suggested as a bride for Edward of Westminster, Prince of Wales, the son of the exiled Henry VI of England. But as fate would have it, neither of James III’s sisters were destined to marry outside the kingdom- although, like her younger brother Alexander, Mary would experience her fair share of European travel.

After three years of power, the tide began to turn for the Boyds in the summer of 1469. Robert, Lord Boyd had been busy over the past year arranging the king’s marriage to Margaret, daughter of Christian I of Denmark, and now he and his son Thomas, Earl of Arran, had the honour of escorting the royal bride back to Scotland. But in the meantime James III had finally managed to seize the reins of government, and, by the by, he had also come to the conclusion that Lord Boyd and his son weren’t really in need of their heads. This must have put something of a damper on proceedings when the Boyds’ ship docked in Leith. Later sixteenth century accounts claim that Thomas Boyd was intercepted on board by his wife Mary, who warned him of her brother’s intentions. Instead of disembarking with the rest of the fleet, the couple promptly sailed away from Scotland again, with Thomas’ father Robert joining them later in exile- a sensible precaution really since James had Robert’s brother Alexander Boyd of Drumcoll executed on the castle hill of Edinburgh a few months later, and forfeited the possessions and lives of Robert and Thomas Boyd in absentia**. Whether or not Mary played an active role in the flight of her husband and father-in-law like the sixteenth century writers claim***, we do know that she joined them in exile. Sixteenth century sources claim that the Boyds in vain sought the support of the king of France, while contemporary sources show that Mary and the Boyds took refuge in Flanders, throwing themselves on the mercy of her cousin Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy.

Bruges was then a fashionable place for exiled British royals to mooch around (Edward IV of England and co. were also in residence over the winter of 1470-71). Charles the Bold was not always a reliable ally but, in the Boyds’ case, he did at least send a message to James III through his ambassador Anselm Adornes (soon to become a favourite with the king of Scots), asking for the Scottish exiles to be pardoned and allowed to return home. James thanked the duke for his courtesy to his sister but stoutly refused, recounting the Boyds’ crimes and arguing that the duke, “ought no longer to favour traitors, who to the king’s dishonour had brought his sister to exile in many foreign lands.” So the Scottish exiles remained in Bruges for some time, staying at the Hotel de Jerusalem which belonged to Anselm Adornes while its owner went on pilgrimage to the real Jerusalem. During this time Mary gave birth to two children- James and Margaret Boyd- whose godmother was Margaret of York, Duchess of Burgundy.

In late 1471, though, the situation looked like it was improving. Some modern historians interpret the sources as stating that a plan was developed for the Boyds and Mary cross the sea again, and for Mary to travel to Scotland to soften her brother up while the Boyds waited in England until it was safe for them to return. On the other hand, sixteenth century writers like George Buchanan and John Leslie were of the opinion that James III had lured his sister home under false pretences, “on account of the great love she bore to her husband.” In any case, a safe conduct from Calais was granted to the exiles, and to Anselm Adornes who was to accompany them, and they sailed for England in October 1471. Thomas Boyd said goodbye to the rest of the group in the southern kingdom, and went to the court of the newly restored Edward IV, where he had business with the king. The rest of the party went on to Alnwick, where they were to remain to await the outcome of Mary’s mission (Robert, Lord Boyd, now quite old, is supposed to have died there). Mary then crossed the border with Anselm Adornes and his wife. She is not known to have seen her first husband again.

Little is certainly known of Mary’s career between her return to Scotland in 1471-2 and her second marriage in 1474, but clearly any plans to restore the Boyds to favour failed. Mary herself was receiving ferms from lands in Scotland by late 1473 at least, if not earlier, indicating that, if not exactly back in favour, she was at least able to conduct some business without royal obstruction. Both Leslie and Buchanan (and other writers) claim that she was detained by her brother in Ayrshire while James III wrangled a divorce between Mary and Thomas. The grounds and exact process of any such “divorce” are unknown, other than Buchanan’s puzzling story that the king summoned Thomas Boyd to Kilmarnock to answer for his crimes within sixty days and that, when Boyd naturally failed to appear, the marriage was declared illegitimate. Mary was then married (by force and “against her inclination” according to Buchanan) to James, Lord Hamilton, a man many years her senior but greatly favoured by the king. Once again we do not know Mary’s thoughts on this match, but it had taken place by Easter 1474, when, at the king’s command, “my Lady of Hammiltoune the Kingis sister” was given six ells of purple velvet for a kirtle. We know this was not James III’s younger sister Margaret (though she did later reside in Hamilton) since in July of the same year, Lord Hamilton surrendered several lands into the king’s hands so that they could be granted back in conjunct fee to the couple, with the wife named as “Marie Senescalli ejus sponse, sorori regis”. But aside from the minor detail that Mary’s first husband was perhaps still cutting about, there were other impediments which made the new couple’s relationship less than legal. Accordingly, in April 1476, Pope Sixtus dispensed them from the impediments of consanguinity, affinity, and public honesty, and declared the child which had since been born to them legitimate. By the time of Lord Hamilton’s death three years later, at least two children had been born of the marriage- a boy named James and a girl named Elizabeth.

In the meantime, Mary’s first husband Thomas appears to have died abroad, though we have almost no information about his life following their separation, and even the sixteenth century writers do not agree on this point. Buchanan claims that he died in Antwerp not long after the “divorce”, and was buried there with great honour on the orders of Charles the Bold (he also gives his personal opinion that James Hamilton was far inferior to Mary’s first husband- hindsight is a wonderful thing). The Italian humanist Giovanni Ferreri had obviously heard very different stories about Thomas and his character from his Scottish sources, and, in his rather unreliable continuation of Hector Boece’s history, he gave Thomas a reputation as a man capable of any vice, and claimed that, after much travelling in Europe, he was murdered in Italy by a man whose wife he had seduced. But two letters in the celebrated collection of the Pastons of Norfolk have survived which refer to Thomas Boyd’s time in England , and the first of these gives a very different character sketch to that offered by Ferreri- and a rare contemporary insight into the whole affair. On 5th June 1472, John Paston the younger wrote to his older brother of the same name:

“"Also I prey yow to recomand me in my most humbyll wyse unto the good Lordshepe of the most corteys, gentylest, wysest, kyndest, most compenabyll, freest, largeest, most bowntesous knyght, my Lord the Erle of Arran, whych hathe maryed the Kyngs sustyr of Scotland. Herto he is one the lyghtest, delyverst, best spokyn, fayrest archer; devowghtest, most perfyghte, and trewest to hys lady of all the knyghtys that ever I was aqweynted with; so wold God, my Lady lyekyd me as well as I do hys person and most knyghtly condycyons, with whom I prey yow to be aqweynted, as yow semyth best; he is lodgyd at the George in Lombard Street.**** He hath a book of my syster Annys of the Sege of Thebes; when he hath doon with it, he promysyd to delyver it yow."

We are offered no such contemporary insight into Mary’s character, which must remain something of a mystery, although if even half of what the sixteenth century writers claim about her is true, she must have had her fair share of both mettle and misfortune. Though she never saw her husband again, her two children by Thomas Boyd were eventually allowed to return to Scotland and, in the early 1480s, young James Boyd was even allowed to succeed to his grandfather’s title of Lord Boyd, possibly through his mother’s political influence. Norman MacDougall has raised the possibility that the young Boyd- then only in his early teens- returned to Scotland in 1482 in the company of his uncle Alexander, Duke of Albany, who had invaded Scotland with Richard, Duke of Gloucester and an English army. Since James III wasn’t entirely free to govern as he liked during this troubled period, MacDougall suggests that Mary Stewart may have seen her chance to rebuild the Boyd patrimony in Ayrshire. The fact that the grants of land made to James Boyd (several of which which Mary received liferent of) were part of the queen’s dower and supposedly could not be alienated meant that the grants were semi-illegal, and unlikely to have been made by the king acting on his own initiative. But James Boyd’s career was destined to be brief and when his uncle Alexander fled to Dunbar in 1483, the nephew followed and the grants made to him were rescinded. The following year, the young James (who could not have been much older than fifteen) was killed by Hugh Montgomery of Eglinton, sparking a local feud in Ayrshire between the Boyds and the Montgomeries which lasted over a century.

Mary was only in her early thirties but she had already lost two husbands and was now left to bury her teenaged son. Of her four siblings, only two remained by 1488, since John, Earl of Mar, had perished in mysterious circumstances in royal custody in 1479 and Alexander, Duke of Albany met his end in 1485, when he was hit by a splinter from the lance of the Duke of Orleans (the future King Louis XII) during a tournament in France. However, Mary did not live long enough to see the death of her last brother James III at the Battle of Sauchieburn in June 1488, since she herself seems to have died earlier that year, aged around 37.

Her posthumous legacy, as with so many other women of her time, has generally been seen in terms of the later prospects of her offspring. The descendants of her two children by Lord Hamilton were destined to play an important role in the fraught politics of sixteenth century Scotland. From her son James Hamilton were descended the Earls of Arran, including the Regent Arran who governed Scotland on behalf of the infant Mary, Queen of Scots, by virtue of his position as “second person of the realm” and the little queen’s direct heir through his descent from her great-great aunt and namesake. Mary’s younger daughter Elizabeth Hamilton married Mathew Stewart, Earl of Lennox, and Elizabeth’s grandson the 4th Earl of Lennox would later challenge the claims to the throne of his cousin the Regent Arran, creating a rivalry at the very heart of Scottish politics. Margaret Boyd, the only surviving child of Mary’s first marriage, married first Lord Forbes and then returned to Ayrshire to marry the first Earl of Cassilis. Although Mary Stewart herself remains a shadowy figure to this day, her story- both factual and speculative- has attracted interest and sympathy throughout the centuries and still offers opportunities for further discovery.

Additional notes and references below the cut.

Edit: the ‘read more’ section isn’t showing up on a lot of versions of this, so I will just have to put all the notes and sources below, even though it’s messy:

* In the twentieth century there was quite a bit of debate over the correct dates of birth for James III and Mary. Despite what is on wikipedia, this has largely been resolved and the general consensus is that Mary was the elder sibling.

** Some historians have debated whether Mary’s marriage prospects were quite so important to the political community in 1467 as has been traditionally assumed, but the Stewart dynasty’s contemporary European marriage alliances are nonetheless important to bear in mind.

*** Lord Boyd’s two younger sons were spared the king’s wrath however, and the youngest of them, Archibald Boyd of Naristoun, was the father of Marion Boyd, a mistress of James IV.

**** In all fairness though, we have so few contemporary chronicles/histories for the reign of James III that we have to take the sixteenth century writers at their word sometimes, especially where they agree with each other. Nonetheless we should always be cautious.

**** It’s worth noting that the site of the George in Lombard street in London is still occupied today, since there has been an inn on the spot since the twelfth century and its current incarnation is an eighteenth century building housing the George and Vulture restaurant. It seems that several of the buildings of Anselm Adornes’ estate where the Boyds were housed in Bruges also still exist, though I will have to do more research on this.

References (I have included links to online versions where available):

- “The Date of the Birth of James III”- there are two articles by this name in the Edinburgh Historical Review for the years 1950 and 1951 respectively, and both of them were consulted. The author of the first was Annie I. Dunlop while corrections and debate between Dunlop and Dr William Angus comprise the second.

- “James III”, by Norman MacDougall

- “Power and Propaganda: Scotland, 1306-1488″, by Katie Stevenson

- “The Boyds in Bruges”, W.H. Finlayson

- “A Letter of James III to the Duke of Burgundy”, C.A.J. Armstrong

- John Lesley’s “The Historie of Scotland”

- This translation of George Buchanan’s “History of Scotland”

- “Accounts of the Lord High Treasurer of Scotland”, vol. 1

- “The Exchequer Rolls of Scotland”, vol. 5

- “Register of the Great Seal of Scotland”, vol. 2

- “Vetera monumenta Hibernorum et Scotorum historiam illustrantia...”, Augustin Thenier

- “The Paston Letters”, vol. 3, edited by James Gairdner

- Giovanni Ferreri’s continuation to Boece I had to use the translation from this website since I couldn’t get access to the 1574 printing any other way, though my reading is backed up by secondary sources.

#This was not my best edit I may redo it later #My sources are pretty decent though so proud of that #women in history #British history #History edits #But had to get the word out about Mary- apologies for the length when I know there's not much definite info on her but context is important #Also James III and his siblings were a bonfire of insanity- Mary actually got off comparatively lightly #I don't know what was in the air in the 1470s- the York brothers were just as bad and on the continent there's a fair few similar cases #the Stewarts #shoddy history gifsets #Mary Stewart Countess of Arran

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diyunho · 5 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 3

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

You’re done sampling the food that J brought over, quite annoyed he lied about the crepes; it was probably the only reason why you opened the door for him. Or maybe it was a different motive that you don’t like to think of because… what’s the point anyway?

“Crane said he added a new ingredient to your capsules,” The Joker brings it up. “I have no idea how he was able to get Cromyxillium since it’s just in experimental phase; I suppose he has awesome connections,” your guest chews one last bite of cashew salad.

“I know, he texted me but I didn’t answer back… I’m mad at him… I’m mad at everything these days,“ you admit and The King of Gotham piles up the empty styrofoam boxes, calculating how much money Scarecrow spent on a product that might be able to improve your condition.

Y/N watches him absent minded, too preoccupied with her problems to realize The King of Gotham is attentive to her words.

“I used to help my dad develop my remedy, still nothing works and he entirely immersed himself in this ridiculous task of saving me from terminal cancer. He ignored Evelyn for weeks until she left: she understood what he was doing up to a certain level; when it became an obsession…” and you sigh, aggravated by your father’s stubbornness. “I told him he has to patch up their relationship; I don’t him to be all alone after I’m gone…” you sulk and J grabs the containers, dumping them in the trashcan near the table.

“Yeah, Crane will probably be very lonely without you…” and J stops his innuendo when he comprehends how it sounds. “On a positive note,” The Clown Prince of Crime stretches, “I’m actually here to ensure you’re ok taking the capsules containing the new ingredient. Your father asked me to and I am notorious for being this…this selfless person ready to offer my services,” J over exaggerates his ability to sympathize with your situation. “He also warned me not to try anything funny. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to share any of my funny jokes; doesn’t make any sense,” the distorted interpretation of your parent’s threat almost prompts Y/N’s smile.

“You probably pushed for this visit, taking advantage of the fact that me and my dad had a fight, hm?” you bluntly describe the truth and J can’t defend his absurd statements because your cell phone starts ringing; you glare at the screen, debating if you should answer or not.

“Is that him?” The Joker inquires and you nod a yes while deciding to accept Scarecrow’s call.

“Hello…” you sneak out on the patio as J figures he should walk to his car in order to retrieve the duffel bag fixed in advance for his sleepover.

*****************

Your conversation lasted for about 20 minutes thus The Joker jumped in the shower lacking any type of permission from Y/N; perhaps it could be the reason for your abrupt intrusion in the cozy bathroom.

“Can I take a shower with you?” he hears your question and for once J is uncertain of his reply, yet he is not the kind of person to show reluctance no matter the context.

“It’s your place, isn’t it?” he grumbles and distinguishes your silhouette beyond the steamy glass panels quickly stripping your clothes.

The Joker continues to scrub his skin, undisturbed by your request: he simply doesn’t care if you join him or not.

“I’m using your stuff,” J announces and your arms suddenly hug him from behind.

“You can use whatever you want,” your lips kiss the dragon tattoo on his back a couple of times and he doesn’t even turn around to peek.

“I gotta wash my hair,” he mutters and you brush your lips against his shoulder, sweetly offering:

“I can wash it for you.”

“I got it!” Y/N’s demand is cut off immediately; you’re so humiliated by his lack of interest you curse the dumb choice of being so straightforward: it’s not the first time he shows zero attraction towards his daughter’s best friend.

Your arms release the embrace and The Joker reprises his important chore while hearing you fumbling with toiletry items: you are finishing off your routine at an increased speed, willing to exit out of there as soon as possible.

A few minutes of silence, then The Clown Prince of Crime finally pronounces an insolent remark:

“I hope you saw a naked man before, Y/N! I don’t wanna be accused of traumatizing you. If it really makes you feel better, you can wash my hair.”

No smarty pants attitude rendered upon him and J gazes where you stood only to notice you’re gone: after quietly tiptoeing out of the shower, Y/N took her medications and prepared for the night ahead; she plans for J to sleep in the second bedroom at the small cabin, thus she will spend the night on the couch in the living room, watching TV until she’ll doze off.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker emerges from the bathroom in a t-shirt and shorts. “Are we cuddling on that couch or do we have further arrangements?”

“Spare bedroom,” you grouchily mumble, getting comfortable under the blanket.

“I thought we’re cuddling buddies,” he pretends to be offended at your affirmation mostly since pushing the limit is encoded in his wretched DNA.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”

“My bad,” he grins. “I guess I was misled by your actions at the mansion.”

He has such a nerve bringing that up!

“I’m not the type of person to force myself on women,” The Joker innocently informs, “but can I watch TV with you? I’ll camp on the floor by the sofa which is my way to hint I need a bunch of soft blankets to pile up so I won’t break my back. I mean, it’s not very nice of you to deny me access on the couch; must I remind you I granted you free passage in my bed when you asked for it?”

“Are you for reals?!” an increasingly fuming Y/N shrieks slowly rolls out of her relaxing nest. “You were horrible to me and then tried to make it better just because you worried I’d tell Emma or my father! Well, rest assured: I’m not a snitch! You truly don’t have to extend your good will to such lengths on my account! It’s not necessary, ok?! You don’t have to drive here to bring my capsules, you don’t have to bring me food. You don’t have to do anything!!”

“Watch your tone!” J growls, displeased with your feisty attitude. “Do I have to remind you who barged into my privacy to take a peek at me naked?”

Your eyes are big at his derogatory insinuation: he’s playing stupid regarding the incident.

“I barged into your privacy?!” you shout, aggravated. “How can…”

“Umm…” The Joker interrupts, “…your nose is bleeding.”

You didn’t even detect the blood trickling down your skin and you touch it, confused. The King of Gotham watches you a few hesitant steps before you unexpectedly collapse to the ground. “Hey!” his voice echoes in and out. “Hey what’s wrong?... … Can you hear me?”

There’s this high pitch taking over your mind and you can barely discern bits and pieces of a conversation J is carrying with your father. You’re not even aware you’re in a moving vehicle, that’s how much you lost grip on reality.

“What’s in for me if I bring her over, huh?”

“I compensated you!! Two Nightmare ampoules, a small fortune on the black market! Get off your fucking high horse and bring me my daughter, would you?!” an exasperated parent admonishes.

“Maybe I will stop the car and let nature follow its course,” The Joker fights back Scarecrow’s affront, yet your dad has plenty on his plate .

“If you do such a thing and she dies, I’ll hold you responsible and trust me when I say you don’t want me to hold you responsible!!!” the serious ultimatum prompts your chauffeur to take a sharp turn on Highway 68. “Am I on speaker?” Jonathan checks without given his apparent opponent a chance to rationalize his behavior.

“Yes!” J snarls, pissed at the stupid rescue mission entrusted to him.

“Y/N, hang in there! I’ll get stuff ready by the time you arrive, alright?” Scarecrow encourages his daughter, afraid of the severe consequences of the experimental drug she ingested.

“Mmmm,” you moan in your daze, not being able to respond.

“Keep her alert; we can’t have her sink into a coma! I have to formulate an IV mixture to flush the Cromyxillium out of her system!”

“She’s completely out!” The Joker states although there’s nobody at the other end of the line anymore. “Who’s we anyway?!” he huffs and elects to give it a go regardless. “Y/N, how many kids we would have had if we were married?... … … … … I think the precise answer is at least 4, am I correct?” J blabbers on since you don’t engage in the conversation. “Great…I’ll be held liable for your demise,” he bites his lower lip, vexed things didn’t shine too bright for him; in fact, no matter how hard The Clown tries the blame it on somebody else, he dug his own hole on this one.

****************

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the darkness, but the sharp poke in your arm makes you groan in pain.

“I’m sorry honey,” your father whispers. “We have to keep the IV for an hour, then I can take the needle out.”

“D-daddy…” you find the strength to stammer. “Am I… am I dying…?”

“No… No… I won’t let you die…” Scarecrow kisses your forehead, upset you don’t seem fine at all. “It’s my fault, I didn’t think you’ll have a reaction to Cromyxillium, not the way I bound the particles with the rest of the molecules.”

“You didn’t test it?” The Joker intervenes into a dialogue he should steer clear off.

“No, I didn’t have time to test it!” Jonathan hatefully stares at the man he wishes to strangle on the spot. “I don’t have time for anything!! Do you understand? My daughter is dying!! I’m not even that kind of doctor yet she’s breathing nevertheless due to my capability of manipulating compounds! Y/N would be 6 feet under with traditional chemotherapy, which proves I am doing a few things right!!! If Emma was sick, I’m certain you wouldn’t run your mouth like you do now!”

J wiggles in his chair, definitely about to erupt at Crane’s justified tirade.

“I’m so cold…” you utter, the ruckus adding to your general discomfort.

“That’s normal, it means the intravenous remedy is working; I’ll bring more covers,” Jonathan strolls out of the room only to gasp upon his return: J is snuggling with you, totally oblivious to your parent’s stupefied question: “What the hell are you doing??!!”

“I got off my high horse and I’m keeping her warm,” J stresses the importance of his random deed. “It’s not cheap thought! I demand…”

“You demand nothing!” Scarecrow covers you with more layers, irritated The King of Gotham has the audacity to milk out benefits in these circumstances; the latest wants to protest Jonathan’s vehement denial while not being conceded the prospect of such luxury:

“Dad…” you reach out your left hand and he sits by you, keeping the shaky fingers on his face. “Did… did you call Evelyn?” you barely blink, exhausted from the intensive treatment.

“I will…”

“You have to; I don’t want you to end up alone… She loves you… You could have more children with her… or at least one more…”

Jonathan Crane inhales, flustered his daughter is worried about him when she should worry about herself.

“I could have more kids, but don’t you know you’re irreplaceable?” he kisses your wrist and pretends to brush off the agony building up in his heart. “Don’t cry honey,” he wipes your tears, then casually shoves The Joker’s arm since is wrapped around your waist. “Your help is no longer required,” Scarecrow hints and his advice falls on deaf ears: J has important news that might switch the balance in his favor.

“I also called Emma on my way here to report about Y/N’s ordeal; she’s cutting her trip to New York short and I received strict orders to make myself useful until her arrival. Now, unless you want to deal with another pain in the ass besides your offspring, I suggest you tolerate my presence!”

Jonathan curls up in a ball on the vacant side of your bed, relieved to see you’re napping. "I didn’t feel the urge to punch someone in ages!” he sneers.

“Likewise!” The Joker barks too from behind your shoulder. “How come she passed out again?” he switches the subject and Jonathan explains without any trace of enthusiasm.

“I included a serum that promotes nice dreams in her IV bag: she’ll be in a deep sleep and envision things she likes.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. I’m sure I’ll pop up in there then,” the excited Clown Prince of Crime emphasizes to your father’s disapproval.

“I said things she likes!”

**************

10:12am

“Hello Miss Crane,” you are greeted as you narrowly open your eyes; it takes a minute to recollect from the dizziness and confusion of last night’s episode.

“Where’s my dad?” you lick your dry lips, noticing J by the windows.

“At the lab; he’s consulting with some doctors or whatnot and left me in charge,” he effortlessly forges half a truth with half a lie.

“Where’s my phone? I want to talk to him.”

“I think I left it at the cabin, I was in a hurry to get you here.”

“You drove me?...” you skeptically interrogate.

“Yeah, you don’t remember?”

“No…” you stretch while touching the band aid placed where the needle used to be. “Where’s Emma?”

“On her way back to Gotham; she called several times and tried talking to you but you were out.”

“Was I?...”

“U-hum,” J shakes his head. “I reckon she promised she’ll assist with your birthday party next week and she’s terrified you’ll kick the bucket in the meantime. She didn’t precisely articulate these sentences, but I‘m her dad: I can read in between the lines,” the proud Joker blurs out, loving the shocked look you display. “Am I invited to the celebration?”

You signal a no and he’s not discouraged by your vehement denial.

“Can I bring Mara?”

“Absolutely not!!!”

“Oh, so I’m actually invited but not her?”

He takes advantage of the speechless Y/N, setting up the stage for his own benefit:

“I can work with that,” he glares at you, gratified. “However, I can’t show at a party without a date; it’s not dignifying for a man of my social status. This leaves us with only one solution.”

“NO!” you protest because you can estimate his proposal.

“Cool, then we have a deal Miss Crane: you got yourself a date!”

“I already have a date!”

“Who?” The Joker smirks.

“Sam is my date for my birthday.”

“Sam as in Bane’s son?”

“Yes,” you squirm under the blankets, uneasy at the concept of having J as partner for the upcoming bash.

“Pfft,” he huffs. “That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” your own words from last night are used by the obnoxious green haired menace. “I’ll pick you up Wednesday at 3pm, ok?”

“The party is here at my house!”

“Ok, then you pick me up at 3pm.”

“I’m not picking you up!” you scoff at his nonsense.

“Damn, you’re hard to negotiate with,” The Joker scratches his chin. “Fine, I’ll bring myself here.”

You contemptuously stare at him, appalled he keeps on insisting when you declined his plan. On top of everything, the whole universe is getting the confirmation today that Jonathan Crane’s genius is frankly skipping a generation since you enunciate:

“Don’t be late!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me ON Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #jokerleto #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #joker x reader #dcu #mister j #Mistah J #dc #Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader

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jakkwrites · 5 years ago

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Nightmare

Hi again! I’m back with another Fallen Hero fic! Some soft chargestep content for the soul ;D Enjoy!

You open your eyes to find Ortega at your side, one hand gingerly clasping yours, the other trailing through your hair. Her brow is creased with concern and she mutters something you can't catch, the drugs in your system preventing your from feeling your injuries are muddling your senses too. There's an IV in your other arm, no doubt the source of the drugs. "It's good to see you awake," she smiles. "'S good t' see you," you mumble, your lips curling upwards into a huge, stupid grin. She's beautiful, even while disheveled and vaguely blurry. Your head feels like it's full of cotton balls and your limbs feel heavy. But Julia is here, so everything's okay.

Ortega rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "And you still have your priorities sorted."

"Always do." She chuckles, the sound makes your heart sing, and she leans down to kiss your cheek. When she straightens up again, her smile seems to fade a little. "Visitor hours are almost over," she explains. "I'll have to leave soon." Normally, the idea being alone in a hospital might make you anxious. Right now, you're so out of it that it's a wonder you're still awake. "You'll come back tomorrow?" "Of course. No way I'd leave you here by yourself, Jackie." "Okay," you murmur. The urge to close your eyes and drift off has been growing stronger, ever since you woke. Ortega seems to notice this, "Why don't you go back to sleep and get some more rest?" "I... Probably should," you agree reluctantly. She kisses you again, fixing your blanket so you're tucked in nice and tight. "G'night." "Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow." You close your eyes as she rises to her feet, about ready to fall asleep when something occurs to you. "Oh, Julia..." you begin, looking towards the door. Your blood runs cold when you realize the room has changed. It's gotten smaller. The fluorescent lighting remains the same, but the plastic chair that Ortega occupied mere moments ago has vanished. In its place stands a table with a tray full of surgical instruments and syringes. The IV is gone as well. You try to sit up, terror gripping your heart, but find yourself bound to the bars of the bed by white cuffs. No. No, this can't be... Heart racing and mouth dry as sandpaper, you fight with your restraints. Maybe you can wiggle out of them. As long as no one comes along, you should be- "Ah, you're awake." Your voice won't work, your body won't respond, you're paralyzed with terror. You want to scream but you can't, only able to watch, unblinking, as Andrelina approaches. Not her. Anyone but her. Her and- "It's been quite some time, 09. Let's hope we don't have to play this game a third time, hm?" You can barely hear her over your own heartbeat in your ears. No no no no-

No!" You scream as you awaken, practically launching yourself out of bed. You land on your hands and knees on carpet. Not hardwood. This isn't my room. This isn't my room. Where am I? You're too far deep in panic to think straight, scrambling to your feet. Get out. Go. Go. You have to get out of here. Wherever here is, if it isn't home, if it isn't familiar then it's a threat. How could you have been so careless to fall asleep somewhere other than home? "Jack, wait!" A hand catches your wrist and you flinch, very nearly summoning your flames to deal with the threat, whirling around to find- Ortega, halfway out of bed. The blanket tossed aside, your pillow on the floor by your feet. You remember now; this isn't your room because it's hers. You decided to stay the night. And look where it got you. She keeps her grip on your arm, leaning to turn in the bedside lamp. "J-Julia, I-I-" you fumble for words, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. You flinch at the brightness, staring down at the floor. Your vision is blurred and it's a fight to keep from bursting into tears on the spot. "I h-have to go, I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." "No way you're leaving now." Her voice is soft. "Especially not like this. C'mere." She pulls you back towards the bed, into an embrace. You resist, trying to pull away. You're not sure you can handle physical contact in this state. But she's undeterred and only tightens her grip on you, holding you close to her chest. "It's okay," she whispers. "You're safe with me." You want to laugh. You aren't safe anywhere, with anyone. It was a mistake even coming over tonight. But... Part of you wants to stay. Stay, and be held by her. Stay wrapped in her warm embrace where you do feel... a little safer. The decision is made for you when the floodgates open and the tears start to fall. You sob hard, your body quivering. "It's okay, Jackie. I've got you." You bury your face in her shoulder, muffling your cries somewhat. Ortega presses a kiss to your temple, holding you as tight as ever. How long has it been since she last had to do this for you? Both too long and not long enough. You've missed having someone to comfort you on the bad nights. At the same time, you always felt bad for keeping her up in the middle of the night. Even now, you're still torn, but she doesn't seem keen on letting go anytime soon. So instead, you curl up against her, drinking in her warmth and soft words as you cry. Finally, finally, it's quiet. You are quiet, save for the occasional shuddering gasp. Your head and chest ache, and you're shaking like a leaf. "Do you want to talk about it?" Ortega asks. "N-No," you shake your head. She releases you, allowing you to sit up. You perch on the edge of the bed, rubbing at your eyes and trying to clean yourself up with the sleeve of your sweater. Julia joins you, resting one hand on your knee. A reminder. She's here. You're here, in the present. You're a little surprised that she remembers how to ground you still. "I-" You pause, clearing your throat. You need a minute alone - and something better than a sleeve to clean yourself up with. You rise to your feet, "I'll just be a minute..." "Hey." This time Ortega catches your hand, and you look back at her. "Don't go running off on me. Please?" "I won't." You squeeze her hand lightly, trying for a smile. "Promise." You slip out of her room and into the bathroom. Leaving hadn't occurred to you - well, it hadn't after you calmed down. It's so tempting to disappear into the night and run home, back to your comfort zone. But you promised you wouldn't, so you won't. You splash some water on your face, wiping it dry with a towel, and look at yourself in the mirror. You look like shit. Dark bags hang under your eyes, which are still red and puffy. Your hair is sticking up in every direction, wilder than usual. That probably has less to do with the state of perpetual exhaustion you're in and more to do with the fact that you just rolled out of bed. You yawn, your eyes glazing over as you stare at your slouched form. You're not certain there's a point in going back to bed - you'll either wake up exhausted anyways or wake up Ortega again. Maybe you'll take the couch so she can get some rest... You exit the bathroom, flicking off the light as you go. She's still seated on the edge of the bed when you return, no doubt waiting for you. The bed itself has mostly been put back together; the blanket is no longer dangling off the mattress and your pillow has been returned to its rightful place. Ortega looks relieved to see you - she must've thought you were going to leave. You can't blame her for thinking that way. You did too. "Feeling any better?" "A-A little." You nod, not quite meeting her gaze. You rub the back of your neck awkwardly, "Sorry for... all that." "Don't worry about it," she waves her hands dismissively. "But, I-" "Jack." Ortega cuts you off, her voice firm. "It's not a big deal. I don't mind taking care of you... Especially when you let me." Your cheeks heat up and you stare at the floor. "I-I appreciate it." You don't have the courage to say more. It was like a breath of fresh air, having her there to hold you and help you calm down. You appreciate it more than she might realize. More than you can express out loud. "You ready to come back to bed?" She beckons to you, patting the bed. You're sorely tempted. Tempted to crawl into bed, under the covers, into her arms, and rest. But you shouldn't. "I was thinking of going and crashing on the couch so you could get back to sleep without having to deal with..." You vaguely gesture at yourself. Her expression softens. "Love-" Your heart skips several beats. "I just told you don't mind taking care of you." She stands, crossing over to you, taking your hand in hers and cupping your cheek, lightly tilting your head to meet her gaze. "Come back to bed," she whispers, her lips just barely brushing yours. You pull her closer, closing the distance between the two of you, and your lips meet. She's the first to break away, yawning. She wraps her arms around your waist and rests her head on your chest, closing her eyes. You return the embrace, resting your chin atop her head. You love being like this. The rare moments when touching and being touched are both bearable are the ones you savor the most. "Jack," she murmurs. "Yes?" "Let's go back to sleep." It's with very little reluctance when you finally agree. She's clearly tired, and you don't want to cause more work for her so late in the night. And... Maybe you're being just a little selfish. You mostly want to curl up with her, stay huddled up in her arms... and to keep this brief feeling of *safety*. The two of you climb back into bed together, nestling in each other's arms. After you lean over to turn the lamp off, Ortega pulls the blanket up over both of you and shifts closer. "Goodnight, Jack." She kisses the tip of your nose. "G'night, Julia," you stammer, cheeks heating up and grateful that she can't see your expression in the dark. You settle in and close your eyes. You must be more tired than you realize; it only takes a moment before you drift off to sleep.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero: retribution #julia ortega #chargestep #sidestep!jack #not overly soft in the beginning but yknow ;D

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karrisbrown · 4 years ago

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a shoulder to cry on fan fic

I shoved my way through the Gryffindors in the victory party to congratulate Ron for winning the Quidditch match against Slytherin. But then i saw him snogging with non other than daft dimbo Lavender Brown. He seemed happy about it too! I couldn't take the sight any longer, so i sprinted away thinking no one noticed.

As soon as i was out of the common room, I ran as far away as i could from it till i reached an empty spot in one of the towers. I slumped myself lazily on the floor, buried my face in both of my hands and began to sob, taking out all my rage and sadness on Ron who didn't seem to care.

A few moments later i could have sworn i heard approaching footfalls. My expectation was Harry had finally found me.

The sound of his voice made my stomach do a somersault.

" Granger?!" he sounded surprised, very surprised.

I looked up praying that it was just in my head, but no he was there his pale face looking confused.

"M-Malfoy?" I stuttered even more shocked than he was.

"What are you doing in here?" we chorused.

" I asked first!" I snapped.

" What's it to you?" he replied raising an eyebrow.

I just couldn't take it any more. I slounched back down, resumed my sobbing ignoring his presence.

Once again i heard his footsteps, but they were not fading away, they were getting closer and closer until they stopped. Then all of a sudden his arm was around my shoulder, his touch sending chills down my spine. I'd wanted this for so long but i knew i couldn't have it... I wanted to push him off so he would get subspicious and thought I liked him. I just couldn't, I needed someone to comfort me. I needed someone to be by my side, but Harry and Ginny don't even know where I am, and I doubt they're looking for me. Right now, right this moment I only have Draco by my side.

I didn't want to tell him why i was like this though, I just didn't trust him enough.

As if reading my mind, I heard his voice low, soft, and soothing in my ear.

"You don't have to tell me why your like this... All I know is you need a shoulder to cry on... so im offering my shoulder."

"Why?" I asked him.

He didn't reply, so I decided it was a personal matter.

I accepted his offer, and rested my head on his shoulder, crying silently.

I felt his other hand- the one that was resting on his leg- close around one of my own. I held it tight and we just sat there for what I knew must have been a few moments, but it seemed like a few hours or even the whole night, him slowly stroking my shoulder while i cried on his shoulder gripping his hand tight.

The sound of approaching footsteps made us both jump.

" I have to go!" he said getting up to his feet.

He stroked my shoulder one last time, before turning for the exit. I reached for his wrist.

"Draco wait!"

He turned around to face me.

"I... thank you." I moved my hand down his wrist to his hand and squeezed it before releasing it.

I didn't expect him to reach for it again, and keep hold of it.

" Granger I-

The sound of foot steps was close now , and he began to panic.

I cast a Disillusionment charm on him.

" They won't see you now, if you stay in the shadows and head out when they come in...!

I wipe a tear away with my sleeve, and turn away from him.

He walks in front of me only too aware that the footsteps were too close now, and crushed his lips to mine, tears of his own mingling with mine, and he held my wrist rubbing it with his thumb.

"Gra-Hermione, I love you... I have done ever since I saw you in that dress at the Yule Ball.I love you!"

One last: crush of lips, hand crush, watery smile, and a whispered " I love you Granger." before he slunked into the shadows in time to avoid Harry's gaze.

" Hermione are you okay?"

" Does it look like it Harry ?! Ronald Weasley is a dick!"

"Ah..." he smiled sadly.

Running footfalls could now be heard along with a sound of smacking lips.

In through the door came dimbo and Ron. At least she had the decency to step outside.

"Come on Won Won!"

" Hermione are you okay you look terrible..."

"Well noticed Won Won" I spat bitterly thinking i should keep up the 'crush' on Ron to keep Draco a secret. I muttered a spell that sent a dozen tiny yellow birds flying at him, pecking at his flesh, ripping his skin.

Harry gasped, Ron yelped, and i could swear i heard a low chuckle. I smiled.

Ron ran from the room yelling in pain, and Harry sat down beside me.

"Hermione... whats wrong?"

" WHATS WRONG?" I sobbed though no tears were falling this time. " WHATS WRONG? I THOUGHT YOU HAD A BIT MORE DECENCY THEN RON!"

"Her-" he started

" NO HARRY!GO!" I spat darkly.

He didn't move, so I aimed my wand at his face. " Dont think i won't Harry. I will... GO!!"

He left to chase after Ron, and I once again buried my head in my arms.

I felt an arm snake round my waist, and I was pulled into his chest.

"Granger, ignore the gits. Your entitled to anger and pain... everyone is."

" I don't understand..."

" What don't you understand?" he stroked my hand.

" You say you like me, but your always an idiot and cruel."

" I had to pretend I didn't. I hoped it would go away, but it didn't, and here I am..."

I giggled weakly. " Boy pulling girls pigtails syndrome..."

" What?"

" It's were a boy bullies the girl he likes, to get her attention... its a muggle thing."

I snuggled my head against his chest, and felt his arm tighten around me, and his lips against my hair.

"Yule Ball huh?" I teased

He guffawed " yeah i saw you and well....Yeah."

I scoffed. " You make it sound as if I looked nice!"

" You didn't look nice! You looked beautiful ,and i guess my... wake up call."

" Your parents?" i raised an eyebrow.

" I told mother and she approves" he breathed deliberately not mentioning his father.

A chiming rang through the castle, signalling curfew, and i sat up slowly.

"Hermione...?"

" Yes?" I looked up into his face, and he crushed my lips in his desperation ,and hunger. When he broke the kiss, he shoved something round my neck.

Looking down i saw a necklace. It was a snake charm with a small 'D' on a thin silver chain.

It was gorgeous!

" You like it?" he enquired, " I was going to give it to you anonymously..."

" I love it!"

From my hand, I withdrew a ring( a gemstone ring with rubies encrusted in it), and magicked up a chain. I slipped it round his neck.

" Thank you" he mumbled.

" Your welcome... it might even give you some brains!" I laughed shoving him.

I was ensnared i his grasp, his lips trailing my throat.

"Damn!" he groaned, and i raised my eyebrows. " Ive wanted this for a long time..."

He released me, and stood up yanking me to my feet.

" I'll walk you to Gryffindor tower..."

I elbowed him. " What if you get caught?"

" I can always pretend I'm being a dick."

" Okay then..." I giggled.

We left the astronomy tower, and headed off, my hand encased in his iron grasp. We walked silently for the duration of our walk, then when we got to the portrait hole his face met mine.

" REALLY?!" The Fat Lady barked.

Draco pulled away, shocked at the voice.

" It's okay... It's the Fat Lady." I turned to her. " Please don't tell anyone." I begged.

She nodded seriously " I won't if you come in now."

One last kiss, and squeeze of the hand. He wrapped his arms round me.

"I'll owl you in the morning."

I nodded smiling.

He released me, reluctantly, and walked away.

" Love you Hermione!"

"Love you too Draco!" And I did.

"humph... are you coming in or not?!" the Fat Lady demanded.

"YES! Tape worm!"

The portrait swung open to admit me entry, and I clambered upstairs to bed.

Changing, I thought about Draco.

I twiddled the chain round my neck.

I loved him.

I love Malfoy.

I crawled inbetween the sheets, and tucked the chain down my PJs.

Either everyone will know tomorrow, or they won't...

Only time will tell...

Closing my eyes, i drifted to sleep.

A/n I hope it was okay

please read and review

karris brown

p.s if more than ten people want to see more, i will... but i doubt people will read this so.....

#harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #dramione #fan fic

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kello-unknown · 4 years ago

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NEVER THOUGHT IT’D BE HER

Summary: Max lives an… entertaining life. She just got out of a relationship she thought would last forever. Meeting one person leads to more people in her life, and before she knows it, she’s falling in love with someone she never expected to fall in love with.

Words: 1,492

Warnings: like one flashback (but its a flashback of a flashback so), brief mention of alcohol consumption, flirty talk (kinda)

Author’s Note: dont forget if u wanna catch up on what happened in the last chapter, you can click down below and re-read and remember what happened to the gang lol :D

CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2, CHAPTER 3, CHAPTER 4, CHAPTER 5, CHAPTER 6, CHAPTER 7

MASTERLIST

~~~

CHAPTER 8

THE next few days begin the same for the most part. Alex starts to wake up a bit earlier every day now that she’s becoming used to waking up in Max’s bed. The two see each other before Max leaves for work and Alex starts to plan for her day. Alex had called her boss, who had, over the course of the years she has worked there, become a close friend, and told her a brief story of what happened. Her boss told her to take as much time as she needed to recover, and Alex intended on doing just that.

Throughout the first week of her being at the house, Alex spends most of her days taking walks down the street and visiting the town since she lived a few towns over before everything happened. She gets home around five o’clock usually, and Max comes home from work a little more than an hour later. The two would eat dinner together and share their day. They’d watch a silly movie or something stupid so that there would be background noise as they would just talk to each other and enjoy the time they have. After a while, one of them would say that it was late and that they should go to bed, the other would agree, and the cycle of activities would repeat the next day.

One day, as she’s taking her daily walk, Alex comes by what looks like, to her, a night club. She walks by and realizes it’s just a bar. She’s practically explored the whole town at this point, and this seems to be the only bar in this area. Then it hits her. She remembers what Max told her about the night she and Natalie broke up.

After what feels like hours of crying, Max gets up and walks to the fridge, looking for the one thing that’s always been there for her whenever she’s had a problem that no one else could help her with. Downing one bottle of beer, she goes to grab another one, along with her house keys, and goes for a walk. Ten minutes go by, and she arrives at her go-to bar, stumbling in….

This must be the bar Max went to drown all of her sorrows. And by the looks of Max, there must have been a lot of sorrows.

Alex pulls her phone out of her pocket and goes through her text messages and clicks on one name. She hasn’t told anyone about what happened between her and Devin, not even Casey, her best friend since God knows how long. She couldn’t imagine life without her. Casey was always there for her, no matter what.

“Hey girlie, you doing anything tn? I have a lot to tell you…” She sent the text and looked back up at the bar front. She hears a ding, brings her face back down towards her phone and sees that Casey already texted her back. “omg yes ofc. its been a while, im sure u do lmao. have anywhere in particular u wanna go?” Alex smiles.

“There’s this cute bar I just found. ‘The Black Lion.’ Idk if you’ve ever heard of it, but I’ll send you the addy and meet you there.. say 8ish tn?”

“i think ive been there once or twice if memory serves. ill be there bitch ;)”

Alex puts her phone into her pocket and continues on her walk.

After being out for almost four hours on her walk, Alex gets back to the house around the same time she usually does and notices Max’s car in the driveway. Curious as to why she’s home much earlier than usual, she heads inside to see what’s up. Walking in the front door, she sees Max sitting at the counter on her phone. Max looks up to see her roommate and greets her. Alex does the same as she walks over towards her and asks why she’s home so early in the evening. “My boss was convinced I was too tired to work even though I already finished my work for the day. So, she sent me home early since ‘It’s Friday,’ and I should go out with my ‘friends to celebrate the end of another week.’ Her words, not mine,” Max explains.

Alex giggles. “Well good for you then, I guess. Anyways, I was actually going out with one of my friends tonight since I haven’t seen anyone in a while.” Max’s eyes widen.

“That’s great! Where are you guys gonna go?” she inquires.

“That bar in town.. I think it’s called ‘The Black Lion’?” Max nods.

“Oh! I love the BL! That’s my go-to bar. It’s great.” Alex smiles at Max’s enthusiasm. “Listen if anyone - and I mean anyone - gives you a problem trying to get in, tell them you know me. I’m a regular there and if that doesn’t work, call me. I’ll come down and show off the guns.” She then rolls up her sleeves and flexes her bicep. Alex bursts out laughing, and Max does the same not too long after she starts. After they both finish laughing, Alex, wiping tears off her face, excuses herself and starts to go get ready for her night out with Casey while Max goes to her text messages.

“You doing anything tn? I got the house to myself if you wanna come over ;)??” She sets her phone down to walk to the fridge and grabs a drink. On her way back over to the couch, she picks up and checks her phone to see if she had gotten a message. Nothing yet. She tosses her phone onto the couch, grabs the remote and sits down. As soon as the tv is on, she hears a chime coming from her phone. She leaves whatever is playing on the tv and picks up her phone.

“im actually going out with one of my friends tn lol. maybe later on in the weekend if u can? its been a while ;).” Max sighs. She hasn’t seen Casey in a while since Alex has moved in. But she gets it. It’s a bros before hoes type thing.

“I get it lmao. I’ll have to check ahead to see if I have any work to do,” she knew she wouldn’t have any work, but she likes to play hard to get sometimes, “but I’d love to get together over the weekend. Have fun tn.” As if almost on cue, Alex emerges from the bedroom.�� She’s got on a pair of blue skinny jeans and a black – no, maybe dark grey – crop top on. She walks over to the couch with her black heels in her hand. “Well you look cute. Are you trying to get with this friend of yours tonight or are you just trying to make him drool?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “First, thank you for the compliment. I finally went back to the apartment to grab most of my clothes. Luckily, Devin wasn’t there so I didn’t have to deal with him.” Max nods. “Second, no I am not trying to get with my friend, and lastly this friend is a girl. So politely fuck off.” She sends a smirk to Max, who just chuckles and throws her hands up in surrender.

“Alright. You can still technically get with her, you know. My first statement still stands, though. You look hot.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “I thought I looked just cute a few seconds ago. Now I’m hot? What made you change your mind?” she teases. “Is it the heels? It’s definitely the heels,” she says, as she now sends a wink to her roommate.

Max sits in her spot on the couch, laughing softly while shaking her head. Alex stands up and starts to gather what she needs for her escapades and heads for the front door. Before she leaves, she hears Max yell out, “If you need the bedroom tonight, make sure you text me at least 10 minutes before you get home!” Alex laughs, yelling out a quick “Okay!” as she closes the front door. She walks down the driveway, grabs her phone to text Casey to tell her she’s leaving now, and starts her walk to the bar.

When she’s just around the corner from the bar, Alex texts Casey to see if she’s close. As she walks up to the front of the bar, she sees her best friend coming from the other direction. She smiles, walks past the bar and up to Casey. They both hug each other tightly.

The two get in without a problem, the bouncer having recognized Casey from her coming to the bar so many times before tonight. The two sit down at one of the tables in the corner of the bar and their night begins.

tags: @maggie-elise13, @elizabethfictionwriting, @lesbian-deadpool, @the-very-tired-gay, @timelords-13, @tangled-up-in-bad-decisions, @natashaswhitesuit, @its-a-me-mario-hihi, @marvelfansince08love

#never thought itd be her #ntibh #short story #story #mine #kello-unknown

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onsgiftexchange · 5 years ago

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A Kiss Full of Petals

Hiya, Thea (LavenRain96) is here with her present to her secret santa, Devin ( @devinthedragondraws )~! I hope you’ll like this! :D

To be honest, I never heard of this event until my own circle of friends mentioned it in Twitter and Discord. I initially didn’t want to join with how busy I am as of late, but I was like: “You know what? F*** it, let’s make someone happy.”. Thus, I joined. To my pleasant surprise, my secret santa likes reading angst with a happy ending, or something that makes their heart swoon. That, and they also like sweet confessions and something that the characters are recovering from. So with that in mind, I wrote a mini-fic about the Hanahaki Disease (ngl I want to write this AU for some time now, and I’m glad that I get to do so in this way) and I had so much fun writing this, even though I admit that it feels a bit rushed (I apologize ;;;;;).

But anyway, once again, this is for you, Devin. Please enjoy!

—

The smell of cleanliness was quite pungent to Mikaela’s nose, reminding him almost every day of where he was. The white walls, the fine sheets and the IV on his arm even contributed to this fact… and he hated it. It felt like he was hidden away from the world, quarantined in the hospital all for the sake of healing. However, with how serious his disease was getting, it was inevitable that he would end up in the very place he dreaded on staying.

That was just how the world works; the one where the sickness known as the Hanahaki Disease exist.

Mikaela shrugged it off as a bluff at first with how fictitious the said disease was, especially with its low pathogenicity. But given his current circumstances as of late, he couldn’t deny that the disease was, in fact, real, and that he was feeling it in the most painful way imaginable.

He couldn’t speak properly—even something as simple as breathing proved to be an excruciating task for him without him coughing badly in return. Such things tend to put a strain on his throat that ruined his vocal chords and left a burning sensation that would take hours to calm down.

The flower petals that he spit out, though beautiful, didn’t do anything to lift his mood since the very sight of them clearly meant that he was near death’s door in each passing day. The thought of dying alone with this disease was something Mikaela couldn’t dream of imagining.

It must have been lonely to die like this, was the first thing that came to mind before his thoughts drifted to his childhood friend and crush, Yuuichirou.

Unfortunately, his thoughts were immediately halted as he suddenly felt a sudden surge from his throat, prompting him to cough harshly against his hand. It lasted for a few seconds, but for Mikaela, it felt like an eternity until his lungs slowly pave way to the tranquility from before. The hand on his mouth was shaking but it held firm— it was a simple way to try and soothe the after effect of his coughs. However, the fear of looking at the outcome of yet another violent episode of his disease also sustained him from moving his hand away.

The thick wetness and the soft, satin-like texture on his skin was something that Mikaela was already used to. It was so common to the point that it was embedded into his everyday life, but a part of himself was still in disbelief, still in denial that this was happening to him. His stubborn side persistently refused to acknowledge this. It wouldn’t just go and accept the fact that his love for Yuuichirou was slowly killing him. To do so would admittedly mean that loving the very man who had been with him through thick and thin was a mistake. A large, fatal mistake.

Mikaela knew better than to regard Yuuichioru as such. He may be flawed in some parts of himself, but that wasn’t enough to make Mikaela love him any less. To Mikaela, Yuuichirou was his everything. He was his best friend, his family, his confidant, his partner-in-crime…

… But why was loving him so damn painful?

Mikaela knew the answer to that well. It was a hard pill to swallow in a consistent pace, but for Yuuichirou’s sake, he gladly took it with a smile, even at the cost of his own happiness and health.

As long as Yuu-chan is happy, it’s enough, Mikaela reminded himself as he finally lowered his hand to reveal a streak of blood, and a small handful of red and white flower petals. The bloodied sight brought a heart-wrenching smile on Mikaela’s face before he sighed softly and aimlessly dropped the petals on the floor.

He felt a little sorry for giving his nurse some extra work to handle, but as of now, he didn’t care anymore. His hope to continue living with his most cherished person was starting to dwindle.

~ 0 ~

“I will not tolerate this behavior, Mika.” Krul stated firmly with her arms crossed as she looked at Mikaela with a frown, “I finally found a compatible lung donor for you, and I won’t waste this opportunity just because you refuse to let go of your feelings for Yuuichirou.”

Mikaela looked away in defiance, his brows furrowed with equal anger.

Krul sighed while she softened up just a bit, “Listen, I know that you like him, but Mika… Is he really worth dying for? You have a future ahead of you and it will surely hurt Yuuichirou if you die now. Haven’t you thought of that?”

“ I don’t care, ” Mikaela wrote on his mini white board Krul provided him with as a form of communication. “ I will not allow my lungs to be replaced by somebody else’s. ”

“Don’t be so stubborn. You know well what will happen if you don’t get operated soon.” Krul exasperated before she stood up from her seat, still frowning due to Mikaela’s lack of cooperation. “I’ll set up the appointment right away. Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have that surgery. We’ve waited long enough.”

Mikaela opened his mouth to voice a protest, having forgotten for a moment that his vocal chords were on the verge of being destroyed if he add anymore strain on them. However, whatever he wanted to say died in his throat when a knock was heard on his room door, pausing his thoughts.

“Hey, Mika…!” Yuuichirou greeted cheerfully with a wide grin as he opened the door. His smile faltered slightly upon seeing that Mikaela wasn’t alone in the room, and that there was tension in the atmosphere. He clearly knew right then and there that he entered at such a bad time.

“… Oh, um, hello to you too, Krul-san.” He awkwardly addressed with a respectful bow towards Krul. “Did I interrupt on something? If so, I could just—”

“—It’s quite alright, Yuu-kun.” Krul acknowledged with a small wave of her hand. “In fact, I was just about to leave. I’ve already said what I want to Mika very clearly regarding his operation.”

“Operation?” Yuuichirou repeated in confusion before his face lit up. “No way! You’ve found a donor?!”

“Yes, Mika is going to get his surgery soon. He’ll be cured in no time..” Krul confirmed but her words only made Mikaela angry. How dare she just brush off his feelings for Yuuichirou as if it was nothing but a burden on her shoulders? If Yuuichirou wasn’t in the room, Mikaela would likely throw a tantrum and be forcefully restrained on the bed until he calmed down.

“That’s great news, Mika. I’m so happy for you.” Yuuichirou cheered with a smile on his face, completely oblivious towards Mikaela’s dilemma. “It must really suck to be coughing almost every day. I mean, when was the last time you talked properly? Oh, and I really miss your voice. So with the surgery on the way, everything will be back to where it was.”

Hearing that, Mikaela didn’t know if he should cry or be offended with what Yuuichirou just said. Either way, it was heartbreaking to know that those words were coming out from his friend’s mouth, and it seemed that sadness won over his emotions as Mikaela was blinking away the tears that were trying to fall from his eyes.

Mikaela’s bravado from before slowly disappeared, replacing itself with sorrow as he took Yuuichirou’s enthusiasm for his recovery as a sign of rejection. An innocent one, and yet it stabbed deep like a knife in his heart.

But, still… Mikaela smiled, masking his hurting.

“ You’re right, Yuu-chan. ” Mikaela wrote down in his white board. His once straight and confident handwriting was now dissolved into something soft and shaky. “ Once my surgery is done, I can go to school again and be with you guys. I must have brought you a lot of trouble. ”

“Nah, don’t be sorry, Mika.” Yuuichirou shook his head in consideration before he took a seat on Mikaela’s bed, “As long as you’re well again after all these days, this is nothing. The Shinoa squad will continue to wait and support you until the very end.”

Mikaela couldn’t help but feel a tinge at that sentence. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful for his friends to worry about his health, but truth be told, the squad had nothing to do with his illness at all and Mikaela wished Yuuichirou would put them aside even for just a little bit. He knew that it was selfish to even think about that, but Yuuichirou had been his friend ever since they were kids. So, shouldn’t he have more priority over them?

No, don’t think that. This is enough. This is enough…

Mikaela encouraged himself that the attention he was receiving was already sufficient. There was no room to be greedy in a situation like this, especially when he was on the verge of dying. Any kind of attention, though brief and pitiful, was more than plenty. He could make do with that.

“Well then, I shall take my leave now that I have Mika’s consent on the operation. Take care of him in my stead, Yuu-kun.” Krul requested with care. Whether she was aware of how Yuuichirou’s words affected Mikaela or not, she didn’t show it and kept her expression unreadable.

“Sure thing, Krul-san.” Yuuichirou agreed with a nod before turning his attention back to Mikaela once Krul left. “Man, it’s been a long while since we’re alone like this, don’t you think?”

Mikaela smiled in nostalgia as he wrote down, “ I agree… ”

Yuuichirou chuckled in reply before he settled in a comfortable silence with Mikaela, staring down on his friend’s white board and his handwriting. Without a word, Yuuichirou reached a hand out and placed it a top of Mikaela’s, prompting the latter to look at him with a raised brow.

“Sorry for being sudden, but… I’m just happy.” Yuuichirou explained himself softly. His face showed nothing but a serene smile. “I wasn’t lying when I said I missed your voice. I may find it annoying sometimes with how you keep on nagging me to do stuff, but your voice is… I find it nice.”

… Huh?

Mikaela’s eyes rounded in surprise at Yuuichirou’s sudden confession. He liked his voice? Mikaela didn’t really see anything special with his voice. That was just how it was—ordinary and plain. For Yuuichirou to admit that he found his voice pleasant made Mikaela’s heart thump just a bit. It didn’t even help that there was an obvious blush on Yuuichirou’s cheeks after his confession.

“W-Well, you sing really good, so it’ll be a waste if you just let it wither away with this disease of yours. The kids in the orphanage will be sad.” Yuuichirou added on, but it only served to further heighten his embarrassment.

“ How about you, Yuu-chan? Will you be sad? ” Mikaela couldn’t help but write the question down out of curiosity.

“O-Of course, I’ll be sad. Don’t make me repeat myself, Mika. Geez…” Yuuichirou nearly shrieked with a frown and his face bloomed red like a tomato.

Mikaela chuckled at Yuuichirou’s reaction. The look on his face reminded him back in the days where Mikaela would often tease Yuuichirou just for the sake of getting on his nerves. Now that they were older, that teasing became one of his forms of endearment for Yuuichirou, and Mikaela would wonder from time to time if Yuuichirou even took notice of it.

“Anyway…” Yuuichirou’s voice cut through Mikaela’s thoughts. “Even though I’m happy that you’ll get a surgery and recover soon… I feel sorry for his person you have unrequited feelings with. I mean, you’re smart and handsome. Anyone would practically beg on their knees to date you, you know… That person must be lucky to have caught your eye.”

And that person happens to be you., was what Mikaela wanted to say but he held back out of fear that Yuuichirou might react badly at having another man like him that way. From what Mikaela understood as of late, Yuuichirou and Shinoa have a… thing for each other. The hints were subtle, but Mikaela could tell that Shinoa had a major crush on Yuuichirou. Yuuichirou, on the other hand, still kept treating her normally to the point that it was impossible to know if he liked her back or not.

But even if that was the case, that didn’t change the fact that Mikaela still chose to hide his feelings because he valued his friendship with Yuuichirou so much. He would rather risk his health than his relationship. But with how he was going to be removing his disease surgically, shouldn’t he make the most out of now? Mikaela could always tell Yuuichirou that he was joking in the end since Yuuichirou identified Mikaela to be a trickster at certain points in their lives.

It was a low move, but Mikaela was becoming desperate. He wanted to at least kiss Yuuichirou before his feelings for him were gone—forcefully and painfully taken away from him during surgery. He may not remember the kiss after the operation, but he at least told Yuuichirou how he felt albeit masked within a joke.

With an intake of breath, Mikaela then wrote down on his white board what he wanted to say, “ Hey, Yuu-chan. Before my operation, can I tell you something? ”

Yuuichirou read Mikaela’s message before he nodded, “Of course. What is it, Mika?”

Without writing anything back, Mikaela leaned close to Yuuichirou and planted a kiss on his cheek. His warm lips met soft skin briefly before he pulled back with one of his usual, teasing smiles—ready for Yuuichirou’s outburst.

However, Yuuichirou’s reaction was anything but what Mikaela expected. Yuuichirou was looking at him in surprise before it changed into a small frown. Mikaela blinked and waved his hands a bit to clearly tell that the kiss was nothing but a joke, but Yuuichirou clearly wasn’t buying it.

“… Shut up.”, were the words that left Yuuichirou’s mouth before he reached and grabbed Mikaela’s hospital gown before he leaned close and landed a kiss on Mikaela’s mouth, bruising it with how rough he was.

Mikaela jumped in shock and pushed Yuuichirou away for a bit to put some distance in between them. When they pulled apart, Mikaela noticed a flower petal hanging loosely on Yuuichirou’s lips—a blue rose petal that held the same shade as his own eyes. The sight of it rendered Mikaela speechless, and his silence only spurred a blush to grace Yuuichirou’s cheeks once again.

“Yeah, I have it too… because I thought you love someone else,” Yuuichirou confessed as he took the slightly wet flower petal on his lips. “It’s not as bad as yours, but… yeah…”

Yuuichirou looked away shyly, unable to say anything next now that he just outrightly admitted to like Mikaela that way. Fortunately for Yuuichirou, no words were needed to be said as Mikaela gently cupped his face and kissed him again. Unlike when Yuuichirou did it roughly and in a blinding rush, this one was full of passion and love—silently telling emotions that were kept hidden away for so long.

The taste of flowers in his mouth was unavoidable, and yet despite that, Mikaela felt so light that he could feel himself breathing freely.

“… Yuu-chan,” Mikaela rasped in a crooked voice, which surprised Yuuichirou.

“Mika, your voice… It’s back.”

“Oh…” Mikaela blinked in amazement upon realizing that his voice was back, even though it sounded a bit different now after all the pressure that disease gave it. Nevertheless, his eyes stained in unshed tears of joy. “My voice… Yuu-chan, it’s—”

Before Mikaela could say any more words, Yuuichirou claimed his lips again in a soulsearing kiss, effectively silencing him as words couldn’t express the happiness the other was feeling. Mikaela merely just closed his eyes in silent acceptance before he wrapped his arms around Yuuichirou and returned the kiss in full, allowing them to enjoy their intimate time together as they healed each other through a kiss that was full of petals.

#onsgiftexchange #OnS Gift Exchange #Owari no Seraph Gift Exchange #Owari no Seraph #OnS #Seraph of the End #SotE #MikaYuu #YuuMika #YuuMikaYuu #Yuuichirou Hyakuya #Hyakuya Yuuichirou #Mikaela Hyakuya #Hyakuya Mikaela #submission

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satire-please · 6 years ago

Text

Take a Sad Song and Make it Better - Part 2

Batfam Big Bang Day 2 - Sick = Batfam member being taken care of or attacked by an army of motherhens.

Jason makes soup for some ungrateful shits

Part 1

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

“But I hate you little shits most,” Jay says, shouldering the guest bedroom door open roughly, He slams the tray of soup and crackers on the bedside table between the two coughing, sniffing invalids. “Honestly, what kind of dumb fuck takes a swim in the dead of winter?”

“Screw you, Jason. I wouldn’t call being chained and thrown into the harbor a leisurely swim.” Tim says venomously. But unfortunately, he doesn’t look much of a threat when his lap is blanketed in white tissues. In fact, there might not even be a single space of the bedspread left not covered in the clumped wet balls.

It had been cold. So cold when the thugs shoved them off the boat. The water slammed against their chests like ice. Tim managed to get one breath in before the harbor creeps over his domino mask, his hair and to sucks them under. Tim has five minutes. He can hold his breath for five minutes. Has Damian been trained? How long—

Jay raises both his eyebrows, “Excuse me? This is the thanks I get? I slave all day in the kitchen for yer bony asses and instead of a single thank you, it’s screw you? Ouch, Babybird.” His hands motion grandly to the food tray.

“Must you poison us too, Hood?” Damian stares at the bowls with suspicion. “Have we not suffered enough as it is?”

The infidels had been clumsy, roughly chaining them back to back. A shoddy job. It should have provided loopholes, space from hurried mistakes, but alas they focused enough on limiting the use of their hands. The gang yelled when a new pair of black boots landed on the insufficient sailboat’s deck. The foolish men must have thrown them over as a hopeful distraction for the Bat. But as the metal links dig into Damian’s arms, quickly turning the same temperature as the bay, he knows they were wrong.

“Now why would I do that.” Jay crosses his arms over his chest, looming over first Dami and then Tim. “That’s a waste of food. If I want ya to die, I’d just shoot ya in the head. Save Alfred a grocery trip.”

“Thanks, Jay,” Tim says sarcastically.

“Aw shucks, yer welcome.”

Tim doesn’t bother kicking towards the surface yet. They tossed them in the shallows, this group doesn’t usually care about the efficiency of a kill but the fun of it. From reports, he knows the game is to cruelly toss victims in water only a few feet deeper than their prey. Giving an illusion of hope when they kick, hop, jump from the river bed. Only for them gasp and be helplessly pushed back down by oars or hands. The sadistic game can last for hours...until their playtoy finally loses strength or gives up.

He opens his eyes in the filth of the bay and peers around looking, looking...there!

Steam flows up from the bowls, the aroma quickly fills the room. Tim takes a deep breath, the smell tempting him, while a stomach gives a quiet rumble in the next bed. When neither boy makes a move towards Jason’s generous sacrifice, Jason shifts his weight to his hip and taps his foot with a scowl.

Damn it, he knows his cooking is legit, man.

“What? Wouldja like it to be Dick’s cooking instead?” Both bedridden boys look over to each other for a second, then to Jason, to the tray and back again. Then Tim and Damian frantically struggle as one to escape the sheets to get to the bowls first. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

The tension in Jason’s limbs, like they’d notice pffftt, finally eases as the bowls barely stay full for a minute. The moment they’re empty, he gives them a second helping and glares at Tim when he wrinkles his nose at the dish. “This is no time to eat like a bird, princess.”

“But I don’t need–”

“Don’t need nothing, ya need to give yer body the good stuff to fight. And ain’t ya lucky Dick’s off planet? He’d give ya the worst puppy eyes and be all over ya, both of ya for that shitty attitude.”

Damian and Tim shudder. Dick has always won the worst Motherhen award. Always. (Alfred is the sneakiest though.)

Damian puts his spoon down. He is...content, how odd. “I suppose that is a fair point. What I do not understand is how the two of us could be put in the same room, in a mansion such as this, forced to accept each other’s presence against our will during recovery.”

Damian conserves his energy the best he can. Watching the bubbles that escape him, minding his surroundings as his ears go numb. Their bodies jerk against the current as Drake suddenly drags them in the direction of his choosing. His slight height and longer legs give a mild advantage, but Damian does not hinder or fight Drake at a time such as this. Surely Drake has a purpose, a plan if he is as clever as Grayson has repeatedly claimed. He walks carefully backward, mindful not to trip on the debris and garbage littered on the harbor bottom. If they lose their balance, escaping to the surface will be more...difficult. His heel hits something hard and he twists to the best of his ability around Drake, a car!

“Alfred’s orders. He said it’s the perfect way to condense care and meet yer needs more efficiently. The man plays the best vindictive shtick if ya know what I mean.”

“It’s the spite. He needs it to stay alive and old.” Tim adds. He sets his bowl on the tray with a sharp clink.

Two minutes. The old beetle is brown with rust, one broken door floating on its hinges. It’s just what they need, Tim hauls them on the roof of the vehicle and stands on his tiptoes. His head breaks the surface of the water and he takes a greedy gulp of air. Smog has never tasted so sweet.

Then he feels the body lashed to his struggle and squirm violently.

“Robin? What are you–” And he notices it. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the top of Damian’s head, his wet dark spikes. But that’s it. His face is still submerged.

Fuck.

No. Tim bites his lip, tearing it and moves his arms under the chains for any wiggle room. He sucks in his ribs, not on his watch. Not another Robin dying on his watch. He pulls the boy up an itch up his body, two...and leans over. He hears a wonderful, desperate gasp before his head goes back in the water. Good. That’s fine. He can stay under.

Besides Tim’s got another five minutes.

On the bed somewhere, something buzzes and vibrates. Tim pats the covers awkwardly until he unburies a phone.

It’s 7:30.

He promptly reaches across the bedside table. His fingertips nudging a small orange bottle until it slides and topples over. It rolls closer to the preteen. Success is his. “Meds, Damian. Every four hours remember?”

The younger boy huffs but drops the bottle into his lap, “You as well, Drake. I believe Alfred has synced our medication schedules for this purpose.”

“What purpose?”

“To ensure the other does not conveniently forget.”

“I’ve never done that!”

“I disagree. In fact, shall we pull up the records to call that bluff? I am certain Oracle or Alfred have some sort of accounts on the matter.”

“...No.” Jay guffaws at the cowed expression on Tim’s face. Little do these two know that’s one of his tiny jobs to keep the suckers alive today. Stuff their pills down their throats if necessary. How lucky for them that he just gets to be an extra eye, to watch them like a hawk, to take note of how Damian pops open the bottle and swallow his meds dry. But–

“Drake,” states Damian exasperatedly.

“What?

Jay adds his two cents with a point, “So what about them meds, replacement?”

“Oh.” Tim looks to the side. There’s a long sigh, but finally, the asshat puts down his phone to finally get the good drugs in him. Okay, so it’s a bit of a setup. Replacement ain’t got some pills but the fancy stuff since he’s you know, missing an organ. The IV stand almost leans against the wall, it’s needle already burrowed in the back of Tim’s hand. Tim opens the high-end antibodies and carefully feeds it into a tubing of the hanging IV bag. The dying light reflects off the clear fluid. Jay almost considers helping, since Tim lightly curses, his arm stretched awkwardly above him.

Nah. Replacement...no Babybird got’s this. He’ll get all stiff and offended if Jay steps in.

They watch as Tim’s posture goes lax. His eyes narrow in annoyance but soon he’s going to pass out and there’s nothing he can do about it. Gods, he hopes they don’t watch him sleep again.

They do it with this vindictive glee that he could do without.

Damian sniffs, but nods with approval, “Good. It would be ridiculous if you wasted away after what we had to endure in that last venture.”

There are no stars in Gotham’s sky. Not from what he can see being propped up over Drake’s back in this manner. His chest strains as his lungs finally fill. He could do without the idiotic trembles as his body submits to the cold, yet he’s avoided one death and that shall suffice him for now.

“What took you so long, Red Robin? Did you not notice our difference in heights until the last instance. I swear, that you could become any sort of vigilante is beyond me. But be assured, soon Father will finish and rescue us from this silly predicament.”

There is no answer.

“D-Drake?”

Their bodies bob slightly, Damian thinks of how the dead float.

“DRAKE!”

He rocks, flails until under the water his wrist is squeezed tightly. Oh. Drake is not dead...at least not yet. Father, no Grayson would not be pleased over his incompetent predecessor’s possible demise.

So he focuses on the sailboat and screams one word. “BATMAN!”

Jay looks back and forth between the two and smirks. Feelings, these boys are shit at them, but he bets if he put a gun to them, it would be a fight of who leaps in front of the other first. He puts his money on the demon brat, the jumpy monkey. He remembers how Bruce stormed into the cave, one bird in the crook of his arm, the other over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. How he yelled for Jason to prepare the medi-beds and Alfred taking in the pale skin of the two boys went straight for the emergency heaters.

It had been a rush.

A chance of sepsis is not fun. Neither is dealing with hypothermia with the pint-sized preteen. You would think being closer to hell, or his genetics would keep him warm, but no, Jay had to massage the circulation back into those toes so the kid could keep them.

It had been a close shave.

But they’re Bats. Surviving is what they do.

“Well girls, it’s time for a nap,” he pulls out a book. A real one. Like get these shits some real literature, “And I gotcha the best bedtime story, so shut up and listen.”

“I do not require such frivolous–”

“I said shut yer yap before I suffocate ya with a pillow.” He thumbs open the first page, “There we are, ‘It was a pleasure to burn…’”

Tim graciously gives a wet tissue to Damian to lob at Jason. Damian takes the ammo grateful, continues to take it as Jason proceeds to dodge. And be successful at it. His voice melodious and soothing in its own rough way. Over time, it causes Damian’s throws to be more erratic, wide...slow. It causes Tim’s shoulders to sink deeper into the bedding, a different kind of drowning.

“‘We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?'”

Yeah, Jay thinks he could do that. Be the best botherer in the world.

‘Bout time he got started on it.

#day 2 sick #BatfamBigBang #Batfam Big Bang #my writing #batfamily #bros being bros #sick #hurt/comfort #quotes from Fahrenheit 451

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wannawrite · 7 years ago

Text

The Royals - PWJ

who?: Wanna One’s Park Woojin genre: 🌺 type: bullet point TW: gang au

blog navigator.

The Royals PJH | PJH2 | KD | KD2

part one / two

mafia! AU

what secrets does Woojin hide up in the clouds?

kind of a soft mafia! AU for a change of scenery. Thanks for requesting anon!! Hope you guys anticipate more.

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

Park Woojin

code name: 6

nickname: Sparrow

by his friends and enemies alike

he’s deadly quiet, demure even

Woojin is the pilot in charge of The Royals fleet of private jets

no one has a clear headshot of Woojin as he always has on a dramatic fighter jet pilot’s mask

rumour has it that he’s only a boy of 20 years of age, has taupe coloured skin kissed by sun rays and a key identification factor

his snaggletooth

but that’s the only word on the street

Woojin was the most low-key member of The Royals, keeping his profile low and head hidden

no wonder he was called Sparrow

always flying off before anyone’s hand could clasp around him

fast

nimble

brown haired

speckled

another gossip column mentioned he was a good friend of Lee Daehwi, another member of The Royals

and that was how he became a key figure of the secret society realm

Woojin had always dreamt of being a pilot

when he was young, he had wanted to be an airforce pilot

lol how things have changed

his mother was a head officer in Incheon’s flight control tower

that was where the influence came from

his father had been a pilot

a little love story bloomed from there

obviously, they married and had two children

it was a happy family of four, all enthralled by the idea of jetting through the clouds

one day, a tragic accident had claimed his life

Woojin was a bit too young to remember specific details but he had a calling to fulfil his late father’s legacy

he wanted to succeed his father’s wish for him to continue flying planes

a national airforce fighter jet pilot would have been ideal

but he was happy to settle for the position of head pilot of Seoul’s notorious mafia

Woojin was sent to pilot school when he was a middle school student

only when he was a high schooler did he start practicing and honing his skills with real planes

small delivery planes that is

cute

Woojin was the kind of guy who took photos with every plane he had piloted

every single one of them were kept in an album in his mother’s house

yes, his cute snaggletooth was featured in ALL of them

his sister would scrapbook some candids and send them over to The Royals HQ in Seoul

sparrow’s scrapbooks were the talk of the town

Woojin was in charge of a lot of things

excessive things

almost too much

but he loved his job and lived for the thrill of flying

whether it was a goods plane, passenger plane, he just adored piloting planes

oh and it wasn’t exactly hard to renew his license when he had contacts in the business

occasionally, Woojin traveled back to his flying school to assist teachers

or take more classes since he is 20

still gaining knowledge

well, that’s how you got to know him

when you were young, your grandfather would tell you stories of the days when he was a fighter pilot

a pilot

he met your grandmother during his flying days as well

fascinated by his stories and tales, you too were determined to pilot plane

it was difficult

your parents did not favour this idea and your grandparents were your only supporters

in secret, they coached you on whatever knowledge they had

wings, propellor...fly!

you spent hours and hours poring over ancient plane encyclopedias, enriching your mind and spurring on your motivation

and then one day, your grandparents came home with an enrolment letter

into pilot school :D

you screamed and cried with joy

then worried about how your parents would react but your grandparents gave 0 f*cks

they the realest

‘just go, we know people there who will treat and teach you with the best of their abilities.’

and so you started to attend classes in secret

hehe hehe

it was all good

your coach loved you

your love for the planes and even theory classes was unexplainable

not one of your parents knew what you did almost every day after school

until you nearly crashed a plane and were severely hurt

that’s when your parents found out and damn...it wasn’t exactly a pretty scene

the amount of yelling and screaming was enough to shake the whole hospital

you had cried so much that the IV drip had to be replaced TWICE

idk if its a thing but it now is

though it took some time, they finally opened up to the idea of piloting

they managed to see things from a different perspective and wrap their head around it

and now they fund your studies :D

okay, so now the fun starts

you knew Woojin as Park Woojin, the guy from pilot school

your classmate

who is kind of too advanced for your class

Idk what game he playing

if someone asked you about him, you would say y’all talked

but not a lot

considering his attendance had been quite hectic and intermittent

and you did hear some fishy theories about him from the gossipers

Jenna claimed that he worked with the local gang, operating planes so he could import drugs from overseas

sounds a bit dumb but believable ??

you don’t trust Jenna anyway

but her words linger in your mind, unable to dissipate

just simple, harmless gossip

another source stated Woojin was a spy for the FBI, making sure not a single soul could leave the country so easily with their own plane

crazy

how much time do these people have?

you noticed that Woojin was close to many of the staff and instructors

definitely not trying to start your own theory here

he was a person to be curious about, intriguing

just your luck, Woojin ended up being your flying buddy for a term

idk hOw thIS WORKS SO IT GONNA WORK THIS WAY

quite an awkward pairing if you must say

but your instructor liked how you trusted your theory work and equipment, eyeing every reading carefully

he thought it would be a good match for Woojin, who trusted his own instinct but was a firm and steady pilot

day one: silence filled the space between the two of you

the instructor gave y’all an hour to read the manual, study, bond whatnot

yet, half of that was spent buried in books and theory videos

safety books

going over basics

reading about gear care

even though you knew Woojin was an expert in those aspects

there was just no talking

shhhh

quieter than your school’s library

that was most people’s impression of the quiet and cunning little sparrow, tricking people into thinking he’s demure and secretive

see, that’s how all those ludicrous rumours are born

finally, you just HAD to engage in conversation

THE SILENCE WAS JUST TOO STRANGLING

but he was hard to talk to

woojin barely said three words before the conversation lapsed

you pressed your lips together, unsure of what to do

you started to scribble, drawing cartoonish planes and clouds

that was when Woojin commented that your plane looked more like a bird

‘pfp...see if you can draw any better,’ you challenged

Woojin took another pencil from your case

‘Try me.’

And so that’s how you spent your ‘study session’

Since you do have quite a competitive spirit

You brought a whole ass portfolio of drawings the next day

Just so Woojin could get a taste of his competition

Banter, banter

After leafing through yours, he pulled out his own digital file of sketches

And his own little scrapbook

+2 for artistic talent

soon, the piles of non-work related books were growing in your locker

there were a couple more pencil scribbles on the picnic table

other students found rough paper with sketches almost everywhere

even on mock test papers

eventually, your instructor realised something was terribly off when both of you failed the month’s test

as punishment, you guys had to do clean up duty

and more homework

taking away your hands-on flying class for a month

but it was fun

partners in crime play together

partners in crime die together

so slogging after class was much more enjoyable in the company of each other

plus, the ice cream feast after was always rewarding

you guys would purposely take a long route to the bus stop to pick up convenience store ice cream

woojin would try to convince you that his flavour choice was much better

time was killed with the playful banter at the bus stop

many times you found yourself wanting to ask about all the rumours circulated about him

but you realised that Woojin was that kind of guy who would make a joke out of it

and take words like those lightly

bonus!

he had a great sense of humour

variety king

days resembling those wore on

but you were never tired of them

and it seemed like he wasn’t either

every occasion was constantly different from the previous one

another flavour of ice cream to sample

more areas to ‘clean-up’

messing around with the coaches

days at the academy were always divergent

so it was weird when Woojin didn’t show up one day

that time you managed to shrug off the anxieties and assumptions

then, he disappeared for two following days

that you definitely couldn’t ignore

you didn’t attend the same school as him and no one else at the academy knew him very well

when coaches were questioned, they seemed uninterested but assured of his safety

‘Don’t worry,’ said your instructor. ‘Woojin knows his way around things. Perhaps he just hasn’t been feeling very well.’

mhm

you watched how his irises flickered from yours to the surroundings

and back

any trace of uncertainty was erased when you took a second glance

‘Anyway, I have his assignment folder. Could you pass it to him for the summer? Thanks.’

‘Make sure it gets to him safely. Don’t pass it to a third party.’

his footsteps quickened as they grew more and more out of earshot

you scoffed in disbelief, feeling the effects of being alone while everyone else was buddied up

how were you ever going to find Woojin?

His mobile phone was turned off too

or he just wasn’t responding to your texts

you: hi woojin

you: I have your work file

you: can we meet so I can pass it to you?

you: you okay? haven’t seen you in a while

woojin hadn’t read those messages

Sighing, you closed the application and continued with your classes

forcing yourself to pay attention to content was harder when Woojin wasn’t around

every moment you swore that your phone buzzed in your pocket

unfortunately, it was just your imagination

there were no texts from him even at the end of the day

you fell asleep that night with an uneasy heart full of worries

woojin: yeah of course

woojin: Thanks btw

woojin: sorry about it

woojin: aha you won’t see this asap since its 2am

woojin: but tell me where to find you tomorrow

what a debonair comment from him

is that even an adjective to describe a phrase?

your face feels a bit warm

stop making a big deal out of nothing!!!

you: how about 11am at the Starbucks near my place

you text him the address

shockingly, Woojin’s response is immediate

Woojin: see you :)

a smiley face

what does this mean?

he’s happy to get his work, that’s what it means

calm down

the red alarm clock reads 8.30am

there’s time to freshen up

there’s also time for you to imagine every possible outcome of this meeting

which is taking place outside of class time

would it be awkward?

strange?

don’t overthink this

after much deliberation, you make it to Starbucks 15 minutes before the agreed time

all is calm at your seat near the window, drink on your table

and clutching Woojin’s file so closely as if it would grow legs and run away

then, two young men approach your table

‘Hi,’ one of the voices said. ‘You’re here for Woojin, aren’t you?’

you’re hesitant to answer, wondering what sort of relationship Woojin would have with them

your reply is cut off by the other guy speaking

he chuckles

‘I’m Jeno and he’s Jaemin. We’re Woojin’s friends and he sent us to collect his work,’ he says.

you observe how he hides his hands behind his back, how he presses his lips together too often

liar

Don’t give it to a third party

pass it to him personally

Jaemin’s hands reach for the file. ‘Now if you just-‘

‘I don’t think so.’ Your words slice through the tension. ‘Woojin is supposed to collect it from me himself.’

The message sent is clear

Don’t f*cking touch this file

Jaemin’s jaw seems to clench while Jeno begins to crack his knuckles

‘Well,’ Jaemin begins, his arms retreating. ‘Woojin has something to attend to so he called us to get it. It was a last minute arrangement.’

Jeno scrolls through his phone, pulling up ‘Woojin’s’ texts

The messages are indeed are from a contact called Woojin, he lacks an avatar though

‘I’ll message him right now.’

however, messages from him rain in

Woojin: hey if anyone with the names Jaemin and Jeno talk to you, get away

Woojin: i didn’t send them, we don’t get along

Woojin: even if you don’t encounter them, I need you to go home this instant

Woojin: I’m so sorry, I can’t meet you today

his texts confirm your suspicions but now you’re curious about his relationship with them

How long could teenage boys hold grudges for anyway?

you: i’m talking to them rn

you: ...what should I do

you: jaemin’s pretty adamant about getting your stuff

Woojin: shit

Woojin: one of my friends is nearby, his name is Jaehwan

Woojin: go with him

Woojin: now, go to the barista and tell them you want a cupful of whipped cream with chocolate sauce

you look up from your phone, a bit taken aback by the information

your guard is well up now

‘Well?’ Jaemin almost hisses before he catches himself

��Hmm, I’m waiting for his reply. He wants me to order him a coffee.’

your heart wants to thump out of your chest

even your lips begin to dry

something just isn’t right

your brain and body aren’t reacting positively

As the last word leaves your lips, the barista whispers into a well-concealed in-ear

out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of the employees ripping her apron off and tossing it into the bushes

she was outside of the store, clearing dishes from the outdoor seating area

when she draws close, she makes a noise about not seeing you in a long time

but her eyes watch Jaemin and Jeno in the back

It’s to throw them off

Good plan

who came up with it?

the two mysterious boys grow increasingly irritated

it shows clearly in their actions

furious whispers

side glares

constant drumming of fingers

the girl’s eyes flicker over your shoulder for barely a second

an unnoticeable look

‘Jaehwan’s here,’ she says just as the bell chimes

‘You’re in good hands now.’

her smile is genuine and so is her embrace

you and Jaehwan don’t even exchange a slither of a greeting

in fact, you can’t catch your breath as the same lady ushers you out through the kitchen door

it’s only a matter of seconds before Jaemin and Jeno are alerted of your disappearance

that’s when their rage would be on the loose

Jaehwan frantically bundles you into a nearby car

honestly, you aren’t convinced he’s the best company

perhaps better than the previous Js

‘Where’s Woojin?’ you heave out. ‘I need to talk to him.’

Jaehwan begins to exit the parking lot, sunglasses on.

‘Sorry, reaching him will take a while. And, sorry for the suddenness of everything. You must be...surprised.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ you blurt out. ‘I’m utterly confused and terrified!’

‘I don’t even know where I’m going and who’s taking me!’

all your emotions are in a jumbled mess

being with Jaehwan feels like sitting in a lion’s den but with a metal cage surrounding you

safer but not wholly

staying with Jeno and Jaemin would mean the lions would have devoured you before your feet even reached the bottom of the pit

Woojin didn’t answer any of your calls

Jaehwan notices your hopeless attempts at contacting your friend

‘I’m sorry, he isn’t available at this moment.’

‘And why the hell not! He told me to meet him! He doesn’t have any plans! He could’ve come to meet me! I just want to give him his work file!’

The outburst makes you feel a ton better

Like the bag of bricks, you carried had been carrying was thrown at someone you hated

Suddenly, the road sign reading ‘Incheon Airport’ catches your attention

especially when Jaehwan seems to be en route

‘Why are we headed to the airport?’ You question, unsure if you want an answer

‘We’re going to see Woojin,’ Jaehwan replies casually.

‘W-w-we’re going out of the country?’ The stutter is inevitable

Jaehwan appears to furrow his brow as if puzzled

‘Um...yeah. Jihoon and Sejeong will deal with your accommodation,’ he informs, not that it is very helpful

Who and who?

‘Does Woojin even tell you anything?’ Jaehwan asks as he drives to the airport carpark

He shakes his head in disapproval when you answer with a ‘no’

‘I don’t have my passport,’ you say

your words don’t even affect Jaehwan, he simply says that a Kang Daniel has got you covered

again, who, what and how?

‘C’mon. Let’s go. I’m sure Woojin has all the answers to your questions.’

Jaehwan pushes your back, urging you to move quicker

‘What the hell,’ he curses under his breath. ‘Hurry up, I see...uh, J and J allies.’

there isn’t time

Plus, you don’t have the courage to turn around and glare them in the eye

Contrary to your assumption, Jaehwan skirts around the ‘Private Jet’ counter and settles for a commercial flight queue

he says something about it being too risky to dispatch one of his company’s private jets

the jets come as no shock

After all, Woojin does needs his planes

it’s likely his close friends are all like-minded and share the same interests

Jaehwan speedily dashes for the ‘First Class’ row

he speaks to the counter staff in such a quiet tone even you can’t decipher his words

‘Don’t worry about your passport, I have connections.’

don’t actually do this!!!

that makes your stomach clench and twist with nerves in the most horrid manner

somehow

your passport appears

it isn’t a replica, it isn’t a faux document

it’s in the flesh

...did someone break into your house?

‘Yeah,’ Jaehwan answers your unspoken question. ‘Of course someone stole this from your tabletop. You need to get better security.’

you face blushes red in embarrassment

'I’m a pilot,’ you manage a counter attack

your new friend only chuckles

jumping snaking immigration queues is something you could accustom yourself to

ahhh, the luxuries

soon, you’ll be able to join the ‘CREW ONLY’ line

Before you know it, you’re seated in the first class section of a reputable airline

woah

this is new

you don’t want to know where Jaehwan or Woojin or whoever has the money to pay for all this

then again, these people own a fleet of private jets

Jaehwan advises you to chill and enjoy the flight

but the bundle of nerves only tightens in your stomach

You’re on your way to Hong Kong

with a small bag of essentials and the clothes on your back

Jaehwan’s in the same situation

yet he seems so used to it, there’s no point being anxious

tbh you’d rather pilot the plane than ride in it

why would Woojin be in Hong Kong?

did he fly there on impulse?

does he even know the route?

he did just receive his pilot licence......

no, he couldn’t possibly

it sounded like a hasty getaway

A sudden change of plans

as if he was in trouble.....

Who are these people Jaehwan mentioned?

Is Woojin hiding anything from me?

Of course he is! Jaehwan knows but he feels that only Woojin has the right to tell me

besides, he’s asleep

how can he be sleeping at a time like this?

it’s barely 2pm

the day is going just fine

hopefully, things start looking up from here

Hong Kong...

Woojin...

I’m coming for ya

#Admin L #wanna one #wanna one scenarios #Produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #park woojin

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missarcheron · 7 years ago

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A Tale of Nymphs IV

Summary: Elain is a nymph of spring, spreading beauty and happiness wherever she goes. Lucien is the Lord of Death, whose realm is, well- dying. When he meets Elain, he knows he will need her to save his court- and perhaps for some other things as well…

Links: Chapter One, my writing

Note: Wow, this update took too long. I hope you still enjoy the next chapter! The title already says it all, actually :D

Chapter Four: Claiming

“What was he thinking? What was he thinking?” Elain’s mother paces up and down in her library, rubbing her forehead. Elain has never seen her as unsettled. “Lucien knows the rules. He knows! I made sure his own mother was well aware of who she was dealing with! I can’t believe he would go that far- I can’t believe he would take you by force”-

“He was not about to take me by force”, Elain says for what feels like the twentieth time in the span of this conversation. She’s tired. Everyone is yelling (especially Nesta and her mother), everyone is angry at her, everyone apparently knows Lucien and nobody has told her anything.

“How would you know that?”, her mother asks. “Oh, he is his mother’s son, her very spitting image- and she would have simply taken you away to do only the cauldron knows what!”

Elain presses her lips together. She doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. Everything seems different out of the sudden. The only thing that she’s certain of is that Lucien would never, ever hurt her. She feels it in her heart.

“You know Lucien’s mother?”, Feyre asks, surprise in her voice. “You never talked about her before!”

“Just like you never said that you knew Lucien!”, Elain throws in. “Why would you not tell us that our border touches his realm? Why would you pretend that those were simply dead woods?”

Her mother buries her face in her hands. “They are dead woods, Elain”, she says. “And I never told you about them because I wanted to protect you.”

Nesta raises her brows. “Well. That worked out well.” She’s lounged on the couch at the very back of the small library, playing with her dagger. A faint flame dances around her fingertip.

“So, let me get this straight.” Elain turns to look at both her sisters. “You didn’t know about Lucien either?”

But even as she is asking the question, she sees the answer in their eyes: they know him. They know Lucien. They know that he is the Lord of Death. And nobody has told her. Elain feels the heat rise inside her. She’s so angry she wants to explode. “I’m High Lady of the Night Court”, Feyre explains quickly and has at least the decency to look guilty. “I am bound to know. Rhysand showed me all the courts and the human lands.”

Elain glares at Nesta, who swallows. “Mother told me about the realm of the dead years ago”, she says. “Because she knows I want to protect you as much as she does.”

“You all knew?” Elain throws her hands in the air. “Who do you think I am? Some small flower that needs to be protected from being stepped on? Some little girl that can’t handle the idea of a court that is dead? You!” She points at Feyre. “Who do you think you are? Something special, just because you’re mated to the Lord of Night? I was born to be the Lady of Spring one day! I was born to rule this court! How should I have done so without knowing about our neighbors? Without knowing that there are fairies of death?” Her voice is so loud now that they must hear it outside. “I am a grown woman! I have lived over two centuries, and you still keep me like locked up- like I am in a cage!”

“That’s never what I wanted, Elain”, her mother pleads. “All I wanted for you was to stay clear of that one court.”

“But why?”

“Because they are dangerous. They are vicious. They do not care about others, they only think of themselves.” Her mother has tears in her eyes. “They would take you, Elain, and do whatever they wanted with you!”

Elain stares at her mother. “How do you know that?”

Her mother turns away from her, towards the window behind which the gardens of their court are in full bloom. “I have already lost my best friend to that court”, she says, so quietly Elain barely hears her. “And they turned her into a monster. I will not lose a daughter as well.”

“Which friend?”, Nesta asks.

But their mother does not turn around. Roots are shooting out from under her dress; leaves suddenly weave themselves into her hair. Branches grow from her fingertips.

Feyre sighs. “She’s turning into a tree again. Very good conflict solving, mother.” That’s that, then. Not soon, and their mother will be a small oak. She does this from time to time, turning into plants or animals. She says it helps her connect to her center, to nature. She says it’s a natural thing for all spring fae. So why does Elain never feel the urge to do stuff like that? Why is her mother unable to answer the simplest questions?

Nesta jumps up, still juggling her dagger. “I can’t believe there’s a whole backstory to Lucien and his court. And about that friend of hers that went to the Court of the Dead. She could have told us.”

“Elain”, Feyre begins, but Elain brushes past her. “I don’t think I want to talk to you much more”, she says and pushes open the doors that lead to the corridor. “Since you never saw it necessary to talk to me about anything.” Nesta calls something after her, but Elain slams the door to the library shut.

Lucien wanders the human realms today, disguised as a beggar, as the Lord of Death often likes to do. He needs to do something, anything, to forget yesterday. But even when he walks among one of these busy cities, watching the humans go along their business, a small pulsing headache reminds him of what he’s held in his arms, and what he’s lost. His mate.

Elain.

He wants to shout her name out into the world. Elain, Elain. Lucien didn’t even know such a miracle was possible, didn’t know the Lord of Death could experience such a wonderful thing: his parents were not mated, as his mother has told him over and over again. His father was mated to some human woman who died long before he met Lucien’s mother. Lucien wonders sometimes if that is why their marriage was such an unhappy one. But then again- is that not a depressing thought? It is so rare to find a mate- what about all those poor souls that do not have one? Are they all doomed to live unhappy lives?

It does not matter, anyways- both his parents are dead, and there is nobody left to ask about their story.

Death calls to him, here in the human world. He can smell it in every corner, in every face: and like a moth to the light, he is drawn away from the busy street and into a small courtyard where a small girl-child lies in the arms of her mother. A crowd has gathered around them, and Lucien soon sees the reason for that: the girl is dying. A horse must have run her down, or she has fallen down a set of stairs: her back is bent in an unnatural way and she is coughing blood. Lucien steps closer. The mother is yelling frantically, “A doctor! Someone! Please, help me, help my little baby”-

She will soon die. Lucien can still see the flame of life dancing in her eyes, but it is a desperate dance, one last effort before it will extinguish. The little girl is lucky, still. When the Lord of Death is present in your last hour, he will be able to take away your fear. Sure enough, the child meets his eye- and Lucien tells her what he tells all the humans. Do not be afraid. Death is but another passage. You will go on in peace.

“NO!”, the girl screams suddenly, a high-pitched, gruesome sound. “NO! Mama! He is here to take me! Make him go away! He is here to take me with him!”

The mother blindly looks up, tears streaming over her face. “HIM!”, the girl cries out and points at Lucien. “It’s him! It’s him! He’s here to take me!”

Lucien freezes. Such a thing has never happened before. He is there to give peace to the dying; here to take away their pain. But his presence seems to have the opposite effect.

Before anything else happens, he disappears into the shadows, flees back into the street. A small ping in the back of his mind tells him the girl has just died. And she’s died in fear of death, the worst way to go.

Lucien rushes back to his own realm, winnowing just to the border of his lands and then continues on foot from there, until he finds the long line of mortals dragging themselves through the snow towards the Lake of Dûren. They look as ghost-like and depressed as ever. And there, at the very end, the newest addition: the little girl, barely able to hold herself up, blood streaming out of her broken ribs and staining the snow.

“Girl”, Lucien says gently when he reaches her. “Do not tremble. Death is nothing to fear. It is a natural as life.”

The girl raises her face up to look at him. Her eyes are two dark holes of blackness. “Can you take away the pain?”, she croaks. “I am so cold…”

Lucien puts his hand on her shoulder, tries to push his magic into her small body as he has seen his mother do when she took away the pain of the Dead; but nothing happens. It is as it ever was. He has no powers anymore.

“Please!”, the little girl wails. “I cannot go on like this! You must help me!”

But Lucien is useless. He sinks into the snow, watches her disappear until she’s far gone. All the while, he hears her screaming in pain. He knows what will happen to her now: she will enter the Lake Dûren with fear in her heart, and her soul will never know peace. She’ll be screaming for all eternity.

Lucien lowers his head, presses his fists into the snow. He must do something. All those souls that die every day, all those humans that will never know peace- he must heal help them. Heal his own realm. What could have caused its demise? Why was everything fine when his mother and father ruled?

You need to find the Bride of Death.

Those last words, uttered by his mother, still haunt his memory. He was informed of her sudden, mysterious illness too late; when he rushed back to the palace to see her, she had almost been gone. Only these words could she rasp before her heart stopped. You need to find the Bride of Death.

The Bride of Death. It is the only clue Lucien has. The only thing that might help him now.

And it can’t be a coincidence that he has found his mate just yesterday…his true mate, a nymph of Spring. It must mean something. Could Elain be that bride? Could she be the thing that’s missing from his lands?

Lucien hardens his jaw. This is not about him anymore. This is about helping all those human souls; helping Tamlin, who’s wasting away each day; helping his realm and his people. He needs Elain here. He needs to test if she is that bride his mother told him to find.

And he will not stop at anything to get her.

He will travel to Spring. He’ll claim her. Whether her family wants it or not.

Alone in the rose-covered meadows of the Spring Palace, Elain sits down on the soft ground and lets her fingers wander over the grass. Everything is confusing. Those dead lands that somehow called out to her- her mother, keeping truths from her for whatever reason- and then that strange man, Lucien, the one she thinks she’s known since the beginning of time…

Elide sighs and falls back into the grass. The sky above her is ever-blue, only interrupted by a few puffy clouds. Spring Court is, as it has always been, a paradise.

But why do these lands not speak to her the same way? Why does she feel drawn to the land of the Dead, that foreign, frozen court? If she is to be the High Lady of Spring one day, should she not feel appalled and disgusted by the absence of little birds, flowers and blooming trees? And what about Lucien? Her mother made it out to be as if he was a horrible person…but Elain remembers how he caught her in his arms. How gentle his touch has been.

Perhaps Elain doesn’t want to live in eternal spring. Perhaps she is tired of pretty dresses, and pretty flowers, and pretty rooms. Perhaps she is tired of this court.

Something is missing from her.

She raises herself up again and looks down at her dress, as bright and beautiful as ever. Could she not change it, at least once, into something that actually mirrors her mood? Not that helpless, little nymph of spring, but something else. Her true self. Not spring. But…something else. Something alive.

Alive.

The word sweeps over her, removing an iron barrier in her mind. As if melting away, her dress sinks into the ground around her- a hundred pink petals spring from the grass where is had touched the earth- but Elain is not naked underneath it.

She’s grown a second skin instead. Not a skin, but rather a suit- black, made of little metal pieces, almost like the skin of a snake. She’s even wearing boots. Has she even ever worn shoes before? All nymphs of spring run barefoot through the trees.

Elain hastily stands up and looks down at herself. She’s wearing a warrior’s armor. As black as the night. And there- around her hips, a golden thread is spun. Elain gingerly touches the rope. It’s warm, pulsing with- life? It may sound crazy, but that is just what she is feeling under her fingertips: life in its purest form, life, tingling, growing, evolving. It’s the same sensation she feels when she calls flowers or animals into existence, when she heals the sick and wounded, the same feeling she had when she pushed her magic into the soil of Lucien’s court.

Life.

She has to tell her mother about this. Something is different. These are no spring powers and she’s never seen a suit like this.

Elain needs answers, and she needs them now.

Lucien breaks every rule by entering the Spring Court. He goes there alone: nobody else would be strong enough to endure the pain that comes with crossing the border.

But pain is nothing to Lucien right now. He’s here to claim his mate.

Winnowing is possible here, but it almost tears him apart, and when he finds himself standing in front of the Spring Palace, he has to catch his breath first. Then he sets out to find Elain. She is close; he can sense her. Somewhere inside the palace.

“Hey! You!” Two guards have noticed him. “Who are you? Nobody enters the realm of Spring without our High Lady’s permission”-

Lucien blasts his dark magic against them, twisting their hearts just the slightest bit- killing is easy, even here in Spring. It’s always easy to him.

But he lets them live. Why bother with their death? These guards are just a nuisance on his way to a much more important thing. Lucien enters the palace through a great silver door adorned with petals and flowers and renders all those useless guards that throw themselves into his way incapable of walking by twisting their heart and minds and bones.

After ten minutes of hunting her down, he feels that Elain is close now. Behind that great wooden door at the end of the hallway, perhaps? Library, a golden sign above the entrance says. And true enough: Lucien sees her directly when he opens the door to the room. She is sitting on the floor and talking to a-

Talking to a tree?

Lucien rubs his eyes. But he is not dreaming. Elain kneels in front of a white oak that grows for some reason inside this library, one hand placed on its roots and speaks with the tree as if it were a living being.

“Mother, please”, she says. “I need to talk to you. I want to understand so many things and I have the feeling that you are telling me nothing. I just wish to know about Lucien, about his court, and there is no one but you that I could ask”-

Lucien clicks his tongue. “That’s not true, love. I’m always here to answer whatever you want to know.”

Elain whirls around.

So does the tree. The roots shrink into themselves and two hands suddenly tear open the tree’s stump from the inside- tearing it apart to create a hole. The High Lady of Spring steps out, naked, covered in dirt. She snaps her fingers and a dress appears out of nowhere to cling itself around her body; another snap, and she looks as beautiful and radiant as when Lucien last saw her.

Elain sits by her feet, entirely frozen.

“Lucien!”, the High Lady cries. “Now it is open war! There are too many lines you have crossed- and I will not rest until I have your body broken and burnt before me”-

“I’m not here for you”, Lucien answers. “I’m here for Elain.”

“Never!” The High Lady’s eyes are burning with hatred. “Spring has tethered its ties with Death for now and all eternity. I will punish you for this insolence in ways you can’t imagine- Spring has rules that have been in place for hundreds of years, and you won’t be the one to break them”-

“Mother!” Elain stands up. “Don’t talk to him like that!” She turns to Lucien. “Why are you here?”

Before he can think of anything else- an elaborate proposal, some great speech about bonds and love and the color of Elain’s eyes- Lucien growls: “I’m here to claim you as my mate. No treaty can trump that bond. No ancient rule is stronger than it. There is no possibility of revoking this.”

It’s suddenly so quiet in the room that Lucien hears the winds outside.

“Mate?”, Elain breathes. “You’re my mate?”

“Yes.” Lucien steps towards her. “And I’m here to bring you to my court and make you mine.”

#a tale of nymphs #tog #lucien #elain #nesta #feyre #elucien #otp #honestly #mate #claiming #shit is finally about to happen you guys #acotar #acomaf #acowar #sjm

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raeyvies · 7 years ago

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“Push and Pull” pt. 5 // VxMC fic (based on day 10)

If you’ve been following this fic until now, you will notice that I actually gave this story a title now! It seemed pretty fitting especially considering the future plot ^^ Thank you to everyone who had been supportive of me with this story and has been patient with me! So surprise, I’m updating twice tonight :D

How would you guys feel if every 4 chapters I write a summary so that if you want to read from a certain checkpoint and forth you can know what happening? This is catering more to the people who are just now stepping upon this story ^^

For this part, remember that MC begins to feel trauma from her experiences since she arrived at Mint Eye. Little refresher from pt. 4: MC wakes up in V’s arms to see Saeran’s face in Saeyoung’s place. I hope you enjoy!!

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt.4 // Pt.5 // Pt. 6

Length: 2196

Part: 5/?

Pairing: VxMC

Warnings: None

Sorry for any grammatical mistakes ^^;;

Get away from me.

Those were the words that remained trapped in MC’s throat she stared daggers at Saeyoung who was utterly confused. He was able to register the fact that she seemed terrified or arguably traumatized, but what had he done to her? He could not recall a moment that would cause her to fear him but it undoubtedly pulled something in him that made him feel uncomfortable. It was a feeling that felt like a parasite almost that he wanted to get rid of as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was to be the cause of someone’s pain and terror, so Saeyoung did what seemed appropriate and made an attempt at soothing the shocked girl in a serious yet joking way. “MC you're okay. Everything is okay, it's just me Saeyoung. Please don't tell me you got amnesia from fainting earlier. Oh what do we do?”

That tone of voice cued MC’s recognition of Saeyoung rather than Saeran much to her relief. It was a rather distinct voice that would be hard to mistake and for that she was indescribably relieved. Whatever trick her mind had been playing on her vision had subsided and MC was pulled away from her trance. However, her heart was still racing and Jihyun could feel its beat emanating from her chest against his body. Instinctively, he wrapped his free arm around her waist to assure her that there was nothing to be afraid of, though he was unsure of what made her so terrified all of a sudden

MC was now becoming aware of her surroundings as she felt Jihyun’s arm on her body. At first, she did not know who it was much less why someone was in bed with her until she looked away from Saeyoung and met Jihyun’s eyes. Blood rushing to her cheeks, MC’s face became almost vermillion like Saeyoung’s hair in contrast to her pale complexion. Although the two met eyes for a short moment, it felt like an eternity.

If she was being honest, she could not even discern what day it was much less the hour. Still unaware of what had previously happened, MC searched for her memories of last night to know why she was lying there with Jihyun. Yes, she presently had feelings for Jihyun but she knew she did not want to make it obvious knowing that he was not in the best situation. None of them were. She had no interest in forcing herself into his life after the kind of circumstance they met under, but MC could not deny that feeling him so close like this was so warming and pleasant. However, Jihyun was still injured and recovering, so she immediately pulled away from him, careful to not hurt him, and mumbled several apologies that only he heard.

Jihyun could only imagine what was going on through her mind as she woke up unknowing of any previous events. But her flushed look told him that she was embarrassed, though, that was not the only thing he perceived. She must have fallen for him and this only confirmed it furthermore. Even though he was falling for MC too, he felt rather unready to try anything with her. He was downright certain he would hurt her. His inner demons wanted to keep her close, selfishly, but his conscience told him to pull away before something undesirable happens. It left a bitter feeling in him when MC pulled away from him. Don’t apologize MC. Stay by my side as long as you want. Jihyun never voiced those words and rather sat up in bed, laying a soft hand on her back with a small smile.

MC winced as she felt her IV tug at her skin while she rubbed her eyes, hoping she would stop feeling so groggy soon. There was some commotion among the RFA as they came closer to her bedside but all she could do was to form a list of questions because nothing made sense to her. Why was there an IV in her arm? What time was it and why was she still at the hospital?

Finally, she formed words, her voice sounding raspy and breathy, “Ugh...my arms hurt. What...wait, did you say I fainted, Saeyoung?”

Propping himself onto the bedside, Saeyoung gave a nod and confirmed to her, “That is what I said but I wasn’t here when it happened and I’m so sorry for leaving you here alone. I shouldn’t have done that to begin with because I lost the hacker’s signal anyway.”

MC still could not shake off the feeling that Saeyoung kept reminding her of Saeran. They both looked so similar, she could even say that maybe Saeyoung was Saeran, but she threw that idea away instantly. There was no way that Saeran was in this room.

“But why though? I was just fine a moment ago,” MC continued searching for answers. How could she faint when she thought she was fine? She did not remember that she was utterly dehydrated and hungry. However, her stomach growled, drawing a moan from her lips, as she bashfully looked at Jihyun who was seated right next to her. “I was looking after you when you woke up, but why um...why am I in bed with you?”

“MC, I woke up last night. It’s two in the afternoon right now,” Jihyun explained, worry manifested in his voice. Seeing the shock on MC’s face proved she really remembered nothing. Only Jihyun and Jumin knew what happened, and they knew they had to explain everything to her. “You don’t remember that you woke up about an hour ago, either? I was walking around and you came looking for me, and you wanted me to lay down next to you.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to worry you. Th-That wasn’t supposed to happen. This is so embarrassing I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything at all.”

Before Jihyun could say anything as he saw MC’s eyes became glassy, Jumin chimed in as he brought the bag of food forward and sat on the couch next to her bed. “You weren’t eating enough and you were dehydrated, so I suggest you put something in your stomach before anything else. Jihyun asked me to bring this for you. I hope you like it.”

The two friends continued conversing while MC ate the seaweed soup. She did not want to say anything about not liking seaweed soup but the gesture meant so much to her she could not decline it, and her stomach was crying out for food. She laid against the now inclined back of her bed and ate slowly, trying to down the distasteful food without showing any signs of revulsion. Admittedly, it tasted a lot better because she was starving but on any other occasion she would have declined it. Jihyun had left her side to go for another walk with Saeyoung. MC watched as they left and only wanted to join them but after having woken up to be at his side, maybe he would have liked some space in the end.

Jumin saw how MC would not let Jihyun out of her sight until he left the room. It was still surprising to him how much she had connected with Jihyun but he could not help but think that she was making a mistake. Maybe the only reason she seemed to be so attached to Jihyun was for finding her at Mint Eye and calling for Seven to rescue her. Maybe she was not falling for him for who he was but for what he did, and if it was because of that, Jumin would make sure to protect her from what can turn out to be toxic.

Having completely consumed the seaweed soup, MC searched for any garbage can to throw away the disposable bowl. As she pulled the blanket away from her lower body, Zen was quick to help her onto her feet seeing how her legs were trembling as her feet touched the icy floor. However, feeling the frigid floor under her was a relief for her since she had been under warm covers all this time. MC appreciated his help but was quick to tell him that she could walk just fine. “I only fainted Zen. Thank you though, but I think I can get to the trash can on my own.”

He was reluctant to let her go but seeing as she was making her steps fairly balanced, his worries died down. That did not mean that the three RFA members in room averted their eyes for a moment, and MC saw that, causing her to feel bashful. She truly hated drawing attention to herself and although she was thankful for their concern, it made her feel uncomfortable so much so that she had no idea what to say or how to start a conversation with them. This was not how she had imagined meeting the RFA in person. She assumed it would be at the party where she would have been dressed up nicely but from what she could tell, her appearance was very disheveled. Her hair was tangled and parted unevenly to one side; her clothes we're still the same from the day she escaped Mint Eye, except that they were faded by now and wrinkled.

When she returned to her bed, MC sat on the side, letting her short legs dangle off the edge, and she remained silent, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Zen and Jaehee were much more talkative and took the load to conversation themselves, sparing MC from an awkward silence. The two told her about Zen’s adventures with taking care of Yoosung who was actually dropped off at his apartment, and then the subject of the party came about.

“We can just finish tomorrow cleaning up the venue. At least we got to meet MC!” Zen was definitely looking on the positive side of this whole situation which made her blush.

“It's not exactly how I thought I'd meet you guys though,” MC added jokingly. “It's so weird you know. It's like meeting an internet friend for the first time.”

“That's exactly what it feels like! But you're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be. You're still cute though. I knew you'd have a good fashion sense too,” Zen gestured at her outfit, but she only pulled her skirt slightly to cover her knees.

“Actually I hate this outfit,” she enlightened as she looked at herself. The outfit was all blue with a dotted skirt and her shirt was revealing of her shoulders. It was actually given to her by Rika, though, MC had no say in the choice of her clothing. “I really don't understand why Rika made me wear this. I’m not a fan of skirts either.”

At the mention of Rika’s name, the atmosphere became gloomy and sullen. If Yoosung were in the room, it would be a total mess there. It had dawned on MC that she triggered an unwanted memory possibly, which seemed strange as the RFA was already aware that Rika was still alive.

“I'm sorry. I touched on something I shouldn't have.”

“It's not that, MC. Something happened last night around one in the morning. Jumin got a phone call from Rika,” Jaehee began to explain, hoping to ease MC into the news she was giving. “After hurting Jihyun, Rika seemed to turn manic. She said she was regretful of everything she did. For hurting Jihyun, for attempting to brainwash you, for coming back into our lives. She was in her old apartment and…and– Oh god I don't know why I'm like this.”

Even Jaehee was surprised when she found herself tongue tied, unable to express the worst of the events. Jaehee knew that Rika was unstable and she needed help, and that nothing she did to them was justified, but she was a friend. It was hard to erase the person she was before her supposed suicide. She was a friend, a close friend, and Rika had helped Jaehee find happiness in her life among all else. Jaehee was human, and it was only natural to feel mournful of her late friend. “Her apartment...the bomb…she died in the explosion. She said her goodbyes to us but I don't think this was right.”

MC’s mouth dropped open upon learning about Rika’s death, and although she felt neutral about her death, it pained her to see that the three members were all struggling. She felt sympathy for them but not for Rika. Their old friend deserved to pay for her errors in life and for letting herself be consumed by her ideals, but she should have gone silently. The RFA should not have had to find out she died this way.

MC could not imagine what Jihyun would do when he would learn about the tragic incident. Although he was hurt over and over again by Rika, she was still a major part of especially his life. As much as MC disliked her, even hated her, she knew her opinion was one to keep to herself.

To be continued...

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt.4 // Pt.5 // Pt. 6

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme scenario #mystic messenger scenario #mysme angst #mystic messeger angst #VxMC

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emumuuu · 4 years ago

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im the best sponsor, you’re the best wife ♥️

anyway, im here to elaborate my thoughts on things emmy sort of skipped over because hoo boy ive been thinkin and thinkin so its time to present my thoughts

the way i see the ‘hestia!leo’ thing going, there are one of two ways he exists.

a) he’s your average mortal, but hestia chose him as her representative/champion.

b) hestia pulled a hera and just straight up produced a child, all by herself.

personally, i think option b) is more interesting. but, i’ll elaborate on both.

OPTION A

Leo is born to two mortal parents. Maybe his dad dies before he’s born, and that’s when Hestia chooses him. Hestia makes a deal with his mother that he’ll have abilities similar to hers— fire control, obviously; but an overlooked one as well— the ability to bring people, friends and families together. Esperanza agrees, and Leo becomes the first champion of Hestia.

(I’ll be following the plotline of my ‘piper-and-leo-are formerly-from-luke’s-army!au; that post is somewhere around here lmao)

When Leo is 8 the workshop incident happens. The same way it does in canon. Gaea is there. As soon as Leo finds out they’re sending him to live with his aunt, he packs his things (or what little he has left) and runs.

Whether by luck, sheer will, or divine intervention, he makes it to camp. I imagine somewhere along the way, he finds Piper, a girl the same age as him, and they protect each other. What Leo doesn’t know is that Piper knows all about her demigod side— her father spared her no details (well, except for maybe the gross ones). She knows why monsters are after her, she knows who her mother is (spoiler alert: Iris) and where she’s going. Leo’s lucky to have run into her, because despite how bossy she is, they become good friends and stay that way.

Piper gets claimed not long after they arrive at camp. (Which, by the way, would be around two years before TLT.) But, seeing as there’s no Iris cabin, she stays in Hermes. Leo isn’t as lucky. He didn’t know anything about his dad, so he must have been a god, right?

Just imagine how he feels when he’s “claimed” by Hestia, a year before Percy shows up.

Chiron keeps muttering “that can‘t be...”. Mr. D, even, is shocked. The camp hearthfire stays dim.

Hestia eventually speaks with him. She explains who he is, why he’s here, and why she chose him.

The rundown: he’s a mortal in a camp for demigods. He was blessed—or cursed?— by Hestia. And...

She never tells him why she chose him. He storms off, his (tiny little 10 year old) brain already filling with self doubt. Why me? Why should I be here? Am I just an imposter?

Leo festers like this, and eventually Piper becomes bitter as well (but for different reasons). When Luke offers them (they’re both now 13; this is around TTC) a place in his army, they accept.

And then Kronos loses the war.

Piper and Leo make a pact that they’ll stay together no matter what. They run from camp, swearing they’ll keep their promise. And they do— so well in fact, that when Hera kidnaps and de-memorizes them, they can still vaguely remember the other.

Leo doesn’t know what’s up with this Jason dude.

Throughout Heroes of Olympus, Leo (with the help of his new love interest best friend jason and practically sister piper) figures out who he is, why he’s one of the seven, and comes to terms with his identity. he still lands on Calypso’s Island, BUT instead of leaving as love interests, they part as good friends. The gods, being the jerk-wagons they are, did lift Calypso’s curse... they just forgot to tell her about it. She can leave without Leo dying.

(This leaves room for a new ‘to storm or fire the world must fall’ meaning, but i’ll expand on that in a part 2/3)

Speaking of which, since this is already so long, Option B will be expanded upon in part 2.

late night riordnaverse thoughts with emmy {part 6 part 3 / part 8}

at this point y’all know the drill so i’m going to get right into it (i was about to say straight but i’m not straight so that’d be all messed up also please ignore the bits of valgrace i’m adding they really don’t do anything except for make me smile like a dork)

but before i start i’m going to thank this week’s sponsor (someone tell me why i sound like a youtuber 😭) @thebookishdemigod, my beloved wife actually came up with this but gave me permission to add on in a post so without further ado let’s get on with the rant

*cue cheesy transition to a youtube intro* (i’m just rollling with it it’s 1 am and i dont have the patience to deal with myself)

leo is a hestia kid now don’t yell at me about her oath because if you’re yelling at me about that you’re smart which means you’re probably an athena kid and so you shouldn’t exist because of athena’s oath so we’re going to ignore it for now and say magic happened and now voila a child also imagine the drama? like how do i exist? am i really a half blood or am i just a god? is this what all the athena kids have to go through? also just leo not having siblings because he’s the only hestia kiddo and so he and jason take turns having sleepovers in eachothers cabins and when the start dating they keep doing it but not like that ew get your mind out of the gutter

kat also had a few other ideas that i’m not going to go super in depth with but the first other one was leo has two mortal parents but was blessed with demigodlyness (if you can call that a blessing) and the other was a hercules thing so he was a god and then poof not god (i just think that words are stupid also its late night thoughts so bear with me please)

next up we have the fire aspect and that’s all good and well because it fits leo’s character so so well and um yeah i’m not going to take that away because mommy issues

the idea of an au where the 7 are actually all the same age and also have a nice found family is so much better when you realize that as a hestia kid leo would be the one to bring the group together like starting with ice breakers and then he’d make this whole big family tree and stuff with him and jason at the top because they’re in loooove

um i think there was more but again 1 am and i have the brain of a snail so i can’t remember anything anyways thank you all for reading dont forget to like and subscribe *mwah* (i couldn’t not do a youtuber ending too)

#im having a field day with this concept #it just offers so much more drama #pjo #hoo #toa #riordanverse #riordanverse au #leo valdez #hestia!leo #piper mclean

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tyrellsimsoficeandfire · 7 years ago

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Huge Replies of a Month 🌸

Recently, I only manage to do such a post once a month. To some of you I’ve already replied under the posts or via PM. Hope, I didn’t forget someone.

@treason-and-plot: I really like the intimacy of this scene 😊

@declarations-of-drama: Sumptuous! Was the word that came into my head when I see the legs in the bath-tub. Very nicex

Thank you! I found that scene really sexy, too! Jaime is my favourite sim. I love is looks because I modeled him a bit on the actor who portrays him:

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau vs. my Jaime

Hope, you see the resemblance! I’ll release him for Download when I reach 500 followers soon.

@mentally-restless: rip the real queen of westeros

@dreamywritingdragon: MY BABIES!!!!!!!! Fuck this show, like, so much :/

@westerosims: thank you for this ive been so annoyed since Sunday's weirdly inaccurate interpretation of highgarden

@owly-sims: Thanks for this! It's a great tribute to Lady Olenna.

It’s good to be in company of more Olenna fans! I know that at least two of you read all the books. You are book purists as I am. And yes, I did this to show GRRM’s TRUTH!!!!!! The Reach is renowned for its fine knights. They totally fucked that up in the show.

@treason-and-plot: It's such a richly layered world. 😍

Thank you! I try to have some variety for it’d be boring if I would always show the same sets. And I want to portray the different cultures of the series. I google a lot for castles and inspiring locations. This one is just a small corridor built without much effort. Sometimes I re-use sets but in a way, you would not recognize.

@andantezen: wonderful scene!

@lifeasasim: True!

THANKS! @andantezen You love classical greece. You must know that one of the pictures was inspired by the Statue Apollo and the Nymphs from Versailles. 😊

@treason-and-plot: It also reminds me of Norman Lindsay's paintings.

I didn’t know his name, but I’ve seen his works before. I totally see the similarities. Sometimes I get inspired by the art of British pre-raphaelite artists. I like the romanticised Middle Ages there.

@danjaley: This scene has quite a Wagnerian aesthetic! :P

Thank you! The Wagner comparison made me smile. I like that for I understand you find my stuff quite epic. Not a fan of his music but I like how he turned myths into a very own epic saga. And yet, as a German you might understand why I find it a bit problematic. But thanks for your compliment!

@simblu: SUMPTUOUS pix! I lingered over the details. :)

Thanks! Too much details are my “guilty pleasure” as many of you might know. I can’t even do normal gameplay anymore because I’m so obsessed with detailed scenes. I always imagine people living in these rooms. Real people would have many decorations and many objects laying around. I want to catch such an atmosphere of a vivid place. Also this Throne Room, I have in many versions under different rulers: One with Dragon decor, a neutral one and a version with lions.

@andantezen: I love it now that we can actually enlarge the pictures :)

Wasn’t this possible all the time? But still, a high quality picture loses quality when uploaded.

@treason-and-plot: I love the contrast between this scene and the last 😊😊

I absolutely need a balance between epic/dramatic and light(funny scenes: I love the dark and action-loaded stuff. But this takes too much time I don’t have. Therefore, when I’m in simming mood I create some jolly stuff. Mostly these are some sex scenes or very unrelevant scenes. So I hope followers will for give me that there was more nudity than serious stuff during the last weeks. I really needed a break (and I was attracted by some sexy male characters I recreated as sims)....

@declarations-of-drama: Didn't get chance to comment on ipad yesterday. Wonderful recreations here! I love the dragon/bat statues looking on. It all looks so grand!

You told that before: Is commenting impossible from tablets?

The dragon statues were actually a late solution: In the original story, the throne room is decorated with skulls of extinct dragons. I didn’t find such stuff or dinosaur skulls for Sims3. But I think the statues look even better.

@dreamywritingdragon: Your Jaime has such fancy hair :p And he looks great on that throne :p Great scene!!

Thank you! That’s my young Jaime. It’s such a cliche that in movies, persons always have more fancy/ longer hair when shown in flashbacks. I used tat too! And isn’t he hot on that throne?

@murfeelee: Why you so perfect? I love this. So much detail; beautiful screenies as always!

THANK YOU, my dear! I’m not perfect at all. But I’m an annoying perfectionist ;-)

@dreamywritingdragon: MY CHILDREN!!!!!! This is all so beautiful!!! The Princess of Dorne reminds me of Olenna Tyrell, but that must be the clothes :p Oberyn looks like trouble^^ Ashara doesn’t seem happy, and Elia’s dress is so beautiful!!

Actually, the Princess is just an older version of Elia that gained some weight. I didn't even edit the face. And Ashara...I wanted an expression that shows that KL will be a dangerous place as Oberyn suspects, too.

@danjaley: Aww, I spotted some poses! :)

I have so many poses but I always end up using yours. Looking forward what you come up next!

@andantezen: I love it how you choose poses to convey the difference between the characters' personalities -- it's so clear between the two men, and again between the two ladies. Very nuanced. Always pretty.

For the men, I wanted to show how the princess’ brother is not amused about the royal match. But I didn’t intend tension between the young ladies. It was like a mistake. The poses I used on the one in purple actually were neutral ones. Maybe her facial features made them look different? But it doesn’t matter. In the books, that lady becomes a lady-in-waiting after her princess weds the crown prince. She is admired at court and that may be dangerous. Her expressions might be foreshadowing.

@simsos: Beutiful photos and environment!The story of Elia and Rheagar is very tragical.Regards!

Thank you! And welcome to the community. Nice to see another GOT-inspired simmer from Europe!

@treason-and-plot: 😮where is the snoring coming from?

Apparently, from the blue parrot. I didn’t notice until you pointed out.

@mentally-restless: elia!!!!! i really want to know more about her! lovely scene as always :)

I think, we’ve discussed her a lot. Let’s go on whenever we want.

@andantezen: I wish I were an insect to get closer :)

Oh, you aren’t the only one who wants that. Just getting really close... Hope, others are ok as well if I’ll do more gay scenes with them There isn’t much plot with them I could tell.

@lifeasasim: Love the yellow flowers covering them. Artistic :)

@owly-sims: I love the last picture! Beautiful composition

Thanks! That idea came to my mind while creating. I didn’t really know what I wanted. I needed golden roses but didn’t have. I thought daffodils would do.

@murfeelee: Yaaaaaas! I totally shipped them. Loras was hilarious, and Renly was awesome, full stop. <3

I love them! The actors were hot. Nothing to add.

@treason-and-plot: I love the dappled sunlight on the book. Gorgeous!

I never plan those things. They simply happen in Monte Vista. Every world has its own light.

@sabrinastarkmartell: Yas Dorne makes me so happy

Me, too!!!! But many people don’t like Dorne for the things the show did. Or they don’t even care. And they don’t know Arianne or recognize that Tyene.

And I found Arianne x Oberyn somehow intriguing! I’m guilty, yes! But I thought of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

@declarations-of-drama: MMMM!!! The scenery! The mood! This makes me want to sweep my Sims off their feet and go to Egypt, don't know if it's safe though - are they still rioting in Cairo? :/

Well, I think Al-Simhara is safe. But RL Egypt is a dream of mine I may never fulfill. I don’t feel it’s safe going there now. Ancient Egypt was my first passion. I really got into the history and I am some kind of expert. There was plenty of Egyptian CC for sims 2 but almost none for Sims 3.

@declarations-of-drama: Wow!!! That bathtub scene is so sensual with the way you've posed them! CAn almost feel their bodies touching!! :D

Thanks you like it! This was one of those show sex scenes I did just for fun. The silver-haired guy Viserys is kind of an asshole. But I find him kind of attractive.

@mentally-restless: Amazing as always 😌😁

@lifeasasim: #TEAMDANY Btw i love this... and so much depth.

@i-am-a-lady-damn-it: Gorgeous!!!

@andantezen: very beautiful and dramatic and atmospheric!

@treason-and-plot: Wow that was very intense in all senses of the word. And hugely enjoyable too ❤

@murfeelee: Don't do this to meeee~~! That was my favorite chapter. I was so glad when that evil witch heifer wench died. Doing my baby's daddy like that! U_U

THANKS TO ALL OF YOU!!!!! This was by far my favourite scene to do. I love the effects fire creates during night in game. And I finally wanted to use Severinka’s Mongolian huts. They just fitted perfectly for Dothraki!

@declarations-of-drama: This is wonderful! I can't imagine how long it took to get all of them posed and lined up for that scene. And the baby dragon!!! Makes me want to hug it!!!! The way she is holding it in the last shot! 😍😍😍

It took quite some time. But the background sims always stayed in the same pose. Just moved them around a bit. The Dragons are actually the Wyverns by Severinka. I placed them on lots of OMSP resizers.

@andantezen: in one word: Lush!

@lifeasasim: Goodd, look at that room. The details!!!

@declarations-of-drama: Very cool! The snake shot is very clever

Thank you! That room is one of my favourites. Not the usual medieval style. The people of Dorne are a more oriental culture and I tried to build in their style. They love luxury and lead a life of free love. I liked to put a lot of gold and glitter there. And the snake is there for Oberyn’s nickname is “Red Viper”.

@simblu: Now to come back and comment..how gorgeous, as always, such lush settings, so true.

Thank you! That bedroom is one of my favourite creations!

@murfeelee: I shipped these little nutcases so hard, ngl.

You did? I thought no one would be perfect for Joffrey. Margaery would have known how to control him but I don’t think this was a been a perfect match.

@lifeasasim: Margaery is one smart woman.. ashamed cersei killed her

I’d like to chase Cersei through the streets for this ringing a bell and calling “Shame, Shame, Shame!!!”

@treason-and-plot: I am excited i knew that was Joffrey! Go me! 😁

Who doesn’t know that little cunt? One of the most hateable characters on TV.

@declarations-of-drama: This was so erotic in a twisted way! I love the story here! And the way you captured their expressions aiming the weapon. If she killed something he would probably bend her over that fruit bowl and show her his. . . blade of passion because they seem so aroused in the moment! hahaaction

You get the point! Joffrey is really twisted. He likes violence but he doesn’t dare to touch his future wife Margaery. She plays him. And I had a feeling that stroking the crossbow was as if she touches his cock for him.

@sabrinastarkmartell: THANK YOU

You were actually one of the reasons I decided to do this. You brought Tyene back to my mind.

@andantezen: did they castrate him? :O

Luckily not. They wanted to have a threesome but he came too early. I just found the idea of them using some mysterious drink interesting. Maybe it’s something for his “Manhood”. I didn’t pay attention that there was a skull on the bottle. Maybe they wanted him to be a better lover but that plan didn’t play out. That was just for fun. I’ll get back to more serious scenes.

@declarations-of-drama: He so reminds me of Prince in these shots!

Yes, a little bit. But I didn’t have him in mind for I don’t have associations with Prince. I just wanted to create a dark southern, handsome lad.

@danjaley: I guess it wouldn't be Game of Thrones without these kind of scenes - but now I'm looking forward to Jayne being rescued!

@lifeasasim: Poor girl... :/

Thank you for I didn’t get hate for this one! I really left out the last sentences which implied how Ramsay abuses Reek/Theon and Jeyne. One can only guess what terrible things happened during that night. I believed, showing this one first wouldn’t raise much questions when I do the rescue scene.

But it’s harder to do than I thought. I want to show the dramatic action when they finally save her...

@murfeelee: Which is one of the many reasons why Theon will always and forever be on my Piece of Sh!t list

I’m always here to defend Theon. What should he ave done? He’s a victim of Ramsay as Jeyne is. He humiliated him, brutalized him, hurt him, abused him...That man was broken. He wasn’t strong enough to be brave during that night. I thought a lot about it. What if he stabbed Ramsay? Would he save Jeyne? I think, no. With Ramsay dead, they had to escape. But how? Others would have come to punish him for murder. And what would to innocent Jeyne. All that stuff tat happened to them is unspeakable. I can’t imagine such horrors they went through...

This is too long. I need to do replies more often.

#Sims 3 #replies

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scriimgeour-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

PROMPT OO7. C R E S C E N D O

TW: depression, suicidal thoughts, medication, injury, pregnancy, childbirth, homophobia, internalized homophobia, death, fire

i. adagio // ii. nocturne // iii. prelude // iv. classicism // v. dissonance // vi. fermata // vii. glissando// viii. polytonality // ix. expressionism // x. deceptive cadence

i. adagio ( / əˈdäjō / noun ) : a tempo having slow movement; restful at ease.

There was a piano in their sitting room that had existed as long as Rufus could remember. It may have been his mother’s, once, before she’d forsaken the muggle world and moved into their stately manor; the last relic of her childhood. It may have been his father’s, or his grandfather’s, or it may have been bought for him, or Claire, when they were too small to remember. It was ornate; a beautiful antique, forlorn in the corner of the room where no one regularly played.

Mama was a singer. Papa was a violinist. Bernard played the cello and Rufus the violin, but Claire? Claire had no time for musical instruments. Yet Rufus remembered her, all those years ago, falling asleep with her scarlet hair spread across the keys, her face pressed into the ebony and ivory which had long since stopped making their dulcet sounds. Rufus had asked her what she’d been doing, and she shook her head sleepily “It looked lonely,” was all she’d said in response.

They donated the piano three years later. Rufus remembers Claire crying. He hadn’t understood why.

ii. nocturne ( /ˈnäktərn / noun ) : a short composition of a romantic or dreamy character suggestive of night, typically for piano.

Claire was missing again.

She’d disappeared right before supper, vanishing into the woods with a painted knapsack, and Rufus, all of eight years old, had wished her goodbye in all of his childhood naivety. That had been noon; now, the sun set behind the horizon, and she still hadn’t returned, and Mum and Dad set off towards the ancient woods with something approaching panic.

They found her less than an hour later at the bottom of an ancient oak tree, bleeding profusely from the temple and nursing a broken arm. With a quick episkey and a hastily made sling, they returned to the house. Claire was sent upstairs with a single stony word, and Rufus and Bernard were told not to visit her; she was being punished, and visits from her brothers, no matter how innocent, would undermine its very nature. Bernard accepted this version of events without question. Rufus, however, snuck away from the dinner table when Mum’s back was turned; he forfeited a delicious looking brownie in the process, but as his stomach growled, it was matched in fervor by his curiosity. What had happened to Claire, exactly, and why were his parents pretending as if nothing had?

She was lying in bed beneath her lilac sheets in pinstriped pajamas. A bandage was wrapped around her forehead, but when Rufus stepped over the doorway, she managed a faint smile. Rufus gaped.

“What happened to you?” he asked, and Claire’s smile vanished.

“I got hurt, dummy,” she told Rufus, gesturing to her forehead. “What do you think happened?” She rolled over onto her side, and her hair, neatly coiled by Mum into a tight french braid, rolled with her, exposing a fresh set of scars along the back of her neck. Rufus gaped.

“Mum and Dad won’t tell me,” He whined. “And now you’re not going to tell me either.” The sight of her hurt scared him, and his lower lip wobbled. It must be awful, then, he guessed, but Claire didn’t look up as she responded flatly:

“I jumped off a tree branch.”

Rufus looked at her, then, for the first time. His sister, his hero, the valiant Gryffindor, the metamorphmagus with the wicked grin; his partner, his companion, his everything. She was crying, softly, onto their pillow, and Rufus stepped forward, she avoided his eyes.

“Go away,” She said, and he did, though questions still plagued his thoughts. Questions about the pink capsules Mum had started setting beside Claire’s place settings at meals; questions about Mum and Dad awake and whispering long after he’d gone to bed, their harsh voices biting his skin in his sleep; questions about waking up to find Claire missing, staring out the window with her eyes glassy and her gaze vacant.

Later that night, he heard Claire talking to Bernard, and he got his answer.

“I was trying to be a bird,” She said.

- Bernard, who had just received his prefect letter, sitting in silence at the foot of her bed.

“I was trying to fly away.”

iii. prelude ( / prelˌ(y)o͞od / noun ) : an introductory piece of music, most commonly an orchestral opening to an act of an opera.

He’d gotten used to their strained silences over the years. Claire, her hair transforming in length and color with each cycle of the moon; Mum and Dad (Bianca and Marcus, as he grew older) pretending not to notice as she snuck out of her bedroom window and snuck in as the sun rose. It was harder not to notice the flippant remarks each made in passing; comments about God, sin, and redemption that he didn’t entirely understand.

What was easier to understand was the faint tear stains that tattooed Claire’s freckled cheeks. She and Bernard had an understanding; they’d always been close, but now, something unspoken and fragile blossomed between the two of them. They stayed awake late into the night, and sometimes, he could hear their laughter. He sensed the rift forming before he fell into it - it was one off-color joke, but Claire looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time.

“That’s not a funny joke, Rufus,” She said, and Rufus agreed, she was right, it wasn’t, but her conciliatory smile seemed kilometers away, and he wondered if she could sense that he didn’t understand why she wasn’t laughing.

She was a punchline he was too slow to comprehend.

iv. classicism ( / ˈklasəˌsizəm / noun ) : period of music history from the mid 1800’s lasting about sixty years, marked by a strong regard for order and balance.

The day Claire had brought home her fiance was the happiest he’d seen his parents in almost a decade. The strange fog that clouded all interactions when Claire was around had lifted, and Bianca’s laughter was light as she poured them all glasses of sherry. Bernard, seated by the window on the outskirts of the reverie, had declined; something passed between him and their father that Rufus couldn’t decipher. All the same, it sent shivers down his spine.

Lewis Donovan was a good man. A ministry worker who’d sprung straight from his NEWTs into Magical Law Enforcement, he brought a lucrative salary and the prestige of political connections in Muggle London, two things the Scrimgeours were sorely lacking. His chatter was easy, if surface-level, and Rufus found himself nodding in approval several times throughout the evening. Claire, sitting on the edge of the sofa, rested her hand on his knee; the motion looked easy from afar, but from where he sat, Rufus noticed she was trembling.

After Lewis had left, Claire stepped outside for a cigarette. She’d taken up smoking recently; it struck him as odd the more he thought about it. He stepped outside to follow her, yet when she saw him, Claire stubbed out the cigarette on a slender black ashtray. Her eyes bore the telltale signs of crying, but when Rufus opened his mouth to speak, she only shook her head.

“I’m fine,” She said. “It’s just nerves. They’ll pass.”

As he closed the door behind him, Rufus realized that she hadn’t said what she was nervous about.

v. dissonance ( / ˈdisənəns / noun ) : harsh, discordant, and lack of harmony; a chord that sounds incomplete until it resolves itself on a harmonious chord.

She wasn’t crying at the funeral. She’d rested a gloved hand on her swelling stomach and watched with blank intensity as the coffin was lowered into the ground. She wore red lipstick and sharp black stilettos and hadn’t invited her husband. Bernard hadn’t come to the ceremony - he was sorry to have missed it, but he’d paid his respects, he’d written, and he’d pay more of them when convenient. Rufus had torn the letter in two, watching as it filled the air with fire and smoke, Bernard’s lies just as flimsy as the parchment that now took to flame.

She wasn’t wearing her ring. She claimed to have taken it off before she’d left and forgotten it amid the chaos, but Rufus knew better. Claire had always been the better liar, but something about the curve of her lips, something about the blue of her eyes struck him as wrong, somehow. There was a sharp pain in his gut that wouldn’t vanish, no matter how many pain potions he took, and sometimes, Rufus couldn’t look at his sister without wanting to scream.

She was his family. His only family, now that he and Bernard weren’t speaking. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose her. That night, as they sat together under the stars, Claire looked like she wanted to tell him something. But the wind howled in the distance, and she kept her lips shut.

vi. fermata ( / fərˈmädə / noun ) : to hold a tone or rest held beyond the written value at the discretion of the performer.

"Rufus? Can you come over?”

"I’ve got an important meeting tonight, Claire. The one with the dragonologists from New Zealand. You know that.”

His response was terse, and he rolled his eyes, thankful for the muggle telephone lines between them and her inability to see his face. They’d invested in one after the memorial was built - her idea, not his, a way to bring them closer even though they were currently thousands of miles apart. She’d been clingier, lately; had even suggested they move in together to save on rent, but he’d put a stop to that particular fantasy as soon as it entered the air.

On the other end of the phone, Claire was silent. Perhaps she’d picked up on the acerbity of his tone and recoiled as if slapped. Perhaps she was giving him time to mull over his words before she responded. Either way, he’d had enough of her mind games and moved to hang up the phone before a single choked reply came from her line:

“Rufus, please.”

She sounded desperate. She always sounded desperate; it was becoming quite hard to tell whether she was in actual crisis or needed the company. After her daughter was born, Claire, rational Claire, had become a complete stranger. Rufus paused - he opened his mouth to speak, but Claire was faster.

‘Never mind. I know how important these meetings are to you.’ With a click, the line went dead. Was it just his imagination, or had she sounded hollow on the other end?

The weight of her silence rang like bells in the empty air.

vii. glissando ( / ɡləˈsändō / noun ) : a a continuous slide upward or downward between two notes; vacillation.

Success. It tasted sweet on his tongue - or was that the red wine, his third glass of the evening? Here, in the center of the room, Minister Minchum was laughing at at a joke he was telling; at his side, Alastor and John were beaming with all the pride they rightfully deserved. It wasn’t every year that the youngest class of aurors in a century were selected from one of the hardest recruitment processes ever. It wasn’t every day that there was already talk about selecting the next head of the department from the youngest class of recruits.

“Mr. Scrimgeour?” The secretary’s voice at his shoulder was timid. “Your brother’s here to see you.”

Cursing Bernard for his ill-timed visits, Rufus reluctantly abandoned the party for the reception just down the hall from the gala. There, Bernard sat, his eyes red and his expression despondent. There was a child in his arms, one Bernard was currently attempting to soothe with a soft Gaelic lullaby.

When he saw Rufus, he stood; a flash of cold rage flashed across his face, and Rufus stepped back, afraid for a moment that his brother would strike him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Bernard asked. His voice was trembling with fury.

“Tell you what?”

“About your interview, you piece of shit.”

Rufus blinked, and in that moment, Bernard recoiled. Genuine confusion clouded his gaze. “You don’t know what I’m going on about, do you?”

Rufus stiffened. “Evidently not. I thought it was quite a good interview. Better than the prophet’s usual fare.”

Bernard shook his head. The child against his chest stirred sleepily, and Bernard tightened his grip on her back. “You compared muggleborns to animals with rabies. Said they needed to be socialized properly or they’d never assimilate.”

So that was what he was going on about? Rufus scowled. “An out of context quote. You know the papers. Besides; you know I don’t believe in that blood supremacy drivel. If I’m going to be minister, I have to appeal to my base.” He blinked. “Don’t tell me that’s all you’re here for, to besmirch me for a single article in the papers..”

He thought it would placate Bernard, but his brother stared at him with barely contained disgust. “I don’t think my purpose here concerns you, anymore, mister minister. I won’t take up any more of your precious time. ”

Before Rufus could ask him what he’d meant, Bernard had strode from the room. As he left, Rufus settled on one detail: the child in his arms hadn’t been his own.

The girl was Claire’s.

viii. polytonality ( / ˌpälētōˈnalədē / noun ) : the simultaneous use of two or more keys in a musical composition; dissonance.

Claire was sitting on the rocks overlooking the ocean when he found her, scarlet hair waving in the wind and her oversized glasses comical on her lanky frame. He’d rushed home in the aftermath of the gala, perturbed by Claire’s daughter in Bernard’s arms, but hadn’t expected to find her there waiting for him. It was as if she’d sensed he was coming - and here, Rufus felt sick to his stomach - it was as if she’d come to say goodbye.

She didn’t speak when he approached, not even as he sat at her side. They didn’t talk for a long moment, instead choosing to watch the crashing of the waves on the slowly eroding shore. The hubris of man, she’d once called it, to think we can create anything that will outlive us. To think we can do anything at all and remain unworn by the tide.

“I’m leaving, Rufus,” She said at last. She was twisting a ring around her finger, but it wasn’t her wedding ring. It was a claddagh ring, and it had been their mother’s, the last piece of her bequeathed to her daughter in her will. “I can’t stay here, anymore. I’m going to America and I’m not coming back.”

Rufus felt nauseous. “But what about - “

“My job? My life? My child?” She interrupted. “Bernard’s taking Cynthia. That’s all I really care about.” She was pensive. “He’ll give her a better childhood than I ever could.”

Rufus looked at her as if she’d just punched him in the gut. “You can’t just leave, Claire.”

“Can’t I?” Her voice was bitter, and she stood. “I’ve been a prisoner of this family’s legacy for far too long, Rufus. I can’t even look at our house without wanting to burn it to the ground. I’ve lived my life according to other people’s rules, and I haven’t gotten shit in return. I do all this shit for other people, and I never get anything in return. I’m empty. I’ve had enough.”

That was too much for Rufus. He stood to match her, feeling satisfied as she shrunk before him. He was trembling with rage. “You’ve had enough? What about me, Claire? Huh? What about me having to cancel appointments and make excuses for your moodiness all the time? What about me having to run after you every time you think you can just run away and get away with it?” He was spitting with rage, and Claire, before him, shook. He didn’t care. “You’re a mother and a wife and you can’t just fucking run off to neverland every time you don’t feel well. Time to grow the fuck up.”

“Grow the fuck up?” Claire repeated. He’d never heard her voice so cold. “I’ll tell you what it’s like to grow the fuck up.” Here, Rufus realized he’d made a terrible mistake, and as he opened his mouth to do damage control, she silenced him with a look. “I married a man I didn’t love because our parents told me to. I had his child because he wanted me to. I took a job I hated in a city that made me feel small because that was what I should’ve done, and that was what made everyone else happy.” She took a step towards him. “I was there for the little brother with the big ambitions when I had ambitions of my own, even if I pushed them down for you. Who do you think got you into the auror program? Who do you think - don’t, “ She snapped, for he’d begun to interrupt. “You were never there for me. You never noticed anything. You care about your politics, but you don’t care about anything else that fucking matters, like the people you keep pretending to yourself that you give a rat’s ass about. Do you feel anything in that cold, dead heart of yours? Or are you just a robot?”

That was too much. Rufus’s eyes widened with rage, and he bellowed: “Never there? Have you been paying attention to anything I’ve done for you since our parents died - “

“Our parents?” Claire was hysterical. “Oh, yes, please, Rufus, tell me more about our parents. Tell me about their immortal love story and their perfect home and their happy family. Tell me, please, tell me all about this little fantasy of yours, because it sure as fuck wasn’t the reality I lived in. They gave you sweets and they gave me pills. Quit pretending our parents were saints just because they’re dead.”

“You hated our parents!” Rufus screamed. “You probably wished they were dead.”

Claire stared. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Rufus saw she was crying - he reached out for her, overcome by grief, but Claire’s wand was faster.

“Stupefy.”

The spell hit him in the head, and Rufus collapsed to the cold earth with a faint thud. The world went black.

When he awoke, she was long gone.

ix. expressionism ( / ikˈspreSHəˌnizəm / noun ) : atonal and violent style used as a means of evoking heightened emotions and states of mind.

Seven days. Seven weeks. Seven months. Time passed by as it always did, and Rufus, buried in paperwork and case files, pretended not to notice that each flip of the calendar marked a day that she hadn’t written him back. He’d sent a letter every single day - apologizing for the way he’d acted the day she’d left, begging her to return, but the letters went unanswered, unsent, unreplied.

He rose in the ranks quickly - almost as quickly as Alastor, who soon became the only remaining auror to outrank him. His desk became a cubicle became an office - and as the prestige rose, so did the power. Now there wasn’t a wizard in the entire ministry who’d turn down an invitation. It should’ve made him feel powerful. Now? He only felt small.

They told him that he was destined for greatness. They told him that, while Alastor was content to run the auror department, he didn’t need to be. It should’ve made him feel important.

But Claire still hadn’t responded. Wouldn’t respond. Would never respond -

x. deceptive cadence ( / dəˈseptiv ˈkādns / noun ) : a chord progression that seems to lead to resolving itself on the final chord; but does not.

Until, one day, she did.

It was a simple letter attached to a bundle of his own, all stamped with the trademark ‘return to sender’ of the owl post. He almost missed it entirely, before her elegant cursive stuck out amidst his torrid, illegible scrawl, and he tore open the envelope with the breathless hope of a sailor who’d caught sight of land.

Her phrasing was simple and unobtrusive. She made it perfectly clear what she wanted, and Rufus, as he read over the last letter he’d ever receive, fell numbly to the ground.

Claire was in America. She’d made a new life for herself in the land of opportunity, and he couldn’t begrudge her her happiness. He was filled with the urge to follow her, to send an owl and track it across the ocean, but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that with her talent for slipping in and out of her own skin, that he probably wouldn’t even recognize his own blood, anymore.

Selfish. She was selfish. Here he was, reading over his letters for the third and fourth time each, trying to decipher what he could’ve done differently, what had caused her to ignore his responses, and she hadn’t even deigned to reply. Until now, that was.

Don’t write to me anymore..

The sentence: explicit. The coup de grace? Implied.

#ofc: prompts #ofc: crescendo #ofc: drabbles #❛ a girl is a gun┊ claire scrimgeour.#❛ jagged little pieces beyond repair┊the scrimgeours.#❛ OH HOW COULD ANYONE NOT LOVE YOUR COLD BLACK HEART?┊ PAST

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kkukkung · 8 years ago

Note

Your tag on the wonho pic with the cushions was bad even for you and you tagged 'soft' after that I can't believe it

im a soft stan.. uwu

HUge ask compilation under the cut yikes omg

twitter*com / arya940115 / status / 850724933906735104 WATCH THIS BUNNY!

[link] i can’t believe i have anons that call me “bunny” jkfsdghg this is?? matty’s impact. and I KNOW hyungwon rly died? it’s so interesting how wonho is so soft but he can also… kill a man… this is so h*t

sncksndnxinsjdcjcdknckksnsnxnkzndidh ive been on ur blog for an hr and a half now just reajdng ur tags and i jsut jdjdnkdjsjdk wrow what a long ass ride n also i cant believe u have a mh furry tag i thogit i was the only ome kskdnndksd

do u ever see someone and u can just… picture them in a fursuit…. that’s lmh…. anyway im sorry u wasted….. so much of ur precious time on my blog omg but thank u…….. also…. what’s ur minhyuk furry tag 👀👀👀 gotta flesh out my collection

u kno blogs that are marked nsfw dont show up in tags 👀 (hdhdfh thats probably not why ur posts dont show up but lol)

hgfjkfjfsh bye…. i know other blogs have this problem too and i think it might have smth to do w spam and whatnot, like not every post the fy blogs post show up either so it’s just… some tumblr thing i reckon? honestly i don’t think i’m that……….. nsfw am i…………

I aspired to b as funny as your tags are

my tags……. aren’t funny dghjkdf……………. my gf left me over how unfunny i am? i have a rly shitty sense of humour i laughed sm when minhyuk said wonho used to be a human faced fish like that was so fucking funny to me but ??? no1 else…. but thank u rly

twitter(.)com(/)OfficialMonstaX(/)status(/)849589491182338049 an ot7 photo where minhyuk isnt clinging to anyone!!!!!!

incredible…. i rmbr this….. i feel a bit like… empty inside this isn’t Right u kno jfksgdh…

You @ any pic: oh cool…wonder how lmh ties into this…..

ur not wrong… but i feel attacked rn fjhsgj idk lmh is just so fascinating to me!!!

you know abt vocal analysis?? i know a tumblr mx blog who did a few and was wondering if you could read them?

i haven’t heard abt this before but i just googled it and i think i get the Gist Of It… i’m interested! link me :3c i can’t promise i will be that insightful though!

Did you get my message about changkyun’s coughing? [i did sorry answering it now!!! jsghgf]

I’m kind of worried. Since like 3 months ago, Changkyun’s been coughing. And at first I thought it was nothing but it’s persistent and doesn’t seem to be getting better or going away. Coughing usually means something with the lungs or heart and I’m worried all the coughing effects his breathin. He’s my precious Lil baby and I may worry too much. But i hope he’s had it looked at cause coughing like that all the time can mess up the lungs pretty bad if untreated

yes me too :((( i’ve noticed this too and like…. in fact half of mx has been sick for this comeback and it just… makes me feel v :(((( u know. i do think changkyun’s the type to not let something get in the way of his ambitions and he would…. try to take care of himself? i hope he’s gotten it checked out too… it’s strange bc it’s not exactly a Persistent thing, like it’s just like he needs to clear his throat sometimes and it sounds v dry? :/// idk what that means but yeah hopefully it’ll… clear up soon… :

I think it’s because I’m too soft of a stan but I really started crying when wonho cried in that video what the fuck why would the hurt me like this. Also can we agree the rapping was a lil :/ hilarious but cute. PS. WHY WAS IT SO FUVKINH WHITE WASHED WHt

i just…. couldn’t take the crying seriously sjkfdhgf i felt embarrassed bc of how cheesy it was but ummmmm im still slowly unclenching my butt from that feeling minhyuk’s falsetto gave me. and yeah lmao the rap. lmao. also anon u sound v cute n sof;;

In one of your posts about wonho you said you “weep for you child who was bullied at school and grew up broken”, what do you mean, what happened? I didn’t know about this and I’m TT

omg anon sdfjkghfskj i wrote that tag complaining abt….. my flopping gifset kjsfdhg im sorry u misinterpreted dw i’m sure wonho never went through smth like that!

Jackson and minhyuk together in that gifset is 2 much who decided to put two extremely loud needy bisexuals together

“two extremely loud needy bisexuals” GBYE…. u ever see characterisation so accurate ur soul leaves ur body momentarily bc

What’s your opinion on the collar/neck tie not attached to the shirt thing that Wonho wore for their KBS Music Bank performance? I’m not sure how to feel about it.

personally i think it’s sexi? u could dress wonho in some bubble wrap and that would b sexi? tbh i rly like the…. sleazy rich dude costuming for this era;;;

nation’s demon child lee minhyuk… won’t somebody save our pure, productive youths from his clutches?

im dissociating fjgkjg

what are your favorite mx ships (or just like two-person dynamics/relationships) with minhyuk in them :>

showhyuk… wonhyuk… kihyuk…. hyunghyuk… joohyuk… and recently changhyuk wait fuck that’s all of th-

seriously tho… tell me if u want me to speak abt smth specific i think ive written extensively on like all of these before… just feel like minhyuk rly…. has v v v intimate relationships in general

Hey ^^“ new monbebe here~ and what exactly is no mercy? is before debut, right? And you know where we can download/watch it? tysm

jsdfhjgh u probably won’t see this anon but yes no mercy is the survival show that mx debuted from… you can watch it on 1thek’s channel. here’s the first ep and it should be pretty easy to find from there!

did you see on the radio that wonho said that he feels awkward around shownu and then the members were like that’s why they go to the gym cause they don’t talk.. shownu when he’s around wonho: :D wonho when he’s around shownu: :S

[diff anon] Recently on the radio wonho said he’s most awkward with shownu 😭💔😭 what are your thoughts? Also hyungnu talk before sleeping what do you think they talk about 👀👀👀

on showho… wonho has said b4 that shownu still feels kinda ?? apologetic towards him bc of the leader business so i feel like that is the potential strain in their relationship :/ but i doubt they’re genuinely awkward w each other like…. when ur constantly around someone for like 3+ years… i doubt any mx coupling is awkward now? but yeah it’s likely that shownu… kind-hearted son hyunwoo… feels residual weirdness abt being the leader when it was originally wonho’s role. re hyungnu PLEASE gjkfhds they’re so close they rly…………. they’ve been close since the beginning of time like hyungwon has a lil fanboy crush on shownu and shownu thinks hyungwon is beautiful and funny and they just……………… idk they must vibe together so well bc they’re both quiet + kind and they just………… seem to chill together a lot these days e.g. playing billiards !!!! aaa and um i feel like they would talk abt everything i can’t narrow it down?? probably like… discuss funny things that happened during the day and shownu tells a joke and hyungwon laughs for 5 minutes straight bc once he starts he doesn’t stop sgfhj

thsi is so stupid but u kno kihyun’s pose from beautiful where hes like,, turned away from the camera n a lil hunched over w/ his arms out i just,, just fuckin think of those grainy pics of bigfoot like i see kihyun n its like C R Y P T I D S P O T T E D

i hate this fgdjhfjk i feel like changkyun is a real cryptid btw (the part where he’s like…. sliding across???)?? anyway when will kihyun pop me via telepathy

Wonho gripping the straw of his coffee drink with his entire fist fkrkgkk why is he such a babie

feel like wonho was a lil bit spoilt/rolling in love as a kid and grew into this… manchild (not the annoying kind tho bc he’s also… v mature…) i love him sm….

Wow do u think minhyuk and kihyun are such good frens because they both love to act fake cute…..These Scorpio antics

YES!!!!! i think they’re v different kinds of fake-cute tho like, w kihyun it’s kind of…. nauseating when he does it on purpose like the way he plops down into chairs omg (gjhkfsdgk im sry) but w minhyuk it’s like he’s mastered how to b cute without being too much so that it leaks into his natural expression? but anyway when kihyun isn’t cute on purpose but is….. CUTE nonetheless… that’s when it Gets me u kno.

You aren’t the only one to notice how PD-nim cuts Wonho’s answers, and exploits his reactions. It’s not that I don’t love his precious self being exposed and tbh I gain life everytime Kiho laughs but the parts that sticks are the ones when he tries to pacify the situation. I think he steps back on variety but can show his true colors/raise his voice in NON-FORMAT programs(?) as RIGHT NOT/DEOKSPATCH/X-RAY. Plus it seems like he’s an audience type than the jokester one…

“show his true colors” jfskdhg yes on kinda.. external programs they don’t show much of him :(( and i think he’s just generally less comfortable speaking in those situations (even on radio shows he’s vvvv quiet…. and this era especially i feel like he’s been sort of Even More Quiet? but where there’s a production + filming team he’s working with that he starts to get familiar with mb he opens up more… anyway yes i agree he’s definitely someone who likes to observe what’s going on rather than directly contribute to the action in external variety/talk programs!

full offence but your tags give me life thank u

thank u?? thank U

my mom likes shownu because she thinks hes a: traditional, manly, well fit, and "expensive” looking man sunshwwjhsbe what but she looked at changkyun was like “who is this hunk” and said “he looks like the type to pay for 500$ meal” jsHWNHSJWYSHWH

(this is for when i asked who everyone’s mum’s fave member was fjkdhg) THAT’S RLY CUTE but im screaming changkyun is the furthest thing from a hunk (quote wonho: his life will b in danger if he doesn’t exercise) and he’d probably take u to his dim studio and feed u cup ramen on a date??? jkdfhgkj

I can’t believe Hyungwon gave us a hacker version of the Iconic Math lady meme on Amigo TV. I guess you could say he’s [hacker voice] ‘All In’.

THIS IS AWFUL jgsfhdjk……… i feel like hyungwon is rly transparent with his expressions like everything shows on his face?? like u can see the cogs whirring in his head when he’s thinking he’s rly so so s o pure :( lov him

damn, i.m

delete this?

“annals of time"

i forgot when i tagged this and in relation to what but jkfdsghjksdfjkkjdfhdskjhfkghkjsfjksgh

annie ….. what hav you done to me :// i’ve began talking like .. this ?? i call my bias raw fish now :(

i hate this fjkgdshsdnjkggf ???? ? i don’t want this either !!!!!!!!!! but my internet persona? ?? cant u see im tryign,,, so hardf.,,, ,all the goddamned time…,,,,,, who is ur bias who is raw fish gfjkdhg (also i only called wonho raw chicken ONCE let me livevnsjkfdhj)

i feel like out of all the weird shit one could possibly be into .. elbow slurping isnt rly too wild like theres so Much out there tht im not mad at it. jus. just go ahead. take a fucking slorp babes

gkjdfsnbvdsjkfghksjfdghfsjkdhgkkjfahskdskjfhksjhkfsjhfkjsfhkjsfdhsjkdfjksfhdjkshfjkshfnjksvjdfnvdfjkgsdfjkndfjgndfjkgndsjkgnskdljngdjkgjkdsgkjsnd

hyungwon is my grandpa who rants @ me for 2 hours abt how his grandchildren never visit and are too loud when they do and how kids these days are always talking about wigs and their dads and then handing me a pile of Werther’s Original™ hard candies before hobbling off to take a nap

why is this so…… detailed and…. accurate…..

Hey sorry to bother you, but do you know whens it’s going to be the first MX’s award show, and where can i watch it? I’m always lost when it’s about this kind of thing e.e Anyway , have a nice day :3

IM RLY SORRY JSFGHKJSFG i hope u found it….. im sry im…. i never answer things in time but;;;;;;;; yes it was on m countdown and u can watch it on the mwave website as well as the mnet youtube channel!

I jus screamed at the phrase "made from the same fursuit” I wanna die

i literally get half my gross terminology from katie?? she made me this way

what are your thoughts on all of the different wonho ships? 👀

i want to…. nest myself in all the warm bonds wonho has formed w every member but especially wonhyuk and wonkyun i think?

the new yang nam show pix made me start thinking what do u think mx wear as jammies fr?? 🤔 besides wonho who just. Lets it free. I feel like ck would b one of those ppl who wears full jammie sets tbqh

why does this sound like matty…. they talk abt their pj preference in that one fancam i can’t find rn sjfdhg but tbh all i took from it was…… wonho……. but yes definitely i think ck would like that…. wants 2 feel Complete and Covered and Neat…

hey!! about the choreo thing, i feel that tbh. i think because so much of fandom is focused on being mad positive all the time, it feels like you can’t notice anything that isn’t 'just so’, but honestly, i do wish their choreo came out better on screen :/ another thing, and i don’t blame them for it, but it helps to keep the lines themselves clean so that no matter what it’s all good angle wise? got7 has trouble w/ that too (everyone dances their own way instead of together, yfm)

yes…………………………. i agree and i just… feel like their choreo is so much Effort but it’s not exactly flashy for all that energy they exhaust as well??? nd yeah what i said abt camera angles… this time the selling point w the jacket choreo was a good touch tho imo but it still………….. isn’t………………. what it Could Be idk i just feel like everything could be flashier and that might help them trend more dance-wise bc rn like tbh i don’t rly know what monsta x is known for? alsoooo what u said abt fandom being mad positive all the time i feel that sm like especially in this fandom… ppl rly pedestal the boys sm and sometimes… idk… overpraise their music when tbqh…. there isn’t….. that much Unique abt it…..? :0

wonhontology (.) tumblr (.) com / post / 158743886921 What a coincidence?!, seems like your scorpio boy has a vore kink and a nipple fixation… #AnWonHyuk

wonhontology tumblr com /post/158743886921 In the second one, isn’t Minhyuk trying to bite Wonho’s nipple? 0.0

[link] i can’t believe i didn’t see this gsjfdhg i love my vore kink nipple biter boy??? ***** *** *** **** ** **** ***** ***???????????????

lostinmonstax (.) tumblr (.) com / post / 158736187961/ tummy-flash did you see that?

[link] um fuck he’s so toned gjskhdfjksdhfk

Hi I love you

i love u 17 days late??? fdskgkjg

somtimes i have a strong urge to call minhyuk my lizard man in my tags this is ur impact annie

i can’t believe ppl r finally beginning to see lmh for who he rly is….. my lizard brethren

the beautiful mv is already to 2 million views and i am weeping… also i am really digginghoseok’s new grey/silver/no-longer-blonde hair.

u can jus.t…. tel lhow old this ask is by its contents jkgfhdsjkgs im the worst im sry but aa… thinking abt… all the hope we had…. 3 weeks ago… makes me :’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’———-))))))))))

cant believe that thigh wrestling gif cut out the part where minhyuk almost reveals his lizard self after wonho smacks his ass hard enough to make him jump a little and break thru his human disguise but tries to stay casual. wongo resistant ass

the. ass slap changed my life btw…. a lil bit of Inner Lee Minhyuk leaked out hfjkgfsdjkhg also this ask is so…………………… im scremaing at every part of it like it rly gets better w every word

hey,,,,,I love this blog,,,,, thank u

i lov u???????????/ this is a terrible lbogblglbo?

ppl have been pointing out how ur url says wonho but ur avatar says minhyuk but i cant beleaf no one has pointed out that the lil moon on ur desktop blog theme says 'rly a changkyun stan but don’t tell any1’ i’m on2 ur secrets 👀

👀👀👀👀👀

STAN SHIN HOSOCK, since he allowed Wonho’s freedom!

??? im sorry what does this mean jkfgkj

#thIS ISNT ALL OF THem but the majority that have been building up jfdkhg im sorry #ill get around to everything... one day....#ask #compilation #Anonymous

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