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elderberries-and-honey · 8 months ago

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After the shock wore off, Winifred invited both men inside for tea. Harold, who insisted she call him Harry instead, was incredibly thankful for the hospitality after their travels, and he and Winifred got on straight away.

They shared stories of their mother & sister happily and seemed genuinely curious about each other’s lives. As they talked, they began to notice little quirks in each other's mannerisms that made both of them realise Alice's spirit was still alive and well within them.

Lawrence listened curiously, watching his wife warm up to her Uncle the more they got to know each other.

Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set over the hillside, a beautiful orange glow cascading into the dining room, and as they chatted and drank their way through an entire pot of tea, they almost forgot any mention of money or business.

However, not everyone at the table was keen on taking a stroll down memory lane.

Gerald didn’t bother to remove his hat or drink a single drop of tea; he seemed to have no intention to make himself cozy in their home. Instead, he lowered his head and glowered the whole time, arms crossed as some sort of defense mechanism, not uttering a word until he’d finally had enough of their small talk.

He leaned in towards Harry, bushy eyebrows somehow furrowing even tighter before speaking. “Shall I remind you of the reason we’re here, brother?” He enquired, impatiently.

Harry sighed, bringing his hands together before he explained everything, starting with the night Alice first fled the Bloomsburg home.

Of course, Winifred had heard this story as a girl, and later on, began asking questions once she was old enough to be curious about her mother's family and where she came from. Hearing it through an unfiltered lens as an adult was very different though, and somehow worse than she’d ever thought. As Harry recounted the tale, she realised just how cruel her maternal grandmother had truly been to her mother.

As he continued, he informed them that unbeknownst to anyone, Herbert, Winifred’s grandfather, never wrote Alice out of the will as he was instructed by his wife and she was the heir to both his vast fortune and successful business, however neither could be turned over to her until Ada passed away, and she outlived her husband for many years. It seemed he had less than traditional beliefs and wanted his daughter to be able to support herself without needing a husband to do it for her.

But, after a series of faulty investments, it seemed the company had become less than profitable over the years and was due to go under at any moment.

"So you mean to tell us that my wife has inherited the Bloomsburg fortune?" Lawrene asked, more enthusiasm in his tone than Winifred would have liked.

"Well technically speaking, Mr. Baudelaire, since Miss Winifred is married, you have." Harry answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

For the first time since they'd sat at the table, Gerald chuckled darkly to himself. "Rightfully so, if you ask me. Leaving this company to a woman in the first place was a load of codswallop."

"But neither Mrs. Baudelaire or I know the first thing about running a business, much less one doomed to fail." Lawrence replied, paying no mind to Gerald's terribly sexist comment.

Both Bloomsburg brothers went on to explain a deal of sorts. If the Baudelaire's signed the company over to them, they would take over the legalities of closing a business, and handle all other affairs concerning the estate, if they split the inheritance with them.

While the men discussed the finer details, Winifred sat in her chair silently. She didn't care about the business itself, truthfully she wanted nothing to do with any of it, even the money. But Lawrence hadn't even stopped to ask what she thought, or consider her feelings on the matter.

Quietly, she excused herself outside for a breath of fresh air and time to process everything she’d learn that afternoon.

It felt queer to doubt what seemed to be a once in a lifetime chance to escape poverty, for her husband never to work long hours or do back breaking work. To send her children to school and give them a life of opportunities that she could have never imagined even in her wildest dreams. It was surreal to envision such a different life, and as she tried to picture it, she could only think of her mother who had been robbed of it.

After a while, Harry came out to find her. “May I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the seat next to her on the wooden bench. She nudged Thistle out of the way and scooted over to give him some room to join her.

“I know we don’t know each other all that well, Winifred, but I did know your mother’s face; how you resemble her…it’s as if I'm looking at a photograph." He smiled to himself at how true it was before observing her expression again. "And I can recall the look on her face when something puzzled her. Will you tell me your troubles?”

As she looked back at Harry, she wasn't sure what to expect. It wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination for him to be disinterested in her concerns and only inquiring over her dismay out of politeness.

Except, instead of a troubled expression like her own, she only saw a face wanting to comfort. She had not seen that face for such a long time, and she was surprised to recognize it so easily, for she too recognized Alice's face in his own.

“I…I don’t know what to make of this.” She admitted once she decided she could trust his intentions. “But my husband has already made up his mind and since I am just a woman, it seems I have no say in the matter.”

Harry listened while she expressed her concerns until he was sure she'd gotten out all that she needed to say. It felt nice to be vulnerable with someone, her relief over having someone to express these things to was almost tangible.

In return, he shared with her how nearly inseparable he and Alice had once been, how much he missed her, and that he regretted not doing more to keep in contact with her before she passed.

Afterwards, he turned to her with a bittersweet expression, pain and regret glowing in his eyes, yet a subtle softness painted on his lips. "I might not have spoken to your mother for a long time, Winifred, but I do know this... everything she did, she did for you. She would want you to have a good life, no matter what."

"Even if that means taking money from my very estranged family?" She asked with a slight laugh, noticing how ridiculous it sounded to say out loud.

He chuckled, also realising the ludicrousness of the situation. "Even then." He assured her.

“And, Miss Winifred, if I may say one more thing, don't pay any mind to my brother. He's nothing but a chuckle head, you understand?” He added, waving his hand as if to dismiss his older brother. Winifred giggled in response, feeling much less guilty than she had only moments ago. "You are more than just 'some woman'. You are Alice Monet's daughter."

Before Winifred could ask what he meant by that or how he came to know the last name her mother had chosen for herself, he reached inside the pocket of his coat to retrieve what at first glance appeared to be a crumpled piece of paper. "I thought you might want this." He said, handing it to her quickly.

There in her hands was a photograph of herslef as a girl, dated February 13th, 1876 - her 7th birthday. "I found it while going through my father's things." He mumbled, trying to hide a playful smile before heading back inside.

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miyagifangkai · 3 years ago

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The Tournament

Tagged: @savedbythegraceofsoutherncharm have no clue why it won’t let me tag you, ahhh!

Request: After the tournament the reader is there when Kreese does what he does to Johnny and she basically steps in and helps him then she takes him home to comfort him.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, some violence

Also not proofread, sorry lol

Characters Involved: Johnny Lawrence, Reader, Kreese, Mention of Daniel and Ali

Couple Pairing: Johnny Lawrence x Reader

A/N: I��m sorry this took forever! 😅 Work has been hectic, so forgive me! But thank you so much for request! I enjoyed writing this one! I hope you enjoy it as well! 🥰

Johnny was so disappointed. He had lost to Daniel Larusso, The Karate Kid.

You and Johnny weren’t best friends but you could consider yourself friends. You two grew up together practically side by side so it was bound to happen that you two would cross paths a few times. Sometimes he would come over to your house to get help with homework or sometimes even gain advice on his crushes. Throughout the years you two started to become more acquainted with each other with Johnny coming to you about some of his problems and you would go to him.

Granted, he wasn’t totally amazing at advice or support; he tried but sometimes he didn’t talk a lot and just listened. You knew a lot about him and he knew a lot about you and honestly, you weren’t too mad about it.

You couldn’t help but have feelings for the guy; everytime you’d see him walk down the hallway you could hear your heart start to speed up and your stomach start to twist and turn but he never approached you. He never really glanced your way. You felt bad having feelings for him because at the time he was dating Ali but you couldn’t help it. In a way, it hurt but then again you knew he wasn’t too entirely emotional until he got angry.

You thought that the only way he could let out his emotions was through anger. He was too afraid to let it out in a different manner, afraid of hurting his reputation and being seen as a “nerd.” You never understood why he cared so much about being perceived as “manly.” Until, you snuck into one of his karate classes, trying to hide your identity. Johnny had spotted you the second you walked in and he held back his smile and pretended that you weren’t there.

As the class went on you noticed how his Sensei wasn’t exactly the warmest guy to be around. He was cold toward his students, leaving them no excuses but to push harder. He would push them to their absolute limits and would try to push them further. None of his students ever gave him any lip about his outlandish teaching. You didn’t like how he taught. He was very toxic and was teaching his students to be extremely toxic as well; after watching the lesson you couldn’t help but talk to Johnny about it.

You approached him the next day when he got him and you both sat on his porch steps and you didn’t necessarily wanna bring it up because the conversation you two were having was actually a good one but you couldn’t control it, “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

Johnny looks at you confused but agrees, “Yeah?”

“Your karate class, I’m not sure if you even noticed that I was there or not–”

Johnny interrupts, “I noticed! You looked like a spy or something,” he laughs.

You, trying to ignore the blush on your cheeks, say, “Not the point! But, I noticed your Sensei. He’s, uhm, not the most traditional teacher around.”

“What do you mean?”

“Johnny, he’s toxic. He’s teaching his students to be mean. To be cruel. I mean, ‘no mercy’ that’s crazy.”

“Shut up,” Johnny’s voice grows dark.

You were surprised by his sudden mood change, “What?”

“It’s none of your business. I’m serious, shut up or we’re done.”

You start to grow a bit frustrated but you give in, “Fine. I guess I’ll just fuck off then.”

Johnny narrows his eyes at you, “Yeah. Best if you did.”

You feel your heart start to ache at his statement. You were extremely disappointed in how he acted with you. Nonetheless, you got up and never looked back.

Several months passed and you tried not to think about him. He had never contacted you again and you tried not to let it get to you.

You couldn’t believe that Johnny had lost. He lost the All Valley. You were completely shocked. You sat in the stands and watched Daniel crane kick him straight in the face; you weren’t completely sure about the rules but you thought that the kick could’ve been an illegal kick. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

After all of the training, the blood, the sweat, and many tears he felt like the ultimate failure. Johnny was always his worst critic, even though he portrayed himself as a cocky know-it-all. Deep down Johnny was extremely insecure; he’d be caught dead before he’d tell anyone about that though. He always looked forward to the All Valley. He would always practice extra hard and give it 110% the few months before. He would almost completely cut out hanging out with his friends or even change his diet. He wanted to make himself the ultimate fighter; almost a machine.

You were always prepared to see him less during his training months. You knew his Sensei was hard on him but sometimes you felt like he would single Johnny out. Johnny was Kreese’s protege and you knew Kreese was going to give him endless shit about it. You had walked out into the parking lot to talk to Johnny and apologize for the past. Everyone was out and talking about Johnny losing and them saying that he would get Daniel next time. That’s when you saw his Sensei approach him and start talking down to him. You wanted to intervene and force the berating talk to silence but you didn’t. You know Johnny wouldn’t have wanted you to. Sometimes you thought he was a glutton for punishment. You see things start to escalate. The boys start to talk back to Kreese and Johnny starts to take a stand towards him, well, slightly.

That is when Kreese gets him in a choke hold. Seeing Johnny struggle and the boys trying to get him to stop but to no avail. You had no choice but to get in the middle. You run up to Johnny and Kreese and scream, “Get off of him or I’ll kill you!” and you hear Kreese chuckle, “I’d like to see you try.”

You overcome by anger. Letting out all of your anger from the past months and your anger and pain towards Johnny you kick Kreese in the leg as hard as you can causing him to loosen his grip on Johnny. He wiggles free and starts to catch his breath. Kreese starts to stand back up and you whisper to yourself, “Oh God, this is gonna hurt.”

You give it every pound in your body and punch Kreese smack dab in the face causing the boys to gasp. Your hand felt like you had broken every bone in it but you ignored the pain. You give Kreese another punch to the face causing him to fall down and as he fell to the ground swung his arm causing his hand to go through the window of a nearby car. As he hits the ground, Kreese looks at his hand and mumbles, “This isn’t over.”

“Johnny, let’s go!” You take Johnny’s hand and you both start to run towards your car and head to your house.

On the way there Johnny was sitting silently and in shock. The silence caused you to feel the pain in your hand. You start to move your fingers to see if anything was broken.

You mumble, “Shit,” as you move your thumb. It didn’t look broken but surely felt like it.

Another moment of silence passes by and you start to hear Johnny sniffle. You knew he was crying. You didn’t want to upset him and ask if he was okay so you chose the option of silence.

You two arrive at your house and sit in the car for a few seconds in even more deafening silence. You couldn’t look at him and he couldn’t look at you. He was too ashamed of himself.

You finally break the silence, “Hey, I’m so sorry.”

Johnny looks at you with tear stained cheeks and red nose from his sniffling, “You were right.”

“What?”

“He’s an awful man,” Johnny starts to softly cry again and looks away from you.

You quietly, “Come on, Johnny. Let’s go inside,” you almost start crying for him, “Besides, I need to get some ice on my hand.”

Johnny nods and you two get out of the car together. You two head inside the house and head to the kitchen and put a pack of frozen peas on your hand.

“What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re at work. Night shift.”

“Ah,” that’s all Johnny could say. He looks back down at the ground avoiding your gaze and you walk up to him.

“Johnny, you can look at me, ya know?” You say softly. He still doesn’t look up.

“I can’t. I’m a failure.”

You sigh, “No. You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am. I hate myself.”

Your eyes start to tear up for him. You hated that he was in so much pain, “Johnny, don’t say that.”

He finally looks up at you, “And why shouldn’t I?”

You didn’t wanna tell him how you felt. You weren’t ready to tell him. At least you thought you weren’t.

“Johnny–”

“See? You can’t even answer that.”

“I never thought you were a failure.”

“But I am.”

“Shut up, dude! You’re not. You gave it your all. You tried your best. You trained for months. You are dedicated to your craft. No matter what you do you give it your all. That’s not being a failure. You’re amazing at anything you do,” you stop talking. It felt like word vomit was escaping your mouth and you didn’t want to give him a hint that you liked him.

“You really think so?”

“Uh, I know so. All of your friends look up to you. Actually, a lot of people look up to you.”

Johnny gives you a small smile but has nothing to say.

“I’m serious. You are one of the most motivated and best students your Sensei could ever ask for.”

Johnny flinches at the word Sensei; you had regretted your word choice but you said what you said.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You look at him perplexed, “Thank me?”

“Yes. Thank you. For not only being my friend through it all, even when I was a total asshole to you. But for saving me tonight. I owe you big time,” You could Johnny put his heart and soul into those three sentences.

“Of course. Besides, you’re my friend, I’d do anything for you,” you wish hadn't said it. You felt weird saying that to him. But you see his eyes light up at your sentence.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it. But same,” he looks back down at the ground avoiding your eyes.

You decide to go for it, “I like you, Johnny Lawrence.”

“What?”

“Like, I like like you.”

“Oh.”

You automatically hated yourself for telling him. You couldn’t believe you had said that. He didn’t feel the same way, you knew it. He still had a thing for Ali and you didn’t blame him, she was perfect.

“Johnny, you don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that.”

“No, no. I just–”

“Really. Don’t. It’s fine. Moment of emotions running high. Total heat of the moment. I’m–”

“Would you shush?” Johnny chuckles, “I like you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit. Okay, cool!” You breathe a sigh of relief.

You're about to say something else until Johnny interrupts you by kissing you. You both pull away and he’s greeted by your shocked expression.

“What? Too soon?” He asks.

“No. Definitely not.”

You kiss Johnny again. You two pull away to catch your breath.

You and Johnny had no words for each other.

So you break the tension with, “So, you hungry or something?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Johnny chuckles.

You couldn’t believe that Johnny Lawrence liked you back. You were sad that Johnny had lost and it had caused him pain but then again you were kinda happy that it happened or you wouldn’t be standing here with him right now.

#johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence #cobra kai #the karate kid #daniel larusso #ali mills #johnny x reader #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai imagine

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ivarisms · 3 years ago

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A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Title: A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Summary: You and your work colleague have travelled to Norway to to write a piece for an online article about the history of Vikings, and your travels have led you to a town where the locals talk about an abandoned castle deep in the mountains where Ivar the Boneless still lives as a thousand-year-old vampire. You don’t believe such nonsense, but are curious to see what artifacts this mysterious castle holds within its walls.

Paring: Vampire!Ivar x Female OC

Warnings: Blood, violence, death, non-con aspects, NSFW for sexual content.

“Baby, you’re cruel to me but you see I love it when you make me bleed. I want a scar that looks just like you, till then I gotta learn to be a wiser fool. ” ---- Vampire Smile, Kyla La Grange

CHAPTER ONE

The treacherous winding path that spiralled up into the deepest and most isolated parts of the mountains was endless, or so it seemed after hours of non-stop walking. You were exhausted, and to make things worse the first droplets of snow began to trickle down from the sky above. “You said we would reach this castle an hour ago, and yet I still see no sign of it.”

“Patience, sweet cheeks.” Your work partner and terrible tour-guide Lawrence teased, a wrinkled map in his gloved hands as he turned to grin at you. “Always complaining, it’s not always about the destination but about the journey too. I find hiking in these mountains therapeutic…”

You rolled your eyes at that one, there was nothing therapeutic about this and you really wished you would have said no to this adventure. You weren’t even convinced that there was a castle, especially one that harboured a thousand-year-old vampire inside. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” You pressed on, frowning at the feel of wet inside your ‘waterproof’ boots. Great, you thought. All I need when hiking up a goddamn mountain. “I’m starting to think the locals swindled us here, I bet they’re all down in their local pub laughing about how stupid the latest tourists are in falling for this ridiculous ghost story.”

“It’s not a ghost story, it’s a vampire story – like Dracula.” Lawrence countered, a few steps ahead of you on the trail that became much steeper. “And yeah, it’s probably a crock of shit but hey, we’ll have the castle to ourselves and you know what that means.” Turning to waggle his brow at you, he winked and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, shelter – and hopefully some firewood.” You grumbled, not even entertaining his attempts at flirting with you. He had tried time and time again to get into your pants, but just couldn’t get the hint.

“I don’t think there’s many trees up this high for firewood, but you never know… might be able to find a couple of ‘em and make a stake out of a branch as a weapon.” He joked. “They said this Ivar is terrifying, I hope I get to kill him. Imagine that on the front of the newspaper, I can see it now. ‘Handsome muscly man kills a thousand-year-old vampire Viking with ease… or Viking vampire’ which one sounds better?”

“None of them.” You smirked. “If he’s a vampire and a Viking, you really think you stand a chance?”

“Hey, I got some moves – I can show you them if you like.” He teased.

“No thanks…”

Walking up the steepest part of the isolated trail, you winced and tugged at the hood of your thick yellow coat as harsh icy winds hurtled towards you. They were powerful, nearly knocking you from your feet as you struggled to maintain your balance.

“There it is.” Lawrence pointed in front of him, and you stumbled forward a few steps to join him to see what he was looking at.

“Oh, wow.” You whispered, seeing for the first time the huge black winding castle in the near distance. It was hidden between two mountain peaks, so no wonder it took so long to find. The locals weren’t lying about one thing, but there was no way in hell a vampire lived within its walls. “The snow is getting heavier, let’s go as quick as we can.”

“Yes, lady boss.” Lawrence scoffed, his tone laced with sarcasm as he led the way.

Half an hour of struggling through near enough knee-deep snow led you and your colleague to the castle grounds. The great heaving stone structure was more than impressive to gaze up at, though the many windows that were draped in darkness made you feel uneasy. Its black towers and stone battlements were still very much intact, withstanding the test of time and the test of such harsh elements in the isolated area of Norway. It had clearly been abandoned centuries before now, yet still radiated a millennium of history you would never get to experience. You wondered what it would have been like back then, when Vikings were in their prime of greatness. Terrifying, you assumed.

Ivar the Boneless was known especially to be cruel and inhumane, the history books wrote him to be a tyrant and monster who killed all that apposed him. It was that wicked reputation that kept his memory alive a thousand years later, proven by how scared the local men and women were to even mention his name. You were intelligent enough to know that vampires didn’t exist, but if by chance they did, then you decided that Ivar would be the worst kind of vampire to bump into.

“Wanna go inside?” Lawrence broke through your train of thought and you looked at him as he pulled free his camera from the pocket of his padded blue jacket.

“Absolutely.” You agreed, deciding it was for the best to push fairy-tales aside and explore further.

Following Lawrence through the first set of steel gates, you were now in the courtyard. This area would have been used to make speeches to the people, used as entertainment and no doubt used for training how to fight. You could almost picture the Vikings now, swinging swords and axes at each other without a care in the world. Reaching into your own pocket to pull free your phone, you swiped at the screen.

No signal, low battery. Fantastic.

Your phone wouldn’t have enough power to last the night, but you had enough to snap a few pictures.

“I’m gonna explore the barracks, are you coming with or doing your own thing?” Lawrence asked.

“I’m…” You breathed, your eyes drawn towards the main doors that would no doubt lead into the very heart of the castle. “I’m going inside, I want to get a few photos before this thing dies on me.”

“Alright, I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Please take your time, you thought. “Okay.”

And with that you both went your separate ways.

Pushing on the great wooden door that was stiff as a board, you clinched your jaw and rammed your weight into your shoulder with a grunt to try and budge it. One, two, three attempts before the frozen wood gave way. Shoving it open with a deep squeal that echoed loudly throughout the innards of the castle, you peered inside curiously. An icy breeze from within hit your face, and as you swept your gaze around the darkness you realised you were staring down into a great long hall that seemed to travel endlessly into the abyss.

Shrugging your backpack from your shoulders, you delved your hand inside and fiddled around until you grabbed hold of the flashlight you had brought along with you. Flicking the switch, a faint yellow glow lit the way as you moved forward. The old wooden floors creaked beneath the weight of your snow laden boots as you took your first few steps inside, allowing the heavy door to swing back shut with a loud thud. Wincing at the sound, you felt your heart thump nervously and felt a sudden pang of regret wash over you, almost as if you felt like you were trespassing. You can still leave.

“Stop overthinking.” You chastised yourself, knowing you were being irrational now. Ghosts did not exist and neither did vampires, it was all in your head.

Treading carefully, you made your way down the hall that had great long wooden tables lining each side with wax candles sat atop them, the table tops themselves had markings engraved within them and as you dragged your fingers along the symbols, you decided they were probably Old Norse. A language that had been dead for many years. Lifting your had, you rubbed at the thick layer of dust that had settled upon your fingertips. This place definitely hadn’t been touched in a long time, and for a moment you wondered if you and Lawrence were the first tourists to investigate in years. It seemed like it.

Unlocking your phone, you decided to take a few pictures of the beautiful furniture for your records before moving on. This would make for a good article on your blog – frozen in time, a look inside the world of Vikings. You wondered if you could steal something small and tuck it into your bag as a souvenir of sorts. Looking ahead, you noticed a stone fireplace in the centre at the back of the hall and as you strolled over towards it with your phone in hand to take another picture, something else caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Turning, you audibly gasped.

Two beautiful wooden thrones sat untouched at the furthest point of the great hall, sat atop a wooden platform. They looked over the entire hall, above the rest of the tables and you knew then that this was once where the King and Queen probably dined with their people.

“Wow.” You whispered, approaching the rare find. The floorboards creaked with each slow step and as you got closer, your eyes widened and twinkled in the dark as you absorbed the intricate detail of both beautiful chairs.

You walked up onto the platform and reached out to touch the main throne, the one you could only assume belonged to a line of great Kings starting with Ragnar Lothbrok. Dragging your fingers along the twisted branches and steel that bound them together, you smiled and took the opportunity to sit in the throne.

It wasn’t the most comfortable seat, but you definitely felt like royalty as you leaned back and closed your eyes. Just for a moment you pretended it was a different time, that you were a Queen of a Viking army. Breathing in a slow breath, you opened your eyes again and gazed down the hallway you had walked up.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness as the flashlight rested in your lap, and as you blinked you were certain there was a shape of a figure standing by the main door you had entered through. Lawrence?

“You took your time, come see what I’ve found.” You called out, crossing one leg over the other casually with a coy smile. “I can’t be sure, but I think this throne once belonged to Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons. It’s beautiful…” You drummed your fingers against the arm rest.

No response. The silence was deafening, and you felt a deep fluttering within your belly as you snatched your flashlight and shone it down where the figure stood. But the light didn’t reach that far, and so you leaped from the throne anxiously.

“Lawrence?” You called nervously this time, your eyes narrowing as you kept them on the figure who stood in the shadows, unmoving. “This is not funny; I’m not playing your stupid games idiot.”

Once again there was nothing and you panicked, the stories that had been told to you from the locals playing in the forefront of your mind.

‘Ivar the Boneless died in battle, yes – but he was revived and cursed with immortality. The stories say his brother Hvitserk accompanied him back to the castle where he lives till this very day, surviving on the blood of those who dare enter his lair.’

‘Hvitserk too?’

‘Perhaps, though there have been no witnesses to survive that could tell us what they have seen. All we know is that those who travel up the mountains don’t travel back down, so in all probability they have been killed.’

“Ivar?” You breathed, the flashlight in your hand trembling.

“Hello, Y/N.”

The voice echoed through the hall and your breath caught in your throat, fear bleeding into every fibre of your being as you jumped from the throne platform and sprinted towards a side-door that led into the bowels of the castle. The last thing you wanted was to travel deeper inside, but you had no other choice. Gasping for breaths in the darkness, you tried to hold the flashlight steady and peered down at your phone in the other hand.

No signal.

1% battery life.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You hissed, not having a clue what door led to which room or if there was any other exit that you could escape from. You just ran forward with no sense of direction, and eventually came face to face with a staircase. You couldn’t go back now, what if he was right behind you?

The thought alone made you squeal as you scrambled up the stone steps, tripping over your boot at one point and dropping your useless phone that tumbled all the way back down to the bottom. You wouldn’t be going back for it now. Reaching the upper floors of the bitterly cold castle, your flickering flashlight was threatening to give up on you as you desperately searched for a hiding spot. Bolting to the end of the corridor, you ran into one of the rooms and as quietly as you could, closed the door behind you.

Backing up until your thighs hit the wooden frame of a bed in the centre of the room, you felt tears well in your eyes. You were terrified.

“Y/N, it was a joke!” Lawrence shouted out from outside in the corridor. “It��s me, I was only teasing.”

Anger. You saw red and felt humiliated as your colleague shoved the bedroom door open and grinned back at you, holding his camera in your face and your phone in his other hand. You couldn’t believe it.

“HA!” He laughed loudly when he saw the look on your face, pointing at you as he filmed your reaction. “You ran like a shot, Jesus…”

“Get out.” You growled, storming forward to shove his chest. “It’s not fucking funny, stop filming me.”

“Hey, c’mon – it’s hilarious!” He laughed. “Ivar?” Mocking the way you had called out the Viking’s name, he shook his head and bent forward to slap his knee with amusement. “I thought you didn’t believe in vampires!”

“I said get out!” Slapping the camera from his hands, you scowled up at him as it tumbled and crashed to the floor with a thud.

“Hey, what the fuck!” He glared back at you and snatched the front of your jacket, clinching his jaw as if he was debating on whether to hit you or not. But he decided against it, shoving you instead and watching you fall to the bed as he leaned down to pick up his prized possession. “It was a damn joke, get over yourself.”

“No, you’re trying to use me for your stupid videos and it’s not happening. Whatever footage you’ve got of me on there, delete it.” You warned him.

“Hell no, this is going up on my blog first thing when we get back to town. You’ll see how funny it is when you’ve calmed down. Pretty girl gets spooked by Ivar the Boneless, idiots on the internet eat that shit up.”

That was enough. Lunging forward, you snatched the camera from his grasp and turned around, throwing it as hard as you could against the stone wall opposite the bed. You watched as it smashed, bits of plastic bursting out into shards across the floor and instant regret flooded you.

Not about smashing it, because he deserved that to happen – but because you knew the fact he wouldn’t get views online from his snot-nosed followers would infuriate him.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice echoing through the halls as he grabbed the back of your hood and yanked you back towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, that’s my life’s work you dumb bitch!”

Wincing as he flung you against the wall by the door, you kicked your boot at his shin and threw a punch that connected with his shoulder.

“Let me go!” You growled, struggling against him as he swung his arm back and swung it forward again, slapping you against the face. A sharp sting radiated through your cheek, and you closed your eyes and lifted your hands to defend yourself from the assault you thought was about to come your way.

But nothing happened.

Instead, you heard gargling.

Snapping your eyes open again, you felt your entire body weaken in terror as Lawrence stood in front of you grasping at his throat. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose as he stumbled back, staring back at you with fear and desperation. You were speechless, frozen stiff in place as he collapsed to his knees and bled out at your feet. Behind him had been standing a tall, broad man with the bluest eyes you think you had ever seen. His hand was coated in blood, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as he gazed back at you in the dark.

“I heard a struggle; it seems you needed some help from this boy.” He mumbled in a deep Nordic accent and stepped over Lawrence’s dying body, towering over you in the confined space. “Are you hurt?”

You stood perfectly still and parted your lips, trying to speak but the sounds of Lawrence’s gargled breaths distracted you. Never had you witnessed someone dying before and as much as you hated him, you felt sick and faint.

“You called my name earlier; it woke me from a deep sleep…” He continued, his blood-stained lips curling into a smirk as he reached his clean hand up to stroke your reddened cheek that would soon bruise from the slap.

A breath hitched in your throat at how cold he was, the gentle stroke of his fingers sending a shiver to ripple up the length of your spine.

“You… you are Ivar the Boneless.” You whispered fearfully, glancing down to the floor to see blood pooling around your boots.

“Yes.” He affirmed. “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Mm, and what are you and this…” He peered down at the body that had stopped struggling and sighed. “…moron doing creeping around my home, huh?”

“I’m sorry, we came here to see…”

“Go on.” Ivar pressed you impatiently.

“To see if you were real, to see if this place really existed.” You told him. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” You took a step forward and slid past him, your body grazing against his as you tried to head for the door but he grabbed your hand.

“Ah, ah.” He tutted, shaking his head of dark braids. “That is not how it works, you see – as soon as you stepped through that door you became mine.”

You felt your belly flutter and shrank into yourself as he took a step in towards you again, leaning forward to breathe in your hair.

“Yours?” You whispered in confusion.

“Yes, mine.” He told you. “Everything in this castle is my property, that now includes you and this sack of shit on my floor.” Pointing to Lawrence’s body, Ivar sucked in a breath. “Unfortunately, my anger got the best of me when it came to him, I should have kept him alive for his blood. I haven’t fed in a long time.”

He looked you over when he said that, his blue eyes darkening with a hunger that made you want to run. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I don’t want to.” He explained and ran his hands up over your shoulders, pulling you against him and holding you tight. “But I am hungry, and your blood sings to me my sweet girl. This won’t hurt for long, I promise.”

“No, no!” You gasped, your struggling useless as he dragged his soft lips down the column of your neck. Licking his tongue out against the beating vein that called to him, a deep growl rose from his throat and he sank his teeth into you with a savage bite that made you scream. “Ivar, please!”

Your legs gave way but it didn’t matter, he was unnaturally strong – clutching you to him like a bear would with its prey. Warmth spilled down your collarbone and you whimpered as he drank you, low groans escaping him. Digging your fingernails into his black armour, your eyes rolled as you became weaker in his arms.

Thump. Thump.

Thump…… Thump.

Thump.

Your heartbeat slowed and you huffed out a weak breath when he suddenly pulled his head back, snarling out an animalistic growl. His white teeth and long fangs were coated in blood, a trickle of it spilling down his chiselled chin as you sank against his chest.

“Fuck.” He groaned, eyes almost translucent they were that blue as he gazed down at your pretty face. “Good girl. Come, let’s get you settled.”

Lifting you up into his arms with ease, Ivar carried you from the room in what seemed like a blur as your eyes rolled shut.

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered.

“Not yet.” He told you, his voice a low seductive growl. “I’m going to drink you and I’m going to fuck you and then I’m going to make you like me and the rest of my family who live in the shadows.”

The rest? You thought, slipping into unconsciousness as Ivar the Vampire stole you away deep into the confines of his castle.

Starting awake, you sat up in the darkness and reached your hands out to feel soft silk sheets surrounding you. Looking around and down at yourself, you frowned as you noticed your boots, winter trousers and jacket had been removed, replaced with a white cotton dress that barely covered your thighs.

“You are beautiful, y/n.” Ivar mumbled from the shadows, approaching you slowly as you crawled up towards the headboard and away from him.

“What is this place?” You asked, looking around the large room that had been lit with candles. “What did you do to me?”

Turning your gaze back onto him, you felt something flutter deep within you as he stood shirtless. Viking tribal tattoos littered his strong defined chest, and as you dragged your eyes lower you noted his defined abs.

“These are my private quarters, the part of the castle you didn’t get the chance to intrude on.” He raised a brow at you, a dangerous glint within his eye. “But now, here you are with me. I fully intend on creating a bond with you, one where you will be my progeny and I your master.”

You felt your stomach leap as he crawled up onto the bed after you, his piercing eyes never leaving your face as he reached out and grabbed your ankles. Yanking you down the mattress, he smirked sadistically as you yelped in surprise.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course, I am.” You whispered, though it was not only fear that you felt as you looked into his eyes but a strange lust. Something was terribly wrong with you to be attracted to this creature but he was so beautiful, almost god-like that it seemed impossible not to.

“It’s good to be afraid, fear makes you more aware of what’s happening.” He leaned forward and kissed your thigh, his cool lips lingering against your skin. “I want you to know that I have waited for you for a long time, and now that I have you, I cannot let you go.”

He spread your thighs then and nuzzled his nose between them, eliciting a gasp from your throat and forcing you to arch your back. Reaching down to twist your fingers into his dark braids, your legs trembled as he breathed in your scent.

“Oh.” You sank your teeth into your bottom lip when he finally pressed a kiss against your mound, a jolt of pleasure radiating through you at the feeling.

You wondered if this was all a dream, a terrifyingly beautiful dream that you soon would wake from. Using his palms to pin you down, Ivar lapped at your tender wet cunt until he had you crying out his name.

You came.

Then you came again. Hard.

Feeling spasms ripple through your entire body, you moaned and spread your legs further as he dragged himself up and over you. Strong arms settled at either side of your head and he dipped his hips between your thighs, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your soaked centre making you buck your hips in response.

“Do you want to be mine?” He asked, grabbing your throat and grazing his thumb against the bite mark he had left in your throat. “Will you give yourself to me completely, my love?”

You felt compelled to say “Yes.”

It was if he was inside your head, making you say and feel these things for him and yet you gladly accepted your fate.

“Good girl.” He growled and thrust inside of you in one hard stroke, splitting you open with a delicious burn that forced a cry from your lips.

You snatched your arms around his broad defined shoulders, digging your nails into his smooth skin as he began an unrelenting rhythm. You moaned and screamed and shuddered beneath him as he fucked you deep, his controlled movements driving you insane with lust.

“Ivar!” You cried as his girth stretched you painfully, the feeling of being unbelievably full of him almost too much. But he held you down, you weren’t getting away from him as he possessed you. “Oh my god!”

He grunted, a low growl rumbling deep within his chest as he took what belonged to him. Pressing kisses against your collarbone and then down to your breasts, your eyes rolled as he sucked one nipple into his mouth and then the other, paying them equal attention.

Your grip on his braids tightened and he licked a trail up your chest, kissing up your throat and chin until his lips found yours. The Viking vampire’s mouth was soft as he licked his tongue into your mouth when you gasped from one particularly deep thrust of his hips, and you could taste a mix of him and you that made you moan into him.

Sliding one calloused hand down to grab your knee, he lifted your leg and forced it up to rest over his shoulder. Arching against him, you whined at the change of position that dug deeper still and brushed against that spongey piece of heaven tucked up inside of you.

“Ah!” You whimpered, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“That’s it, y/n.” He growled lowly, smirking against your mouth as he stared into the depths of your eyes. Knocking his forehead against yours gently, he watched you as he fucked you hard. Skin smacked against skin, the wet sounds of him taking you filling the room and you stiffened.

Hissing, Ivar snatched a handful of your hair and tugged your head to one side as you came around him. Your pussy spasmed, clutching onto his cock tightly, milking him for everything he had and as he was on the verge of his own release he knew it was time.

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he sank his fangs into the artery he had torn open earlier and began to drink. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with so much arousal that you weren’t aware of his deadly love bite. He continued to fuck you, his pace slowing just a little as he drank your hot blood down in large greedy gulps.

Soon, you realised that something was wrong. You felt it. Whimpering in a mixture of pleasure and pain now, you pushed at his arms to try and get him to stop but he didn’t plan on it. He drank you deeply, the addicting taste of your life blood filling the void within him.

“Ivar…” You moaned, frowning in discomfort.

He used his free hand to stroke your face gently as if he were reassuring you all would be okay. Blood spilled into the sheets of the mattress and into your hair in a pool and your heart began to stutter, its strong beat fading.

You gasped for a breath and just before you fell into a fatal sleep, Ivar pulled back with a sputtered growl and sank his fangs into his wrist, tearing open his own flesh before pressing the bleeding wound to your lips.

“Drink!” He demanded of you, and with weak gulps you did.

As his cold blood spilled down your throat, he howled out and came inside you in a deep thrust. He grunted and growled at the pleasure of you.

“That’s it.” He hissed, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth as you slurped at him until you fell asleep.

Your head rolled back against the mattress and you were dead to the world, the human version of yourself dying with laboured breaths as Ivar’s blood worked its way through your body keeping you from slipping away completely.

Pulling out of you, he slid an arm under your neck and lifted your frail frame up into his embrace. The sheets were stained red, it looked like a murder scene and he supposed it was for he had killed you and birthed you a new life that soon would come to be.

“There we go, my sweet girl.” He whispered, kissing the side of your face as he stood from the bed and carried you from the bedroom. “No more pain.”

Strolling through the castle, he smirked a bloody smile when he caught sight of his brothers Hvitserk and Ubbe exiting a room down the corridor.

“We heard everything, you know.” Hvitserk eyed the girl in his brother’s arms curiously, a hunger darkening in his features at the sight of you.

“She’s beautiful.” Ubbe murmured.

“I wanted you to hear.” Ivar muttered arrogantly, kissing the corner of your lips as he said so. “She will soon be one of us, I still need to bury her and by tomorrow she will rise.”

“I want one.” Hvitserk grumbled.

“Me too.” Ubbe glanced at his brother and then back to Ivar. “I think we need to venture into town and find more girls, take them back here and turn them.”

“I think that would be good.” Ivar nodded. “Now, I need one of you to bury us.”

“I’ll do it.” Hvitserk volunteered.

“I’ll watch.” Ubbe smirked.

Heading down the staircase with you safely tucked into his arms, Ivar moved with a blur that no ordinary human would be able to see and took you out into the snowy courtyard.

Setting you down on the snow, he dug a grave big enough for two and set you down inside before he turned to glare at his brothers who watched on curiously.

“Okay…” He nodded and lowered himself down to join you, spooning you from behind and tucking his face into your hair.

Hvitserk grabbed a shovel and scooped a large amount of snow and piled it inside the grave. It wasn’t long before the both of you were buried six feet below the earth.

Soon you would rise with your master by your side, forever bonded by blood and death.

tag list: @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @strayrockette @tgrrose @ISTORKYOU @ivarhoegh @adrille88 @jadelynlace @readsalot73

#;ivarisms #;vampire!ivar #ivar the boneless #vikings #ivar x you

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borom1r · 3 years ago

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insane abt SAW hours!! uhhh I know we've talked a lot abt Lawrence + symbolism, but have you got any parallels that come to mind when thinking of Mallick, Strahm, and/or Eric? I think you've touched on Some things for these 3 but I always love hearing yr meta,, other than that, maybe your thoughts on Mallick/Strahm interactions within the polycule? (personally I can see them being romantic eventually, but it def takes a while and happens some time after Strahm finally begins to feel more comfortable)

hmmmm well for Strahm most of my associations r musical.. nd for Eric obviously it’s Big Strong Dog Who Will Isolate You From Other People (I Can’t Help But Want That) — unfortunately I don’t have a lot for Mal? just bc in canon he’s rlly not a very substantial character..

gonna take this opportunity 2 link The Devil & Mister Jones bc Uhhhhh Strahm song. (especially in th notion of him v. Hoffman — “this world is fragile + all he wants is a chance to prove it” but also I think he’d just like Spoon). also heavily associate him w/ Chris Isaak in my head

i WILL however also take th chance to expand more on birthday associations like i did b4 w Lar hehe;;

Eric’s birthday in my head is 8/19, which means he’s a Leo!! his birth flower is Gladiolus (calm, integrity) + his birthday is a feast day for Saint Sebaldus, patron against cold weather. His birth cards are the Tower and the Chariot, which share the issues of balance, control, solidity and war — however they differ greatly in their tactics. These birth cards represent a struggle with self-control, and if imbalanced the Tower specifically manifests in violent and disastrous ways. However, at their best they are afraid of nothing and will rise to meet any challenge. August birthstones are Peridot, Spinel, + Sardonyx; I associate Sardonyx most w/ Eric, since it’s associated strongly with strength and protection!! (it’s also said to bring happiness in marriages hehe)

Mallick’s is 11/30, + that makes him a Sagittarius, n his birth flower is (white) Chrysanthemum which stands for loyalty. His birthday is actually a feast day for Saint Andrew the Apostle! he has a lot of patronages but for Mallick, he’s the patron against convulsions and fever. Mallick’s birth cards are the Devil + the Lovers. they’re a mirror, both brilliant individuality and crushing loneliness; deep love and inevitable loss. At their worst, they can be cruel, deceitful, shallow and irresponsible. At their best, these cards represent an incredible, harmonious power. November birthstones are Topaz and Citrine, n I tend to lean towards Topaz for Mallick since it’s said to promote truth and forgiveness

unlike th others i didn’t actually have a solid birthday for Strahm b4 this cuz the others came abt while discussing William’s birth flowers tattoos — anywayz his birthday is 1/11, which makes him a Capricorn. his birth flower is the snowdrop, which has evolved to symbolize symbolize sympathy and hope; however, it originally symbolized death + was believed to bring bad luck if you plucked them + brought them indoors. He doesn’t have any really interesting patronages from any of the saints w/ feast days on his birthday (only 3; one patron of a city, + the patron of file makers n patron of book sellers). Strahm’s birth cards are the Star and Strength. The Star is unafraid because of her distance from things; Strength is unafraid because of her power. Imbalanced, the Star puts herself in harm’s way while Strength swings between extremes— moody and sullen to rash and angry, voracious for any stimulation to starving herself of joy. At their best, these cards are graceful, beautiful, peaceful and strong. January’s birthstone is Garnet, which is associated with the heart + passion/inner fire. its a symbol of love + determination.

+ oooooo Mallick/Strahm... thts an interesting thought..

obviously i think tht comes about in th “Strahm joins the ‘Hoffman’s Bitter Exes’ side polycule” scenario bc i think Mallick wld immediately clock Hoffman as rancid and just refuse to be around him, ever. (he absolutely calls Gibson like “MATT WHY DOES HE WALK LIKE HE HAS TO SHIT ALWAYS” and Gibson starts cackling bc he immediately knows who Mal is talking about and oh my god. oh my god.)

2 get back 2 th point, i think yr right in that it takes a very long time for them to warm up to each other (in general not even like romantically too bsdfskjhk)— i think it helps that Brit probably gets along gr8 w/ Strahm. it gets to the point where they can share a Look + Mal is just like. Ah Yes, They’re Going To Murder Someone And The Body Will Never Be Recovered (affectionate). Brit has 100% perfected the smiling with her teeth, super polite voice, I’m-talking-like-I’m-your-friend-but-they’re-going-to-find-you-dead-in-a-ditch vibe. Strahm just stares someone down until they take psychic damage. pairing them together is like. unstoppable. (they’re the only reason Mandy hasn’t started teaching Adam to make traps bc while they would absolutely be non-lethal the last thing ANYONE needs is Adam with the power to home-alone their fucking house. he’d probably give Lawrence a heart attack and THEN where would they be?)

i think it probably doesnt help tht Mal’s over one morning n sees Gibson steal Strahm’s coffee from right in front of him. n Strahm wraps his arms around Gibson’s waist + completely deadpan goes “Fall asleep tonight and no one will recover the corpse.” (Gibson just takes a sip n smirks like “yea good morning to you too sunshine.”) — Gibson may vibe w/ that sorta shit but Mal definitely Does Not and i think that kinda.. discourages him from rlly getting close to Strahm

its probably like.. the first time Mal sees Strahm w/ Eric that he kinda like... “oh?” —like on a bad day, Eric’s lying on the couch w/ Strahm stretched out on top of him, n Mal’s on his way to the kitchen when he overhears their conversation. both of Eric’s hands are under Strahm’s shirt ‘cause it’s warmer n he likes the skin-to-skin contact, Strahm quietly reassuring Eric that Jigsaw wasn’t right, Hoffman wasn’t right (and wouldn’t that hurt all the more, because John was just some sick freak with a god complex but Mark was his friend, Mark went through training with him and gifted him with a blanket for Daniel when they were born and let him crash on his couch the night Eric’s wife announced she wanted a divorce. he can’t just shake off Mark’s condemnation the way he sometimes can with John. because Mark knew him. and still stood by and let Daniel get tortured, let everything happen to Eric, and doesn’t that mean there’s something fundamentally wrong with him?).

that’s probably the first time Mal reeeeeally sees Strahm’s gentler side n starts to open up to th idea of being more than friends (Mal wakes up first one morning n makes everyone coffee on a day where it’s just he n Strahm n Adam n Gibson, so he knows its double trouble when it comes to stealing Strahm’s coffee. Peter comes down last n there’s no mug waiting for him n he’s like ???? + honestly a lil hurt ‘cause wow does Mallick really not like me?? until Mal pulls it down from the cabinet above the coffee maker + hands it to him like “I knew one of these two would just steal yours if i left it out” + wow Peter is. heart eyes)

#ask #THNK U DUDE<33333

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austarus · 4 years ago

Text

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader - Integrated Revelations (1/3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me.

*I attempted a thing where I try to get back into the groove of writing for my murder speed husband... It’s probably shit, but here goes nothing. Sorta another theory I’ve had and had all these scenes connect together. I’m a shit writer so... Also, I’m dying and crying. Hahaha. I literally am dying. My uni work online is being ridiculously overwhelming along with my work hours for school. I really need a week with no deadlines or work just to get caught up with three weeks of work for certain classes. I really need to take a break. But I can’t, started to loose sleep. Can’t even have time to write or play Pokemon Reborn. Anyway, that a bit of an update from me. I wrote this back in July, hoping to have written a fic a week (which turned out to not happen, but hey, I tried) until October to post things. Also this most likely has grammer errors. I’m sorry. Once again, a shit writer. Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Word Count: 3584

Part 2 Part 3

“Well...” Eobard’s raspy voice didn’t seem to alarm the two speedsters that had phased into the Time Vault. The futuristic speedster had sat with a leg crossed over the other, and elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “Things just got a lot more complicated, didn't they?” Eobard pushed from the chair, standing up and taking a few steps forward. Nora and Barry looked on, one adorned a look of uncertainty and the other masqueraded his rage and pain through the years. “Barry Allen.” Barry nodded along, gauging the black-haired man’s façade. “But which Barry Allen? Clearly, you're… from a lot later than this one.” Eobard maneuvered his body and pointed to the unconscious form of an earlier Barry Allen.

“Way later.” Barry simply answered, looking indifferent.

“Way later,” Eobard echoed the response, putting emphasis on the word ‘way’. The scientist nodded along, pursuing his lips as his electric blue eyes flickered to Nora. Before anyone could speak, could even move the Time Vault door dematerialized. Nora watched as an earlier version of yourself entered the Vault hurriedly and out of breath. You had entered looking over your shoulder with a tablet in hand. You had been scanning for the supposed Time Wraith that had attacked Barry, but not your present time Barry.

“Eo, I traced-” You froze in place as you turned your gaze forward. Fear crippled your heart as you saw a version of Barry, much older through the years, and a woman not too far off his from his age. You swallowed thickly, clutching the tablet tighter. There’s three Barry Allen’s now?? Who the hell decided to break time? A small throbbing sensation erupted at the back of your head, but you dismissed it. Eobard had swiftly moved to stand in front of you. His eyes connected with yours for a moment.

“You knew?!” The young woman spoke up, stepping forward towards you which caused Eobard to hold out a subtle arm out to the side to keep you behind him. “All those years.” The older man narrowed his eyes at what the female had called out to you. You frowned at her words in confusion. Who is she? An image flashed through your mind of the woman, smiling proudly at Barry while wearing a dark purple and white suit with a yellow emblem. She clearly knows who I am, but… What even happened? Are they from a different future? You pushed away the image to the back of your mind. “How could y-”

“If you even think about touching her, either of you, then you’ll regret ever running back here,” Eobard steely replied. You took a step closer to your speedster boyfriend in case something were to happen and he needed to speed you away to safety. Not that you needed saving, but you were still working on defending yourself via your lessons with the futuristic speedster. So, they’re from the future, and I’m guessing far off from this other Barry, but not too far for him to age too much. You spared a small glance to the cuffed and unconscious Barry Allen on the ground. It hurt your heart to see him vulnerable like that, but Eobard had confided to you his suspicions regarding this Barry Allen. One Barry Allen problem at a time. Taking a breath in, you remained silent and studied the two speedsters that confronted your speedster.

“Let it go.” Barry grabbed onto the speedster’s shoulder, holding her back. Oddly enough, Barry’s words coldly cut through you.

“Now,” Eobard’s cocky attitude returned to him as he established the safety of your presence. He had that kind of affect, putting himself on the air of superiority and intellect with his attitude and words to belittle the person in front of him rightly so to get the desired reaction he wants and anticipates. Eobard knows how to tug on Barry’s strings. “Who's your friend? Let me guess. Jesse Chambers- No. Maybe Lawrence. Wait- Danica Williams-”

“-It doesn't matter who she is.” Barry cut off Eobard’s rattling of names.

You eyed Eobard’s deceptive small smile as he held Barry’s gaze then turned to the young adult. The female remained silent, avoiding Eobard’s icy eyes. “She's your daughter.” You scrunched your face in confusion before the neurons clicked in your head after a few seconds. Lemme guess, she’s a speedster that ran back in time and met a younger version of her father. Weird flex bro, but whatever. You do you. If I was a speedster, I’d do things differently. Obviously not up to scale what with the tampering that Eobard likes to do with the timeline to get his way with things. “You've brought me your daughter.” Your eyes flickered back to Barry before taking another look at the female and seeing a bit of resemblance, other than the fact that she was a speedster like him. Then the article Eo’s been obsessing about did reveal something true. Barry does take Iris as his wife. The West-Allen family. “It's, um... Dawn, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Nora.” The young speedster forced out after briefly glancing at her father.

“Nora. Oh, that's nice.” Eobard turned back to Barry with a smirk, “At least you still have one.” That’s cruel, Eo. “What- Nora- time travel's so weird-”

“Why did you come here?” You found the nerve to speak up, moving to stand beside the man masquerading as Harrison Wells. I’m not going to be afraid; I can’t always cower behind Eobard if something unexpected happens. I need to take things in my own hands. Even if they do find out about- You cleared any evidence of distress at their sudden appearance from your throat, “What do you want?”

“I need him to fix this for me.” Barry held up a broken tube-like device in his hand.

A thought hit the genius scientist instantaneously, his blue eyes widening. Turning your body, you saw Eobard take a few steps backwards, “No...” The headache didn’t go away, instead intensifying slightly by the second. Negative emotions flooded your system at Eobard’s crippling composure. He shook his head at them. “No, if you're here...” Eo turned to face the unconscious Barry, cuffed to his motored wheelchair, pointing to them and him. “And he's here... that means-”

“-You don't get home.” Barry simply stated. Your heart shook, terror and dread feeding into your system at his words. Uncertainty of the future- your future with Eobard- plagued you. How does this all end?

“I get home!” The yellow speedster whipped his head around in agitation, his voice raising with every statement. Barry smirked cruelly as he shook his head. You held your breath at Eobard’s spiking wrath, you hadn’t seen him this angry since General Eiling’s interference with The Flash and Plastique. Even then he’d mask his resentment to pull the strings in the game strategically. “I get home. I go home! I get everything-”

“-You don't go home, Thawne.” The Scarlet Speedster halted the Man in the Yellow Suit. Eobard clenched his jaw. You reached out a hand to rest it on his arm in an attempt to calm him. His eyes met yours for a fraction of a second. You felt the tension hang heavily in the air. “Unless… you help me.” Barry held up his broken device once more, mockingly this time. Your eyes flickered to the ring on his right hand. Similar to Eobard’s. A future version of Cisco must have been able to figure out how to use microtech to compress Barry’s suit. He’s the greatest mechanical engineer that I know. Eobard’s shoulders sagged a fraction as Barry held his ground. Turning around, the genius scientist rubbed his face before kicking the spare Barry in annoyance. Barry, all clad in black, winced because he probably ended up feeling that kick. You and Nora remained silent, eyeing the exchange between both speedsters.

Eobard shifted his body back, hands on his hips and fueled hatred present in his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Like I said, you're gonna fix this for me.”

“To do what?”

“Drain dark matter.”

What could Barry possibly need with Dark Matter? Hasn’t it done enough damage? “Whose dark matter?” You crossed your arms with the tablet close to your chest, a frown on your face as Eobard stepped beside you once more.

“None of your business.” Barry sneered at you. You narrowed your eyes at his demeanor, the young man who you gradually grew close to and considered as another brother like Cisco.

“Barry-”

“-It is our business.” Eobard retorted, taking your hand in his tightly. Both men were frustrated at the others persistence.

“No, it's not.”

Eobard started, letting go of you and rounding heatedly on to Barry, “There's no chance that I help you-”

You reached a hand out. “-Eobard, don’t-”

- It's none of your business-”

“-Cicada's!” Nora blurted out. Silence filled the room between the four of your, outbursts settling. You blinked a few times, taking a step back and resting a palm against your temple. Grimacing, you cast your eyes down as images of a half-masked man in green stood with a dagger. A glowing dagger with a look of emptiness and death in his eyes. That man looks dead to the world, as if willing to kill for an estranged purpose. It’s so cold. You shook your head subtly and stood your ground, unwilling to show weakness, but you saw Nora’s eyes shift when she looked at you. Barry eyed his daughter with a sort of incredulous look while a calculating and analytical look flashed through Eobard’s eyes.

“Cicada's.” The name seemed so familiar to Eobard as it easily slipped of his tongue. The hushed tone in Eobard’s voice expressed a calm before the storm. A deceptive man full of secrets and knowledge of many, many years to come. Especially when it came to The Flash. “The one who got away. You want to destroy Cicada's dagger, don't you?”

“We want to save lives.”

A cynical laugh leaves your speedster’s lips as you pursed yours, trying to tease out the logics from Barry. “You want to save lives.” Eobard chuckled mockingly at Barry’s response. “I bet you do. I bet you do. Especially your own, right, Barry Allen?”

“Look, that me,” Barry pointed to the other version of himself in the room, “he's gonna wake up soon. He sees me standing here, your whole timeline is gonna be blown to hell. You're never gonna get home. You know that's true!”

“I know! I know!” Eobard sighed, his facial expression contorted, and his eyes held a different motive as he flicked his gaze to Nora, who hadn’t stop taking glimpses of you. “Where are my manners? Can I get you a cup of water?” You rolled your eyes at Eobard’s ploy.

***

The four of you had moved to the small lab, far from the Cortex in avoidance of Caitlin and Cisco. The timeline was a fickle thing to speedsters, Eobard had told you that. But oddly enough, when it came to Eobard it seemed to be malleable to his every whim. Tools and spare wires littered along the desk your speedster boyfriend was working at. The monitor held a camera feed of the Time Vault where Barry’s unconscious younger version was still unconscious.

How hard did Eobard hit him? Like, how the hell is he still asleep even through all that yelling and seething??

“Here,” you handed Nora a bottle of purified water.

“Thanks,” she quietly spoke, you nodded at her. You really didn’t know what to think about someone who knew you in the future, yet you had no idea who she would be until a few years later. Would I even still be in this time period by then? Or would Eobard had kept his promise? … Nothing’s making any sense right now. You felt frustrated for not really being part of their conversations. You were… just there.

“So, who made this?” Eobard examined the piece of teach as he started working on it.

Barry answered with pocketed hands, “Someone smarter than you.”

“I doubt that,” You snorted as Eobard laughed at Barry’s statement. Leaning against the dark blue beam of the side lab, you crossed your arms avoiding Barry’s gaze when he glanced over to you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “If so, then why come here? Why go through all the trouble to come here when you can get help from the person who made it? Why then would you need Eobard’s help?”

“We-”

“It’s… complicated,” Barry sighed before Nora could finish saying anything, pocketing his hands.

“I think that’s an understatement to the type of trouble that seems to find you, Barr.” You crossed your arms. “At least a Time Wraith didn’t follow you this time. Which I’m still having trouble tracking down.” You nodded to his former self on the monitor. Barry rolled his eyes at you.

“You know, Allen,” the yellow speedster wheeled around, electric blue eyes meeting Barry’s green gaze, “for your plan to work, you're gonna actually have to have his dagger in your possession...”

“We've got that covered.”

The villainous speedster raised an eyebrow at the forensics scientists. “You got that covered. How’s that?” He humored them.

“With this.” Nora pulled out a dark piece of metal, holding it out for you and Eobard to observe momentarily.

“What is that?” You piqued up, causing Nora to look over at you. An odd emotion flickered in her eyes. Eobard reached a hand out to it only for Barry to pluck it from Nora’s grasp. Your eyes flickered between the two then back to Nora. She didn’t seem to be cautious around you and Eobard at all. Revealing the reason for aid and showing Eobard exactly what he seemed to want to see. You weren’t a genius, but you obviously saw the pointed looks that Barry subtly gave his daughter. The cogs were turning in your head as well as in Eobard’s. He masked his growing speculation about the two speedsters.

“Is that-”

“It's a piece of Savitar's suit, yeah.” Barry stoically responded, since Nora had already shown Eobard the metallic piece, to Eobard’s oncoming question before he could even finish. Barry knew Eobard recognized the object, shaking his head that that cat was out of the bag for this secret too.

“Savitar?”

“Savitar. The Future Flash and the self-proclaimed God of Speed, kitten,” Eobard simply explained as he worked. Images of a metallic suit flashed through your mind as it hummed with energy; a familiar face shrouded in shadows and a hauntingly course voice. “A twisted time remnant of the man you know to be your friend. Another big bad that Barry’s had to face in the future, primarily due to the mistakes of his growing unhappiness. Isn’t that right, Flash? The pain you’ve caused the people around you just for you selfish wishes.” Barry rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“Eobard, play nice,” you scolded the older man, “they’re still guests here after all.”

“Hmph. You know what's funny about your dad, Nora,” the futuristic genius caught her attention, “is he hates me. Hates me with a passion, and yet a version of him, this Savitar, is a much bigger jerk than I ever was. Did you see the face?” Eobard gestured to his own face, primarily to one side of his face while snickering “Did you- did you see the, like, pizza face-” Nora awkwardly stepped from foot to foot, looking away.

“-Pizza face?-” Eobard Tiberius Thawne you owe me so many fucking answers when we get home because these images aren’t making as much sense as they should.

“-Can you hurry up?-”

“-Yeah, I'll hurry up.” Eobard smugly nonchalantly threw the tiny screwdriver onto the desk. He picked up a different on. “I gotta tell you, Allen, using Savitar's suit, it's a smart idea.”

Barry tilted his head to his daughter. “It was hers.”

Eobard gave her a hard look. His eyes flickered towards you then turned around. “Clever girl.” You picked up an odd indication in his tone. The speedster narrowed his eyes at the tech as he ignited it, illuminating in his hands to signal its functioning aspect. On the monitor, the four of you noticed that the other Barry was coming to consciousness. Eobard inhaled silently. “Oops.” Eobard swiveled his body around to hand them the piece of tech. “Gotta go.” Barry narrowed his eyes, quiet hatred behind them as he took the tech from his nemesis. “I still look forward to seeing how this all pans out. Nora. Kitten, make sure they see their way out,” Eo glanced at you one last time before speeding away in a torrent of red-lightning to the Time Vault. The three of you watched as the villainous speedster reclaimed his rightful place, crossing his legs once more. An analytical look across his features.

You spoke before the two speedsters sped away in a torrent of lightning. “Cicada’s the one with the lightning-shaped dagger, the one that glows ominously? Heartless eyes? Breathing problems?”

“Yeah? How did you…?” Nora trailed off. Barry figured that your powers were still manifesting themselves and it seems that their run back in time has triggered sporadic post-cognitive images to be revealed through certain key words.

“It doesn’t matter how-,”

“Your powers are still developing,” Barry interjected, pocketing the tech safely. “It seems that our visit has amplified what you can do. Let’s just what it doesn’t shift anything else”

He knows about my powers… Right, time travel. “Just be safe. I-I don’t know too much and I’m not sure what the future holds, but whatever trouble you two have run into just be cautious. Not for me, but for the ones you love. The past will always have some sort of domino effect to the future. I may not be able to time travel, but Eobard has taught me a thing or two about it.” You stopped, looking off to the side while rubbing your arm. “Barry?”

“Hmm?”

“Just answer me this one thing.”

“… It depends.”

“I know, timeline and speedster stuff. But…” You took a breath in, “Is he safe?” The speedster avoided your eyes. You swallowed thickly, moving your gaze to Nora. “Does he live?” She opened her mouth a fraction, moved by the desperation evident in your eyes

“I can’t answer that.” Barry whispered without hesitation, an alien emotion behind those eyes, replacing the kindness and warmth the Barry you knew had. It was bitter. “Nora, it’s time to go back to the night it all began.” Barry flashed away to the pipeline. Nora remained.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, your body felt numb at the absence of answers. You turned back to the monitor, running both hands through your hair before picking up a spare tool and frustratingly throwing it at the wall. Picking up the tablet once more, you ran some algorithms and diagnostics privately on your powers as you made you way to the Time Vault.

Eobard’s head perked up in question at your entrance. He remained seated catching your troubled look. You only whispered, “We need to talk after this is over,” before leaning against the wall and tapping at the screen of your tablet. He hadn’t missed the embittered look in your eyes, the prominent frown on your face. A peculiar emotion hidden behind those lovely eyes of yours when the speedster had been so accustomed to seeing lights and twinkling of stars within your irises.

Eobard rubbed his wrist as he attained messy hair due to Barry and Nora’s revelations. You speculated he had been running his hands through it in thought as he tried to decipher the truth and what his next plan of action would be. King vs King. Eobard and Barry. It was a dangerous game and it’s clear that Team Flash are Barry’s pieces to move while Iris was by his side. From the future’s perspective. But you… at this point, you hazard a thought of what Eobard saw of you as. Queen… or Pawn. Pursing your lips, you shoved those thoughts away as your mind reminded you of all you and he had gone through since he had revealed himself and his truth to you. But right now, you were feeling so conflicted and insecure at how everything would play out. He promised to take me home with him… That we could start a life together. I don’t want to be used up and thrown away again. I’m tired of being broken and alienated.

The restrained Barry shifted once more in abrupt confusion as he found himself slumped against the cool metal of Eobard’s motorized wheelchair. A prop to his act. His mind felt foggy and arms felt heavy, particularly his right hand. You stopped tapping and eyed him indifferently because you really had no idea how to feel, but you realized you need to be cautious with how you act and what you say until you and Eobard clear things up from earlier events.

Barry’s eyes darted rapidly to the seated, smirking speedster in front of him then to you then to the metacuffs before lingering back to Harrison. The Scarlet Speedster assessed the guarded expression on your face. You saw this Barry feign confusion, eyebrows raised as he eyed the metacuffs and Dr. Wells. You cracked your neck as Eobard did a little hand-wave gesture to Barry. The young speedster looked baffled, probably at getting caught, as he opened and closed his mouth.

“Now, who are you?”

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morrowzoranov · 4 years ago

Photo

I wasn’t expecting my shitpost to get any traction but I guess there’s an audience for everything, even if it’s just like five people on tumblr.

anyways more BTD x HS shit it is! I drew the three best boys in godhoods the other day and I will now give my explanations for their classpects because I put genuine thought into this and I have no one to talk to about it because no one I know is as deep into both fandoms as me.

Anyways, first off we have everyone’s favorite greasy german as a Knight of Rage. Rage, as an aspect, is associated with themes of anarchy, performance, chaos, and the destruction of lies. With Mister Strudel being not only a literal full-blown anarchist but also quite a fan of putting on a show, it was a pretty easy fit. Rage is also the most violent aspect, often associated with cruelty and emotional outbursts. Knights are an active class (at least in my interpretation, as we have very little solid canon surrounding the classes) that serves their aspect or serve through it for their own gain. They’re very skilled with their aspect but also quite blind to the flaws that come with it. It’s not unusual for them to get way too worked up, obsessive, even. They can get carried away very easily. Who does that remind you of? I also thought that his snuff streams fit into this quite well, since he’s literally killing and raping people so others would give him money. He’s serving people chaos for his own gain. The “Strade stabbed you back“ ending is a great example of when a Knight of Rage goes a bit off the shits, not just because he gets mad and pulls your eye out but also because who else but a Rage player would leave drawers full of knives unlocked? That’s a very easy way to get murdered.

My fave out of all the BTD boyfriends, Lawrence, took me quite a while to pin down. I kept switching between a couple different titles before settling on Maid of Doom. Doom is, as the name suggests, death. But also decay, suffering, and the concept of inevitability. Our corpse-fucker embodies the more negative sides of the Doom aspect with his tendency to be quite “bitter, resentful, and fatalistic”, to quote the extended zodiac entry. Maids are known for two things: The punny way they encompass their aspect (being made of it in some way), and the fact that, just like Sylphs, they refuse to fucking die. Law is made of death since he’s constantly rotting and he repeatedly comes back from the dead. Even though I would’ve liked to give him a more passive class, Maid was too perfect in my eyes. And, though an active class in my view, Maids are quite low-key and take a while to learn how to properly deal with their aspect. “Lawrence stopped holding back“ is what you get when any Maid is done with everybody’s bullshit. And, as a Maid, he’d create and repair doom or through doom. He creates Doom by, ya know, killing people from time to time. And he creates through Doom with his artwork. The “repair“ part is more so with the metaphorical parts of Doom, helping MC in the “You both know the truth“ ending. He will presumably be there for them to talk about what they’ve both experienced, highlighting the sympathy common in Doom players, one of the few positive traits of the aspect our blonde baby represents. I was considering making him a Bard of Doom, due to him allowing the destruction of Doom by refusing to die, but he doesn’t have as many traits associated with Bards as he does with Maids. Though it would be hilarious to see him in the Bard godhood, codpiece and all. Also, he shares a class with Aradia. The two Maids can go out into the wilderness and watch something decompose in complete silence. Absolutely vibing.

Ren also almost became a different classpect, a Page of Rage (passive counterpart to Knight of Rage, mirroring his connection to Strade, it seemed perfect), but I decided to go with Witch of Heart. The Heart aspect is represented by the concept of soul, identity, and masks. Heart players are often very imaginative. They like costumes and roleplaying and the like. Combined with their overbearing and inflexible nature, we got a pretty close match to our favorite furry fuckass. The aspect is also often associated with passion and romance for obvious reasons, which I think goes well with Ren’s anime levels of thirst and excitement. Witches are, first and foremost, manipulators. Not necessarily always in a bad way... Just this time. They’re often considered to break the rules of their aspect, bending it to their own will. They’re also very high energy and cheerful, as well as confident. A Witch will often think they know what they’re doing, that they’re using their abilities in a smart way, and they will often be wrong. Ren is great at lying and drawing people into a false sense of security, he also has the amazing ability to switch between attitudes depending on his situation. He drops his desire to be kind very quickly if the MC isn’t kind back, becoming cruel and vicious. He manipulates his identity, often in an attempt to be more like Strade, which is what originally drew me towards the Page of Rage interpretation for him. Also, a few more things. These aren’t really reasons as to why I made him a Witch of Heart, they’re more so just interesting coincidences. Nepeta is a Rogue of Heart and Jade is a Witch of Space. Both are fucking furries and if Ren knew what homestuck was they’d probably be two of his favorite characters. Also also, though the Heart aspect color scheme is mostly shades of pink and magenta, its accent color is green. Even in a different fandom, Strudel Man leaves his imprint on our foxy boy. Speaking of the two of them, a Rage player taking advantage of a Heart player who they’ve also been in a romantic/sexual relationship with and the Heart player is heavily associated with an animal... Kurloz and Meulin, that’s all I’m gonna say.

I hope the god awful art didn’t ruin this uninvited rant for y’all. Lawrence, Strade, and Ren belong to @gatobob Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie

#btd game #btdgame #btd #btd ren #btd lawrence #btd strade #boyfriend to death #homestuck #classpects #homestuck classpects #what the fuck am I doing with my life #can we PLEASE have some Law and Aradia content #not asking for ships here I just want to see them hang out and stare at a corpse or something #also Ren would 100% be a non-ironic Vriska apologist don't @ me

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

Text

A/W 2020 Fashion Month & Top 20 Collections: Before Vogue Went Blank (Part 4)

Hi all,

Welcome to part 4! It’s gonna be a bit of a shorter one because I wasn’t sure if I could fit the last few collections into my part 3 since I also want to include a ranking of my favourite F/W20 shows. I have so many ideas for what I’d like my next few posts to be (there’ll probably be a bit of gap between them as I would like to try and get some fiction writing in too) and I need help and recommendations on one post in particular so I thought I’d open by explaining that if anyone would like to send me suggestions! The post is basically going to highlight the often under-appreciated personal style of PoC, and I’d also like to make sure I include all types of bodies and genders and ethnicities (other than white girls, as we get enough credit as it is, all a tall, skinny blonde woman has to do is wear some light wash jeans, heels and a blouse and high fashion Twitter are posting non-stop about how incredible her style is)! This can be a celebrity, a model, an influencer or even just one of your friends if you think they deserve some hype too! Obviously there’s only so many photos I can include but I will make sure to look at any suggestions, though of course I’m gonna be biased towards the grungier looks; I gave Dolls Kill a pass for a long time because I thought the brand had changed and become more responsible over the last few years but since Shoddy Lynn’s thoughtless Instagram post during the protests last month and then her lacklustre response video, I say fuck that “goth is white” bullshit, alternative black women are hot af. I’ll also make sure to include a list of my favourite black owned clothing lines I’ve seen people talking about on Twitter and Instagram so again, if you have any suggestions feel free to inbox me. Other than that, I have a couple of lookbooks planned and after, either a post about my favourite shows for style inspiration OR a lookbook depending on whether I have the clothes to do it already/can source a few things from Depop-Depp-I’ve made a commitment not to buy anything new for the next couple of months and I want to stick to that this time round! I’d also like to do a general collation of my favourite summer outfits, an almost scrapbook-y kinda post, and another post on some of my favourite fashion icons (I’ll probs end up repeating a lot of the women from the post I was talking about above but I’ll try and include different outfits to keep it varied!).

Now, into the final part, and the top 20, starting with Tory Burch (I’m really pissed off because I added an unnecessary E in after the R and now Tumblr is once again being stupid and not saving any of my editing changes-also I said on the next post instead of in in the last paragraph and my anal-retentiveness is kicking into high gear).

You’d think it’s a kinda anti-climatic one to open with but I do like this collection! It reminds me a bit of last season’s Miu Miu but more so of Brock’s general aesthetic, though with more layers and in some ways to its detriment, a lot more wearable. Looking like something from a bygone era is part of what gives Brock its mystique, but Burch’s designs are practically made for the Chelsea born and bred lifestyle blogger who dresses for a cold spell in the Coachella valley all year long and treats trawling Pimlico’s furniture shops and meeting their girlfriends for coffee like it’s a full-time job. She’s probably born into money and doesn’t work all that hard but hey, she looks angelic holding a bouquet of flowers and in 2020 we all low-key want her life, right? It’d go against my ethics but...*whispers* it would be nice to be that girl just for a couple of days. It is a gorgeous collection, with a lush colour palette and an ever graceful variety of prints and textures, and it toes the line of being accessible and being worthy of a fashion week spot with dexterity. 8/10 and it only loses marks because it’s safe for the brand.

When it comes to Valentino, they’re a pretty reliable favourite for me, and this season’s collection doesn’t break tradition; this one is slightly grittier than usual too which is a big win for me. Whilst the usual sophistication and delicate details are there, quirky embroidery, sequins and tulle, we also get a lot of leather and more black than usual, which I pray doesn’t a herald a return to people thinking “I only own black clothes and listen to Artic Monkeys” is a personality trait. I don’t know if it’s intentional, but there seems to be a lot of aquatically inspired pieces in this collection too; the 3d roses resemble scales to me (and are a really unique texture), and the way the tulle is placed kinda reminds me of fins and has a mermaid on land feel. It wouldn’t surprise me, since Valentino does tend to draw from nature quite a bit. Highs for me were the Valentino red tulle piece and the tulle pieces in general, of course with the embroidered florals as well which the basic bitch in me always looks forward to. The few lows were concentrated in the leopard print section, a print that for me is really overdone and reminds me of recent Dolce and Gabbana. It was cool when layered with the matching coat but I otherwise could’ve done without it.

Vera Wang is another one of my reliable faves-I think I like this collection even more than the last, it really is a fucking DREAM. The overly floral pieces I wasn’t too keen on but I’ll ignore that on the basis that as with Gucci, the tulle-harness combo is everything I look for in a dress and more. I know manic-pixie-dream-girl is a bit of a slur (not a slur slur but you know what I mean) in terms of the associated character, but this 90s Courtney Love grunge twist on that aesthetic is gold, fully realised big anarchist fairy energy (which is a screen name I’m surprised I don’t see more often and which I might now steal). These dresses were made for someone like Zoe Kravitz or FKA Twigs on the red carpet, and if god forbid I somehow ever ended up on one, I would go to the ends of the earth to be wearing one of the dresses from this collection. Aside from the dresses, I appreciated the moody doesn’t-want-to-be-at-the-family-function teenager inspired sleeves and the 2014 Tumblr Cruel Intentions style knee high socks. Love, love, LOVE it.

So, Versace started off strong with the all black looks-the cut outs were cute if impractical and the fit and flare trousers in particularly were really well fitted (from a distance, at least). I hated the film Red Sparrow but the visuals were very cool, and this section reminded me of that, like a high fashion collection based on Jennifer Lawrence’s character. There were some stunning colour combos in the Ashish like hyper-floral part too, and the houndstooth, marble and Versace tile prints were sick. The black jumper with the flowers on reminds me of a jumper of my nan’s I always wanted that my aunty ended up donating to a charity shop after she died not knowing I liked it. Gutted (not just about the jumper obviously, looool).

HOWEVER, as with many 91 look collections, it was sloppy at times. A lot of pieces I at first liked (I.E the silver dress we saw Kendall Jenner in, included above) are kind of unfinished up close. There was also a big varsity inspired section which was nice at times but got pretty repetitive and occasionally looked like it could pass for Jack Wills or a bad Michael Kors collection. On the whole, it had both its pros and its cons which puts it directly in the middle of the pack.

Victoria Beckham’s collection is near the lower-middle quartile when it comes to plotting the highs and lows of the F/20 collections. The pieces are pretty and accessible, I’d definitely wear them, but they’re predictable and mostly a rip-off of other brands who did something similar in a more interesting way. Though her collections are never really experimental, this one is particularly safe, and she and whoever helped design this season’s pieces were clearly avoiding the edges of the box like a child playing the floor is lava. It’s alright, and I hate coming towards the end of the post with negativity, but I have to be honest, and this just doesn’t really interest me beyond a “yeah, that’s nice” glance.

Vivienne Westwood, on the other hand, is always interesting whether I would actually wear it myself or not. Despite the mix and matchiness that is essential to the deconstructed look, which being the basic bitch I am I often struggle to see past, there were some gorgeous pieces and eurgh, I could really talk about that Bella Hadid look all day. The contrast between the exaggerated femininity of the waist cinchers against the androgyny of the less structured, oversized pieces is a really interesting one and the colour combinations work beautifully together. I also love the idea behind the collection, which is, in the words of Andreas Kronthaler about “rites of spring, and the good and the bad, and conflict, and the good prevailing over evil”. Ahhh, I hear you say. THAT’S what’s with the garlic necklace. Can I get another pat on the back for summing up this collection as “vampire slaying uniform” in my notes? I mean, that’s kind of a good vs. evil situation, isn’t it? I know it’s hard to ignore how hot vampires always are in TV series and movies but just think of the true forms of the ones off Penny Dreadful and remember THEY DRINK BLOOD (I personally think being a vampire would be really cool, just need to work out how to do it “ethically”).

Lastly, Zimmerman, and I really can’t say how happy I am to end on a positive note because this collection was stunning. Not without all the characteristically ornate, indulgent and painstakingly detailed efforts we’ve come to expect from Nicky and Simone Zimmerman, these looks (in an icy winter themed colour palette as well) are the offspring of a sophisticated flower child and a 70s glam rocker and I think with this sentence I’ve finally put my style aspirations into words. Honestly, give me the money to produce a modern day Almost Famous and I’ll make my character this no-nonsense intersectional feminist front woman of a fictional Haim-like band who sings with the voice of an angel but is rock and roll as fuck and eats men for breakfast and I’ll put her in this collection and (deep breath) it would be ICONIC. There. Got to the point eventually. Am I talking about a 2020s version of Steve Nicks? Possibly. After all, I do have a framed illustration of her on my wall. But regardless, I need those lace-up velvet BOOTS, that mesh dress with the celestial embroidery, the flame detail pieces, the white pussy bow blouse with the eyes on it. Everything is sooo dreamy; when I was looking through the collection for my favourites, I saved pretty much every. single. look. IT’S EVERYTHING I STRIVE TO BE. WHY CAN’T I AFFORD ZIMMERMAN GOD DAMN IT!?

See, I’ll be going on about Zimmerman in a couple of paragraphs again because it will be very high in my top 20, which I’m so glad is a top 20 BTW. I know I said it would be a top 10 in my last post because I thought that was how I structured it last time but I double checked and it is 20, which is a relief; once again, picking only 10 collections would be very hard. SO! Let’s get into it!

1. Gucci

I hate being predictable but Gucci once again holds the top spot for me. How could I not love this? I would say that I hope Alessandro Michele fucks up next season so I don’t come off as a boot licker but when the boots in question are platform Mary Janes and knee high socks and they’re underneath tulle with BDSM inspired harnesses on top...maybe boot sole doesn’t taste so bad after all.

2. Zimmerman

Well, I did say it wouldn’t be long until you were seeing the same outfits again, so at least you know my word is good.

3. Moschino

Wow, as if putting Gucci first again wasn’t bad enough, Moschino’s also a non-mover. But...Marie Antoinette this season and Picasso last? And this campy? It’s like Jeremy Scott reached into my brain magician-into-a-top-hat-style, picked out an interest of mine at random, and tried to communicate this to me through the medium of design with THE most chaotic energy humanly possible. I an only commend the man, because he succeeded, and I approve. It’s weird because before I always saw Jeremy Scott’s designs as tacky and yet I’ve loved all the collections I’ve reviewed, so I must ask...are the collections getting less tacky or am I getting more tacky? Much to think about.

4. Vera Wang

The battle armour of a punk princess. Not very good at protecting against knives, arrows, bullets or...anything really, but I’ve never really been the kind of person to get into physical fights (apart with a bouncer who tried to push me down the stairs once at an ABBA night but I was really drunk and she was mean, alright!?), so who cares? Nobody can make you do anything in dresses this pretty.

5. Lanvin

I’m a few years behind everyone else but I’m still on the Mad Men hype train and I don’t ever want to get off. All I wish is that Betty Draper had *SPOILERS* divorced Don’s detty arse earlier and rode off into the sunset in that white Bella Hadid coat with the red lip to match (or the checkered one above will do).

6. Etro

As long as she remains the queen of dreamy bohemian fashion, I’m not gonna do Etro dirty by putting her any lower than this ever again on the basis that she’s not conceptual enough which ashamedly is what I implied in my last ranking-yes, Etro is a she because just as most women deserve more from men, she is beautiful and deserves better than my previous disrespect! I said what I said.

7. Dilara Findikoglu

I see your Thom Browne and your Commes Des Garcons and I raise you my “weird”-though-not-actually-that-weird-at-all-can-we-all-just-dress-like-this-on-a-day-to-day-basis-please? fave, Dilara.

8. Paco Rabanne

Battle armour that actually COULD protect you against knives, arrows, and bullets. Maybe. Well, you’d hope so anyway for the price.

9. Rodarte

Suddenly my phobia of spiders has evaporated. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that these ones are diamond encrusted, what are you on about?

10. Alberta Ferretti

The colour combinations in this collection were stunning. Honestly. I just picked a really bad pic to illustrate that. Go read my first post to see (grifting 101: complete)!

11. Charlotte Knowles

I saw Bella Hadi wearing a Charlotte Knowles two piece, so I bought a Charlotte Knowles two piece.

LMAOOO, I wish.

12. Balenciaga

It’s occurred to me a couple of posts too late now on the basis that Tumblr is being a dick and won’t go back and let me edit stuff, even little typos, but I’m now wondering if there’s a link between the climate change theming of the show and the exaggerated structures of the pieces? Ya know, the whole abundance is killing the planet line of thinking? I know analysis isn’t exactly on brand with these silly mini captions and that oversized and exaggerated proportions is one of Balenciaga’s running motifs anyway buuut just a thought I had! And sidenote: I do believe overconsumption is killing the planet! The way I phrased that made it seem like I’m a climate change denying dickhead! That I am not! Maybe if I shave my head, legally change my name to Steve, get a British flag tattoo on my bicep, and spend every waking moment in my nearest Spoons I’ll get there but it’s not on the agenda quite yet!

13. Christopher Kane

If fashionable robots took over the world, they’d raid Christopher Kane’s studio and fry us all with laser beams whilst wearing his dresses.

14. Fendi

Siri, play Vroom Vroom by Charli XCX.

15. Olivier Theyskens

Mandarin collar. Mandarin collar. Mandarin collar. NEXT TIME I WILL REMEMBER WHAT THE PROPER NAME IS INSTEAD OF NEEDING TO GOOGLE IT AGAIN. Come on brain, you’re supposed to be good at this kinda thing, make it happen.

16. Elie Saab

Blair Waldorf’s wet dream. Add in some platform boots and chain jewellery and now it’s my wet dream too.

Because Chuck Bass is creepy as FUCK and maybe it’s because I watched Gossip Girl at the ripe old age (lol) of 21 and most people watch it as teenagers but I don’t know why YOU WERE ALL SO OBSESSED WITH HIM! He tries to sexually assault Jenny who is about 14 in the VERY FIRST EPISODE. I think I went off on a tangent here but it had to be said. You girls have no taste.

Don Draper was an absolute dog, but he was played by Jon Hamm, and he might be one of the finest men on the planet. What’s your excuse, Chuck and Blair enthusiasts?

17. Miu Miu

As someone who has probably been/met many a spoilt brat in her time, I appoint Miu Miu as the official sponsor of the Spoilt Brat™ aesthetic and yeah, that’s something I just made up but I’m on the money here. Imagine one of those “daddy, can you get me a pony?” types all grown up. Are you telling me you don’t picture her in Miu Miu? Because that sounds like a lie.

18. YSL

The war flashbacks I get of the Friends episode where Ross tries to get out of those leather trousers aside (I know it’s PVC her not leather but they have the same sheen, you can’t deny it), these outfits turn me into the irl version of the heart eyes emoji. It’s not like I think this is the best collection I’ve ever seen, YSL could def push the boat out a bit in terms of experimentation, but there aren’t many people who wouldn’t look hot as fuck in one of these pieces

19. Balmain

I didn’t like ALL of it, but the looks that I did like were amongst the ones that stuck out to me most when I was reflecting on the collections I’ve reviewed: the breast plates and silk capes and the scorpion detailing are real chef’s kiss moments.

20. Marques Almeida

Miss the collection that gave us this coat off the list? Never.

SO!

That is the end! Wow! I started saving the photos for this review back in late January/early February or whenever it was that the first fashion week began and now it’s mid-fucking July!? I don’t know if that speaks more to my incompetency or what a state the last few months have been. I’m not gonna write a super long ending paragraph because you’ve heard enough from me already and it’s 2:30am and I’m being hassled by Trump supporters on Twitter (literally just for stating that it’s a privilege to be able to pursue a career you truly have a passion for rather than having to be practical about finances first) anddddd I’ve got a closing shift tomorrow so I should probably log the fuck off and remove my clown makeup before it’s time to start my shift, lol!

Quick recommendation before I wrap this up, there was a really interesting debate on ITV literally a few hours ago on the Stephen Lawrence case that I thought I would recommend (they also showed the 1999 dramatic portrayal of events afterwards) about racism in England and whether or not much has changed since the murder. I didn’t catch the whole thing but from what I did see, there were some really strong points being made and I think it could be a good thing to sit and watch with your family members if you want to get talking about the Black Lives Matter movement and aren’t sure how to broach the topic. I bring it up because I feel like most middle-aged white people trust ITV so they’re less likely to turn their noses up (lol, I wish I was joking) at it and maybe go in with a more open mind. I’d like to keep the conversation about social issues going so if there’s anything you’d like me to get some information together on and make a post about-I read yesterday that there’d been arrests of THE PEOPLE PROTESTING the way Breonna Taylor’s death has been handled. No, not the police officers responsible for her death, the people simply pointing out that those police officers have done wrong. It’s a ridiculous situation and just shows how deeply embedded a police officer’s supposed right to kill and to use force is in upholding the American status quo. I wish I could end the post on better news, but let’s hope that next time I post, there is some, and as always thank you for reading til the end if you did get this far! I really don’t have all that many followers on here but do et me know if there’s anything I can reblog or share to help.

Lauren x

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humanperryfic · 5 years ago

Text

A Twisted Time

There are two timers on Perry's wrist. One counting down until he meets his soulmate, the other counting down until his soulmate dies.

The good news? The first timer runs out today.

The bad news? So does the second one.

Read on FF.net here and AO3 here.

TW’s: Major character death, blood, injury, and disturbing hallucinations.

Perry stares at his computer screen, watching the loading bar creep slowly across the screen.

Another half hour, and his operating system will be up to date- by early 2000's standards.

It's not like he can really complain. It would be a waste for him to have any sort of fancy tech in his cubicle, what with how often he's away from headquarters. It makes much more sense for him to have a better watch.

Sure, the computer is definitely a product of the ever-dwindling OWCA budget, but as long as it can still print his paperwork and run the report program, he's alright with it.

If, y'know, it would actually finish updating. He's been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for the update to finish. At this point, he's considering just borrowing Agent W's computer.

If only he had stuck around a few more minutes yesterday to finish his report.

So he waits, scrolling through his inbox on his phone. One of the few programs actually running at the level expected of the current year.

Apparently the dish is down, so Monogram will be giving assignments in person today.

His phone buzzes in his palm. A text from Candace.

You're meeting your soulmate today, right?

Perry grins. Yes, yes he is. He pushes his sleeve just enough to bare the first vibrant purple timer on his wrist. Only ten minutes and thirty seven seconds until he meets his soulmate.

Only ten and a half minutes!, he texts Candace. I'll send you a picture when I meet them.

His grin falters when he catches a glance at the second timer on his wrist. The one that he hasn't shown the kids- or anyone, really. Only Lawrence. It's also on his OWCA papers and medical records, but that's different.

The calculations come naturally to him- he's only been doing them since he was old enough to understand the numbers.

He has six hundred and nineteen seconds until he meets his soulmate, and eight thousand, five hundred and forty six seconds until he loses them.

~~~

Ten minutes later, Perry's still staring at the green bar crossing the screen.

He picks up the ruler from his desk and holds it against the monitor.

Ten minutes, six millimeters. He leans back in his chair and does the mental math. One and two-thirds millimeters per minute, that's 0.0278 millimeters per second. Converted to miles per hour and...well, that number would be easier read in scientific notation.

Carl knocks on the cubicle wall. "Hey there, Agent P."

Perry waves. Good morning, Carl.

"We have a mission for you. If you'll follow me?"

Perry stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket.

Either way, he follows Carl through the cubicles.

"As you've likely read, the dish is down this morning," Carl says. "Besides, the Major wants you meet someone."

He looks up, just in time to not run headlong into the door frame of Monogram's office.

Instead, he runs straight into the agent already in there.

His wrist heats up, right where the timer is. Is this his soulmate? He wants to check, but it would be rude.

The agent turns around. "Well, hello there." Perry smiles. The man's voice is rough, with a strong German accent.

Perry shakes the man's outstretched hand. Hello, he signs, hoping that this man knows ASL.

"Oh, you prefer sign." The other agent nods. Hello, my name is Heinz. He pauses, a sheepish expression on his face. My grammar may not be the best anymore, sorry.

Perry smiles. I'm mute, not deaf, so you can speak if you'd rather. As an afterthought, he adds, Don't worry, your grammar is fine.

The Major clears his throat. "Agent P, meet Agent O. He's the top agent in OWCA Seattle."

Agent O (Heinz) beams. "Agent O, this is Agent P, our top agent here in the Tri-State Area."

Perry smiles and shakes his head. Best agent might be a bit of a stretch.

"Don't sell yourself short, Agent P. Anyway, you two are going to be going on an incredibly dangerous mission. You will be right here in the Tri-State Area, thwarting the menace known as Professor Puzzlement. He's jumped up seven notches on the Villain Scale, likely due to his new army of robot minions. Your job is to get in there and thwart him."

"Hang on. This evil guy is a local, and you brought me in from Seattle? Your top agent here should be able to take him. No offense, Agent P."

None taken. Actually, Perry takes some offense, but not towards Heinz. He's read the files on Puzzlement, the man is possibly the lowest man on the villain totem pole.

Monogram coughs. "I wasn't done."

Heinz looks sheepish. "Oh. Carry on."

"As I was about to say, Heinz, you were brought in from OWCA Seattle because of your mechanical abilities. We don't want these bots just taken down- we want to understand the tech behind them as well."

Well, that makes sense. When it comes to beating up evil scientists and blowing up their robot armies, Perry is the best in the game. Ask him to explain the how of those bots, and he's utterly useless.

Perhaps OWCA is looking to improve their tech through slightly uncouth ways.

(He can't say that he blames them. The budget dwindles more every year.)

"Once we get the dish back online, we'll send the coordinates and files to your watches. Good luck, Agents!"

They salute. Perry leaves the office, with Heinz right behind him.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Perry pulls Heinz into a nearby empty office, out of the hallway.

"Wait- Agent P- what are you doing? I don't even know your name."

My name is Perry, he signs, pulling his sleeve back just far enough to show his first timer, and I think you're my soulmate.

Heinz's mouth drops open. He scrambles to pull his own sleeve up, baring both of his teal timers to Perry.

The top one is at zero. Perry tries not to look at the second one, but he catches a glance anyway. Apparently, he's got some fifty years until he kicks the bucket.

The universe is cruel.

"Wow," Heinz breathes. "Soulmates with the cute agent I'm partnered with. Okay, I definitely don't regret taking this job."

Perry smiles, his face heating up at the compliment. You think I'm cute?

Heinz's cheeks flush a brilliant shade of scarlet. "Um, yes?"

This is going a lot better than he thought it would. Hopefully Heinz won't ask about the other...

"Say, can I see your other timer?"

...timer. Perry's blood turns to ice. He looks away, unable to meet his soulmate's eyes. He racks his brain for something to say, some explanation that won't give away the secret.

"Actually, I think I'd rather not know. It'd be kind of depressing, really. Especially if, like, I'm gonna die tomorrow. Yeah, I don't think I want to see."

Perry barely manages to keep himself from sighing in relief. Heinz has no idea how close he was to the truth.

At least he doesn't have to break the news.

Their watches both beep at the same time. The coordinates and files for the mission. The dish must have been fixed.

Shall we go stop a villain?

"Yeah, let's go." Heinz opens the door to the office, then holds out his hand.

Perry takes it.

~~~

Heinz insists that he drive over to the warehouse where Professor Puzzlement is said to be. Perry agrees, preferring to ride rather than drive the OWCA hovercars. Despite all his agent strengths, he's a horrible driver.

The wind whips through Perry's teal hair as they fly. Perry flips through the files on the Professor, looking for something he may have overlooked earlier, but there's really not much there. It seems like this mission is another case of over-inflated reports.

He turns his watch off and sits back, relaying his findings to Heinz.

"Yeah, it seemed pretty exaggerated. With anybody else, I'd believe an army of bots. Not this guy."

According to the records, his worst invention before this was a machine that was designed to cover the entire Tri-State Area in mashed potatoes.

"And they're sending two of us to deal with him."

Yeah. I mean, I'm not going to complain. It'll make things a lot more fun.

Heinz smiles, a bright beam that reflexively brings a smile to Perry's face.

"An easy job with my soulmate. What a day, huh?"

What a day.

"We'll probably be done before lunchtime. Do you think your Major will give you the rest of the day off?"

Probably not, but all I'll have to do is reports, and I could do those in my sleep.

"I have a feeling this one won't be particularly complex."

You're probably right. Perry pauses to consider something. When we get done, do you want to get lunch together?

"That would be great."

Heinz takes his right hand off the wheel to hold Perry's left, bringing a light pink blush to both their faces.

Perry doesn't tell him that the timer, the one only inches away from his fingers, won't let him live past noon.

~~~

A ring of bots greet them when they walk in the doors of the warehouse.

Apparently the scientist had built a robot army. Who knew?

(Well, OWCA knew, which is why they sent Perry and Heinz.)

No big deal, really. Perry's fought through far worse, and on his own.

"SURRENDER OR BE DESTROYED, OWCA SCUM," one of the bots booms in an electronic voice.

Perry and Heinz both draw their respective weapons. For Heinz, an EMP blaster designed to take out electronics. Perry doesn't really know how it works, but that doesn't matter. He prefers his own fists, reinforced with special fingerless gloves that prevent him from breaking knuckles on solid metal robots.

They grin and nod at each other before becoming a whirling flurry of attacks.

Heinz drops bot after bot with both EMP blasts and well-placed kicks. Perry kicks up off one bot and lands on another, piloting it into other bots as he punches in its head.

They make their way through the mess of mechanics, landing blow after blow. Perry jumps from bot to bot, prompting the mechanical monstrosities to fire on each other.

He watches as Heinz drops one bot with a blast, another with a spinning kick.

Perry's pretty much figured out why this guy is Seattle's best.

Soon, all the bots are either destroyed or deactivated. Perry jumps off the last bot, a fist of wires ripped from an exposed joint in one hand, landing on the floor next to Heinz in a fighting stance.

Heinz reaches out and fixes Perry's slightly askew fedora. Perry feels a blush come to his face, for the fourth (fifth? who knows?) time today. He smiles and straightens up, dropping the wires.

Their moment is interrupted with a loud, booming voice.

"Good morning, Agents," the voice says, "how utterly expected."

Perry looks up. A metal cage falls from the rafters. He pushes Heinz out of the way, narrowly avoiding being trapped himself.

The voice grumbles. Heinz laughs. "I've seen better traps from my grandmother."

"You insolent fools. I will soon become the supreme leader of the world, and you two will be the first I throw in lava."

Might want to start with the Tri-State Area, Perry signs, and Heinz grins.

"I really don't appreciate all this talking behind my back in front of me," the mysterious voice booms.

And I don't appreciate having to force myself through an army of bots, but here we are. Heinz disguises a laugh as a cough.

"If you have something to say, say it to my face."

But I am, Perry signs, summoning his most innocent expression. This time, Heinz's sharp laugh rings out.

Perry could listen to it all day.

"And you, his companion. I do not appreciate being made fun of."

Heinz elbows Perry. "Maybe we'd be more afraid if we, y'know, gazed upon your godly form or whatever."

"My godly form or whatever," the voice echoes, clearly patronizing.

"Yeah," Heinz agrees. "Like in the Greek myths, where if you gaze upon the god's true form, you die. Except you're mortal."

"I am a fan of Greek mythology," the voice admits. "So I shall allow you to gaze upon my 'true form'."

A pair of bots descend from the rafters, holding a man on their shoulders.

The professor steps off the shoulders of the bots.

Heinz lets out an incredulous laugh. "You? You're going to take over the world?" To Perry, he mutters "Even a real platypus could thwart this guy. And they don't do much."

Perry can't help but agree with Heinz's statements. The man standing in front of them is the stereotypical picture of a decrepit old man. Hunched, clutching at his back, holding tight to a cane with bony fingers.

"That is why I built the robots."

Perry takes a closer look at a felled robot near him. The design seems simplistic, and there are even more weak points than he had found during the brief battle. Heinz could probably point out even more.

"Are you even paying attention?" the Professor asks. Perry crosses his arms and leans back. Am I?

"You agents and your secret languages. Speak English," Puzzlement says.

Perry rolls his eyes. Would if I could. He dodges a robot lunging at him, then punches in its chestplate.

"And quit destroying my robots. Do you realize how long they take to make? You ungrateful OWCA agents..."

Perry tunes out the Professor's senile rant quickly. It's only a matter of time before he starts nattering on about his lawn. Considering that Heinz parked on the grassy strip in front of the warehouse, he just might. Perry turns to sign this to Heinz, who is elbow deep in the chest cavity of a robot. "Psst, Perry, come look at this."

Perry looks to where Heinz is pointing. To him, it makes no sense, but obviously Heinz can understand it.

Heinz continues to whisper. "I think I can fuse two of these bots together to create a single bot, that when moved in a specific way, will trip this kinetic motion sensor, causing these wires here to overheat, producing a mass of heat and light that we can harness as a weapon."

He looks at Perry's blank, confused stare and sighs. "Exploding robot nunchucks."

Perry grins. What do you need me to do?

~~~

Heinz has a streak of soot from one of the exploded robots across one cheek. Before he can stop himself, Perry reaches out and gently brushes some away with his thumb.

A soft smile crosses Heinz's face. Perry's hand lingers on Heinz's cheek.

No words need to be exchanged. The look in Heinz's eye tells Perry everything he needs to know.

Perry leans in, pressing his lips gently to Heinz's. His eyes slide closed, reveling in the smooth slide of Heinz's lips against his. Heinz slips his arms around Perry's shoulders, pulling him in close. Perry's hand moves to the back of Heinz's neck, fingers toying at the soft hairs there.

Too late, Perry feels the prick on the back of his neck. He rips himself away from Heinz to see the Professor, cuffs dangling from one bony wrist, wielding a hypodermic needle. A drop of something spills out the needle's tip.

Both he and Heinz lunge for the evil scientist.

Only Heinz makes it. Perry stumbles, spots dancing across his vision. The ground is rolling beneath his feet, he struggles to stay upright. The doctor tosses aside one syringe, but two hit the floor. Heinz punches the scientist, his fist shattering into a million pieces.

Perry's wrist erupts in pain. He falls to his knees, watching as the numbers there begin to twist themselves into different shapes, oozing blood.

He looks back up at Heinz and the Professor, fighting on the ground, but he can't tell who is who. A dull ache blossoms behind his forehead.

"Do you know the legend of Sisyphus, Peregrine Fletcher?" A whispering voice swirls around Perry's head, coming from both inside and out. When Perry doesn't answer, the voice continues.

"Sisyphus was an ancient Greek man who thought he could cheat Death."

The voice laughs. The blood emerging from the numbers on his wrist morphs from black, then green, then back to crimson red. Perry's hands tremble, his stomach twists up in knots.

"It didn't work out for him. In fact, when he reached the Underworld, he had a special, eternal torture waiting for him."

The voice spirals around and around. Perry turns his head, but he can't see anything. A dark fog has descended around him, leaving him in a spotlight of sorts. Muffled, mangled screams cry out from somewhere.

"Do you know what that torture was, Peregrine?"

Perry scrapes at the ground. Patterns erupt in the cement, spinning and twisting. The blood on his wrists turns to insects, crawling up his sleeves. He slaps at his arms, trying to get the bugs away, but they don't move.

"Sisyphus was cursed to spend all eternity pushing a boulder up a hill. However, whenever he was about to reach the top, the boulder would roll right back down. A futile endeavor. A metaphor for stopping death. A perfect reminder that nobody is above morality. Nobody, Peregrine."

A dark, hooded form descends in front of Perry. The form lifts Perry's chin with one cold finger, sending a shudder running down Perry's spine.

"Nobody can cheat death, Peregrine. The best doctor cannot save every life, nor can the best agent." The form spits out the word agent like a curse. Bile rises in Perry's throat. "Your lover will die today. Heed the legends. Do not try and prevent it."

Boulders fall and shake the floor. Dark dust rises, choking Perry, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose. The patterns on the cement still whirl, making Perry's eyes dip in and out of focus.

"You cannot save anyone from death, Peregrine Fletcher. You can try to be Sisyphus, but it will always turn out the same. Your loved ones will die, you will die, and you will be punished."

An hourglass appears, its sand frozen in place. The timers on Perry's wrist twist themselves into an identical hourglass, still dripping warm blood.

"Let the timer run out, Peregrine. It is inevitable."

The dark form snaps its fingers. The hourglass explodes, sand stinging Perry's skin. The one on Perry's wrist screams in pain. Perry opens his mouth in a silent scream. A hot, angry tear falls from his eye. He can't, he won't let the figure be right. He can change the timer. He will, he has to.

He blinks, and the mud, the boulders, the fog is gone. The cold of the cement bleeds through the fabric of his pants. Perry yanks down his sleeve to look at his bloodless numbers.

Two minutes left. Two minutes to do the impossible.

Perry pushes himself to stand. His head pounds, likely an aftereffect of the drugs. Black spots jump around his vision, threatening his balance.

He blinks rapidly to clear away the black patches. A scream rings throughout the warehouse.

Heinz. It has to be him.

Perry lunges towards the sound, his legs shaking. Forcing himself to move.

The scientist stands over a table, a bloodied knife in one trembling hand. Perry launches himself at the madman. The Professor falls to the floor, hitting his head, Perry landing right next to him. Perry pulls his handcuffs from his hat, cinching them tight enough to leave marks.

It's just a second too late. Heinz is bleeding from a gash on his side. He's strapped to the table, and Perry cuts the bonds. Heinz tries to sit up, but Perry pushes him back down.

You're not going anywhere with that cut. Perry pulls off his waistcoat and presses it to Heinz's side, attempting to staunch the bleeding.

"No," Heinz protests, pointing behind Perry. "Robots!"

Perry whirls around. A wall of metal monstrosities descend upon the duo. Heinz hands him the EMP blaster, and Perry manages to fell a few.

Too soon, it becomes crystal clear that they'll never make it this way. If Perry was alone, he could take the bots easily, but with an injured partner, the risk is already too high.

Perry hands Heinz the EMP blaster, then picks him up. His shoes slip on spilled liquid as he runs- he doesn't want to think about what it might be. Who's it might be.

The front door is miraculously unguarded. Perry runs through, kicking it shut behind him to buy just a few seconds.

He sets Heinz down in the front seat of the hovercar, jumping in the driver's seat. He presses his thumb into the scanner and the car's engine starts.

The car takes off, flying away from the warehouse. Perry's wrist heats up- a warning. He glances over at Heinz, who is both pressing the waistcoat to his side and firing off EMP blasts at the few robots giving chase.

His sleeve slips. Less than a minute. Perry presses his foot to the accelerator, willing the craft to go faster. Why did the warehouse have to be so far out in the middle of nowhere?

A blast rocks the the hovercraft, shaking the passengers inside. Smoke erupts from the back of the craft.

Perry barely manages to land the hovercraft in a field, carving divots into the muddy grass. There's a road not too far from their crash site, so Perry picks Heinz up and runs over. The robots are long gone, leaving the duo alone, on a dusty road between fields.

Perry twists the dial on his watch, sending out the agent-down signal. He has to try. One last fight.

Perry holds onto Heinz's hand. He's done all he can, but it's too little, too late. Heinz has lost too much blood. Perry's timer ticks down, seconds slipping away.

Heinz opens his eyes. Perry realizes for the first time that Heinz's eyes are a beautiful, icy blue.

"Perry," Heinz whispers, "show me your timer? Please?" The desperation in his voice is palpable.

A tear rolls out of Perry's eye. He nods and rolls up his bloodied sleeve to reveal the two timers. One stopped at zero, the other with twelve seconds left.

Eleven seconds.

Ten.

Heinz looks at the timer, then back at Perry.

Nine.

“You knew.”

Eight.

Perry nods, tears flowing faster and faster, carving clear paths down his soot-stained face.

Seven.

“And you still tried to save me.”

Six.

Again, Perry nods. He twists his watch again, willing the medics to come faster.

Five.

"Perry- I-" Heinz starts to speak again, but chokes, gasping for air.

Four.

He coughs, blood dribbling out the corner of his mouth.

Three.

Heinz manages to clear his airway. His grip on Perry's hand tightens.

Two.

"I love you," Heinz whispers, voice hoarse, eyes never leaving Perry's.

One.

A smile ghosts onto his lips, and he closes his eyes.

Zero.

Heinz's hand goes limp. Perry's hand darts up to his neck, checking desperately for a pulse, already knowing the answer awaiting his questioning fingers. There's nothing there.

Sirens wail in Perry's ears. Tires screech and doors slam. Paramedics lift Heinz onto one stretcher, Perry onto another. They're lifted into separate ambulances, then sped off towards the OWCA medical facilities.

Paramedics ask him questions, bandage his wounds. Perry only stares blankly at his wrist. The inked zeroes, formerly a vibrant shade of purple, slowly fade to black.

~~~

The next day, Perry sits in his cubicle, watching the bar cross the screen. This time, he doesn't check his inbox, or answer texts, or drink coffee.

He simply sits and watches the bar go across the screen, his eyes rimmed in red.

The green bar, just a single millimeter from the end, pauses.

The lights go out to groans and curses.

A few seconds later, they come back. A small outage, nothing unusual. Likely someone in Equipment testing something new.

Perry presses the power button again, and the now-empty bar comes back up. The green bar begins its crawl once more.

A futile endeavor. His modern-day rock of Sisyphus. His punishment for thinking he could defeat Death.

Perry takes pride in the villain being wrong. But what do you do when the villain was inside you, playing on the inevitable reality of your worst fears?

What do you do when the villain is right?

Perry turns away, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. Fresh tears spring to his eyes, threatening to spill over.

His shoulders shake in a silent sob, his stoic expression breaking down into one of pain.

Perry pulls his sleeve down, covering the stopped timers on his left wrist. The numerals inked in jet black. Zero hours, zero minutes, and zero seconds until he meets his soulmate.

Zero hours, zero minutes, and zero seconds until his soulmate dies.

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 4 years ago

Photo

Hey @kaijuguy19 .....I finally drew the ultimate Alice Angel stan. XD But yeah he’s a character from the both us.

Derek Brooker. AKA Twisted Barry.

Born: 1917.

Died: Possibly somewhere in the late 50′s to early 60′s.

Information, be warned it’s VERY LONG. Okay I’ll admit I think I wrote too much. Maybe I’ll talk about Twisted Barry in another post or so. Because this seems stupid to put a lot of text under this one picture. Edit okay I’m continuing it, gonna finish his story. Besides I didn’t talk about his Twisted form.

Barry the bear was a character that was rarely seen in the Bendy cartoons. He was mainly seen in cartoons like holiday specials or other short films. Despite looking like a villainous character in a way. But that isn’t the case considering the Butcher Gang and other characters fill those roles. Barry is actually a simple big bear who tries to enjoy life. The only times he mainly becomes aggressive is when Bendy would be mischievous around him. But usually in the end Bendy be empathic to the big bear after feeling bad of how he treated him.

Usually from his appearances. He is portrayed as a gentle giant who seems to really like Alice Angel. Being some what shy around the angel but wanting to impress her and give her affection. Which Alice appreciates but their relationship isn’t taken seriously in any of the cartoons.

Other details include of him possibly being a good friend of Boris. Yet he doesn’t seem to like the Butcher Gang quite much. Whenever they would cause trouble towards any of the big three or any one. Barry showcases to them who’s boss.

While not as popular as the main trio of Bendy, Boris, and Alice. Barry has a fanbase still. He is mainly loved for being a subversive of a big villainous character. When he is actually a gentle giant.

It was also confirmed the inspiration and who the character was based on was actually one of Joey Drew’s own bodyguard. Who was named Derek Brooker.

Story: Derek was born living with a single mother. Who’s husband decided to leave after realizing taking care of the child wasn’t worth it. Throughout Derek’s life he had no father figure. Which led to him getting into some trouble. But with his mother’s guidance. His life was pretty okay. He always loved his mother. Seeing her as this one inspiration in his life.

In 1935, realizing his fit body and wanting a job that suited him. He was never really an artist. But he wanted to be a guard of some sorts. Something that paid money. Luckily Joey Drew hired the young man to be his personal bodyguard in case anything happened to him.

As Derek worked for Joey Drew. He was basically known as Joey’s right hand man. Someone who was near Joey a lot. But despite his serious attitude when keeping Joey protect around crowds. During his early years of being at the studio. Derek’s presence was honestly welcomed.

Nicknamed a, “Teddy Bear” considering his soft nature around people. Especially giving comfort whenever they need it. Or giving some folks an extra hand while he wasn’t busy. While Derek took his job seriously as a bodyguard. His presence around the studio was welcomed by everybody who was there. Even someone like Sammy Lawrence who wasn’t always the friendliest. But he honestly appreciated Derek’s company whenever he was around.

Because of being around Joey. He picked up some skills like being charismatic and charming. Despite what Joey’s true nature was. Derek was honestly truthful with how he treated others. Being modest and kind to others. Including around women who he respected. Because of living with his mother. He found it surprising when women were making googley eyes over him because of how well dressed he can be at times. Or even acting very mature and smooth around women.

Yet what was intriguing about Derek was this one secret he tried to keep to himself. Upon seeing the concepts and the, “Sent From Above” cartoon. The first appearance of Alice Angel. Derek developed what was a crush on the cartoon character. The reason or this because Derek never really developed a love for a woman during his life.

But when Susie was still the voice of Alice. It’s weird to explain the relationship between them. Despite Sammy and Susie’s romance. Susie felt a connection to Derek as well. Understanding his liking towards the Alice character. While nothing was made public. The two were very comfortable around each other. There may of been the possibility Susie felt like she was in love with Derek more than Sammy. He treated her right, and he was tender. But she never told Sammy. Until maybe Sammy found out later in life.

Yet after Susie was replaced and she was gone. Including during this time in 1946, Derek’s mother finally passed away. Heavily affected by this loss. He started acting different.

Allison and Derek had a good friendship. Yet Allison wasn’t Susie. While Allison didn’t mind being called Alice. But over time she started to get uncomfortable when Derek started to get too close. Such as the one point that was too much when he started to hug her and she didn’t ask for her. Luckily Thomas Connor interrupted them.

No one was hurt but Derek felt ashamed because of what he did. Luckily all three of them had a talk. The couple understood Derek’s situation. But telling him that was uncalled for. Surprisingly the three remained in contact and Derek was still considered a good friend. He was even invited to their wedding and he came. Which showcases things were left behind.

But some where in the late 50′s or early 60′s. During the time when Joey Drew Studios was shutting down. Derek went missing.

But in world of the ink machine....something was unleashed.

Twisted Barry: A hulking and scarred version of the gentle giant. The thing that used to be Derek Brooker was this monster. One of the big threats in the studio. Able to take on the monsters that roam the studio. Including being able to take on the Projectionist and even the Ink Demon himself. He has scars to prove his time in combat. Especially with a scarred left eye.

But after Audrey broke the cycle, when Twisted Alice got all her memories back. Things changed. When finding for supplies near her lair. The bear giant stumbled upon the twisted angel. Terrified by his size and raw power. But he didn’t attack.

Because like Derek and Barry. His love for the angels was still there. Despite Twisted Barry being a simple minded brute. Who only had a limited vocabulary. Such as saying things like, “Alice” and, “Angels” and whatever else.

He was soft around the angel. Despite her shock at first. It wasn’t until the twisted versions of the Butcher Gang attacked and the giant killed them all to protect her.

Seeing his loyalty to her. Twisted Alice let him followed her back to her lair.

As of now with the three of them. Twisted Alice, Twisted Barry, and Dot Alice all live in that lair. Despite the angels old cruelness and still trying to be perfect. She tries to hide it from Dot Alice who looks up to her like some sort of hero. Not judging her appearance. With Barry, after so many years of being alone and trying to perfect herself. She doesn’t belittle him, she doesn’t scream at him or even insult him. The giant brute despite his simple mind and harshness towards the other creatures in the world.

He was tender with the twisted angel. Including he did errands for her. The brute was basically both angels protectors. He was basically the guardian of all angels. Whenever she needed to talk to someone, he would listen. Something she would want to latch on to, he would be there. Despite on the outside it looked like she was her mad dog whenever somebody would insult his angel.

Their relationship was strangely beautiful. Something the twisted angel didn’t wanna showcase. But during all that time in that world. It was nice to finally have comfort in something. A world with so few rules. There was at least some light. Two people who wouldn’t lie to her and would treat her right.

Notes: Amazingly his human appearance is based upon Jared Padalecki. Basically I have thought if Derek was ever portrayed in live action. That would be my choice. Also yeah this isn’t my best work.

Especially with Barry here. Think I’ll finally add the Twisted Barry tag since I’m editing this. Also yeah Derek’s face seems to look weird. It’s just nice I finally drew the guy after talking about him and making jokes of him being the biggest Alice Angel fanboy.

#batim #bendy and the ink machine #derek brooker #batim oc #twisted barry

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chicagocityofclans · 4 years ago

Photo

Rhiannon Draga → Chyler Leigh → Witch

→ Basic Information

Age: 1081

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Powers: Heliokinesis

Birthday: June 21st

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Religion: Hellenism

Mark: O Mordha ( Moore )

Generation: 1st

→ Her Personality

Rhiannon has always been motherly, starting first with her younger twin brother and continuing on. In her present stage of life it comes out very clearly in regards to the treatment of her children and her mentees. It can also come across when she deals with younger patients in the emergency room. She is known for being one of the more gentle mentors - often being the one to take on mentees that need a more gentle hand to get them to come out of their shell. Those with her family’s mark are known to be ambitious and innovative when it comes to growing with their magic. Rhiannon uses this in her work as a Charms Master as well as in her mentoring. Due to her working with mentees that may need a gentler hand, Rhiannon tasks herself with coming up with ways to get them to come into their powers. She likes to have them build up their network of friends and contacts so that they can branch out and learn. Her ambition can get the better of her when it comes to her work in the medical field, and it is largely the reason she became a surgeon in two different areas, and has been contemplating getting another degree in the next couple decades or so.

Despite her motherly nature, Rhiannon can be known for being rather impulsive in nature. While this trait has calmed slightly since her marriage to Vlad and the birth of their children, she can get into rather sticky situations. She is also rather possessive of her family, something Fallon seems to have inherited from her, much to Rhiannon’s dismay. She has a great awareness of this trait and has been working on controlling her possessiveness to try and move past it. She has gotten better, but she still struggles with it. Her age can make her prone to bouts of depression, which tends to be worse during the cold winter months. She tries to focus on various activities during this time in the hopes of combatting her moods. During these months, it is far easier for her anger to fly out of control and for her to become vindictive or cruel to those who push her too far. Her anger is also something that she is working on - again, her husband and children being the major factor in her wanting to get it under control. She also doesn’t like to become harsh with her mentees and it can be a problem during her depressive moods.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Trauma and Plastic Surgeon and Charm Master

Scars: 3 Claw Mark Scars From a Cat Shifter

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Early Morning Runs and Experimenting with Charms

Two Dislikes: Pineapple and Cinnamon

Two Fears: Losing Her Family and Cages

Two Hobbies: Making Pottery and Making Charms

Three Positive Traits: Ambitious, Compassionate, Gentle

Three Negative Traits: Stubborn, Possessive, Impulsive

→Her Connections

Parent Names:

Aurina (Mother): Rhiannon had a strained relationship with her mother almost from the start. Aurina favored Deaglan over Rhiannon, often leaving her on her own. As Rhiannon got older it only became worse, eventually leading to Rhiannon’s leaving.

Sibling Names:

Deaglan Moore (Brother): Rhiannon is older than Deaglan by 2 minutes and the short time did nothing to quell her motherly instincts. However, due to Aurina’s very obvious favoritism of Deaglan, the two fought often all the way up to when Rhiannon left home. They reconnected years later and have since worked through their issues. The two are extremely close and have made sure to keep in touch over the centuries.

Children Names:

Fallon Draga (Daughter): Rhannon and Fallon have a challenging relationship. She tries to spend as much time with her and Alucard as her busy schedule will allow. However, she is very aware of Fallon’s feelings about her mentoring another Heliokinetic. Rhiannon sat down with Fallon recently to talk to her about attending therapy about the jealousy issues currently directed at Raul. Fallon agreed and Rhiannon is thinking about taking some time off in the next few years to dedicate to spending time with her husband and children.

Alucard Draga (Son): Alucard is far easier to deal with than his sister. He has always been the calmer of the two, and he doesn’t share the same issues as Fallon when it comes to having jealousy. Rhiannon loves that Alucard finds it so easy to make friends and she is thankful that has hobbies that he enjoys so much. She does her best to make it to his lacrosse games to cheer him on.

Romantic Connections:

Cormac Flynn (Late Husband): Rhiannon and Cormac met and married when she was in her early 20’s. They were married for about a decade before he was fatally injured in a battle. Losing Cormac was heartbreaking for Rhiannon and is an underlying cause to her sometimes over protective tendencies towards her family.

Vladimir Draga (Husband): Rhiannon and Vlad have been together for almost 300 years. He is the only person she had wanted to start a family with since her first husband died. Vlad means everything to her and she is happier now with Vlad than she has ever been before. Vlad always seems to know what she is thinking and what she needs.

Platonic Connections:

Nathaniel Clarke (Mentee): Rhiannon took Nathaniel as a mentee due to his powers and overly quiet nature. She is hoping that since their powers compliment each other, it will help him feel more comfortable and he will come out of his shell.

Raul Santiago (Mentee): She was thrilled to find out that another Helio user was in Chicago and more than happy to mentor him. He is doing well, and she is pleased with his progress on his advanced powers. She allows him to sit down with Vlad on their days out of training in order for him to learn spell crafting.

Lyla Wilhelm (Former Mentee): Lyla caught her eye when Lyla and Emmett moved to Chicago. Rhiannon approached her offering her a mentor ship and the two became fast friends. Their relationship was close enough that when Lyla and Emmett wanted Vlad to train Audo, Rhiannon was more than happy to speak with her husband. Lyla has always been a figure in her children’s lives as well, taking care of them when they were little and Rhiannon and Vlad had engagements to take care of. Rhiannon already knows that if she and Vlad were to ever have more children, she would trust them with Lyla in a heartbeat.

Emmett Wilhelm (Friendly): Despite her husband’s dislike of Emmett, Rhiannon is quite friendly with him. The two met through Emmett’s wife Lyla while Rhiannon was training her, and Rhiannon even spoke to Vlad about mentoring Audo for them.

Eimear (Former Mentor): Eimear is the first of the supernatural world that Rhiannon ever came into contact with. She travelled with Eimear for a large portion of her early life, learning how to control her powers and blend into human society. They parted ways not long after Rhiannon reached her mid-500’s. Rhiannon hears from Eimear very rarely, but the two have kept in touch.

Kudzai Rinker (Friend/Council Member): Rhiannon is friends with both Kudzai and Minsky outside of being Council Members together, and she and Vlad used to join them for couples night. Having a friend who is around her age is a great help when it comes to understanding melancholy that can take hold of witches and warlocks. Rhiannon’s heart broke for Kudzai and Minsky when Jamie died, and she has done everything she can to be there for her friend.

Minsky Edison (Friend/Council Member): Minsky is one of Rhiannon’s close friends. The two met some time ago and have gotten on well ever since. They have been known to spend some time together outside of the council meetings, particularly before he and Kudzai separated when Minsky, Kudzai, Rhiannon and Vlad would all have couple nights together. Rhiannon knows that losing Jamie was hard on both Kudzai and Minsky and tries to be there for anything her friend needs.

Jace Cicero (Friend/Council Member): Rhiannon considers Jace a friend and is thankful that he took Fallon on as his mentee. She knows that Fallon can be a handful but she also knows that Jace is a dedicated mentor. There is no one else that she would pick to be training her daughter.

Ronan Cleirigh (Council Member): Aside from Council meetings, Rhiannon does not see a great deal of Ronan. She respects him as a powerful warlock.

Lawrence Cocci (Former Mentee): Despite their mentoring relationship not lasting very long, Rhiannon and Lawrence keep in touch. She was glad that even with their short time together she was able to help him learn and master his phoenix form.

Nathan Cleirigh (Friend): Rhiannon and Fallon both go and see Nathan regularly, and Rhiannon has sent patients to him.

Viktor Draga (Brother-In-Law): Viktor and Vara were both travelling with Vlad when Rhiannon met them. Rhiannon has always been close to Viktor and enjoys spending her time with him. The two of them got into a lot of trouble when they were younger and traveling. Rhiannon enjoys those memories.

Vara Sookram (Sister-In-Law): Viktor and Vara were both travelling with Vlad when Rhiannon met them. Vara and Rhiannon have a standing brunch date set for every Thursday. Rhiannon often goes to Vara when she wishes to discuss things to surprise Vlad.

Villard Draga (Brother-In-Law): Villard is the youngest of Vlad’s siblings. They don't really get along well, as Villard tends to act too immature for both her and Vlad’s liking, making it a rare thing when he comes to visit.

Vaughn Draga (Brother-In-Law): Vaughn is the eldest of Vlad’s siblings, but is the newest addition to the family. Rhiannon likes him and tends to get along with him alright, but she is not as close to Vaughn as she is Viktor and Vara.

Hostile Connections:

None, Rhiannon doesn’t bother keeping up with it.

Pets:

Lyr (Maine Coon Cat Familiar): Rhiannon has had Lyr for some time and he is her constant companion.

→ History

Rhiannon and her twin brother were born to a young woman by the name of Aurina. She and her brother grew up in a small village on the coast of what would later become Ireland. Rhiannon’s childhood was somewhat idyllic, despite a constant tendency to butt heads with her mother. She and her brother were both gifted with great magical prowess, though they both went largely untrained for most of their lives. When Rhiannon reached 20 years old, she had a fight with her mother that ended up leading to her setting off on her own and eventually marrying a young man. However, their marriage didn’t last long, as about 8 years after they married he was killed in a battle between two clans.

Rhiannon then left the area she had lived in for most of her life, wanting to find somewhere to call home. She spent a good 100 to 150 years on her own, teaching herself how to survive. She was alone until she met an older witch by the name of Eimear. Eimear offered to teach Rhiannon how to control her powers and how to properly survive and interact with the mortal world. The two remained together for almost 400 years before Eimear told Rhiannon there was nothing more she could teach her. The two parted ways and Rhiannon began to travel on her own once more.

After some time, Rhiannon came into contact with a warlock named Vladimir Draga and his family. Vladimir and Rhiannon eventually began courting and after some time, were married. She began travelling with them, the family settling every so often as they made their way across the world. Eventually, they made their way to the New World. They moved around the country before settling in what would become Chicago. They have been together for close to 300 years and now have two children, twins named Fallon and Alucard, who were born a little over 70 years ago. → The Present

Rhiannon has been thinking about taking on other mentees in addition to Raul and Nathaniel, but has yet to find anyone that catches her eye. She has also been thinking about focusing on having a mentee that is for charms rather than someone who is for a section of their powers. However, again, she’s yet to find anyone and has begun to wonder if her lack of finding someone is an indicator of needing a break. She has thought about taking time off from being a mentor once Raul and Nathaniel have moved on and just focus on working on her charms. She has also been debating talking to Vlad about them going off somewhere for a decade or so, either with Fallon and Alucard or even just the two of them.

#Rhiannon Draga #Taken

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queerchoicesblog · 5 years ago

Text

The Birthday Party (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 10/2)

Here it is the second part of chapter 10!

Guys, I'm gonna be honest with you: I'm not sure when the next one will be out: it could be Tuesday next week or in weeks from now. So consider this series on potential hiatus. I'm struggling to find words in my everyday life and writing feels quite pointless atm. Hopefully if will change soon but that's the situation atm, I'm sorry.

Little disclaimer-favor: if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped@storyscapefanficarchive@marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako@everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed@indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff@bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda@marlcasters@brightpinkpeppercorn @nightwhite13@ramenwithaspoon@michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri@choicesgremlin @shadeofangelus @mistressofspiesxenia@orange-elephants

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1

_____________________

Returning to the party still in full swing after my stolen moment with Adele is disheartening. I guess going back to our miseries in this crazy world after experiencing a glimpse of Heaven is pretty much the same feeling. I wonder how poor Dante coped back then. A smiling waiter hands me another glass of sweet alcoholic poison and I put my mask back on, even if I struggle now. I try to distract myself and be entertained by the chirpy conversations and gossips of my guests but my mind keeps running back to her. "I know, I wish this moment didn't have to end" "We'll make our own plays. Whaddya say?" I giggle at their silly jokes and outrageous stories, I retort with witticisms out of a script but I can't hear them, not truly. I'm not here. The Zetta is, not me. I am still in my lover's company. I can only hear her soft voice, our words of love. I don't have time nor will to hear that hilarious improbable story I'll absolutely have to tell Richard or that marvellous recent scientific discovery. I smile, I fake interest and thank God -and myself- I am a great actress.

As I move to another table where Lucille is beckoning me over I look out of the window, taking in the starry sky. I'm surprised but a quick smile cross my lips when I spot Adele hanging in there with a steward I saw around the lifts. They're leaning on the railing and chatting. They look like close friends: maybe they were accidentally reunited on board or is it true what they say? Ships make fast friends. I'll ask her about him. Not out of jealousy, even if I wish I could neglect my party more and run at her side where he stands. Even if I wish I could be the one making her laugh now. I just smile at the two of them, grateful that my troubled love is in good company tonight. God knows if she doesn't need a friend and some happiness after all she went through. And I'm afraid the worst is yet to come...

I do my best to lose myself in the complicated story about a common acquaintance my friend is sharing with the ladies and it works, to some extent. At least until when Sabine comes find me and invite the whole group to stand as the waiters pick up the table moving then toward the wall to clear space. Oh, we'll have some dancing! Even the musicians are now moving to the center of the far wall to be heard best. The crowd, myself included, is delighted and in awe. As the first chords of my favorite waltz start playing, everyone is looking for their partners and hurrying to finish their drinks. I drain mine, trying not to think of how much I would love to have this dance with my love no matter how inappropriate it would sound to many here. I ditch the Baron though -that lovable shark isn't fast enough this time!- and a couple of other hopeful admirers to hold Lawrence's hand. "Shall we dance, darling?" I smile encouraged you at him. We both long for a partner we can't pick out in the sun: let our shared sorrow fade away on the note of The Blue Danube, my dear friend. Lawrence understands or so it seems by the bittersweet yet thankful smile he offers me. He reads the unwritten and hears the unspoken words too. My poor dear Lawrence... We chat like old friends as we sway among the crowd. He's not only a brilliant director but also one of the finest dancer I've ever met. He blush a little when I sing his praises and just shrugs saying he has loved dancing. Typical, humble Lawrence... He lowers his voice a little when he thanks me for inviting him to the party, "well, me and Felix". He looks touched when I assure him that I wouldn't have had it any other way, I deeply value our friendship. "Me too, Zetta. You can count on me" he beams before his melancholic smile reappears. "If we close our eyes, we're in a fancy ballroom in Vienna" he whispers, leaning close and guiding the two of us into a graceful turn. I'm about to share a memory of my youth there with him, when I was blinded by the beauty and luxury of the imperial aristocracy there when ruckus erupts from the other side of the room. Surprised cries and laughter ring as the guests stop dancing and the music ceases. "What? My party is not over yet" I playfully protest, pouting. I'm suddenly nervous. I fear the time has come: time for the squalid yet hurtful family theatrics, time for James's show. I try to find out what's going on but I can't make my way through a crowd of ladies and gentlemen stretching their necks and whispering to each other. My fears are sadly confirmed when I catch the baritone voice of the Baron saying "Good show, Miss Carrem. Getting smart with you, was he?" "I'm afraid I cannot stand overfamiliarity. I apologise for making a scene" My love's voice is a bit shaken: is it anger or fright? Concern and fury take hold of me and I shutter my jaw. Lawrence squeezes my hand and I am grateful. "It is I who should apologise, on behalf of those who call themselves gentle..." the Baron continues but James interrupts him. "Oh do be quiet!" His tone is harsh, pure drunk rage. The crowd seems to lose interest in the argument and the music resumes but I'm still wary. I know James is up to something and it's just a matter of time. "I'm sure it's nothing, Zetta. A little misunderstanding...and Miss Carrem knows how to take care of herself" It's Lawrence. I turn to him and he's smiling reassuringly down at me, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I feels so grateful for his lovable kindness right now, an anchor in a troubled sea. I nod and try to shake my bad gut feelings away. "Why don't we take a break and enjoy the waltz with a drink?" he adds, gesturing to the drink table near the window. I compliment his idea and let him guide me through the crowd. The cold her of the night cools me down and I take a long breath to soothe my nerves. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I'll be spared the drama. Unlikely but I can still hope right? I almost sink the glass of sherry Lawrence hands me, triggering a concerned look that I dismiss, claiming I'm perfectly fine. I just needed a break, I'm not twenty anymore, I grimly joke. "True Beauty never ages, dear Zetta. A beautiful soul defies the cruel compass of time" Lawrence proclaims with a smile. I ask him what poet wrote that line because I can't recollect it in the moment but I'm not surprised in the least to hear that he is the one behind that sweet thought. I pull him into a hug whispering thank you into his ear. When we part, he encourage me to make a wish. "It's your birthday, after all: isn't it a tradition in America?" he asks. I'm still considering and rambling when Felix and Sabine approach us. The party is going well and the guests are enjoying themselves. They just wanted to check in on the honeree, Felix says. Lawrence shows our empty glasses making a funny face and we all laugh. I ask about the little incident before. Felix assures me once again that it was nothing. I turn towards my little Napoleon for confirmation. "Oui, Madam. Nothing more than a quid pro quo. You know how it is. Youth" Sabine says but the look in her eyes tells a different story. "Miss Zetta, any chance you'll make an appearance in our documentary?" Felix intervenes, quickly changing the topic. "We would be most honoured" Lawrence adds, beaming. "A little tribute to one of the finest passengers of the liner" I give a soft laugh, playing with the idea. Maybe I could, after all. A quick cameo. It wouldn't take too much time. I playfully brush them off calling out their flattery but they assure they had considered it over the last few days on board. "It would be a pleasure and an honor" Felix bows. I sigh contently, my eyes wandering from one admirer and friend to the other. "Very well then, my dear friends: I'm in! Why don't we meet...let's say over breakfast or lun-" I start but I stop mid-sentence. Behind my back, an hysterical laugh echoes through the café, drawing the general attention. Conversations and music fades away and an awkward tense silence settles. Cold runs down my spine and I fear my face suddenly goes pale as I recognise the voice. Jamie. It's time. I must endure this bad farçe. I inhale sharply. You can do this, you are a great actress and you survived worst days. You survived Franz. Get ready, Zetta. On scene in three, two one... When I turn, he's stalking towards me, shirt stained with wine and an hysterical light gleaming in his bright eyes. He's dragging Adele along like a puppet. A disheartening picture compared to my fondest memories of him. "Excuse me, Aunt, I merely wished to offer a toast: my salutations on this glorious occasion and-" he exclaims, raising his glass and sloshing wine over the edges. "You interrupting to chew the cud, here, James? Get to the point" I sound a bit harsh, as if annoyed of another interruption. I roll my eyes as I would do with a problematic kid throwing a tantrum and forgetting his manners. Ironically, it's what he's doing, even if he's no longer a child. A weird, unpleasant smile crosses his face. Maybe he was expecting my reaction? "And a fond farewell to your secretary" he adds menacingly as I take a sip of sherry. I narrow my eyes at him over my glass, half annoyed, half amused. Bring it on, Jaime dear. "A farewell? And why might that be?" I see Sabine tensing up at my peripheral. James looks so pleased of himself as he takes the stage like a practiced professional. He doesn't realise he's just behaving like a pathetic buffoon to my -and most guests's -eyes. "To put it simply: Adele is a confidence woman who agreed to come abroad the Titanic to help me destroy you" "Come again?" I fake surprise as the crowd gasps and starts whispering. The attention and the look on my face renew his foolish fervor. "I brought Adele to help me ruin your marriage to Richard King, to keep him from ruining our family... For the price of her freedom, your secretary was to get close to you, discover your worst secret, and deliver it to me." He stops, making a dramatic pause. And now I know: it's the moment of truth. Time of Adele's choice. I stand, concealing my inner turmoil and fears, as the crowd basks into this unexpected juicy coup de theatre. When he speaks again, his mouth twists with a rage I've never fathomed he could hide inside. "She failed!" She...protected me? Even knowing at what cost... My eyes instinctively search Adele's but James is not done yet. "And now she'll go back to jail, where I found her" he shouts, spiralling out of control but loud enough to be heard by everyone. At the word "jail", the crowd utters a collective gasp. He wants to publicly humiliate her since he can't get what he was looking for. Because she dared refuse him the key to my ruin. I wish I could just drop the act and slap some sense into him. What pains me most is seeing him succeeding, to some extent. Adele is frowning under that low blow. I throw glares at everyone taking a step back from her as if she suddenly turned into a criminal or an insect. Miserable bastards... My love proves herself to be superior to all this, again. She straightens up and addresses the crowd, providing explanations she doesn't owe to any of us" "I was arrested for public disruption at a protest for women's rights. I'm not proud of having been jailed, but I'm not ashamed of what I was fighting for" she says, grimacing. Then she looks at me and I smile at her, hoping to convey all my respect, deepest affection and admiration for my sweet brave revolutionary. Let me help you now, my angel. I turn towards James and my smile loses all its warmth. "Bravo, James. You're quite the schemer" I knew he would be confused. I'll deny you something too, Jaime. You won't get an ounce of the despair you wanted. You won't see me crying and crumble under your betrayal: I'm not a Julius Caesar stumbling underneath your dagger. "That's all you have to say? You've been played. She was hired to ruin your marriage-" "She was, wasn't she?" I cut him short. "But she has a conscience, and a lot of courage" I take a pause before smiling again, cold and victorious. "Adele told me all about your terrible plan" His jaw drops and his rosy cheeks pale. He grabs Adele's arm and starts drunkly ramble again. "You - what? No. This doesn't change anything. I'll take you back-" This time Adele interrupts him, spitting the harsh truth right in his face. "Your only power was your wealth, and now that's gone. Along with the trust of your only relative" He releases her and I wonder if he finally realised what a fool, what an ungrateful fool he has been. Adele's right, James. When he turns to me, a desperate look on his face, I brace myself for his tears. Him begging for a forgiveness I'm not sure I will ever be able to give him. Apparently, I haven't learned my lesson: men can't be trusted. Men will always lie to you. "She's the one blackmailing me" Adding insult to injury, Jamie dear? "No, James. She's not" I'm cold and firm, despite the heartbreak I feel growing inside me. "You'll value the word of this secretary over your own blood?" His disbelief quickly turns into rage again. "I value my own sense, James; your plotting was plain as that smirk on your face" My voice is sharp: yes, I want to hurt him just like he hurt me. I want him to feel ashamed and sorry for what he did to me, to Adele. My sharp retort provokes some nervous giggles soon silenced in our audience. I sense fury building up inside him until it explodes. He bangs on the table with his fist, making everyone jump. "I'll get to Hileni, then, I'll hold her, I'll make you tell Zetta's secret-" Is he even speaking to Adele or...to himself? Honestly, I cannot tell. And I'm grateful to Matteo for intervening. I don't know what he's whispering into his ear but it seems to work. James seems to remember himself. For a split second, sadly. He straightens his cuffs and gives us all a tight, cruel smile. "Off to send word to the authorities, then" he says and turns to Adele and me. "As I said before, say your goodbyes" Then he walks away as the unabashed crowd part the way for his supposed grand exit. When he's out of the room, the guests are puzzled, unsure of what they just witnessed. They look at each other asking the neighbour or their partner what our family farçe was. I'm afraid this is just the beginning of another sorrow but the worst is gone. For the night, at least. I let out a long, exhausted sigh: God knows if it wasn't tough but I can breathe now. We can breathe again. And plan a counter attack to his pathetic scheme. I instinctively reach for her hand and take it into mine, uncaring of the crowd around us. "I didn't think the boy would actually do it" Yes, I tried to convince myself of that. I wanted to believe that he was apparently better than he actually is, that he wouldn't stoop so low...but what is my life if not a collection of disappointments from men? "Should I be worried?" There's a hint of concern in Adele's voice. I can't blame her: I don't recognise my nephew anymore, I can hardly tell how seriously we should consider his threats. "I doubt it, but he's not to be underestimated when his pocketbook is in peril" I know my answer offers little comfort but I continue, squeezing her hand to prove my loyalty to her: "Whatever he tries, though, I'll be by your side" Adele smiles down to our hands before meeting my eyes again. "I have faith in you, Zetta. Thank you" Despite I can see more than understandable concerns and fears written all over her face, she squeezes my hand back. I take a deep breath. The weight of the latest events is washing over me. "I'm going to retire to my room and prepare a message to my lawyers. If anyone can figure out a way to keep you out of jail, it's them" "Are you certain?" I give my love a sad smile. "There's little certain in this life, sweetheart, but lawyers with a high hourly rate? They're as close as we'll get" We just smile at my little mot d'esprit. "This wasn't exactly the soirée I wanted, but I suppose the truth had to come out sometime." I continue. I look at her in the eye as I add: "You're a true friend, Adele" I lean towards her so only she can hear. "And I'll wait up for you tonight, if you'd like" Please come find me later, my love. We will find a way to keep you out of trouble, we'll meet the dawn if need be and forget our sorrows and the unpleasantness of this soirée in each other arms. To my surprise, Adele wraps her around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. It takes me a moment to process it but I've never felt closer to tears. Surrounded by the familiar warmth of her body. I know someone is probably, surely staring with a bit of curiosity and malice after the melodrama we offered for free tonight but I don't care. Not now. So I hug her back and give a quick gentle stroke to her cheek as I part. After one last lingering weak smile at her, I gesture Sabine that it's time for our retreat. With the last ounce of strength left in me to keep my act on, I wave diplomatically at the gossiping guests and take my leave, my little Napoleon in tow. The show's over, lads. The show's over...

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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lopithecusfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Then There Were Three: Chapter Two

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4402 Alternate: AO3 Author's Note: For any of you who don’t know, I am American. I do my best to use UK terms vs US terms but I still might not realize something is called differently here than over there. With that being said, I know terms are probably regional just like here in the US so everything might not be completely accurate. Also, spelling differences are just impossible for me to know all of them, so I’m going to stick with US spelling for consistency. Sorry. :/ Enjoy!

The drive home is unpleasant. Robert isn’t completely done with his heat — he probably shouldn’t be driving at all — and so on his way back, he has no choice but to sit in wet underwear and blast the A/C. It’s probably a miracle he even makes it back home at all.

Parking the car in the drive, he reaches over to the glove box and pulls out the scent dampener he had used earlier. He’s sweating profusely, panting hard, and smells of heat and arousal. When he looks at himself in the rear-view mirror, he notices he’s flushed red and his hair is a mess. Robert runs his hand through his hair and sprays the scent dampener over himself generously, hoping Chrissie won’t be able to smell the fact that he is still in heat.

His heat should be over soon and he could sit in the car and wait it out, but he’s anxious to get back inside and mend any damage that has been done. Better yet, get inside before Aaron has the opportunity to blow everything up in his life. Robert doesn’t see Aaron’s vehicle anywhere, so maybe he made it before Aaron could make any rash decisions.

Getting out of the car after wiping the sweat from his face, he makes his way inside Home Farm. He finds Chrissie sitting in the kitchen, reading a magazine. It looks as if she had just finished eating and at the sight of the empty plate, Robert’s stomach growls in hunger. He hasn’t eaten anything in hours and a heat takes up a lot of energy and calories.

Chrissie hears him enter the kitchen and when she spots him, her face lights up. The guilt that hits Robert is unexpected. “I wasn’t expecting you back ‘till later.” Robert smiles at her and approaches, praying she won’t be able to tell about his heat. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “How was the convention?”

“I just couldn’t get my head into it,” he mumbles, the lie coming out of his mouth easily. She smells good, like a true alpha, and Robert resists the urge to groan as he feels a small amount of slick run down his leg.

“Are you hungry?” Chrissie asks as if she can tell what he was thinking earlier.

He lies again as he answers. He needs to leave and take a shower, take care of himself until his heat finally subsides. “No, I’m fine.”

She pats his arm and stands. “Don’t be silly. There are leftovers that you can have.” She dishes out a plate for him as she drones on and on about Lawrence and Bernice. Robert doesn’t hear a word of it.

He’s too busy thinking about Aaron and what the alpha might do now. Robert stands quickly, his stomach flipping with nerves and nausea. “I’m going to take a shower,” he tells his wife and doesn’t bother waiting for a response.

Robert goes to the upstairs bathroom, shutting and locking the door. He peels off his clothes hurriedly, welcoming the cool air against his heated body. He feels like he’s on fire as he reaches over and turns the shower on cold. When he finally takes off his boxers, he grimaces at how it sticks to his arse with how much slick is on it. He’s going to have to wash his clothes himself lest Chrissie finds out he has been in heat. That is just a disaster waiting to happen.

Stepping into the shower, he moans at the feeling of the cool water hitting his back. He must have been starting to overheat, like Aaron had inquired about earlier. It would explain why he is feeling too hot and sticky. Robert lets the water run over his entire body, enjoying the way it feels. It’s cooling him down, making him feel a little better.

Until a cramp has him doubling over, slick dripping out of him, and a pain filled moan escaping his lips. Robert reaches behind himself and slowly enters two fingers into his hole. It’s easy and soon he has three fingers up his arse, pumping in time with his breathing. He thinks about Aaron and his cock, wishing it were him that was doing this to him. When he reaches orgasm, it’s the most unsatisfied he has ever felt in a very long time.

Robert spends another ten minutes in the shower, finally feeling as if he has reached the end of his heat. At least the mind numbing, sex craved part of it. He quickly cleans himself up and then dries off using a towel, scrubbing his hair to get as much moister out as possible. After throwing his dirty clothes into the laundry basket, he goes to his and Chrissie’s room to get dressed. He pulls on a blue button up and a pair of jeans. Once done with that, he makes his way back downstairs, feeling calmer now that some time has passed and he’s done with his heat.

That is until he enters the kitchen again with Chrissie when she continued to insist he eat something, only to see Aaron standing there with tears running down his cheeks. Robert’s heart jumps to his throat and pounds away, choking him up and making it impossible to talk. He can feel the heavy weight of dread pushing down on his shoulders as Chrissie asks Aaron what he is doing here and asks the other alpha what happened.

When Aaron starts talking, Robert feels his entire world implode. “The affair was true, the one Katie accused him of.”

Robert is shaking. With anger, fear, he doesn’t know but he does know he needs to stop this. “You need to go.”

Aaron completely ignores him, continuing as his tears grow more frequent. “It started before you got married and continued after.” Robert can feel, smell , the confusion coming off Chrissie as she listens silently. “You know the best part?” Aaron asks, looking from Robert back to Chrissie. “That it was with me .”

Chrissie shakes her head in disbelief, finally talking with a barely audible, “What?”

Robert continues to stare at Aaron. He feels like he’s going to be ill, that his heart is going to jump out of his throat. The feeling of betrayal is heavy in his chest. “He’s lying.”

“Of course he’s lying!” Chrissie insists, her voice shaking. “For God’s sake Aaron!”

Aaron doesn’t take his eyes off Robert and that’s when Robert knows he’s enjoying tearing Robert down bit by bit. Robert swallows around the lump in his throat as Aaron gestures towards him. “He’s the one whose lying. Just look at him.” A smirk forms on Aaron’s face. “I can tell you where we met, when we met.” He tsks. “I can even tell you, ” Aaron points at Chrissie, “where you were. Just think about it, Chrissie, think about it. Why would he want to stay here for a week when you lot went to the Coast?”

“Shut up,” Robert tries but it comes out weaker than he intended and it has zero affect on Aaron.

“Because he wanted to be here, with me . Didn’t ya?” Robert doesn’t answer him. He’s feeling lightheaded and shaky and panicked. “I spent the full week here, in your bed. The hotel surprise,” again, Aaron looks from Chrissie to Robert and back to Chrissie. “Yeah, I was there too, but then we saw you and Katie and I had to scamper.” Chrissie is shaking her head, tears pooling in her eyes and Robert feels like he can’t breathe. “Why do you think he was late for your wedding, Chrissie?” Robert wants Aaron to stop but in this moment, he has never felt more like a submissive omega among dominant alphas in his life. “Because he was with me!” An angry, twisted smile appears on Aaron’s lips and Robert knows what is coming next. “And the best one yet. This weekend, he asked me to spend his heat with him.” Chrissie’s head snaps in his direction. Robert drops his own in instinctual submission. “And guess what, Chrissie? We did. We spent his heat together and I knotted him over and over again and we both enjoyed it.” Aaron looks at him, anger and hurt and cruelness shining from his wet eyes. “You going to deny it or do you want me to carry on?” When Robert doesn’t say anything and instead keeps his head bowed in submission, Aaron huffs and walks away, slamming the door when he leaves.

Chrissie is still looking at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, and Robert can’t bring himself to look at her. He’s angered his alpha and as much as he hates the instinctual need to act accordingly based off of his omega caste, sometimes he can’t fight it either. So he continues to stare at the floor, head down and tilted away from Chrissie, baring his throat. She could rip his jugular out if she wanted to, kill him. Alphas are allowed to if their omega steps out of line so bad that it calls for it. She wouldn’t get in trouble.

Instead she shakes her head and walks away, holding a hand up to him, silently telling him not to follow. He obeys only for a few minutes before he’s jogging after her. “Chrissie, wait! Let me explain.”

He doesn’t really expect it when she shoves him against the wall, one hand on his chest, and baring her teeth. “Get out of my home, Robert,” she spits, growl emanating from deep within her chest. “ Now .”

Robert hangs his head again and leaves, not knowing what else to do at the moment. If he’s honest with himself, he’s afraid that she actually will kill him. He ends up at Victoria’s and she lets him in after he explains that Chrissie kicked him out. She doesn’t ask questions, warns him not to get on Andy’s nerves, and leaves him to it. When she’s gone, he makes his way over to the sofa where he presumes he’ll be sleeping. Andy is staying in the guest room so there’s really no other place for him.

Lying down on the sofa, he sighs. Everything is a mess and it’s all Aaron’s fault. Why couldn’t he have just kept his stupid gob shut? Now Chrissie knows he’s into men and soon the whole village will know and he can’t… he can’t deal with that. It’ll destroy him if they know, especially Diane and Victoria. What would they think of him?

Robert wipes the wetness from his eyes away. He’ll be humiliated. Probably lose both Diane and Victoria. They’ll disapprove, just like his dad did. They’ll be disgusted, think something is wrong with him. They wouldn’t be wrong either.

Sniffling, he reaches into his pocket and takes out the small packet of birth control pills. Why did he even come up with that stupid plan to spend his heat with Aaron? Why couldn’t he have just spent it with Chrissie like always? He’s such an idiot.

Robert scrutinizes the packet before putting it back into his pocket, still not registering the fact that only one is missing and yet he spent three and half days with Aaron during his heat. Instead, he fluffs the pillow under his head and tries to get some sleep. He’ll have to deal with his problems tomorrow, when everyone has had a chance to cool off and calm down.

*~~~*

Andy is the one to wake him in the morning, surprisingly being gentle when he shakes Robert’s shoulder. Robert sits up and groans, feeling ill and achy. He chalks it up to the stress of yesterday combined with the toll that his heat had on his body. That doesn’t stop him from having to rush to the toilet and vomiting into it.

Andy knocks on the threshold and leans on it, watching Robert heave into the toilet. “You alright?”

“Does it look like I’m alright?” Robert retorts, dry heaving once more.

“Do you want some breakfast? Vic had to leave early but left us some in the fridge.” Andy pushes off the doorway and points in the direction of the kitchen. “Said it was pancakes.”

Robert sits up from his crouched position and rubs a hand down his face. “No.” He gets up and starts making his way to the front door, exiting the flat.

Andy follows him to his dismay. Robert just wants to be left alone. “Hey, wait up.” Robert stops, turns to his alpha brother. “Do you want me to talk to Chrissie?”

Robert shakes his head and feels his stomach flip again. “No, there’s no point. I blew it.”

Andy’s eyebrows furrow and Robert puts his hands on his hips, resisting the urge to place them on his aching stomach. “You going to just give up then? That’s not like you.”

Robert can’t help the tsk that escapes his mouth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Andy.” He tries to smile at his brother but it’s weak. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Andy places a hand on his shoulder and Robert sways, his head swimming. “Well you were there for me after Katie. It’s the least I can do.”

Once Andy’s gone, Robert leans back onto the fence post, resting his hands on his knees and trying to take deep breaths. Everything is spinning and he feels like he is going to be ill again. His hands shake where they are placed on his knees. He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Victoria. “You okay?”

Robert swallows and forces himself to stand, heart pounding in his chest. The panic from yesterday is returning and it’s not helping him feel better. “Fine,” he says as he looks his younger sister in the eyes. He doesn’t want to lose her over this but he’s afraid he’s going to. Why would she want anything to do with him after she found out about him liking men? There’s worry in her eyes and Robert dreads when it will be replaced with disgust. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“You sure?” she asks and he nods. She smiles at him, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze, before turning back to Adam and walking away. Robert watches her and hopes it’s not the last time they will talk, just like with his dad when he couldn’t look at or hold a conversation with Robert for weeks after finding out. He can’t go through that again.

In the end, Robert goes back inside the flat, deciding he’s feeling too sick to do anything else. He sits down on the sofa and contemplates what to do next. Aaron will probably tell the rest of the village if Chrissie doesn’t get to it first. He feels even more sick with just the thought alone.

He’s only sitting there for about ten minutes before Diane makes an appearance, walking into the flat as if she owns it. She skips the pleasantries and cuts to the chase. “Victoria told me about you and Chrissie. What on Earth is going on?”

Robert rubs a hand down his face, internally groaning. Why can’t people just leave him alone? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’d rather sit here and brood instead?” Robert bites his tongue, trying to ignore the condescending tone Diane has. She sits down in the chair, clasping her hands together. Her bracelets jingle in the quietness of the room and Robert keeps his eyes trained on the floor. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

Robert feels like crying because no, she won’t. After that day… after that day with his dad he’s never made it obvious to anyone that he is interested in men. He doesn’t even like the fact himself, wishes he wasn’t like this. So, of course, Diane wouldn’t understand. She was so close to his dad, agreed with him on so many things. She wouldn’t understand at all. She would have the same viewpoints as his dad, no doubt. Robert can’t tell her.

“My marriage is over, Diane,” he says, hoping she just leaves it at that.

Diane scrutinizes him, thinning her lips, before standing from the chair. “Okay, get your things. You’re coming home with me.” Robert tries to protest but Diane is insistent. “If you think for one minute I’m leaving you on your own, then you’re wrong. Look at ya. I mean it Robert, I want you where I can see ya.” She says it as if she thinks Robert is going to hurt himself and, well, Robert hasn’t had those kinds of thoughts in a long time. Not since his mum died and dad found him on that rock ledge after Robert found out Andy was the cause. He opens his mouth to tell her no but Diane cuts him off. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Robert still wants to protest but Diane is an alpha and if anything has been proven these last few days, it’s that Robert is currently having a hard time not listening to alphas. So he grabs his jacket that is situated next to him and pulls it on. His stomach has settled for now, thank God, but now it clenches for an entirely different reason. Aaron lives at the pub. What is he going to do if Robert runs into him?

Walking into the pub with Diane and having that exact thing happen, causes more anger to flare in Robert’s chest than he had been expecting. He glares at Aaron, deciding to not back down from this particular alpha at least because Aaron has officially ruined his life and Aaron doesn’t get to boss him around like some dominate alpha anymore. He refuses.

Diane asks Chas if she can do without her for a while and when Chas says she can, Diane escorts him to the back. She tells him to sit on the sofa as she makes them some tea but not long after they both start to hear shouting out in the pub. Recognizing the voice as Chrissie’s, Robert’s heart drops into his stomach like a lead ball. He quickly scrambles off the sofa to get out into the pub in order to try and calm her and stop her from telling everyone about him.

“Chrissie, Chrissie,” he says to get her attention and she turns to him with fire in her eyes. “Please don’t. We can talk in the back.”

She scowls, baring her teeth once more. “You’ve been having an affair with a man.” Robert can feel all the eyes in the pub turn to him. He flushes hot in embarrassment. “And you think I want to talk to you?”

“Is this true?” Diane asks from beside him.

Chrissie isn’t done though. “Why don’t you ask Aaron? He should know. They’ve been at it for months. Even shared a heat together.” Robert’s eyes dart to the floor and his stomach clenches in nausea.

“A heat!” Chas exclaims. “You promised it was over,” Robert hears Chas say.

Aaron’s eyes are burning a hole into the side of his face. “It is over.” His voice is laced with so much hatred, making Robert squirm. He feels terribly small with everyone’s eyes on him and feels almost relieved when Aaron turns and leaves, Paddy going after him. The feeling doesn’t last long, however, because now Diane is confronting Chas about knowing and it’s getting very hard to breathe.

“Since when were you gay?” Victoria’s voice cuts through the quiet of the pub.

“I’m not gay,” he defends because he’s not. He’s just not.

Paddy comes back and Kerry, who shouldn’t even be involved in this, inputs her own comment. “So what do you call this, confused or…?” Robert’s stomach clenches again.

“It was a stupid mistake,” Robert says, still not being able to meet anyone’s eyes. “It meant nothing.”

“Couldn’t help himself apparently,” Chrissie says. “Kept going back for more.”

And that's it. That's the end of Robert's world as he knows it. Now everyone is going to be disgusted and hate him and leave him and... Robert has to slap a hand over his mouth and run into the pub toilets to empty his stomach of its contents. Not that he has anything in it to spill.

There’s a knock on the door and Victoria’s voice comes through. “Rob? You alright?” He doesn’t answer her. Instead he sniffles and wipes his eyes. It feels like his whole world has fallen apart. “Rob? I really think you should talk to Chrissie.” A pause. “Rob?”

Robert slowly gets up and opens the door to the gent’s, Victoria standing right there. “Fine. I will.” He goes back to the pub and Chas tells him that Chrissie and Diane are already in the back. He doesn’t say thank you, doesn’t even acknowledge her. She’s just as much to blame as Aaron is. Chas is the one, along with Paddy, who turned Aaron against him.

Chrissie doesn’t waste time tearing into him with her words. “You were with him for months. Sneaking around behind my back. Encouraging me to go away with Lucky so you can be with him.”

Robert grows defensive, has to do anything to fix this. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Would you stop lying to me!” she yells, standing over him in all her alpha glory.

“I don’t understand,” Diane says from her place by the table. Robert wishes she would leave. “Aaron.”

He can hear Chrissie tsk at the mention of Aaron. “You loved him, didn’t you? You couldn’t help yourself.”

Robert forces himself to look at her despite everything in his body telling him to submit. “No, I love you. Aaron was nothing.”

“People always told me what you were capable of but I continued to believe in you.” Chrissie shakes her head, walks around him. “You probably think I’m pretty stupid, don’t you?”

“No.” He stands. “No and we can make it right if we both want to.”

“You had an affair with a man .” The emphasis that Chrissie puts on the gender of the person he had the affair with hurts more than he would like to admit. He knew this would happen. He knew people would be disgusted with him if they knew the truth. “H-How do we ever make that right?” He opens his mouth to retort, to beg, to say something, anything, but she silences him with a soft, pain filled laugh. “It’s over. There is no going back from this.” She takes her wedding ring and engagement ring off and throws it across the room, stomping back out into the pub.

Diane is looking at him, shaking her head. Robert looks back, begging inside for her not to shun him. “I think it’s probably best if you leave, Pet.”

“What?” His heart constricts painfully.

“You need to leave.”

Again, he opens his mouth to say something, feeling the tears pool in his eyes, but this time instead of getting cut off, no words come. He turns and leaves, going out the back door. He has to lean against the wall for a few minutes to get his breathing under control and to try and ease his stomach. It’s doing panicked flips and he’s starting to feel lightheaded again.

Suddenly, a thought pops into his head, or more like someone . He has to talk to Andy before he hears it from anyone else. Quickly, he goes back to Victoria’s and finds Andy in the kitchen, just having finished putting the kettle on. “Oh good timing. I was just brewing up. Grabbed some sandwiches in the cafe as well.” Robert doesn’t say anything and Andy can surely see how disheveled he looks. “I take it you’ve been to see Chrissie then.”

Robert sighs. “Oh no, she found me. Stormed into the pub, guns blazing.” He shakes his head. “I tried to stop her but Aaron was there.”

“Aaron?”

Robert sits down in the chair, taking a deep breath, readying himself to confess to his brother. “You weren’t meant to find out about this,” he says because it’s true. No one was. He worked so hard to hide it after what dad did to him and now… “Andy please, when I tell ya, please don’t hate me.” He can’t handle Andy hating him again, like dad, always like dad. “The reason Chrissie’s kicked me out… is because she found out… I’ve been seeing Aaron behind her back.” Andy’s brows furrow in confusion and Robert hurries to continue. “I know it’s a lot to take in but… it was a stupid mistake.”

“Katie was right all along,” Andy says, staring off to the side. Robert’s heart drops. “You were having an affair. You twisted everything and made me feel like she was trying to ruin your life. All so you can keep a secret. Why?”

Because of dad, Robert wants to say but he bites his tongue. Andy wouldn’t believe him even if he did say it. Instead he says, “I don’t know, she wouldn’t shut up about it. I had to do something.”

Andy’s eyes are filling with tears. “Like set fire to the caravan? She was right about that, wasn’t she?” Robert shakes his head, denies it. “Because of you, I spent our last days angry with her. I’ll never get that time back with her again.” Robert can smell the anger coming from the alpha in the air. “You took that from me. You watched me grieve and talked me down from trying to kill myself. Not because you were scared but because you were guilty.”

“And I hate myself for that, Andy, but nothing will bring her back,” he says.

He really shouldn’t have been so surprised when Andy lunges at him, grabbing at his jacket and pulling him up. For a split second, Robert thinks Andy is going to rip his throat apart with his teeth. Instead, Andy pushes him until he’s at the door and shoves him outside onto the ground, forcing him to submit to the alpha. They both don’t say anything, Robert with his back to Andy and on his knees in a submissive stance, and Andy glaring into his back.

Robert flinches when he hears the front door slam shut.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Thanks for reading!

#Emmerdale #Aaron Dingle #Robert Sugden #Robron #Then There Were Three #My Fanfiction

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fhjskfgh · 5 years ago

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❛ it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations. ❜

COURTNEY EATON? No, that’s actually PERSEPHONE TOOTS-HOOKUM from the NEXT GENERATION ERA. You know, the child of TILDEN TOOTS and DAISY HOOKUM? Only 21 years old, this RAVENCLAW alumni works as a BARMAID and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as CIS WOMAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be TIMID, GUARDED, and SELFLESS but also FOCUSED, INSIGHTFUL, and LOYAL.

links: stats, pinterest character inspo: amy santiago (brooklyn nine-nine), chidi anagonye (the good place), lara-jean covey (tatbilb), clare (derry girls), leslie knope (parks and rec), topanga lawrence (boy meets world), triggers: miscarriage, missing parents, parental death (implied)

did you ever hear the story of tilden toots and daisy hookum? oh, a tragedy, to say the very least.

married young, in love from the moment they laid eyes on each other, the world had high hopes for a couple untouched by war. they were peaceful mediators, calm and content in their little word of greenery and love, and they lived well off the back of daisy’s successful book, my year as a muggle, and tilden’s continuing radio show, toots, shoots ’n roots. they had everything they needed - except a little child. [ MISCARRIAGE TW: every month they tried and they tried, and while occasionally it appeared they had been successful, the pregnancy never got further than four months before their world was brought crashing back down around them. END TW ] by the time daisy was 43 and tilden 46, they had all but given up - and that is when they were blessed with their first successful pregnancy, bringing into the world a beautiful little girl whom they loved more than they had ever loved anyone else before.

[ MISSING PARENTS; PARENTAL DEATH TW their beautiful baby girl, now named persephone, was four years old when they left her in the hands of tilden’s parents and went on their first trip together alone since persephone’s birth, never to return again. disappeared off the amalfi coast, a headline in the muggle papers and a small paragraph on the fifth page of the daily prophet. people cared, but not enough. they were famous, but not enough. and in a world once again being overtaken by purist ideals, what did it matter if two muggle sympathisers were gone? so be it. move on.

tilden’s parents were devastated and tried everything in their power to get a committee out to find the couple, but no one would listen to two old freaks with not enough money to their name. after a suspiciously quick investigation, daisy hookum and tilden toots were presumed dead and the world moved on. END TW ]

persephone toots-hookum, with a heart too big and eyes too wide for the cruel and unforgiving world she was about to be shoved into, moved in with her only grandparents (mr and mrs hookum having both died long ago). they quickly inherited the money from the toots-hookum household, enough to keep the new family of three comfortable in a small cottage not far from dublin, ireland. they raised little persephone with her parents up on a pedestal, unattainable kindness, intelligence, creativity and wit spilling from every new story seph heard. daisy hookum and tilden toots were heroes in the house that seph grew up in, and she treated them as no less.

with no ties to the pureblood society on the toots side and having practically been shunned on the hookum side for daisy’s decision to live as a muggle for a year, persephone and her grandparents lived in a limbo that separated them from the rest of magical society all throughout seph’s childhood. she grew up lonely, learnt how to entertain herself with a long book or a well-strategised game of chess with her grandfather, and oh did she learn how to hate blood purity. in all the stories of the fantastical daisy hookum and tilden toots one thing was always abundantly clear - they would never stand for blood purity and they were willing to die for that cause. and it was not just blood purity that seph’s grandparents hated either - no one at the ministry had been willing to stick their nose out to find their beloved son and daughter-in-law, and they couldn’t help but hold resentment towards everyone for not caring enough for two people who had brought nothing but love to the world.

these stories and this hatred bred paranoia in poor little persephone - she, herself, was a witch after all, and she would eventually have to attend hogwarts along with all the other wixen. what if one of them had ties to the people that hurt her parents, presuming they had been hurt? what if they hated her as much as they presumably hated them? what if she was destined to be alone forever because no one could love the daughter of muggle sympathisers?

of course, none of this was true, and though she was quiet and somewhat withdrawn, persephone would grow to find love within the walls of hogwarts. in fact, hogwarts was where persephone learned how to unlock her full potential - how to follow in the footsteps of her great mother and father. having been sorted into ravenclaw the moment the hat laid rest on her head (the same house as her mother), persephone embraced her innovation and creativity that had been cultivated in the quiet household of her childhood. she might not have been as book smart as her mother or as quick with a wand as her father, but she was clever and strategic and more than belonging in the house of the ravens. she would lace flowers together into a crown and smile at anyone that passed her in the halls and sit quietly in the back of the duelling club’s meetings, taking notes with the fury of someone who wanted to make a difference in this world.

persephone flew through her years at hogwarts with all the grace and determination that one had come to expect from her. she did well for her classes, she was respected on the quidditch team, and though she might not have been the most popular girl in school (in fact many people hardly noticed her) she was happy and content, proud to have those she called friend close to her. her grades were high enough and her skills polished enough to get her into any job she wished for once she graduated - the only problem was, she had no idea what she wanted to do.

persephone liked to draw, but not enough to become an artist. she liked to fly, but not enough to become a professional quidditch player. she liked to volunteer with the healers in the hospital wing, but not enough to become a healer. nothing felt like enough to her - all this talent and kindness and sweet smiles and she didn’t have the passion to fuel it anywhere.

feeling discontent with where she was in life and pressured to actually do something, persephone joined the daily prophet as a junior journalist, deciding that maybe she could take after her mother - maybe she could write. and for a while, she was quite good. she started out with small fluff pieces that simply filled the pages and moved quickly onto heavier pieces that made it closer and closer to the front page, displaying the skills she had inherited with her mother by moving ever so quickly into investigate journalism.

and as soon as it had started it seemed it was over. she was warned not to tell a soul of why she’d been let go, but she longed to scream about it. persephone had gotten too good, she’d gotten too nosy, and as soon as she had laid an article on the editors desk detailing the corrupt nature of the ministry in one of most bold investigative pieces yet, she was let go. she was threatened, albeit lightly, to keep her mouth shut. and if she were anyone else, this might’ve gone right over her head. but she was fired a year ago now and still everyone (including her closest friends and family) believe she left of her own will. she’s not scared, that would perhaps be the wrong word - she’s cautious. persephone is careful and methodical and knows that a revolution cannot start in chaos if you wish to win. she wanted a revolution so bad when she was working for the prophet and she went about it the wrong way - a part of her is guilty for what she did, and so she keeps her mouth shut. her findings were blown up in a quiet corner of the department of mysteries and now she’s the only one who really knows.

she’s been working as a barmaid for the last year and frankly she hates it, but persephone has never been one to complain. at least she has a job, she says, at least she has a roof over her head. once again she is discontent with where she is at in life, even if she refuses to admit it. she has no idea where to go, what to do, and she’ll continue serving the drinks she refuses to sip if it gives her an income. she hates it but she won’t complain - it’s not in her nature.

the timeclash came as a shock to dear old seph. in all her investigations into the ministry, this one had not come up - that they might fuck up so badly that people disappear and those from the past suddenly reappear. because of course it’s the ministry’s fault - she knows it in her gut. a part of her feels that itch that she felt working for the prophet again, that itch for the revolution, to speak up, to put the ministry under a microscope and expose them for what they are, for what they’ve done. but the other part of her couldn’t care less about investigation - what if her parents are here? her personal heroes, her knights in shining armour. what if they’re here, walking around, the same age as her with bright the smiles of someone who doesn’t know they’re going to die soon. she wants to find them before anything else - family comes first, after all.

#quantum intro #| ❛ a vision in the morning when the light came through. ❜ ( character study. )#hello! if we could all pretend this isnt 1 million and 1 years late that would be great!! fhjsklg

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whydoyouwantmyname · 6 years ago

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Imagine How Violet Sending you away changed you.....

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

part five

part six

“Tate! Tate!” Violet stood in her room, knowing he would show up as soon as his name left her mouth. When he appeared, she could see that he had clearly been crying, and before she could tell him she understood his actions, Tate cut her off.

“Why did you send her away?” His voice cracking as new tears appeared.

He had found you crying in the kitchen, Constance trying to comfort you, as Moria just ignored the whole scene behind her. Tate’s heart broke as he took a seat beside you, placing a hand on your back. Constance glaring as you lifted your head and leaned into him, his arms wrapping around you as he gently kissed the top of your head.

“I think it is time you left Constance.” He calmly said over your sobs, causing the woman to slowly raise and leave through the back door, and then he addressed Moria, “I hope you will not take this the wrong way, but if you could please...”

“I will, but before I do, I just want you to know this is all your fault. If it wasn’t for you and your twisted behav...”

“GET OUT MORIA!” You pulled away and screamed through the tears, before burying your head into Tate’s shoulder, your hands hiding your face as he tightened his embrace. She was gone in an instance.

“She sent me away.” You finally whimpered, “I showed her, and she sent me away.”

“What?” His heart breaking at the pain he had indirectly caused you. He never wanted to hurt you, he only wanted to protect the relationship he held with Violet.

Your response to him was your silence, you couldn’t even fathom a answer as you cried, unaware that Tate also wept with you.

Then he heard her calling him, however he wasn’t going to answer, until...

“Go, see what she wants.” You whispered, pulling back slightly, and wiping the running eyeliner from your face.

“I don’t want to...”

“Tate, all I want is your happiness, so please go to her, and accept her forgiveness for hiding the truth from her.” Your hands wiping his own tears, before you added, “I will go play with Beau, I will be fine, I promise.”

“I love you.” He whispered to you before he rose to go to Violet

“I love you too.”

“She is supposed to be my friend, and she lied to me.” Violet replied

“I told her too, it isn’t her fault...”

“You mean just like you lied to me about being dead?” She snapped

“Now that is totally different.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Oh so I was supposed to just look at you and say, “Hey I’m Tate, I’m dead, wanna hook up?”

“Listen, I am not sending her away forever, I just need some space. So how about you and me just play some more games, and forget about this whole shit show.” She lied.

“She is...”

“Tate, I love you.”

With those words, Tate dropped the whole subject, his love for her overtaking his mind, as his frustration with her decision disappeared.

You sat on the front porch, cigarette in hand as Constance approached you.

“Mother.” You greeted as she took a seat beside you, lighting her own cigarette as you exhaled.

“Daughter.”

“What brings you to the murder house today?” You exhaled as she leaned back and looked at you.

“Lawrence is in jail, for the murder of Travis.”

“Don’t you find it odd that all your lovers are either trapped in this house, or in prison because of this house.”

“Your father is...”

“You really think I don’t know that you killed Daddy in this house along with Moria?” You asked with a smile as she marveled at the intelligence you have.

“Does your brother...”

“No. I didn’t tell him that Daddy was dead. It would hurt him too much.”

“Has he ever shown himself to you?”

“Never. I have asked before, but he never does.” You put the cigarette out on the step, and mimicked her position as you looked out at the street.

“She still hasn’t asked you back, has she?”

“No. She has been spending more time with Tate, which is all I could ever ask for.”

“We all know how this is going to end though [Y/N]. We have to be prepared to...”

“She seems to be looking past the fact that Tate has his own issues, and is being open and inviting to him. That is all I have ever wanted for Tate, and if it means I have to sacrifice my own friendship with her, then I will do it.”

“I am sorry I was a shit mother.” She whispered, “You took on so much responsibility as a child, you raised your older brother, and your younger siblings, you cared so much for them you put them above yourself. Even in death, you can not stand letting their feelings and desires fall behind your own.”

“I am a shit sister.” You replied, “All of us a dead, my brother is a murderer, my other brother is still scared to mess up, my little sister is dead, and Addie....” your eyes started to water, “If I had just heard her at the fucking door when she knocked, if I had ignored Violet, and stayed downstairs, Addie would still be here.”

“Don’t you ever say that again, you beautiful soul. You are the best thing to ever happen to the Langdon family, and you are the most genuine sister.” She put a hand on your knee, and continued, “I never want you to believe that lie ever again.”

“Yes Mother.” You replied as she removed her hand, “Now what do you say we figure out something else to do, other then destroy what’s left of our lungs?”

“Sure Mother.” You smiled, before you both went to the basement.

Weeks later you sat in the parlor, head leaning back against the couch as the puffs of grey smoke danced around above you. For the days were lonely for most of the day, Tate hadn’t spoken to you, at request of the girl who you betrayed, and the other ghost wouldn’t talk to you because of the horrible things your brother did, the fact that you even defended him made you a enemy. The only one who would still speak to you was Beau, Rosie, and your mother, but Beau never left the attic, Rosie didn’t want to come out of hiding, and your mother.... Well Ben and Moria haven’t been the nicest to her, so her visits were limited.

As you watched the smoke spread out above you, you felt the couch slightly dip beside you. A delicate hand brushed against your face as she wiped away tears you didn’t know you made.

“Don’t cry Dearest, Life is too short...”

“Nora, I don’t want to hear it, not today.”

“Tate has betrayed me.”

“Join the club, I am sure all the other ghosts will love to have a new addition to the I hate Tate Langdon club.” Your response was dry

“He won’t give me my baby.” She slowly breathed out, as you lolled your head to one side.

“Nora.” You whispered, as she looked at you, “I don’t give a fucking shit. He is just saying that because of Violet, and his blind love for her, but chances are, one of those babies ain’t gonna even make it through the birth, so you will get your baby. Tater tot is just trying to scare ya.”

“Why would he do that?” She whispered

“Because the world is cruel, and he doesn’t realize just how much the world changed him before he died.”

That’s when you heard the protests of a young girl, and the rebuttals of a desperate man, leaning up and looking past Nora you saw Ben dragging Violet out of the house, panic rising in you as he slammed the door.

“Shit.” You hissed as you rushed to the door, knowing she can’t leave. As you hurried towards the gate you tried to make a excuse, and quickly made yourself seen, “Hey Violet, are you ready to... oh Hello, you must be Mr. Harmon.”

“Who are you?” Ben’s face twisted, as Violet’s filled with rage.

“Oh I am Tiffany Robertson.” You answered, “Violet and I have to work on a school project today, it is due Monday and right now is the only time we both had free to work on it.”

“Well I am sorry bu....”

“Dad, please, this is a really important grade, and Tiffany is right, we can only work on it today. I will see Mom when she gets back.”

“You promise.”

“Promise.”

“Okay, nice to meet you Tiffany.” Ben loaded himself in the car as you started towards Violet, who was looking at you with slight disgust.

“What the fuck was that?” She hissed as you both started towards the house, but when she looked beside her, you were gone.

“You will never believe what just happened!” She exclaimed to Tate as she shut the door, and looked at her boyfriend who was typing away on the laptop.

“Your dad knows you aren’t in the car, and there is no explanation to why...”

“Your sister convinced him to not make me go.” She snapped, causing Tate to look at her in confusion, “I told her to go away, and she fucking....”

“Saved your ass.” Tate snapped

“Disregard my wishes.” She slumped into the bed next to him, and laid flat on her back

“Well if you ask me, She did what any best friend should, and saved your ass from having to explain to your parents that this whole house is haunted, and that you are dead.” He whispered, “So maybe you should just be thankful that she did.”

You walked back in the parlor and found Nora was gone, but Moria had filled the space, dusting away as she hummed to you.

“Silly girl, always protecting the ones you love, even when they don’t want you too.” She hummed as you flopped back down on the couch.

“Well what was I supposed to do, just let her expose all of us to her family as the undead?”

“No honey, that is what you are telling yourself, but we know the real root cause of you doing it. You don’t want Violet to tell her parents that Tate is dead, and have them google his sickening past.”

“Moria, my mother might as well have shot you in both of your eyes.” You slowly rose from the couch and started towards the attic, knowing that she was partly right.

“You can’t be here!” Billie yelled as Tate exposed himself in the kitchen doorway, both Violet’s and Constance’s eyes falling on the boy. You stood between the two, refusing to expose yourself to the three who stood in the room with you, however ready to lunge at her for trying to cast him away.

“I just want to...”

“You have done enough, to your mother, to Violet, to everyone in this house.” Billie hissed before turning her eyes towards the empty space, “I can’t even imagine the pain you must feel towards him, so young, so beautiful, taken so young by your selfless act of love for a monster.”

“I am not...”

“Go away Tate. I will tell you how you can help later.” You replied, Tate looking at you with dark eyes as he slowly slipped away.

“The best help he can give us is letting us outcast him too.” She whispered, as Constance took her hand, muttering some nonsense to Violet, who was glaring at the empty space next to her, as you looked at Billie with the same cold eyes that your brother just gave you.

Later she was alone at the table, cigarette in hand, as Violet and Constance searched for the few valuable items she needed. You slowly pulled the chair out across from her, lighting your own cigarette as you whispered, “How did you know I was listening earlier?”

“I could feel your energy, compared to the others in this house, your’s feels very warm, however I feel the regret that you carry for recent events.”

“Why won’t you let Tate help you?”

“He is cold, suffocating almost. I could hear all the ghosts protest when he tried to enter, the whole energy of the house screaming murder, and disloyalty. When he entered the room all the warmth of the room seemed to vanish, except for one spot. Where you were standing.”

“Bullshit.” You hissed as you leaned back in the chair.

“Only someone pure could resist his darkness, someone who loved unconditionally, I heard you send him away, I heard the love towards him that you feel, and I felt the ache you felt doing it, and felt it deepen when Violet flared at you. I know all about you [Y/N], I know how you died, and I know what he took from you, and I know how he made you....”

“You don’t know shit lady. If you did you would let my brother help.” You pushed away from the table, and started storming towards the kitchen door, however her words refusing to stop you as she called, “You know what your brother truly is. You know that he is burdened with the darkness of this house’s energy, and that this house altered who he was. You can’t pretend to deny it forever.”

#american horror story imagine #american horror story imagines #AHS imagines #AHS imagine #American Horror Story Fanfic #American Horror Story Fanfiction #AHS Fanfic #AHS fanficfion #ahs one shot #AHS oneshot #AHS one shots #AHS oneshots #american horror story oneshot #american horror story oneshots #american horror story one shot #american horror story one shots

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cyberflows-art · 7 years ago

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Shoulder Devil

Oof! This sure took me a while! Not really because it’s long (although it kind of is, whoops!), but because I have terrible time management skills XD

I always plan what I’m going to say for this little introductions and then completely forget what I was supposed to say...

Well, this is my fic for the Joey Drew Studios AU at @ask-joeydrewstudios! I knew for quite some time that I wanted to do something for this AU because the characters are very well developed and consistent, the art is fantastic and it’s always a good time whenever I receive a notification telling me there’s a new post! I could spend a looong time telling you why I love this AU so much, but instead I’m just going to recommend checking it out! I wan’t sure whether to draw something, or write something, soooo I did both! Oh! I’m also going to put it over on AO3 and ffnet if that’s more your thing!

I really hope you like it!

Cough Don’t use or repost my drawing without my permission, please! Cough

It had been a very productive Friday in the studio. Most of the animators had managed to get ahead on their work, the voice actors had very smooth recording sessions and Joey found himself praising a lot of people when he checked on them. The ink spills where almost null, the projectors all in outstanding condition, the pipes hadn’t emitted any creaking noises or given any signs of damage. The toy department had just finished some new concepts for a limited edition line of toys that could boost their income quiet a bit. The studio was reveling in a contented mood, and the employees certainly appreciated the relaxed work environment, so different to the usual stress of having to meet an approaching deadline. But that productivity came at a price.

A price called Sammy Lawrence.

Due to the presence of a certain prank loving toon, people who worked at Joey Drew Studios knew to have spare clothing at hand, even more so if you worked in the Music Department. But that usually meant just an extra shirt for the week. This day? Sammy had already had to change his shirt twice before lunch break. The first time was due to a bucket of ink being dumped on his head; the second because Henry just so happened to be passing through the same hallway as him with a bowl of (thankfully not boiling) soup, and Bendy just so happened to run by them and “accidentally” push Henry. The entirety of the contents of the bowl, of course, ended covering Sammy. From that point on, the positivity in the air was slain by Sammy’s irate aura and the employees instinctively stepped aside whenever he walked by. And now that he had finally been able to eat something and calm himself a little, he sat at his desk and grabbed a pen only to discover half of his stuff was coated in honey. He groaned in exasperation and cursed the substance while trying to detach the pen from his fingers.

Sammy didn’t know why the little brat suddenly decided to focus all of his attention on him, (this considering the music director was a favorite target), but he knew it needed to stop that instant. In fact, it should have stopped days ago. Since wednesday, Bendy had been making his working hours a living hell. It ranged from hiding random ingredients in his food, to messing with the lyrics in his incomplete songs, to hiding every single one his goddamn cigarettes in a different location each. The only reason he had managed to not fall behind was that he locked all of his important documents and work in the upper right drawer of his desk. He bet that the little devil would have turned them all into paper airplanes if he didn’t.

Grumbling, he stood up once again and started walking towards the nearest bathroom to wash his hands. Of course, it would be his luck that said bathroom was the one in the worst condition in the whole studio. The door, specifically, was a bother to open since there wasn’t enough space between it and the floor, making it drag noisily; not to mention the rusty hinges and knob people had tired of reminding Wally to oil. Maybe the fact that it was the bathroom closest to the music department had something to do with that. Sammy wouldn’t put it past the janitor to be petty like that. He would normally go the extra mile to go to a decent bathroom, but he had wasted enough time as it was, so he resigned himself and stepped in, careful not to close the damaged door all the way.

He got as far as rubbing the soap on his hands before the water stopped flowing from the tap. Frowning, Sammy tried opening and closing it, but quickly lost his patience and tried the other two. Nothing. Anger rapidly increasing, Sammy took a moment to count to ten, planning to calmly go to the bathroom in the floor above. But while he focused on counting, he failed to notice the rattling of the pipes in front of him. 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… The sudden loud creaking finally caught his attention and alarms rang in his head when he saw all three sinks slightly shaking. He managed but one hasty step towards the door before the three taps were sent flying and three forceful water streams drenched him from head to toe. Sammy instinctively covered his face, desperately trying to maintain enough visibility to walk the short distance to the door. Unfortunately, with all the chaos he wasn’t able to notice the bar of soap that had landed on the floor, and thus couldn’t prevent stepping on it. He yelped when he felt himself tripping forward, barely being able to slam against the door with his shoulder rather than with his face.

A dull pain spread through his upper arm but nothing too serious. Sammy rubbed at it and stood up, his mind trying to process what had just happened. If he had had a moment to collect himself, rage and annoyance would have probably consumed him, but he heard something above the sound of the flowing water. Laughter. Really loud laughter. The door of the stall closest to the wall slowly swung open and hanging from the inside was the little devil himself. He obviously couldn’t hang there for much longer, shaking with laughter as he was, so he jumped to the only corner of the floor untouched by the water to continue from there.

“WOW, Sammy! I thought I had something great by breaking the sinks, but you made it even better with that soap bit!!!” he managed to say through his giggles. “You sure you don’t wanna be a toon? You’d make a great target for gags!”.

Sammy remained silent. He remained silent and looked at the mess around him, one of his eyes twitching. He remained silent because even if he was normally able to yell at Bendy for his pranks, he couldn’t believe the absolute stupidity of the whole situation. He remained silent because even if he would usually call the demon a little shit, he still had to remember he was a kid and at the moment he didn’t trust himself to not say something he could regret later. And the absolute least he needed that day was for Joey to visit him to berate him on his conduct. So he bit back the venom that threatened to escape from his mouth and limited himself to glaring at the demon as harshly as he could. Bendy’s laughter did wither under the look that Sammy was giving him (and the lack of an explosive reaction), but he kept a defiant attitude by crossing his arms and returning the stare with a smile. This only further irritated the music director, so he turned around to open the door, not wanting to see the smug brat’s little face anymore. He wasn’t used to repressing his anger, and since he was absolutely furious, he needed an outlet fast. Except… the doorknob wasn’t working. In fact, it felt pretty loose, probably detached from whatever internal mechanism was inside the door. He struggled with it, as if he could force it to work just by violently moving it, but he ended loosening it it to the point it came off. Sammy glared at it for a second before flinging it against the wall. He heard snorting behind him.

“What?” came Bendy’s voice. “Can’t even open a dooooor, Sammy?”

He then started blabbering about how Sammy needed to start lifting weights and eating more vitamins. Sammy sighed in frustration and turned towards Bendy to yell at him to undo whatever he did to the door so he could go tell Joey to ground the demon for the rest of eternity. He froze, however, when he saw the floor of the room. The flow of the water had considerably diminished, but it was still consistently adding more liquid to the floorboards. The growing puddle was silently creeping in Bendy’s direction, but the demon couldn’t be bothered to notice. For a split second, he toyed with the idea of just watching him notice and freak out about his crucial mistake. But a pang of guilt immediately hit him, knowing well that it would be the equivalent of letting a fire get close to a human. He was furious, but not even he was that cruel. Sighing, he sacrificed the one spot on his clothes that had been spared from the water attack to dry his hands. He crossed the distance between them, tuning out Bendy’s incessant rambling, and lift him up before the puddle could reach his shoes. Three seconds later, there wasn’t a dry spot on the floor.

“Hey!” Bendy exclaimed. “Put me down!! I don’t like bein’ carried around, ya hear me?! Let go!”

He then proceeded to poke Sammy’s head with his tail and trying to wiggle out of his hold. Sammy tightened his grip, afraid he might actually drop him and then held the demon to arms length in a way that wouldn’t allow Bendy enough movement to bite him (which he was known for).

“Okay, you little brat. You are going to look down for a single second and then I dare you to say that again to my face,” Sammy deadpanned.

“What, you think I wouldn’t?” Bendy crossed his arms. “Fine! I’ll look down and then I’ll tell you to your face to put me- Oh...”

“‘Oh’ is right.” Sammy glared at him as he stopped struggling to fall to his demise. “Now, if you could stop throwing a tantrum and fix the freaking door so we both can get the hell out of here, that would be great, wouldn’t it?”

“What?! I didn’t do anything to the door!!!”

“Oh, yeah? Then why won’t it open? Can you really not stop playing dumb even when you turned the floor into something you can’t so much as touch without melting?!” Sammy made him face the door, hoping that he would pull out a tool or something that would let them get out,

“Ugh! I told ya, I didn’t break the door! You’re the one that slammed his ugly face against it! Maybe that’s why it broke, huh?”

Bendy stuck his tounge at him and looked away with a huff.

“So what? We’re just trapped here now?!” Sammy looked at the demon incredulously. “Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted? Well, congratulations! I bet Joey will give you a trophy!”

Bendy scowled at him, but quickly looked away under Sammy’s scolding stare and resigned himself to pout in silence. This was doing nothing for Sammy’s mood. Now there was no way he wasn’t going to fall behind in his work. Besides, the water was already up to his ankles and the cold from being soaked was starting to get to him. His arms were also getting tired.

“Why am I even carrying you still?” he said more to himself. The little guy didn’t really deserved the effort after landing them in the situation they were in. He walked towards the stalls, hoping that he could set him down.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Bendy asked once he felt they were moving.

“I’m getting tired so I decided you are going to stand on one of the toilets,” he said matter of factly.

“WHAT? But… but toilets are filled with water!”

If Sammy didn’t fear he would drop him he would have smacked his own forehead with his hand.

“I’m not putting you inside the toilet, you moron! You’re gonna stand on top of the lid.”

“Ew! No way! Joey told me what goes in there and I’m NOT touching those things.” Bendy scrunched his face up in disgust and clung to Sammy’s hands, refusing to be put down. “And the water is rising so fast! What if it reached me if I was standing there? Oh no! What if it goes all the way up to the roof? What if nobody saves us?!”

Sammy rolled his eyes at the toon’s exaggeration. This wasn’t a worrying predicament, only an infuriatingly annoying one. At this point, he would even accept if Joey offered to teleport them out of there.

“Calm down, we are not going to drown,” Sammy told him. “The door isn’t fused to the floor. There’s gotta be some water leaking, and the moment somebody notices they’re going to-”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

Wally’s voice reached them right on cue. Bendy’s face lit up in an instant.

“Wally! Wally, we’re trapped! You gotta save us!” He yelled.

“Bendy? What-? How-? Oh, shoot! Are you ok? You aren’t like… half melted or something right?” Wally’s voice became a bit panicked with the possible implications of what he could find on the other side of the door. They could hear him frantically turning the useless knob.

“Thanks for the mental image, Franks…”

“Wait… Sammy?! How many people are in there?!”

“Oh no, just the two of us!” Bendy exclaimed happily, as if he hadn’t been freaking out just a few moments prior. “I’m using him as my personal island!”

“Uh, yeah, you keep doing that buddy…” Wally said. “How did this even happen?”

“Sammy broke the door!” Bendy immediately answered.

“Excuse me?! You’re the genius that thought exploding the sinks was a good idea!”

“He WHAT?” Sammy could tell by the distress in Wally’s voice that he knew who would have to deal with the mess. He would have found it amusing if his shoes weren’t completely submerged.

“Franks, my clothes are soaked and I am locked in here with a three foot tall nightmare incarnated. How about you get us out, and then you play detective?”

Sammy didn’t doubt the silence that followed was Wally trying to come up with a good comeback to not just accept an order from the music director, but in the end he had to acept this wasn’t a good time for that.

“Fine, fine,” he finally said. “You might want to step away from the door! I’ll get you out in a second!”

The door creaked when Wally pushed forcefully against it, but with no results, A groan of frustration was heard before repeated pounding against the wood, which the trapped pair could only guess was Wally either tackling the door or trying to kick it down. Bendy started cheering him on. After the fifth hit, one of the rusty screws of the upper hinge was sent flying while the other hinge got crooked and Sammy swore one of its sides got lodged into the wood frame. From that point on, nothing else even budged.

“... Maybe I won’t get you out in a second…”

“Wow, it’s almost like it’s important to do your job maintaining the building, huh?” Sammy said bitterly.

“Agh, shut up. Look, there’s an axe somewhere in the studio. Joey told me where it was, but I uh, kinda forgot where it is… I gotta go ask him.” Silence. ”Dammit. He’s not going to like this…”

“I would prefer it if you cut the water first. It’s almost up to my knees already.”

“Uh, right, right. First things first, and all that.”

“Hurry up, Wally! I don’t think Sammy has the strength to carry me for much longer!” Bendy called.

“Wha-? You little-!”

“Try not to shove Bendy into the water while I’m gone Sammy!”

Wally’s voice faded along with his hurried steps. Sammy’s shoulders sagged. Great. More waiting. He guessed he could try doing something productive. Maybe see if he could loosen the hinges. Oh wait! He couldn’t. He was carrying some dead weight. And as much as he hated to admit it, said dead weight was indeed putting a strain on his arms. He let himself lower them just a bit to get his blood circulating better, hoping that the demon wouldn’t notice. With his luck that week, of course he did.

“Uh, you did hear what Wally just told ya, right?” Bendy said glancing down and lifting his feet.

“Oh, sorry! It must be that I’m not strong enough to carry you. I could just drop you any minute now.”

Bendy pouted up at him. Sammy retaliated with a glare, but found that just looking at the demon reminded him of the terrible week he had had. He decided that he had enough of the staring contest soon after and looked around for, well, literally anything else he could do. He spotted the towel that was placed for people to dry their hands, which had miraculously been spared of the shower, and he got an idea for a solution for the tiredness of his arms. He crossed the room towards it and held Bendy in front of it.

“Grab it.”

“Huh?” Bendy gave him a confused look.

“Grab the towel.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Sammy lifted Bendy up so that they were looking eye to eye. “I despise carrying you as much as you despise being carried. So you are gonna take that towel, put it on my shoulder and sit there until we get out of here.”

“Why don’t you grab the towel if it’s your idea?” Bendy’s cocky demeanor started chipping away at Sammy’s last bit of patience, and he was desperately trying to remind himself he was supposed to be the adult. “Why do I gotta do all the work here, huh? How lazy of you! Are you sure you’re fit to be the director of anything?”

“Ok, that’s ENOUGH! Why are you being such a prick?! This whole situation was YOUR fault! Least you could do is cooperate with something as easy as this!”

Bendy flinched at the louder tone of voice, but he wasn’t deterred.

“‘Why are you being such a prick?’” he imitated in a high pitched voice, using his hand to simulate a mouth. However, he did grab the towel and threw it on Sammy’s shoulder, hitting him on the face (not so accidentally) during the fact. Making sure it was placed well enough that his wet shirt wouldn’t come in contact with the little toon, Sammy let him climb on his shoulder and he finally could put his darned arms down. His relief was short lived, though. Now he had a whining demon right besides his ear.

“That’s it,” he said not even paying attention to whatever Bendy was saying. “I’m quitting the moment we get out of this stupid bathroom…”

“Yeah? Well maybe you should,” Bendy suddenly muttered with a scowl. If he hadn’t been so close, Sammy may not have heard it. “That way you wouldn’t break Boris’ stuff.”

Sammy startled so forcefully he had to quickly hold Bendy in place so he wouldn’t fall.

“Break Boris’- What are you even talking about?” he asked frowning.

“Oh, just admit it!” Bendy turned so he was sitting sideways and could look at Sammy better, He poked his face in an accusing manner. “You broke Boris’ favorite banjo! You know how long he had been practicing a new song to show Joey? Like a month! You even know how long a month is? He had even prepared a mini stage in our apartment, and I was gonna do an opening act and Alice was going to be there too!” Bendy threw his arms in the air as if he could convey the grandiosity of their planned little show by waving them around. “It was going to be great, but then you went and ruined our good time! Boris has been so bummed out since Tuesday he won’t even play with me!”

Sammy was taken aback. Not only could he already feel the headache coming from all the yelling in his ear, but he also realized a very important thing. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Is that really why you have been insufferable all week? Because you think I’m the one who did that?”

“I know you did it! Joey said you are the one responsible of all music stuff, so obviously it had to be your fault! If you are innocent, why don’t ya prove it, huh? Oh right, because you can’t! You’re guilty!”

Sammy gave a big sigh, wondering if he was about to waste his breath.

“Tuesday? You mean this tuesday? The same tuesday I had to leave early?” He narrowed his eyes at Bendy and saw the devil’s confidence falter. “You know what happens on tuesdays? There’s a weekly maintenance of all the instruments. You know what else happens on tuesdays? The imbeciles that conduct those checkups often stay and organize a mini ‘act like an idiot’ party after the oh so hard work that task represents for them, even when repeatedly told not to. So more than likely, it was one of them that broke that banjo, and more than likely, if I find out who did it and made these days hell for me because of it, I’m gonna move heaven and earth to make Joey fire them! So there! I hope you are proud, because not only did you waste my time making me clean after your little ‘revenge pranks’ for hours and then make me lose hours of sleep to catch up on work, you also wasted your own time doing something completely worthless. I don’t think you even wanted to put the effort to find out who it was. I bet you just wanted it to be me, because for some goddamn reason you just want to make me quit. So congratulations! You might have just succeeded this time!”

Sammy took a deep breath once his rant was over and noticed at last how Bendy had gone really quite. He wasn’t looking at him and had his head hung low.

“So you really didn’t do it?” came Bendy’s meager question.

Sammy didn’t even dignify that with the obvious response. Instead, he focused on how the water flow from the sinks weakened until stopping altogether, Took Franks long enough. The silence that followed was tense, but Sammy greatly preferred it to having to deal with more tantrums from the toon on his shoulder. Sighing, he moved to the center of the room and settled for impatiently staring impatiently at the door. A chill went up Sammy’s spine, and he cursed his body’s inability to maintain a decent temperature. He would normally find it annoying, but with all that had happened and his head starting to pound, he had ran out of steam. He shifted his weight uncomfortably in place, his feet already feeling numb in his shoes. If he got sick and Joey didn’t give him some kind of compensation, he would make sure he never heard the end of it. Fortunately, he wasn’t needed the next day. Well, he was always needed since his department was filled with idiots, but they could usually handle by themselves whatever there was to do on the weekends, so he’d be able to rest until monday.

“Soooo,” Bendy’s voice broke the silence. It had been nice while it lasted. “Whatcha, uh, whatcha thinking about, Sammy?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering whether it’s worth it to write a formal resignation letter or just use the honey on my desk to paste a piece of paper that says ‘I quit’ to Joey’s office door.”

“O-oh…”

Bendy fidgeted in his place, refusing to look at him.

“W-well. You can’t do none of those!”

Sammy raised an eyebrow.

“Really now? And whose stopping me? Because it’s certainly not you.

“Because, uh, because…” Bendy frowned in concentration, before he snapped his fingers. “Because Boris would miss ya! Yeah! You wouldn’t make Boris sad on purpose, would ya?

Wait. Did Bendy actually think he was going to quit? Sammy threatened to quit almost daily. One would think that Bendy would know better. Nonetheless, Sammy decided to play along.

“Boris would miss anyone that worked here even if they had never talked with him. Maybe if I quit the experience will help him to get over it if it happens again, huh?”

Sammy was aware that sounded harsher than he meant it. Boris was one of the few people in the studio that he didn’t feel like yelling at all the time. But he couldn’t help but smirk when his answer had the desired effect. Bendy was trying to come up with another reason of why he shouldn’t quit. Was it immature of him? Absolutely! But he was standing in a flooded bathroom, clothes soaked, a literal little demon on his shoulder and no cigarettes at all. He figured he deserved to have some petty revenge.

“Uh, A-alice, then! Don’t you think it would be bad luck to upset an angel?”

“I already have to deal with a demon on a daily basis. I don’t think I have the luck of any angels on my side. Besides, I think it would only actually affect her if it was Susie who quit instead of me.”

“Wait, that’s it!” Bendy’s tail briefly formed the outline of a lightbulb. “Susie! You can’t leave her here all alone! That would make you the worst boyfriend in the world!”

Sammy huffed.

“We only spend time together on our break time, which we can still do even if I worked elsewhere.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, she also does some extra work in some other places. Maybe she can recommend me to a boss that doesn’t practice black magic as a hobby.”

“Shoot,” Bendy said under his breath. “But- But you can’t leave because you are already Joey’s favorite director! What if you are not the favorite of your new boss, huh? Maybe he’ll hate you!”

“Oh? So I’m Joey’s favorite now?” Sammy asked in an intentionally bored but fake tone, crossing his arms.

“Yeah! He said that, ah, that you were the best music director in the history of forever! That you were better than Boteevan!”

“Beethoven.”

“That guy! And he said that, um, that he was considering giving you a raise! It’ll be such a raise that you will be on the top floor of the studio!”

Sammy… wasn’t sure Bendy understood what a raise was. But he shook it off.

“So, those were Joey’s exact words?”

Bendy nodded enthusiastically, his usual smile a bit strained and his cartoony eyes unable to hide the alarm he was feeling.

“So, if I were to go to Joey and ask him about it, he would tell me the exact same thing?”

Silence.

“...Yes… Maybe…”

Ok, Sammy had had his fun. Now Bendy’s nervousness and guilt about ‘causing’ him to quit was starting to become too obvious and the hand that he was using to keep himself stable was latching a bit too hard to Sammy’s shoulder. He didn’t want to cause the kid a meltdown (which got a very literal meaning with the toons when they were stressed). He was about to give in and tell him the truth when a loud cracking noise caught their attention. They both slowly looked at the door.

“What was that?” Bendy asked warily.

“I don’t know, but it sure didn’t sound like an axe to me.”

Sammy backed away slowly from the door until his back touched the wall opposite to it. They flinched when they heard the sound again, and a crack cut right through the middle of the door. Then again, and splinters were sent flying everywhere. Once more, and the door was split in two. Sammy instinctively grabbed Bendy to shield him from the raining debris that exploded as a result. All the remaining water gushed out into the hallway, but Sammy didn’t take notice, nor did Bendy. There was something far more important that had just appeared. Right in front of the destroyed door was an enormous mass of ink, so tall and wide that it wouldn’t have been able to fit through the doorway if it tried. It vaguely resembled the top half of a human, it’s hunched torso being its support on the floor. Hollowed eyes looked at them with a dead stare. Sammy didn’t even dare to breathe.

“What are you doing standing there? Move aside!” Joey’s order returned them to reality.

The ink monster immediately obeyed, granting the space needed for a very panicked looking Joey to run into the bathroom. His glasses were crooked on his face, he was breathing hard and he was clutching a book with such force that his hands were shaking. The instant he spotted Bendy in Sammy’s hands, his face flooded with relief. On Sammy’s part, he couldn’t take his eyes off the monstruosity that had just appeared before him, so still petrified in his place, he could only ask:

“What the hell is that?!”

“Oh, well Wally said the door was stuck, so I figured we would need a little help.” Joey answered, waving his hand dismisively. “More importantly, Bendy are you ok?!”

Sammy, realizing he was still holding Bendy as far away from the door as possible, cleared his throat and shoved him into Joey’s arms. He didn’t stay to see Joey smothering Bendy in a hug and checking him for any damage. Instead he headed towards his sweet freedom, giant monster outside or not. He still practically hugged the wall to not come close to that thing, though. He got out just in time to see Wally Franks arrive running and lean against the wall to catch his breath, muttering something about Joey being fast for his age. Sammy didn’t spare him a second before pointing to the ink creature and giving him an incredulous look.

“What about that looks like an axe to you, Franks?!” His voice was just a tad more high pitched than he would have liked, but he ignored it for the time being. Wally looked at him to respond, but couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were drenched!”

Sammy’s death glare shut him up.

“R-right, uh, so I told Joey what happened and I thought he was going to yell at me and then tell me where the axe was, but he just got all pale and then he grabbed that book and started running while yelling some weird crap on another language. Next thing you know, big guy over there is growing out of the ground and following him down the stairs! It was crazy!” Wally scratched his head. “Umm, I also think someone fainted when it passed in front of them…”

Sammy let out a sigh and rubbed at his head. The pain that had been receding was now returning tenfold.

“Sammy!” Joey called out to him while he, too, exited the bathroom. “I’m glad everyone’s ok, of course, but I would like to know… how did that happen?” He pointed at the destroyed sinks.

Nope. He was NOT dealing with that right now.

“Oh, I’m sure little prankster there will tell you what he did with plenty of detail. I’m going home early.”

He glared at Joey, daring him to protest. But just looking at the state he was in, his boss nodded.

“Of course, you need to go get some dry clothes. And I’m guessing I won’t see you tomorrow?”

“You guess correctly,” Sammy said as he walked past his boss, not taking his eyes off the ink beast, just in case.

“See you on monday?”

At that Sammy stopped. That had been Bendy asking. He turned around to look at the demon in Joey’s arms, who was looking up at him with pleading eyes. Sammy remained silent for a moment. He guessed he could just ignore him, but he had punished him enough already.

“Yeah, yeah. See you on monday. Unfortunately.”

At that, Bendy visibly relaxed. Sammy rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Monday arrived way faster than Sammy would have liked, but then again, that was nothing new. What was new, however, was that he found his office exceptionally clean. He hadn’t bothered tidying things up before he left on friday, but now the honey was gone from his desk, and there didn’t seem to be a paper out of place or a speck of dust on any surface. A report of what had been done on saturday and a list of future tasks was already waiting for him, too.

But what caught his attention the most was a colorful piece of paper sitting on the middle of his desk. It was a drawing. It depicted him conducting a band, with random musical notes (some of which weren’t even real notes) forming an arch above his head. He stared at it for a long while,slowly processing the fact that this was most likely some sort of apology. He shook his head. He couldn’t waste more time on this. He had work to do. Sammy was going to just put it away into a random drawer, but looking at it again, he changed his mind. He put it in the upper right drawer instead.

#ask-joeydrewstudios #my art #my bendy art #my fanfics #my bendy fanfics #bendy and the ink machine #batim #sammy lawrence

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