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gimme-mor · 3 years ago

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BETWEEN THE LINES: NIGHT COURT ELAIN & SPRING COURT FEYRE

*DISCLAIMER*

This is a really long post and based on my interpretation of the text.

This is strictly an analysis of Elain as a character because, in my opinion, there isn’t a lot of talk about Elain outside of ships and conversations about her character arc typically revolve around to whom she is paired, especially if that person is Azriel. She is her own character and gets the short end of the stick in the fandom because everyone is more concerned about who she’s shipped with rather than her as a character.

Also, anyone who is rude/condescending will automatically be blocked.

In ACOSF, SJM went out of her way on two occasions to highlight Elain not looking good in black. While it may be minor or insignificant to some, I think those instances were meant to show something about Elain specifically and what she may be going through in the Night Court. Elain has been a passive character for the most part, contributing to things in her own way earlier in the series. But after she was taken by the Cauldron, her safety has become everyone’s main concern and the other characters have slowly excluded her from courtly matters. In ACOWAR, this was understandable because she was traumatized and not fully present. However, as of ACOSF, Elain was still excluded from courtly matters with the other characters heavily relying upon Nesta, who made her reservations known, because they were on a time constraint and couldn’t afford to wait for Elain to reacquaint herself with her powers.

The fact that the other characters use the kidnapping situation to excuse their current actions toward Elain is eerily similar to the way Tamlin and Lucien used the Under the Mountain events to excuse Tamlin’s actions toward Feyre in ACOMAF. And the characters use Elain and Feyre’s safety to justify why neither of them should be involved. In my opinion, Elain in the Night Court resembles Feyre in the Spring Court because not only do they experience similar things, but both of them are (or were in Feyre’s case) in places that stunt their growth. Even though Night Court Elain isn’t exposed to all of the things that Spring Court Feyre was exposed to, the similarities in their experiences (and how those similarities might potentially impact Elain similarly to the way they impacted Feyre) shouldn’t be overlooked.

Being monitored

Feyre

I was too watched－too monitored and judged. Why should the bride of the High Lord learn to fight if peace had returned? That had been Ianthe’s reasoning when I’d made the mistake of mentioning it at dinner. Tamlin, to his credit, had seen both sides: I’d learn to protect myself...but the rumors would spread. (ACOMAF)

“Tamlin－Tamlin, I can’t...I can’t live my life with guards around me day and night. I can’t live with that...suffocation. Just let me help you－let me work with you.” (. . .) “I’m drowning,” I managed to say. “I am drowning. And the more you do this, the more guards...You might as well be shoving my head under the water.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Nesta said, “The Trove. And what happened the last time I scried.” Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He’d gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern’s camp to save Elain－he knew the risk. “We won’t make the same mistake twice.” She believed him. “All right.” (ACOSF)

Trying to fit in

Feyre

I hated the bright dresses that had become my daily uniform, but didn’t have the heart to tell Tamlin－not when he’d bought so many, not when he looked so happy to see me wear them. Not when his words weren’t far from the truth. The day I put on my pants and tunics, the day I strapped weapons to myself like fine jewelry, it would send a message far and clear across the lands. So I wore the gowns, and let Alis arrange my hair－if only so it would buy these people a measure of peace and comfort. (ACOMAF)

I sometimes debated asking her to pray for me as well. To pray that I’d one day learn to love the dresses, and the parties, and my role as a blushing, pretty bride. (ACOMAF)

Elain

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court－and would do whatever she needed. (ACOSF)

So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court...It sucked the life from her. (ACOSF)

Pretending everything’s all right

Feyre

“Fine,” I breathed. I made myself look him in the eye, made myself smile. (ACOMAF)

Elain

“And you?” I made myself say. “Are you－all right?” Elain looked over a shoulder at me as we entered the foyer, then turned left－to the dining room. In the sitting room across the way, all conversation halted at the smell of food. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face. I’d seen those smiles before. On my own damn face. (ACOFAS)

Clothes not looking right on them

Feyre

I really, truly hated my wedding gown. It was a monstrosity of tulle and chiffon and gossamer, so unlike the loose gowns I usually wore: the bodice fitted, the neckline curved to plump my breasts, and the skirts...The skirts were a sparkling tent, practically floating in the balmy spring air (. . .) I might have dealt with it all if it weren’t for the puffy capped sleeves, so big I could almost see them glinting from the periphery of my vision. My hair had been curled, half up, half down, entwined with pearls and jewels and the Cauldron knew what, and it had taken all my self-control to keep from cringing at the mirror before descending the sweeping stairs into the main hall. (ACOMAF)

I again surveyed the room, my wedding gown hissing on the warm marble floors. I peered down at myself. You look ridiculous. (ACOMAF)

Elain

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. (ACOSF)

Looking good in clothes that suit them and that fact being pointed out

Feyre

My high-waisted peach pants were loose and billowing, gathered at the ankles with velvet cuffs of bright gold. The long sleeves of the matching top were made of gossamer, also gathered at the wrists, and the top itself hung just to my navel, revealing a sliver of skin as I walked. Comfortable, easy to move in－to run. Feminine. Exotic. (ACOMAF)

But those claws now dug in－and my entire body, my heart, my lungs, my blood yielded to his grip, utterly at his command as he said, The fashion of the Night Court suits you. (ACOMAF)

Elain

Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist. She glowed with good health. (ACOSF)

People not wanting them to be involved in things

Feyre

“I want to go.” “No.” I crossed my arms, tucking my tattooed hand under my right bicep, and spread my feet slightly further apart on the dirt floor of the stables. “It’s been three months. Nothing’s happened, and the village isn’t even five miles－” “No.” (ACOMAF)

“I could use my powers against Hybern.” “That’s out of the question,” Tamlin said, “especially as there will be no war against Hybern.” “Rhys says war is inevitable, and we’ll be hit hard.” Lucien said drily, “And Rhys knows everything?” “No－but...He was concerned. He thinks I can make a difference in any upcoming conflict.” Tamlin flexed his fingers－keeping those claws contained. “You have no training in battle or weaponry. And even if I started training you today, it’d be years before you could hold your own on an immortal battlefield.” He took a tight breath. “So despite what he thinks you might be able to do, Feyre, I’m not going to have you anywhere near a battlefield. Especially if it means revealing whatever powers you have to our enemies. You’d be fighting Hybern at your front, and have foes with friendly faces at your back.” “I don’t care－” “I care,” Tamlin snarled. Lucien whooshed out a breath. “I care if you die, if you’re hurt, if you will be in danger every moment for the rest of our lives. So there will be no training, and we’re going to keep this between us.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

“Nesta’s spine straightened. No one spoke, but their attention lingered on her like a film on her skin. ‘You will not go looking for it.’” (ACOSF)

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.” (. . .) “Keep out of this,” she hissed at her youngest sister. “I have no doubt you put these thoughts in her head, probably encouraging her to throw herself into harm’s way－” (ACOSF)

Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it.” Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” “But Nesta should?” Cassian growled. Everyone stared at him. He swallowed, offering an apologetic glance to Az, who shrugged it off. Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, “Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes.” She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.” (ACOSF)

“I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what. I won’t let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you and Elain are the only options.” “Elain doesn’t go near him,” Feyre said. (ACOSF)

Their safety being brought up when they want to be involved

Feyre

“Please. The recovery efforts are so slow. I could hunt for the villagers, get them food－” “It’s not safe,” Tamlin said, again nudging his stallion into a walk. The horse’s coat shone like a dark mirror, even in the shade of the stables. “Especially not for you.” He’d said that every time we had this argument; every time I begged him to let me go to the nearby village of High Fae to help rebuild what Amarantha had burned years ago (. . .) “People want to come back, they want a place to live－” “Those same people see you as a blessing－a marker of stability. If something happened to you…” (. . .)Tamlin said softly, “I can’t do what I need to if I’m worrying about whether you’re safe.” (ACOMAF)

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmured. “It’s fine,” I breathed. “I understand.” Not a lie, but not quite the truth. His fingers grazed lower, circling my belly button. “You are－you’re everything to me,” he said thickly. “I need...I need you to be all right. To know they can’t get to you－can’t hurt you anymore.” (ACOMAF)

“Tamlin got what I didn’t,” Lucien said softly, his breathing ragged. “We all heard your neck break. But you got to come back. And I doubt that he will ever forget that sound, either. And he will do everything in his power to protect you from that danger again, even if it means keeping secrets, even if it means sticking to rules you don’t like. In this, he will not bend. So don’t ask him to－not yet.” (ACOMAF)

“Did he let you take me today,” I said hoarsely, “so that I’d stop asking to help rebuild?” “No. I decided to take you myself. For that exact reason. They don’t want or need your help. Your presence is a distraction and a reminder of what they went through.” (. . .) “I know you wanted to help,” Lucien offered. “I’m sorry.” So was I. (ACOMAF)

Elain

“The last time we involved ourselves with the Cauldron, it abducted you,” Nesta countered, fighting her shaking. (ACOSF)

“Like calls to like,” Amren countered. “You were Made by the Cauldron. You may track other objects Made by it as well, as Briallyn can. And because you are Made by it, you are immune to the influence and power of the Trove. You might use them, yes, but they cannot be used upon you.” A glance to Elain. “Either of you.” Nesta swallowed. “I can’t.” But to let Elain involve herself, jeopardize her safety－ (ACOSF)

Nesta’s pulse pounded throughout her body. “Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?” “I do,” Elain said coldly. (ACOSF)

If it was between her and Elain, there was no choice at all. She would always go first if it meant keeping Elain from harm. Even if she’d just hurt her sister more than she could stomach. (ACOSF)

Pushing back against what others want

Feyre

He hissed, “You have no idea how hard it is for him to even let you off the estate grounds. He’s under more pressure than you realize.” “I know exactly how much pressure he endures. And I didn’t realize I’d become a prisoner.” “You’re not－” He clenched his jaw. “That’s not how it is and you know it.” “He didn’t have any trouble letting me hunt and wander on my own when I was a mere human. When the borders were far less safe.” “He didn’t care for you the way he does now. And after what happened Under the Mountain…” The words clanged in my head, along my too-tense muscles. “He’s terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies’ hands. And they know it, too－they know all they have to do to own him would be to get ahold of you.” “You think I don’t know that? But does he honestly expect me to spend the rest of my life in that manor, overseeing servants and wearing pretty clothes?” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Cassian shifted in his seat. “So we track down the Dread Trove－how?” Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.” Nesta’s head went silent as Elain’s words finished sounding in the room. Feyre had twisted in her seat, face white with alarm. Nesta shot to her feet. “No.” Elain remained in the doorway, her face pale but her expression harder than Nesta had ever seen it. “You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.” (ACOSF)

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.” Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” “Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.” “Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.” (ACOSF)

Being used as pawns against others

Feyre

“We need you to tell us everything,” Tamlin said. “The layout of the Night Court, who you saw, what weapons and powers they bore, what Rhys did, who he spoke to, any and every detail you can recall.” “I didn’t realize I was a spy.” Lucien shifted in his seat, but Tamlin said, “As much as I hate your bargain, you’ve been granted access into the Night Court. Outsiders rarely get to go in－and if they do, they rarely come out in one piece. And if they can function, their memories are usually...scrambled. Whatever Rhysand is hiding in there, he doesn’t want us knowing about it.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes...His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.” His mouth tugged to the side. “If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever...do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? Either for gain, or to ensure she stays safe?” “You let him hear everything tonight, though.” (. . .) I considered his question: Did I trust Lucien? “I don’t know, either,” I admitted, and sighed. “I don’t like that Elain is a pawn in this.” “I know. It’s never easy.” (ACOWAR)

Cassian glowered at Amren. “It’s not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying.” “There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy.” (ACOSF)

Although Elain and Feyre are surrounded by two different groups of people with varying levels of care for their wellbeing, they’re treated similarly which is hard to overlook. In Elain’s situation, Nesta, Azriel, and Feyre take on the “Tamlin role” (either undermining Elain’s attempts to contribute to things or preventing Elain from helping altogether) while everyone else takes on the “Lucien role” (validating the concerns of others while also enabling their behaviors, which doesn’t support Elain’s desire to be involved).

#elain archeron #feyre archeron #gimme meta #gimme queues

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spacejellyfish3 · 3 years ago

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the utena show’s ending is extremely powerful on its own yes but utena’s final apology? to anthy of not being able to be her prince in the end never stuck right with me. and I think that’s cause in a sense it’s still centering the prince as important, as aspirational, that maybe it could have been a better ending for them—that utena could’ve survived if she were her prince. and of course I might be reaching with that possibly probably but I still wanted to air that opinion out (maybe someone else has similar misgivings as I do and can expand on it so there).

but the real problem for me is that show anthy still very much places utena as a savior figure, as her “prince”. while I live for anthy’s savage verbal takedown of akio as a powerless coward trapped in a Sisyphean game of pretend for all eternity but even so she herself is still shown to subscribe to the dogma of the heroic prince. even visually anthy’s idealization of utena is displayed with her dressed in pink. this visual marker is carried over into the movie with anthy’s bridal gown changing from red (which makes sense since anthy is indian coded and an indian bride’s sari is traditionally red) to white and pink, connoting her as utena’s princess.

movie anthy’s placement of utena onto a pedestal of princehood also often extends beyond subtext and into the text itself, a key example being the scene right before utena’s famed car wash makeover where anthy says “you’re the prince of the academy now, every miracle and all eternity is yours…so long as you stay in this world.” anthy believes that you can only exercise power, have power, be happy, be free within the system, and it’s important to note that there is very much truth in that notion but this power I’m referring to is that of self actualization, the power of maturity. yet…utena rejects that noise, she says no, she says fuck that let’s go be free in the outside world.

if the show is about breaking away from the confines of abuse, then the movie is about breaking away from the confines of trauma. it’s extremely powerful when anthy takes the steps out of ohtori; it’s hard even just to find the strength to leave an abusive situation let alone actively do it. but the pain remains, trauma doesn’t disappear it’s haunting it’s ghostly sometimes literally manifesting. both movie utena and anthy are hounded and bound to apparitions they’ve forgotten are actually dead.

touga died years ago sacrificing himself for nothing in the end and became princely an ideal to strive for and utena has to come to grips with that and she basically says no you don’t control me my grief my trauma does not control me thank you for being my prince but I can’t be a prince I don’t want to be it’s not real

anthy is real

I am real

akio is abuse he is torment and toxicity he is anthy’s monster, maybe a monster that she created once upon a time but he chose to perpetuate his monstrosity. and when confronted with his actions he couldn’t face it he hurt her more made it her fault for the hurt he caused her and he died he’s dead he’s gone but he remains in the ground anthy buried him beneath the roses. the rose garden is a prison she is the only one held captive by the roses and it grows up up high up but it’s still there the roses remain he’s still there in her mind and he’ll never leave but he’s not in control. he’s dead, he’s been dead for so long he remains but he’s not real and he’s no prince because the prince was a lie that never existed it’s not real

utena is real

I am real

and they blaze past everything. there are obstacles but there are friends too who aren’t there yet but they’re on the path they’re trying they’re growing they have high goals they want to reach and someday they will but you can now. it’s anthy’s story it’s anthy journey and it’s hard of course it’s hard

but they break free. they break the castle so huge so big so impossible but it wasn’t real

it’s just rose petals flying in the wind

akio doesn’t control her and though it might be so that she and utena can’t make it outside, that they have to continue as princesses stuck in the role that people give them but they don’t have power over them, they’re free and no longer draped in any costume or performance, they’re truth out of her well to shame mankind and that’s fucking awesome. they might not make it, they might fail like the broken down husks of those who came before them, but they can try they’re free to try. they have the power to try. to revolutionize the world. to revolutionize their world.

“the outside world has no roads, but you can always build new roads.”

I binged the entire series and the movie last year around March maybe, sometime right before quarantine…and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, analyzing it, since. I’m pretty sure it radicalized me and honestly I’m glad it did. revolutionary girl utena speaks truth to power and exists as a creative work in a way that I don’t think anything else has or will. it’s fundamentally itself but simultaneously thrives on external interpretation. it’s both an enigma wrapped in a mystery and as obvious and unsubtle as a trainwreck. above is my favorite quote of the entire franchise because it’s so simple but so profound—you could say it’s my equivalent of “what is grief if not love persevering”.

there are no roads to follow, but you’re open to build your own path your own way. no one defines you but you and that’s simple that’s kinda naive but what’s wrong with that. I’m not sure who originally said this or stated this proverb or whatever, I know I read it somewhere but I’m not sure where, and I’m definitely paraphrasing but

adults are so quick to say the world is unfair and be done with it, but a child would look at that and say: why not make it fair? that’s really simple and it’s innocent of course but it’s still true. why can’t we make things fair, because we definitely could it’s not impossible.

I’m not sure how to end this post—I definitely should cause it’s plenty long already—but rgu is highly foundational to me on a visceral level. it’s helped me in ways shifted me in ways I can’t describe and I can’t really imagine myself now existing without its influence. the best way I could describe its impact its power its importance really boils down to

the outside world has no roads, but you can always build new roads.

words to live by.

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #adolescence of utena #adolescence apocalypse #shoujo kakumei utena #sku #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

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Queeeeen, are you taking requests?

If you are, can you please write a fic from Alan's pov where Ethan talks about MC?

(Not in book 3 pls, I want to forget that monstrosity 🤢)

Just Ethan not realising that he's talking about her non-stop and Alan teasing the crap out of him hehe.

(If you have a slightly different idea, go for it!!! Anything and everything you write always has me- 🤩🤩)

Have a great day, queen ❤❤❤❤

After

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: implied trauma Summary: Alan makes his way to comfort Ethan after hearing about the assassination attempt. Tropes: Hurt/Comfort; 2.11

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I outlined this piece as part of my 2.11 / Leakage sequel mini series that I never finished. It’s a bit different that what you’re after, but thank you for the motivation 💕💞💕

_______________

Just Two People: I. After.

10 hours. It’s been ten hours since the worst 24 hours of his life. Ten hours since they declared the antidote successful. Ten hours since she was moved to a private room on the Diagnostics wing, ten feet away from the office.

It’s been three hours since he returned to the hospital. Naveen and the rest of the team forced him home, to sleep and eat and change into a fresh pair of clothing that weren’t drenched in stricken sweat. 90 minutes - that’s how long he was gone for. That’s as long as his body and mind and soul would let him be away from her.

Even now, ten feet away and separated by two walls and a corridor seems much too much.

He knew he shouldn’t spend every waking moment at her side, no matter how much his body was willing him to do just that. There was no reason to, not anymore now that she’s cured. He can’t hide under the guise of monitoring her vitals anymore, the nurses have that covered. And anyway, he doesn’t want to fuel the whirling gossip mill any further.

So Ethan Ramsey sits at his desk, alone in the dimming daylight. An untouched glass of water in front of him and his heavy gaze stuck on the back of the caseless iPhone in his hands.

Would it be too much to text her?

It’s been 122 minutes since he last saw her - departed with an “If you need anything, text me” mumbled into her hairline on top of a chaste kiss.

It’s been two hours and two minutes of radio silence.

He’s worried, irrationally so. Shifting in his chair Ethan’s legs begin to jitter, start to lift his body up. But before he could convince herself he’s just going to walk past her room on his way to the restroom, there’s a knock on his ajar door.

“Dad? What’re you doing here?”

“I saw the news,” Alan says with the most sullen expression.

Alan Ramsey looks like he always does, dressed in jeans though his cardigan has been replaced with a ratty old hoodie Ethan’s only ever seen him wear in the house. The young father steps into the darkening office with wrinkles showing years of worry; the slope of his expression feels as if his own flesh and blood were the one on the brink of death mere hours ago.

“I needed to make sure you were alright.”

“You could have called.”

“I did,” a small smile tugs at Alan’s lips. Even in times of hardship his son is still everso the same. “Six times. Left some text messages too.”

The boy hangs his head, deep oceanic eyes darting back to the abandoned phone. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Don’t be. You’ve had an eventful few days.” Alan moves gingerly and determinedly to perch on the edge of the closest chair in front of his son. “How is she?”

Ethan just shrugs. “Physically, looks like a full recovery. Mentally, too soon to tell. Dr. Hirata has a counselor scheduled to meet with her tomorrow.”

“How are you?”

“I’m…”

From this close Alan could see every flicker of pain Ethan has been harboring. His clear, curious blue eyes were the darkest he’s ever seen them, bordering on limitless midnight if it wasn’t for the faint red surrounding them. There are wrinkles in his pressed shirt and deep circles under his eyes. And the way he sits slumped in his chair and not with the perfect posture he’s been lecturing his father about for the better part of their lives, Alan knew he was right to come. Knew that now was one of those rare times where his son would accept the doting of his single parent.

While Ethan was still searching for the words, Alan rounded the desk to place a hand on his slumped shoulder.

“Ethan, son, you don’t need to hide.”

Easier said than done, Ethan would think on any other day. But not today.

“It was the worst days of my life,” he says it so effortlessly on the breath of a dying man. “I - I thought I lost her, Dad.”

Two sets of the same blue eyes meet, both aged and one much too soon.

“But you didn’t.”

“I know.”

Even now, with the understanding between them too great and effortlessly easy to grab onto, Ethan wouldn't admit to the one truth. Wouldn’t concede to the last argument they had just mere weeks ago. Ethan Ramsey wouldn’t admit it, but he finally knew how and why his dad was holding onto love all this time. If Ethan had lost Rebecca he knew he’d never be open to the notion again. He belonged to her.

Ethan didn’t have to say it for Alan to read the words shouting from his features.

Alan gives Ethan’s shoulder an assuring squeeze. “Have you told her?” he asks with a compassionate smile.

The deep breath Ethan takes and the way his eyes close, then dart to the door on their reopening, has Alan’s heart dropping.

But then, his son surprises him for the umpteenth time.

“Yes.”

The word is small and hoarse, and heavy with something neither man has heard from in a long time.

Alan steps away and lets the feeling linger for a bit. He knows he shouldn’t push or move too fast, knows that if he does he could scare this vulnerable side of his son back into hiding. So they let the hopefulness surround them. They let the light of a new beginning flicker on as Boston settles into evening outside.

When neither of them move to speak, or even move from the stances, Alan decides to take care; “I was planning on making you dinner - What would you prefer?”

Ethan shakes his head, moving to stand. “You don’t have to. You need to get back.”

The two men are as face-to-face as they can get with the younger being nearly a foot taller. Alan can see his son fully now. Can see how his shirt is barely tucked into trousers that don’t match and he’s wearing casual loafers instead of shiny Oxfords.

“Ethan, you look like you’ve been hit by a bus,” Alan tries to laugh the truth off. “And anyway, I took compassionate leave for a few days. Family emergency.”

The words hit Ethan like a bus. If Alan looked closely he could see the tears fighting to emerge in his son’s eyes.

“Dad…”

Ethan’s Adam’s apple is bobbing with all that’s unsaid. The weight of it all pressing onto him in ways he’d never care to imagine. To think, his father frantically drove to Boston at the drop of a hat for a woman he’s met only once - barely even knows.

Alan tries to read around the emotions as best he can. Tells his stoic, unburdensome son the truth, whether he realizes it or not.

“Call it what you want. But if I know anything about my son, it’s that you are completely enamored with that woman and blaming yourself for the situation.”

Alan didn’t know how right he was.

________________________

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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mochegato · 4 years ago

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Hope on Board

Chapter 10 – Welcome to the Mad House

Note: In the last chapter, a few people were wondering about Dick knowing Marinette was there and I realized I cut out the pre-fight strategizing session that explained it. Signal was the first to respond because it was a daytime event and he was already on patrol. He called Red Hood in as backup because he knew Jason was free. Dick just showed up without warning because he knew Marinette had an appointment there earlier and was no longer responding to texts or phone calls and Dick got scared and came to check.

Chapter 1 Chapter 9

“And you’re sure I’m dressed appropriately?” Marinette asked again. He’d lost count of what number that was by now.

“Marinette I promise you. You’re dressed perfectly. You look amazing and not to make you pout, but nobody is going to care what you’re wearing and it’s too late to change now anyway,” Dick assured her again, this time on the steps walking up to the Wayne Manor front doors.

Marinette looked scandalized. “Of course they’re going to care! What people wear affects how people think about them. I mean, each person reacts differently to the same outfit, but it has an effect. And, technically, I’m going to dinner with two of my bosses, which just adds extra pressure on top of meeting my boyfriend’s family.” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning as she said boyfriend despite the spiral she was going into, which was making her physically sick on top of mentally sick. “And Alfred! What if he thinks I’m not dressed properly for what he planned? I don’t want to insult Alfred!”

Dick laughed hard enough to grab his stomach in pain. Marinette pouted at him. “Alfred will only care if you are intentionally trying to be offensive. That’s going to be true for almost all of them.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “But you’re dressed perfectly, I promise you. It’s nice but not too nice. The perfect meeting the family dress. But they’re going to care more about the person than the dress and they are going to love the person.”

He ran his hands up and down her arms at a soothing pace before pulling her against him and placing a chaste kiss on her lips. She smiled warmly at him and nodded, her lips set in a determined line. “Let’s do this. We got this.”

Dick chuckled and reached for the door. Before he could reach the handle, the door opened up in front of him. “Master Dick and you must be Miss. Dupain-Cheng. Please come in.” Alfred gave them a warm smile.

“Thank you so much. You must be M. Pennyworth.”

“Indeed I am. Please call me Alfred. Everyone else in the family does.” He smiled kindly at her. “It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Thank you. Please just Marinette, Alfred. It is a pleasure to meet you. Dick talks about you all the time.” She reached up to give him la bise. She pulled away to offer him the box she had been carrying. “I brought some macarons for you and the rest of the family.”

He took the box gratefully. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“The grey ones are Earl Grey flavored, if you wanted to get to it before the rest of the family.” She handed over the box with a wink.

“Very thoughtful, indeed.” He nodded again with a secretive smile.

“The rest of the family in the living room?” Dick asked.

“They are, Master Dick. Awaiting Miss Marinette quite anxiously, I believe. I’m just finishing dinner. It should just be a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Dick and Marinette chimed at the same time. Alfred nodded again before disappearing toward the kitchen. Dick smiled to her and guided her toward the living room. “And now, into the mad house.” He took a deep breath as he opened the door to the living room. The room went silent for a few seconds before the noise level ramped up again with everyone welcoming them at the same time. “One at a time,” Bruce boomed loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Dick nodded to him before going into introductions. “You already know Tim,” he started indicating Tim, who was already at Marinette’s side. Marinette nodded and gave Tim a hug. “That is Damian,” he pointed to the surly looking teen sitting on his own in an armchair. He nodded curtly to her so she returned the gesture. “And Jason.” He indicated a large man leaning against a console table. They waved politely to each other. “Duke,” he nodded toward the young man that just jumped up to shake her hand. “Barbara,” he moved out of the way so Barbara could roll closer to Marinette to say Hi. “Cass,” Cass waved excitedly. “And of course, you’ve met Bruce…”

“It’s good to see you again Mr. Wayne.” She held out her hand to shake his.

“Bruce, please. We’re not in the office. Welcome Miss. Dupain-Cheng.” He said warmly, reaching to give her a hug instead.

Marinette beamed at him. “Marinette, please. And thank you. You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, Marinette.”

“Yeah, yeah. Beautiful home, blah, blah, blah. Alfred’s the one that does all the work anyway. Hi, I’m Stephanie.” She pushed Bruce over as she made her way over to Marinette. Marinette assumed it was a common occurrence based on the way Bruce just sighed and accepted it, sitting down quietly to observe the results.

“And this is Stephanie.” Dick repeated with a laugh.

“Hi, Stephanie. It’s nice to meet you.” Marinette grinned at her.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to sit down? Or drink some water? Or have a snack before dinner?” Stephanie fired off quickly.

“Let her breathe, Steph,” Barbara chided her.

Marinette smiled politely. “I’m fine right now, thank you.” Dick shook his head behind her so she couldn’t see. Unfortunately, she followed everyone’s line of sight and caught him. She gasped and slapped his arm. “I am!”

“You just threw up outside like seconds ago,” he pointed out. “In a bag! That we have since thrown away,” he added quickly before Alfred could hear from the kitchen and get upset they hadn’t mentioned it earlier.

“That was your driving,” she wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to the family. “And now that you’re not driving, I feel better.” Dick laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh God, I know exactly what you mean,” Barbara laughed in agreement.

Stephanie nodded in approval. “I like her.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand to pull her away from him and onto the couch. Cass nodded in agreement and moved to join them. “Come on, let’s complain about Dick some more. I have all kinds of stories to tell. You’re a fashion designer right?” Marinette nodded trying to keep up with her, both physically and mentally. “Oh girl, have I got pictures for you!”

“No! No! Let me wow her with my amazing fashion sense.” Dick trailed after them.

Stephanie leaned closer to Marinette as though confiding in her, but kept her voice at the same level so Dick could hear as well. “He says ‘amazing’. I think he’s confusing the word with appalling.” Marinette giggled. She wouldn’t agree out loud, but she’d seen some of his shirts and Stephanie wasn’t wrong.

“She met him wearing that red and black monstrosity and she still went home with him,” Jason pointed out. “You’re not going to scare her away.”

“Wow! You withstood that shirt huh?” Barbara sent them a teasing glance. “You must have been wearing your tight pants that night, Dick.”

“Oh yeah. How drunk were you? I’m going to say you were very drunk. Only possible excuse.” Stephanie waved it off.

“Dick has a lot of assets to offset…” she immediately stopped to rephrase grimacing.

“Hey!”

“Dick is amazing,” she corrected. “And yes he was. And he is smart, sweet, hot, thoughtful, devilishly charming, brave…”

“Says the woman that took down a guy triple her size the first time I met her and took out two henchmen in the hospital last week,” Dick cut in proudly. Marinette ducked her head embarrassed to talk about her more violent experiences in front of his family and her boss. She really did not want them thinking she was dangerous and unhinged. Dick squeezed her and kissed her temple.

“Yeah, we heard about the hospital. Two questions…” he moved so she could see him better.

“Jason, stop being a pain in the ass,” Tim chided him. “She doesn’t want to talk about that.”

Jason examined her for a second. Yes, she was closing off but it didn’t seem to be out of residual fear. It was more embarrassment. He could fix that. “Can’t. It’s in my nature.” He turned back to Marinette with a conspiratorial wink, “Pain in the ass is my middle name.”

Tim groaned. “Welcome to the family. You aren’t really in it until Jason harasses you mercilessly.”

“I thought it was when someone tried to kill you,” Stephanie scoffed.

Cass smacked her upside the head. Stephanie looked back at her betrayed. “What?” She caught Barbara’s pointed look and turned back to Marinette. “…In video games of course,” she corrected.

“Ooh,” Marinette’s eyes widened in excitement. “You guys play? What do you play?”

“Yes!” Duke exclaimed. “How are you at UMS?”

“Award winning,” Marinette smirked. “Literally. You have a copy?”

“As I was saying,” Jason interrupted loudly. “Two questions: one, how are you feeling after the hospital? And two, why did you throw a perfectly good gun?”

“I’m doing okay now. Spent a few days surrounded by either Dick or Tim in meetings or Adrien, my roommate, so I’m feeling a lot better,” she assured him.

“She still has a pretty nasty bruise,” Dick interjected.

“Seen her with her shirt off to know, huh?” Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows.

Marinette squeaked and spoke louder than she needed to. “As for the gun, we don’t really have guns in Paris so I don’t have a lot of experience shooting, but a gun has more than one potential use. During all the akuma attacks we learned to use everyday items creatively. I used it for the less common usage,” she shrugged as casually as she could. “A baton would have been better but you work with what you got.”

“Oh, I suppose Chat Noir has a baton,” Dick playfully grumbled.

Marinette grinned cheekily at him. “He does in fact, kind of like Red Robin but it can break into two if he wanted it to like Nightwing and Signal.”

Damian scoffed. “Being able to break in half decreases the tensile strength of the weapon, making it less effective.”

“True except for one thing… magic.” She wiggled her fingers for effect. Dick huffed out a laugh and Damian scowled.

“Oh, are we comparing baton size between Parisian heroes and Gotham heroes?” Jason asked suggestively.

“I mean you can… but Chat’s could also extend to the length he needs for any task, so...” She shrugged confidently.

“Oooh. I think the Gotham heroes would be a lot more popular if their weapons could do that, too.” Stephanie grinned.

“Anyway…” Jason interrupted. “Do you know how to shoot a gun or what?”

“Oh, no. I don’t,” Marinette answered, returning to Jason’s original topic. “That’s why I threw it. I’m confident enough in my throwing skills to know I’d hit him, but not in my shooting skills and I didn’t want to hit someone else.”

“I’ll teach you sometime,” Jason said resolutely. He wasn’t about to let his de facto sister-in-law not know how to defend herself.

“Oh that’s right. You were the one responsible for the horde of weapons in Dick’s apartment that made me freak out and run in the first place.” She gave him a pointed look.

“You ran because you were afraid.” He pointed out.

“I ran because I have good survival instincts,” she corrected him.

“Clearly not. You ran from Dick,” Damian interjected. Dick gave him a warning look that Damian determinedly ignored.

“Aberration,” she waved him off good naturedly. “You find a stockpile of weapons in Gotham, you run.”

“True. So you in?” Jason asked again.

Marinette stared at him strangely for a few seconds. “Huh. You know, you’re the second person this month to offer to teach me. Red Hood made the same offer.” She missed the glares Damian and Dick sent toward Jason, for different reasons, and the exasperated looks Tim and Bruce sent him.

“He probably just wants to make sure you know how. I’m sure he would be okay with a different teacher,” Jason assured her.

Marinette beamed at him. “It sounds like fun. I’d love to learn.” Dick let out a defeated sigh next to her.

“If you would like to make your way to the dining room, dinner is served.” Alfred announced.

They slowly made their way to the dining room. Dick and Marinette trailed behind the rest so Dick could give her a discrete hug and supportive smile. Jason quickly fell into step beside Marinette. “Damn, you really are the size of a pixie.” He stuck out his elbow to set it on her head.

Marinette gave him a playful glare, dodging before his elbow could land. “You know, you look about the same size as that guy at the bar… didn’t turn out too well for him.”

“Though she be but little, she is fierce,” Jason laughed. “I’m a better fighter than that guy was. After the baby, we can spar and I can show you and maybe teach you a few more moves in case you need to defend yourself.” He let the ‘when you get kidnapped for being with a Wayne’ part of his sentence go unsaid. “You seem like you’ll be scrappy.”

“I’m better than scrappy,” she smirked at him.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Jason grinned as he passed her to get to his seat.

“No, you’re not allowed to encourage each other.” Dick pulled out Marinette’s chair for her and gave Jason a warning look. Damian rolled his eyes at Dick as Alfred started serving the meal.

“Miss Marinette, I made yours less spicy than the rest of the family’s but if your medicine now allows you to eat bolder flavors, I have another back in the kitchen.”

“No, thank you Alfred. This will be perfect. The medicine helps but doesn’t make everything go away. More like a low simmer rather than a full boil.”

“Oh yeah. Dick said you started your morning sickness extra early. That sucks. I hope it means it’ll end extra early for you too.” Stephanie commented sympathetically.

Marinette smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Here’s hoping.” She raised her water in Stephanie’s direction and took a drink.

“Maybe it’s twins,” Jason offered taking a bite of his dinner.

Marinette choked on her water. Dick patted her back. “What?”

“That’s a sign of twins isn’t it? Early morning sickness?” He asked around the bite of roll in his mouth.

“This dinner suddenly got a lot less fun,” Dick mumbled to Marinette.

Marinette glanced surreptitiously toward the direction of her purse in the foyer before snapping her eyes back to Jason. “That’s not funny. You take that back.”

“Sorry, Pixie.” He shrugged nonchalantly, a taunting smile tugging on his lips. “I don’t make the rules.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Jason Aloysius Hubert…”

“Not one of those was anywhere near…”

“…Sebastian Tobias…” she continued ignoring his interruption.

“What the hell kind of names…” Jason started chuckling incredulously.

“…Winthorp…”

“Winthorp?” His nose wrinkled in disgust.

“… Pain in the ass Todd! You take that back right now.” Marinette finished. She glared at him but her faltering puckered lips, straining not to smile gave her away.

Jason broke out into raucous laughter. It took him a few minutes to calm down enough to speak again, but when he did, he wasn’t ready to end the fun. “I’m just saying having a little Marinette and little Dick running around here together would be cute,” he finished innocently.

She scoffed playfully. “If you want two babies running around here together, you better go find a woman to knock up right quick.”

Jason choked on his water. Everyone else’s eyes bugged out. “No! No! No! Little Dick? Cute. Little Marinette? Adorable. Little Jason? Terrifying,” Tim interjected.

“Hey, fuck you, Timbers,” Jason glowered at him.

“Language, Jason,” Bruce chided him.

“Well at least that wouldn’t result in a baby,” Stephanie observed, calmly eating her dinner.

“Might result in a death though,” Duke added, seeming not at all upset at the idea.

“I was an adorable kid,” Jason groused.

“It’s true,” Dick agreed. “You should have seen little Jason running around the manor doing extra credit and bragging about his report card.”

“That’s because my grades were amazing. But not ready to have one of my own honor roll students, so it’s on you, Marinette.”

Marinette leveled a look at Jason. “You know what? If it’s twins, you’re coming over for at least two hours a week…”

“Four,” Dick whispered.

“Per child, so four hours total per week, to watch them for us. Since they’ll be so cute and all. You can teach them with your honor roll brain.” Marinette poked her fork in Jason’s direction still giggling.

Damian scowled at the interaction between Marinette and Dick and Jason. “Threats are unnecessary. It is unlikely you will bear twins unless there is a history of it in your family. Is there a history of it in your family?” he asked disdainfully.

“No,” she admitted.

“Then your panic is childish and unwarranted. It is a statistical improbability,” Damian finished.

“Damian!” Bruce chastised him.

“Back off Demon Spawn. We were just having fun.” Jason growled.

Marinette snorted. “It was a statistical improbability that I would have gotten pregnant in the first place. And yet, here we are. Statistics has taken a giant leave of absence with this pregnancy already.” She stuffed her forkful of potatoes into her mouth with a smirk.

“Life finds a way,” Tim nodded sagely.

The table broke down into giggles. “Dork,” Stephanie snorted, shoving his face away.

“Is it common in France to give multiple middle names?” Bruce asked, trying to keep the group on lighter topics.

“How many names are you planning on giving the baby?” Duke asked.

“Uh, common for rich people anyway. I think they get an extra name for every couple million they’re born into. Adrien has four middle names. My friend Chloe has six.” She rolled her eyes and turned toward Duke. “And we haven’t talked about it but I was only planning on a first, middle, and last name.” She looked over to Dick for confirmation.

Dick nodded, slightly relieved. “Good. That’s good. I agree.”

“You haven’t talked about names yet? That’s going to be a fun conversation. Can I bring popcorn and watch?” Stephanie chuckled.

“Six?” Duke asked.

Marinette nodded. “Unbelievably pretentious parents.” She stopped and looked around. “I mean…”

“Nobody here has more than two middle names, you’re good,” Barbara waved off her concern.

“Oh, thank God. I didn’t want to upset anyone,” she let out a relieved breath.

“No, just entrap Dick and use us for our money,” Damian bit out.

“Damian!” Bruce chastised.

“Damian…” Dick growled lowly. Damian steadfastly avoided Cass’s disapproving frown and Dick’s angry glare.

“Marinette, I apologize for my son’s bluntness. I’ve tried to instill better manners in my children,” Bruce leveled a warning look at Damian.

Marinette blinked a few times and nodded. “Honesty is a virtue,” she started out slowly. “It’s good to be suspicious. I was of anyone who seemed to warm up too quickly to my friends who had assets others might want to take advantage of. A little bit of skepticism is healthy. And at least you’re being honest about it. Most of my friends wouldn’t be if the roles were reversed.” She chuckled slightly before turning toward Bruce. “There’s a respect in that. I know where he stands. He isn’t pretending. There’s no duplicity, no illusions, no pretending for the sake of politeness. You don’t know me and this,” she motioned to her belly, “is a lot all of a sudden to take in, and not just for you.”

“There’s no way she could have intentionally trapped me. I was the one who provided everything, as I’ve said before,” Dick pointed out, his voice sharp and defensive of anyone questioning Marinette.

“Unless it isn’t yours,” Damian hedged coldly.

“Demon Spawn, I swear to…” Jason threw down his fork and started to get up.

“Damian, you will treat our guest with respect or you will go to your room,” Bruce thundered.

“Wow, you are really unafraid. I bet you’re a fearsome sight in any kind of competition.” Marinette sent him an impressed smile. “That’s a valid question. I guess the only way to be absolutely sure is with a blood test and if Dick would like one, I’ll agree to it… after the baby is born. I’m not going to subject the baby to unnecessary dangers just to prove a point.”

“I don’t,” Dick assured her. “I don’t need it. I have no doubts.” Marinette’s eyes shined with appreciation and leaned into Dick as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“But your family might,” she pointed out quietly. “It’s a reasonable request. Believe me when I say if something like this happened to Adrien, Chloe would openly be on a warpath and Alya would be doing all kinds of duplicitous, questionably legal investigations into the woman.”

“Good friends,” Cass commented quietly.

“Yeah, I think I’d like them,” Stephanie agreed.

“And they would demand a blood test, so I understand and take no offense,” Marinette assured them.

“We don’t need it,” Tim spoke up.

“Speak for yourself,” Damian grumbled.

“That’s it Damian, go to your room,” Bruce barked. Damian huffed and pushed away from the table, leaving without a backwards glance.

“Perhaps it is time to retire to the living room with dessert,” Alfred offered, giving Damian a disappointed look as he passed him out of the room. As soon as everyone except Damian was settled in the living room, Alfred brought out the macarons, setting them on the table in the room. “Provided by Miss Marinette.”

“Oh, these look delicious. What are the flavors?” Bruce asked eying the cookies.

“The purple ones are lavender and honey. Dark brown is chocolate hazelnut. Light brown is salted caramel. Yellow is lemon. And pink is raspberry.”

“Holy shit, Pixie!” Jason exclaimed swallowing his bite. “These are good.”

“Jason, language, please,” Bruce repeated in a tired voice.

Cass gave her a thumbs up and grabbed another flavor.

“If you don’t marry her, I will.” Stephanie agreed, shoving her second macaron into her mouth.

Marinette giggled. “Good to know I have backup options.”

Dick narrowed his eyes playfully and wrapped his arms around her protectively. “That’s it we’re going home. You’re not allowed around my family anymore.”

Marinette laughed harder and cuddled into him, resting her head on his shoulder and humming contentedly as he squeezed her tighter against his side.

Chapter 11

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#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - illusion

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark

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unkownknowledge · 3 years ago

Text

OC: CHAOS GOD OF THE VOID, GIOTA

story I'm still working on your requests don't worry, I just wanted to make a few character sheets since I'm not focused enough rn. I'll finish it when I take my meds though I promise.

And this isn't an oc for any show, rather a character from a multiversal mythos I'm making

also, an important term to understand this: 1 god year=5 billion years

_____________________

Description:

Giota is a very hot and cool Giota stop changing the text! Atleast change your style of writing so the reader can undead immediately Aw but wheres the fun GIOTA

Fine mister fun police, I'll write like this then. And I'll be cooler than you

Young man I wil... forget it, back on track:

Giota is a shapeshifting god of chaos, void, technological progress, freedom, and being a dramatic bitch.

Hey! I'm not a bitch!....maybe a little

When appearing before mortals he'll often take on the form the viewer imagines when they think of a god of chaos would appear as. Often times when the user knows the basic descriptions of Giota from the 'book of tales' will see him as a angel like statue of bones with numerous cracks, no face, and organ pipe wings.

When meeting with gods outside his domain or when he must meet mortals in a set form, he will take on simple, 10ft tall humanoid form with bone skin, a cracked mouth that cracks more when he speaks, two different colored eyes, and longer than floor length black hair. One of his eyes will be crying water that burns upwards, while the other cries fire that flows downwards. In this form he wears a black trenchcoat, green turtleneck, and purple dad pants.

What the fuck are dad pants?

You know, those usually brown pants that are kinda jeans but soft and actually comfortable.

YOU BITCH MY HUSBAND LIKES JEANS AND HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

YOUR HUSBAND HAS MARSHMALLOW THIGHS! LITERALLY! OF COURSE HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

Inside his own domain, or if he's feeling especially done with whatever poor bastard made him upset, Giota takes the form of an innocent ten year old child with soft white steel skin, mile long black hair made of silk, and black eyes made of diamonds. In this form he wears pajamas for to big for him, his mouth leads to a dark void, and he carries around two plushies: a bunny made of roses from his mom, and a plush of his adult form from his husband. Of course he becomes an adult if they do anything adult, so please don't start.

Regardless of his form, even when it's based on the perspective of others, he always wears a large knitted infinity scarf his husband made for whenever he wanted to hide away.

_____________________

Powers:

Cool ones

I mean, he's not wrong...

(I should make an ice themed character)

Giota, as a god, has numerous powers related to his domains.

powers of freedom:

inspiring presence- while most gods or beings of power inspire mortals and lesser beings of power to kneel down or bow, Giota’s presence inspires all beings to rise up, to do anything, to do whatever they want, to become the best they can be. this can be used to inspire allies to carry on. However Giota can also let this power run rampant, and free the mind of any shackles, and while this sounds good it really just means removing all morals and causing mass violence, and if he lets it run rampant while in the same dimension he lets it then all life will mutate into eldritch monstrosities of decadence and selfishness. According to him this is to show that balance must be kept between chaos and law.

the torch of liberty- among Giota’s duties as a god of freedom is to liberate the populations of ‘doomed realms’ that have been enslaved. essentially, if a planet in a universe is ruled purely by either law or chaos then the entire universe can be effected, in the case of law it can result in the entire universe becoming one collective conscious. while it’s not common that enslaved worlds occur, however when they do they are the most dangerous of law worlds. to combat worlds like this gods of freedom are given torches that free the minds of the enslaved and bring down holy fire upon the enslavers in the form of the collective will of all the freed people.

powers of technological progress:

cybernetic god-many god-years ago Giota was severely wounded by a rogue god of flesh and a rogue god of metal, to the point even he could not regenerate it. to stop him from dying a cult of his granted Giota cybernetic enhancements. these enhancements integrated into Giota’s flesh as it regenerated and became enhanced in turn by Giota’s divinity, and Giota’s divine power was enhanced then by the cybernetics, resulting in a self sustaining growth in power. while he gladly used this to stop the rogue gods, and once again to destroy an old one, he feels being that powerful would upset the balance of power, so he sealed it in a time lock in time with the seasons and time of day in the void. his power increases from mid day to mid night, and from the end of summer to the end of winter. in the minute of exactly midnight at the end of winter, Giota becomes, in both this multiverse and the old, the most powerful being to exist.

self evolving knowledge- because his position as a god of technology is artificial his powers in it are very weak, being able to only grant full sentience and sapience to machines. he can also create minor miracles of technology, such as summoning a clockwork toy(which he does often)

hey man did you really have to bring up the whole getting my ass kicked thing?

yes, now shut up before I bring up what you sing in the shower

....fucker....

powers of being dramatic:

yeah that wasn't a joke. Giota is the god of being over the top, stylish, and over all flair. in other words, being dramatic

personal sound track- he can cause any song he wants to play when he does anything.

lights, camera, ACTION!- whenever he wants, Giota can cause a bright, sparkling light to emit from his body or behind himself.

my favorite is that one bad bitch’s theme. what’s her name again?

Ragyo Kiyurin?

that's the fucker! terrible taste in morals, but damn does she know how to enter a room.

...can I put sigh when it’s supposed to be me sighing?

powers of the god of chaos

Chaotic existence- for Giota to even exist is, in and of itself, a paradox. he comes from a timeline that never existed, that was on a set path, yet he exist, and he changed the course of the timeline. when he became a chaos god he became a paradox within a paradox, he existed yet did not. to attempt to change any aspect of his being, to take in any part of his being, is to know that which is not there to know, to understand that which is not there, you have to be able to comprehend the very essence of nonexistence to even bare a hair of his getting in your mouth. such a thing easily drives all things that try insane, to the point that every part of their conscience believes that it does not exist.

overwhelming power-chaos gods are only once a multiverse, and with the title comes pure power. such power could turn an infant into an indestructible warrior, however since Giota was already at that level on a mortal scale, and already capable of taking on powerful gods, this power sets him among the highest echelons of divine might.

powers of the god of void

key to nonexistence- the god of the void is the only being who can open the bridge between that which exist and that which does not

rapid regeneration- the void god has an innate ability to regenerate from nearly all damage, even if they are ground to a fine paste. this regeneration is enhanced by the cybernetic enhancements.

speed of darkness- the void god has an innate speed that surpasses light, Giota’s already superhuman speed was enhanced by this.

spear of not- the void god is the sole being in existence and non existence who can wield the spear of not, a finely forged weapon. it is not special beyond being enchanted to withstand godly power and a ‘security lock’ enchantment, however it is still a very well made weapon.

blah blah blah, enough about what I was handed, tell them about my mortal abilities

as Giota just said, and as I’ve brought up before, Giota is extremely powerful even without his powers, he also used to be two other mortals that were less powerful. but over all these were his powers, which he still has.

leather skin- while it might appear or feel like something else, Giota’s skin is exactly like leather armor. this comes from how he was raised as a child to be a powerful warrior and his skin was tanned into hide and treated while it was still on him.

adamantine bone- Giota’s bones were also replaced by an adamantine skeleton when he was a child.

super sonic speeds- during his training as a child, he was taught to be able to surpass the sound barrier on foot.

superhuman strength- his training also trained his body to carry ten tons, however as a mortal he improved that strength to the point he could exert enough force to blast away entire cities by blinking. This power did not come easy.

flight- after training with some monks late in his life, Giota was able to walk on the air, essentially he could fly at the same speed as he could run.

agility- he was trained as a warrior and assassin, so Giota’s training included advanced maneuverability training, including wall running, sneaking across tripwires, etc.

weapon master- Giota is a master in all weapons and various forms of martial arts.

he also has reciev- hey man you good?

I-I’m fine! d-don’t write that I’m crying!

you...wanna talk about it?

…no...

is it about your mom?

…maybe...

alright take your time.

anyway Giota has a very useful piece of equipment, the cloak of maternity- despite it’s name, it’s actual a cloak that leads to a pocket dimension where Giota carries his weapons and toys. It is called the cloak of maternity because his adoptive mother gave him after he became a god-bounty hunter, she even designed it to help him hide away from people. it even has a designated snack pocket.

_____________________

BIO:

Giota was found by his adoptive mother after he destroyed his timeline, as punishment, or perhaps in an attempt to redeem him, she turned him back into a baby. something Giota happily accepted.

After this his life went on as a mortal’s would, only in the realm of divinity: he went to school, went into college, graduated, then entered the workforce. granted the workforce he entered was bounty hunting divine criminals. it was easy for him to get into, after all everything from his past life transferred over to this one, it wasn't long before he was hunting even the deadliest of criminals. while his mom was very supportive, it was still difficult for him to keep in contact with her as he did before moving out, and being a bounty hunter was hardly a sociable job. it wasn't long before Giota fell into depression, and then to drugs. for twenty three god years his life was an endless cycle of contract killing, payment, and wallowing in chemical joy. But at the end of all blinding lights, there is a welcoming darkness.

Giota had become the personal bounty hunter of the god of law and time: Ceerus. one day while leaving after receiving a contract, he met the god’s child, a boy his age named Dyalta.

It was thanks to Dyalta that Giota ever kicked drugs, or got out of depression, and thanks to Dyalta Giota managed to find happiness in anything other than a syringe.

Even the reason he found love.

rise to godhood

Giota became a god after an old god, named the Red slaughter, destroyed the entire universe. this was a catalyst for Giota, who had died previously, to return with his newly awakened god powers. I don't want to go into to much detail in this aspect as I intend to write it at some point.

_____________________

hey man you good yet?

a little bit. Dyalta came by and gave me some cookies.

that's good buddy, I’m gonna describe your personality ok?

alright.. I’m gonna go home now.

alright man, take care.

_____________________

personality

do note that this is a bit hard for me to do. I’m more used to just writing a character. I’ll just post two short stories here to try and get his personality across. I made them in school last year.

ok so after looking at it the second one is twelve pages long. so I’m gonna post that elsewhere on here. to give context: this is after a wedding between Dyalta and Giota was interrupted. if you’d like to see more about him then feel free to interact or request him.

elavator story

Giota shifted uncomfortably to make room for his soon to be father in law as the man stepped into the lift.

“Soooooo…” Giota pressed their floor “wonderful, um, siege we’re having.”

Ceerus just keeps his eyes on the door “sure.”

“So how's the uh, wife?”

Ceerus sighed “locked in a tower, that we are invading.”

“Mhm, yup.”

‘Maybe I should try calling him dad.’

“So what did you think of my swordsmanship d-dad.”

Ceerus visibly restrained himself “it was fine ten- Giota.”

The elevator stopped, probably because of security.

“Oh maker damnit,” Ceerus tries rewinding the shut off, but it doesn't work “and it’s godproofed!”

“This reminds of this one time me and Dyalta wen-”

Ceerus put his hand to Giota’s mouth “if you end this story in anything less than fully clothed I will end your fake hide.”

Giota scratches his head nervously “Well I didn't, but Dyalta lost his shirt and well,” Giota notice Ceerus drawing his blade “b-but it was for a sword fi- wait bad wording, it was for a-you know- assasination thing!”

Ceerus sighed and sheathed his sword “look, you dusting mongrel, I don’t like you, you pretend to like me, let’s just try and not kill each other and maybe by the end of this, I won’t flay your ass at the altar.”

Well atleast now they both agreed on something: this was going to be a long crusade.

________________________________________________________________

ok that's that! not a very good character sheet but hopefully it got enough across to be interesting. I’ll end this off with some quotes I want him to say but have never gotten the chance to write out:

“hey Ceerus how’s the kid? oh thats right! in my bed, waiting patiently.” following Ceerus being exceptionally annoying.

“you know something? I try to be nice, I always smile, always banter with my targets. you know, try and be friendly. but then some RED MOTHERFUCKER, POSSESSES MY HUSBAND, WAKING ME UP FROM ETERNAL SLUMBER, AND NOW I ONCE AGAIN HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE GOD’S MESSES!”

*crying into Dyalta* “and then he said my clothes were stupid,” *sobbing* “I tried really hard on these!”

“this multiverse, to us gods, is wet paper mache. so easy to break, one wrong move and POP,” Giota flexes his finger and causes an ocean to split open for a solid ten seconds, “the very fabric of reality is gone. and you. you insuferable MOTHER FUCKERS have the AUDACITY TO COME IN HERE, AND TEAR IT ALL TO SHREDS! well assholes, if this reality is paper mache to you, and I’m stronger than you, take a wild gues as to what you are to me.”

(tagging: @storytravelled, @3lectro-heart, @genshin-obsessed)

#tw drugs #oc

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fishmongeringstudies · 4 years ago

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nine: the tender machine kindness of daily routines and actions whose net worth comes not from their immediately visible impacts but the way your hands learn to steady themselves in the warm flickering light of morning, years after the candles and the ouija board have been put away

being a college student means having to face up to big, harrowing decisions every day such as should i drop this shirt on the floor after i take it off or walk the extra two and a half meters to my laundry hamper? most of the time i opt for the former, although the peculiar thing about leaving stuff on the floor is that the ratio of stuff to floor gradually inverts itself like a body turned inside-out to reveal the soft, fleshy inside until there is no more floor and altogether too much stuff. at that point, there are no more decisions to make. either you pick up all those shirts or make the walk to breakfast in the nude. given that the dining hall is known to be unenthusiastic about the smallest of transgressions like bare feet and people without skin, i doubt they would let me in. unless i seduced them. but it is hard to seduce a building.

the dining hall in this college is named after yet another rich alumnus who, fearing that they would be forgotten when they died and fade away into obscurity, therefore experiencing a second, more significant death, decided to assert dominance over one of the key facilities for survival at their alma mater. the building is short, squat, and emits a faint glow like a convenience store glimpsed from afar at four o'clock in the morning. upon entering the first set of swinging doors, one finds oneself greeted with two more sets of doors and a choice of one or the other. the left door will take you past an office. the right will take you past two more doors. one of them leads to the bathroom. the other leads to hell.

the dining hall appears to have been built on some kind of slope, because once you get past the first door and the second and pass through the gates of reckoning, the path splits again into two rather grand staircases of significant width and height, which lead you some two storeys down to a square-shaped room with a big fireplace perched at one end. it dawns on you then that this, this place hidden under the great yawning jaw of heaven, is the real dining hall. you squint at your surroundings in mild disbelief while awkwardly fingering your phone in your pocket so that the other person waiting in line doesn't strike up a conversation. the path outside looks flat as fuck and yet the stairs seemed to go on forever. the only conclusion: this building is cursed.

other things that are cursed: unripe bananas, misplaced sympathies, birds with teeth. liberal arts colleges. sad novels. people who end all their text messages with a full stop. the last one is a lie.

wow liberal arts colleges are really cursed though. i know what you're thinking. not this again, you moan in an extremely non-sexual way, dragging the heel of your palm down your face. not him again. i am tired of him, you complain. excellent. this makes two of us. but one cannot put something away until you are sure of all its contents. and even now, days and weeks and months later, i'll be brushing my teeth and admiring my reflection in the mirror when i'll find myself abruptly subjected to the blunt force trauma that is delayed realization. memories are like mille feuilles. a lot of effort to make and a lot of effort to get rid of. and if you take the lazy way out, slicing your knife perpendicular to this delicate, thousand-layered monstrosity, you are bound to miss something crucial.

question: have you missed anything this semester? what have you overlooked; what have you let slip you by? look over your shoulder. do it right now. perhaps you will discover the ghost of your deceased great-grandmother, trying to whisper to you her beloved recipe for tang yuan. take everything she says down. you will need it one day. i promise.

these days i'm not scared of anything in my head anymore. that's the nice thing about having fear manifest itself as a thing with skin and some internal organs (at least i assume he has them. to be honest you could tell me he has half a kidney in there and nothing else and i'd be like yes that makes sense, of course you're right) that moves and walks and talks like a person but otherwise has the cognitive capabilities of a chair. it's like playing an rpg horror survival game. only the antagonist isn't hot.

i am though. and so is summer, sweet sticky-skin summer, though i woke up today and it felt like february all over again. it was eight degrees celcius in the morning; eleven in the afternoon. now it is nine. so this is how it is when one is thousands of miles from the equator. one step forward, two steps back. take ten steps in a rough circle and then four steps to the left. tango with me. chase cars with me. we can chase cars all day. i'll wear your shirt and you'll eat mine.

this semester the salsa club held its weekly meetings on friday at 8:45 in the lounge attached to the dorm i lived in. on one such friday i was playing pool in the adjacent room with someone i don't talk to anymore and another i wish i still did but never seemed to find in the same room as myself. it was my first time playing pool. the stick reminded me of sun wu kong, the monkey king and his magical monkey king staff. or was it a stick? the details escape me. the evening escapes me, too. i know at one point one of them left to join the salsa club. i know at some point i cleared the table.

it must have been the third or fourth week of the semester when they convinced me to play pool, because i said yes without thinking the way i never had before that and never will again. back then i was still scared and lonely and to be fair, i was scared and lonely for half of april and most of may, but these are fundamentally different sentiments. back then i was scared of everything. these days i am acquainted with a more academic, nuanced fear; persistent laughter, 500-word moodle short responses sent over text, fists.

the first time i did laundry in the spring i googled "[my college name] laundry machines" because i had to be sure that the laundry machines in this specific basement in this specific college weren't super fucked-up for some reason and i was terrified that they would be and that i'd fuck up even the laundry, dear god, if i couldn't do the laundry then what was the point of trying to do friendship? i threw everything in the washing machine at five o'clock in the morning and dragged it across the white-tiled floor to the dryer at five-thirty. at five-fifty i texted good evening to a friend. at six-twenty-seven i washed my chopsticks.

at six thirty-five i stood in front of my dresser in my room with a freshly-laundered shirt pressed against my face and a spill of sunlight sliding down the left side of my body. i breathed in. the fabric smelled like flowers. like it'd emerged from the cycle of reincarnation, pure and dumb as a baby. i breathed in again. my hands and cheeks were warm. the birds outside my window were screaming in french. in that moment i found that i believed, for the first time since i'd gotten here, in the transient nature of all things. even sadness. even the sneaking feeling that i would never settle into this room with its shitty ceiling light, which turned out to be true, which was paranoia later justified by truth. even you.

then i folded it up carefully, and put it away.

05.29.21

#the author cannot recall if the salsa club met at 8:45 or 8:30 but they know it was 8 something so if anyone from the salsa club #reads this please dont get on my case i was never part of the club i only spectated on it once with a hidden agenda that died 2 days later #amen

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

Please do holiday prompt 85 (unexpected apology)!

85. we haven’t been friends for years but we both end up at a mutual friend’s holiday party and you apologize for how things went down between us (which I wasn’t expecting in a million years)

from winter writing prompts here

it’s that time of year again everyone.....ive been so busy with school and zine stuff that im taking a little break to write this today ☺️ set very late 2019, before the Events of 2020

------------------

It occurs to Hermann as he stands amongst a handful of society’s most monied and high-ranking—mulled wine in hand, stiff suit buttoned too-tight around his neck—that he is not only completely out of his element, but residing at a level of desperation that he cringes to even consider. Hermann does not schmooze; Hermann has never had the capacity to schmooze; in all of his previous attempts at schmoozing (typically at the bequest of his father, who would tote Hermann around as a conversation piece at fundraising events), Hermann would come across invariably as disingenuous, uptight, and arrogant, and certainly not someone with whom one would entrust large cheques made out to the PPDC for.

Yes; desperation. To borrow the cliché, desperate times call for desperate measures. To borrow another, war changes man. Robots wage war on monsters from another world, the UN wages war on the jaeger program’s budget, and Hermann must wage war on prospective PPDC donors if he wishes to still be employed by the New Year. He can’t decide which sounds more horrendous, really.

“Would you like more wine, Dr. Gottlieb?” a passing waiter asks Hermann, and Hermann shakes his head.

“No, thank you,” he says. Hermann has always been a maudlin drunk; he doesn’t fancy risking over-drinking tonight, and making an embarrassment of himself by confessing to perfect strangers that his parents never loved him or that he fears he’ll never make a true human connection.

“Dr. Gottlieb?” someone says, incredulously.

Oh, bugger. He’s been found out. Hermann sighs, flattens down his cowlick, and plasters on a fake smile: the time has come for him to, er, lie back and think of the PPDC, so to speak. Hopefully it’ll go fast.

But when Hermann turns, it’s not to find some acquaintance of his father, or a perfect stranger familiar with his work, or even a distant colleague; it’s to find one Newton Geiszler (who Hermann may have considered a colleague, once, but certainly not anymore), dressed in a horrendous eyesore of a gold (gold) suit, nursing a large red cocktail in each hand, and staring at Hermann like he can’t decide if he wants to say something or turn and run. Hermann mirrors his stare. A pin could drop between them, and Hermann reckons, despite the undercurrent of music and chatter, they would be able to hear it.

Hermann is the one to break it. “Newton,” he says. Then he amends, quickly, “Dr. Geiszler. I wasn’t aware…” He coughs. He suddenly wishes he took another mulled wine, and wonders if it’s too late to summon back the waiter. “You are…here.”

“Uh,” Newton says. “Yeah.”

The last time Hermann saw Newton Geiszler, they were standing under an awning outside a Starbucks while a torrential downpour of rain pounded against the sidewalk and soaked their shoes. Hermann was shouting. Newton was shouting, too, and he may have also been crying. They had been asked to leave the building on account of it. That was nearly three years ago. “Er,” Hermann says. “Business? Or pleasure?”

Newton has hardly changed in the almost-three years; his hair remains thick and unruly, his jaw in bad need of a shave, his glasses smudged and slightly crooked. The suit is a bloody eyesore, though. Hermann imagines Newton thought it was festive. “Business.” Newton snorts. “God, you think I’d come here for fun? I haven’t had the money for a new sample in months, it was either this or, I don’t know, sticking mutated fish under microscopes. Kaiju blue poisoning. Been there done that, and not what I need to be doing now, you know? And you can thank your dad for that too, not having any fucking samples to work with, I mean, and his stupid wall—but I guess that’s why you’re here too. I heard they’re talking about pulling the plug on the jaeger program.”

Newton speaks quickly, and with a bewildering tendency to leap between topics like a game of hopscotch, something Hermann had quite forgotten. (They’d only met the once, after all, and Newton disguises it better in writing.) He follows it nonetheless. “Yes, well, they’re still only just rumors,” Hermann says, though he knows (with a certainty) that one more major failing of a jaeger might spell the end of it, “and I certainly hope they stay as such. I take it you’re with the PPDC now, then?”

Newton jerks a thumb towards the waistband of his gold suit, spilling a bit of his cocktail on the floor; Hermann at last notices the PPDC badge clipped to it. Newton’s grin is identical to the one in his photograph. “Hell yeah, dude,” he says. “They finally hired me about a month after we—” The corners of his mouth twitch down, ever so slightly. “—uh, got coffee.”

It had been a long-standing complaint of Newton’s, back when they wrote each other, that the PPDC was perfectly happy to use his research but turned a blind eye whenever he submitted yet another application for their k-science research team. Personality conflicts, Hermann always presumed. He and Newton certainly had plenty. Perhaps Hermann’s not the only one who’s grown desperate—a thought he scolds himself for the unkindness of a moment later. Newton is a brilliant scientist despite his difficulties and their past. “Of course,” Hermann says. “Well, congratulations. I hadn’t heard.”

“Wine?” a passing waiter asks them.

Newton shakes his head. Hermann takes one this time, gratefully.

“It’s been alright,” Newton says. He downs the entirety of the red cocktail in his right hand. “Like I said. Not many samples to work with. They had me stationed over in Vladivostok, but I got leave for the holidays. And for this I guess.”

“I’ve been in Seattle,” Hermann says. “I reckon they’ll be transferring me soon, though I haven’t an idea where.” More rumors, of course.

For a moment he allows himself the brief fantasy of being transferred somewhere with Newton, or perhaps it’s more of a fear than a fantasy—year after year of this sort of insufferable awkwardness? Being forced to work together? It’s something Hermann had longed for in the past, spending every day with his marvelous penpal at his side. It instills a sort of nausea in him now. Newton touches his arm before Hermann has the chance to excuse himself hide in the loo. “Hey, dude, listen,” Newton says. “About us getting coffee. I feel like I owe you an apology.”

Hermann can’t help it; he snorts, though he immediately regrets it. Newton, at least, does not look offended. “Do you?” Hermann says. Two and a half bloody years too late.

“I mean it,” Newton says. He blinks earnestly at Hermann, and squeezes Hermann’s arm. “I screwed it all up that day, and I could’ve—I don’t know, written, or texted, or anything to apologize, but I didn’t. And that was shitty of me. So I’m sorry, I really am. And…yeah. That’s it, I guess.”

It’s the last thing Hermann expected to hear today. It’s the last thing he expected to hear from Newton. The radio silence following that disastrous day at the coffee shop had been awful—and it’d been infuriating, too. Where had they even gone wrong that day? Hermann can’t remember anymore. Probably a fight over something inconsequential. “I see,” Hermann says. “Well. Er. Thank you, Newton. Your apology is...appreciated.”

“Cool,” Newton says.

He stares at Hermann expectantly.

“Oh,” Hermann says. “And I’m sorry, too, I suppose.”

“Cool,” Newton repeats.

He smiles at Hermann, and Hermann is momentarily suffocated by it, and the sudden reemergence of feelings he thought he’d quashed years ago. Newton is still very attractive. Very, very attractive. Hermann’s arm is warm and tingly from where Newton touched him, and he realizes the warmth is spreading up to his neck and cheeks—he’s blushing. “Hey, wanna check out the snack table with me?” Newton says. “I love the rich people food at shit like this. The last one I went to had oysters, which is totally weird. Like, it’s a gala.”

Hermann decides to accept it as the strange peace offering it obviously is meant to be. “Alright,” he says. “Though, I insist you explain your monstrosity of a suit first.”

“It’s classy,” Newton says. “Anyway, you’re one to talk, buddy.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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iamtrebleclefstories · 4 years ago

Text

maybe it’s wrong to say I love you - part two

Part Two: Home

people I’ve loved, I’ve had no regrets... some I remember, some I forget...

So... this monstrosity of a fic was supposed to be a miniseries, but it’s obviously evolved into this giant. Hope you enjoy it and let me know what think and what you hope to see next!

If you haven’t read Part One, you can find it here!

p.s - You might wanna get the tissues out for this one

TW: Mentions of suicide, self-harm, and abuse

Part Two: Home

-Wish I were with you, but I couldn't stay-

-Every direction leads me away-

Leaving Seattle was probably one of the most difficult decisions Jo had ever made. And that was coming from someone who’d lived through some really crappy things in her twenty-eight years of life. When she turned her resignation into Webber, he did everything in his power to get her to stick around. He pointed out that it was kind of ridiculous to just up and leave one of the best residency programs in the country because of a guy. Normally, she’d agree. She’s worked way too damn hard in her life for it to come to this. But Alex wasn’t just a guy. He was her person. He was her family. And sometimes you needed to sacrifice things in order to keep your family safe and happy.

When Webber realized that Jo was not going to change her mind about moving, he offered to put her in contact with an old colleague who was the chief of surgery at a hospital on the east coast. That’s how she ended up on a six and a half hour flight from Seattle to Florida. She started working at the Jacksonville branch of Mayo Clinic about a week later.

It was different. Very different from Seattle. It was hot and humid all the time. Sure the beaches were nice, but Jo didn’t think she’d ever lived somewhere so unbearably hot in her entire life. Something that was nice though was the rain. Because even though Florida was nicknamed the Sunshine State, she felt like it was constantly raining. It reminded her of Seattle. It reminded her of home.

Months passed and Jo felt like she was finally starting to heal, albeit very slowly. But she was healing nonetheless. She could go an entire day without even thinking about Alex Karev and how he was probably living it up with his wife. Sure, those days also just so happened to be days where Jo literally did not have the time to think of him, but she was grateful for the slight reprieve that work had given her over the constant influx of painful memories.

By the time the end of her third year of residency was coming to a close, she thought she’d finally done it. She made it an entire week without crying over Alex and everything that they had lost. She was proud of herself. So proud, that she thought maybe she could try to move on and start dating again.

She was on her first date post-Alex when she saw the news on the bar television. Mass shooting at Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital in Seattle, Washington. Multiple lives lost, many injured, including some of the doctors and staff.

Jo felt absolutely sick to her stomach. She excused herself from her date and rushed back over to her apartment and searched for the little black book where she’d written down the phone numbers of all her friends before throwing out her old phone and getting a new number. She found it and shakily dialed the first number she saw—Meredith’s—and prayed that someone on the other line would answer.

“Hello?” A tired voice croaked.

“Mer?”

“Jo? Is that you?”

Jo let out a sigh of relief, “Oh my God. I saw the news. Are you okay? Is everyone okay?” There was a sob on the other end of the line, making Jo’s heart beat wildly against her chest. “Meredith, what happened?”

“It was horrible,” Meredith cried, her sniffles being heard from Jo’s end of the call. Jo waited patiently for Meredith to calm herself enough to inform her of what happened. “Today was the worst day of my life.”

“Did anyone we know—“

“Yes,” Meredith stated quietly. “Derek was shot in the heart and almost died. Cristina saved him, though. The doctors are optimistic. Owen got shot in the arm. I lost my baby—“

“You were pregnant?” Jo’s eyes began to water.

“Yeah,” Meredith whimpered. “I had a miscarriage today.”

“Mer, I’m so sorry,” Jo felt a couple tears escape her eyes. “What about everyone else?”

“Bailey watched someone die in her arms,” Meredith shared. “His name was Charles. He was a resident. He was new, but not so bad. This other girl named Reed died. So did a couple nurses and security guards. No kids, though. Lexie is okay. Mark is okay. Arizona and Callie are okay.”

“Mer, you haven’t said anything about Alex. Why aren’t you saying anything about Alex?” Jo’s heart hammered inside her rib cage. There was silence coming from Meredith’s side of the call. “Meredith. Please. Tell me he isn’t dead.”

“He isn’t dead,” Meredith stated. “But I’m not completely sure he’s going to live.”

Jo heard the sob before she registered it was hers, “What happened?”

“He was shot in the chest,” Meredith’s voice quivered a bit. “Lexie and Mark found him, but by the time they found him he’d already lost so much blood. They put in a chest tube and tried to do as much as they could in the conference room on the fourth floor. But he hasn’t woken up yet. Someone needs to make some decisions regarding his care. The bullet ripped through his lung. They need to figure out whether they’re gonna take him back into surgery or just hope he makes it through the night.”

“Oh God,” Jo felt the tears stream down her face. She took a couple deep breaths. “Okay. Okay. What’s Izzie going to have them do?”

“Jo, Izzie isn’t the one who’s going to make those decisions,” Meredith said cautiously.

“What do you mean? She’s his wife isn’t she? What is she going to have them do?”

“You don’t know?” Meredith asked.

“Don’t know what?” Jo shook her head. She couldn’t figure out why Meredith sounded so weird.

“Um, nothing… it’s just… we were looking at Alex’s medical forms and you’re Alex’s power of attorney.”

“What?” Jo’s eyes widened. “Why me? Why not Izzie?”

“I guess he trusted that you’d make the right decisions,” Meredith paused. “You don’t have to come. I know it might be too hard for you.”

“No. No, I’ll come,” Jo decided and began to quickly pack an overnight bag. “I’m coming right now.”

Less than ten hours later, Jo was standing outside of Alex’s hospital room standing next to Meredith and Cristina as she spoke to the doctors about Alex’s health. After deciding the best course of treatment, Jo turned to look at her friends, “Where is Izzie?”

The two women exchanged a look. Cristina let out a sigh, “She’s visiting her mom. I don’t know if she knows.”

“Oh,” Jo nodded. “Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t see him like this.”

“Jo, you know that Izzie and Alex got—“Meredith started, quickly being interrupted by Jo.

“No, you know what? I don’t need to know,” Jo shook her head. “The one thing that coming here has taught me is that I’m still in love with him and that means I can’t be here. I can’t hear about his relationship with Izzie. Not today at least. Maybe in a few years when I’m over him and I don’t cry at the thought of him being with someone else, but not today.”

“But Jo, they’re—“ Cristina tried to get a word in.

“No. It’s okay,” Jo stuck her hand out, signaling Cristina to stop talking. “I did what I had to do and I’m going back. Don’t tell him that I was here or that you have my phone number. Please. I love you guys, but I need to leave.”

Her friends nodded and wrapped her in an uncharacteristic hug. Mer whispered in her ear, “Be safe. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Goodbye.”

————

-Just looking for shelter from the cold and the pain-

-Someone to cover, safe from the rain-

Jo kept in contact with Meredith. The months following the shooting were difficult ones and Jo would often hear her phone ringing as Meredith called or texted her various updates regarding everyone’s lives. Everyone except Alex’s life. Jo was clear that she didn’t want to know what was going on in his life and perfect marriage with Izzie other than the fact that he was doing okay and thinking about specializing in peds apparently.

She was about four or five months into her fourth year of residency when Jo was given an invitation to attend a medical conference in Orlando. Jo called Meredith immediately after and suggested she take a few days off to come attend the conference with her.

“Jo I’d love to. Let me talk to the chief and see if I can get a few days off to visit you,” Meredith replied.

About a week and a half later, Jo was picking Meredith up at the Orlando International Airport, “Mer!”

“Jo!” The women embraced and Jo helped Meredith stuff her bags into the trunk of the car as they drove over to the hotel where the conference was being held.

“How are you? How is everyone?” Jo asked.

“We’re getting there. Things still aren’t as good as they could be,” Meredith shrugged. “Cristina got married.”

“She what?” Jo’s eyes widened. “To Hunt?”

“Yup,” Meredith nodded. “She isn’t doing surgery right now either. I tried to convince her to come with me, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Jo sighed, “I wish I could see her and literally slap some sense into her.”

“You might be the only person who’d be successful at getting her to feel something,” Meredith chuckled. “It’s not the same without you there, Jo. Everything is so… boring and dull.”

“Boring and dull might just be the last thing you call Seattle Grace,” Jo wrinkled her face in amusement. “Especially since Mark Sloan got Callie pregnant. Poor Lexie.”

“I know,” Meredith shook her head. She stood quiet for a moment before speaking. “Don’t you ever miss it? Home?”

“Every day,” Jo answered. “Sure, I have some acquaintances, but it isn’t the same.”

“So why don’t you come back?”

“You know why,” Jo gave Meredith a pointed look.

“But the reasons--”

“Mer, stop. I told you I don’t want to know about him and Izzie,” Jo shook her head.

“If you’d just let me talk you’d find out that things aren’t as perfect as you think they are,” Meredith crossed her arms.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jo took a deep breath. “No one, in the history of my life has ever loved me and hurt me more than Alex. And if I want to keep loving him and not hating him for making me love him, then I can't know about his personal life. I can’t.”

“Okay. We won’t talk about Alex anymore,” Meredith sighed. What she’d been trying to tell Jo was that Alex and Izzie had gotten divorced over a year ago and in an effort to cover the pain of losing the two women he loved, he’d reverted back to his days as a diseased man-whore. But Jo wasn’t having it.

The first two days of the conference were fun and informative. Jo and Meredith used the time they weren’t in sessions to get some much needed rest. The third day of the conference Jo and Meredith were getting ready to walk in when Jo saw him. She knew immediately who it was as soon as she saw the back of his head. She’d never forget that man as long as she lived.

Meredith must’ve realized how Jo went pale and started to tremble because she placed her hand lightly on Jo’s arm in concern, “Jo. Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong?”

“I⎯I have to get out of here,” Jo grasped Meredith’s arm tightly. “Mer, I need you to get me out of here right now.”

“Okay,” Meredith pulled Jo out of the hotel conference room and into the lobby where Jo finally let out a cry, startling Meredith. “Jo, what’s going on? I need you to talk to me.”

Jo had begun hyperventilating at some point and was struggling to catch her breath as she saw his name on the speaker schedule for the day on the poster outside of conference room doors. She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed it before. She didn’t know how she could’ve missed it. Why was he here? Had he found her? Did he know she was in Florida?

“Jo!”

“Huh?” Jo turned to Meredith with scared eyes.

“Jo, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You begged me to get you out of that room. What happened?”

“I⎯I’m married.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m married to a man who almost beat me to death. I ran away from him eight years ago and never divorced him because I was afraid he’d come find me and kill me,” Jo shared, body shaking in fear.

“Does Alex know?” Meredith asked, brows furrowed.

“He’s the only person I’ve ever told,” Jo nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He knows everything. About Paul, the abortion, how I ran away and changed my name. Jo Wilson isn't even my real name.”

Meredith wrapped Jo in a tight hug, “You’re okay. I’m here and I’m not leaving you alone. Not for one second.”

They found out that Paul lived in Florida, Orlando, specifically and had been working at Orlando Medical Group for the past five years. He was a speaker at the conference and would be giving a presentation on minimally invasive surgery techniques. They’d been in their hotel room for a few minutes when Jo finally spoke again.

“Meredith, what if he sees me? What if he comes to hurt me?” Fear etched on Jo’s face. “He’s here. He’s here and I don’t even have Al—I don’t have anyone.”

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No.”

“Jo, let me call him. Please,” Meredith squeezed one of Jo’s hands. “He’s going to want to be here with you. He misses you. He still loves you.”

“Meredith, stop,” Jo looked up at the ceiling. “If Alex were here he’d just do something stupid and get himself killed or wind up in jail or the hospital and I refuse to put him through that.”

“Okay,” Meredith sighed. “But you are not alone. You have me and we’re going to find a great lawyer who’s going to get you a restraining order and a divorce, because no one should be tied to a man like that. And I will stay here as long as I need to, to make that happen.”

——————

-The echoes and silence, patience and grace-

-All of these moments I'll never replace-

Realistically, Meredith couldn’t stay with Jo the entire time it would take her to process her divorce. The next few months after submitting the request for the dissolution of marriage were full of Jo looking over her shoulder practically every minute of every day.

It was on a Tuesday in February when it happened. She’s just got out of a surgery with Dr. Baker, their chief of surgery when she heard the most chilling sound.

“Hi Brooke. Or should I say Jo? It is Jo now, isn’t it?”

Jo turned around slowly to face him, eyes flitting over to Dr. Baker who seemed to be watching with concern, “Paul. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just checking up on my wife,” Paul sneered. “A wife I had not seen in eight years, so imagine my surprise when my lawyer presented me with divorce papers that my wife had filed not long before and that a court date has been set a month from today.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jo glared at him. “I have a restraining order. It’s all supposed to go through the courts. We aren’t supposed to have any contact with each other.”

“I know,” Paul flashed her a disarming smile. “I just couldn’t resist coming to pay you a visit. Especially when I found out that you were living in the same state.”

“You need to leave before I call security,” Jo stood her ground. “You are not supposed to be anywhere near me, so you need to leave and go home.”

“No… you know, I don’t think I will,” Paul answered, his menacing grin sending her heart beating wildly. “I think I’ll stick around and—“

“Is there a problem here?” Dr. Baker stood behind Paul, arms crossed as he took in the man’s tall frame.

“No sir there’s no—“

“Yes,” Jo looked at Dr. Baker and nodded. “Yes there is a problem. This man is my husband whom I am in the process of divorcing. I have a restraining order on him and he is not allowed to be within a thousand feet of me.”

“Sir, I am going to need you to leave the premises immediately,” Dr. Baker pointed towards the exit. “Remove yourself or you shall be removed. And if I hear or see that you are anywhere on or near hospital grounds, I will not hesitate to call security.”

“Fine. I’ll leave,” Paul sent Jo an angry scowl. “But just so you know, you better watch your back. I have no plans on making this easy for you. I’ll see you in court.”

Jo watched as Paul walked out of the hospital and waited until he was out of sight before crumbling onto the floor. Dr. Baker kneeled down beside her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Is there anyone you like me to call for you? I know you used to work with Dr. Webber in Seattle. Would you like me to call him?”

“No,” Jo shook her head. “No it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself.”

“Wilson,” Dr. Baker’s stern voice warned. “You should not be doing this alone. And you definitely should not be staying in your apartment alone. If you aren’t going to call anyone to come be with you, then you should let us help you. Why don’t you stay with my wife and I for a few days until we know he’s gone?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be,” Dr. Baker shook his head. The older gentleman was not taking no for an answer. “Stay with Lisa and I. Just for a few days. Until Friday.”

Jo sighed, “Okay, fine. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Dr. Baker squeezed her shoulder lightly. “I’ll have my assistant give you my address so you can head over there as soon as your shift is over today.”

Jo thanked him again and watched as her chief walked away, leaving her in the hallway alone. Jo searched around for the nearest on-call room and reached into her pocket for her phone, dialing a number as soon as she walked inside.

“Hello?”

“Mer?”

“Jo? Hi. What’s going on?” Meredith answered, the sound of the hospital buzzing in the background.

“He came, Meredith. My husband? He came and found me. He was here. He came to the hospital,” Jo felt her body shake as she recounted the day’s events.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Meredith asked frantically.

“No he didn’t hurt me. But he threatened me. I think,” Jo shrugged.

“What do you mean you think he threatened you? Jo, he’s not even supposed to be within a thousand feet of you. We made sure of that.”

“He told me to watch my back. He said he wasn’t going to make this easy for me,” Jo sniffled and wiped a couple straying tears.

“Jo, I think it’s time to tell Alex.”

“No. No, Mer we can’t tell him. He doesn't deserve to get caught up in my mess. It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it.”

“Don’t be stupid. Don’t play the martyr.”

“This isn’t about me playing a martyr Mer,” Jo huffed.

“Then what is it? Because I’m not understanding.”

“He didn’t choose me!” Jo exclaimed. “That day he told me that he was going to marry Izzie, I told him that I’d do it. I’d divorce Paul. If he wanted to be committed, if he wanted to be married, that I’d get a divorce. Even though I was terrified of this exact thing happening, I was willing to do it for him. I was willing to put it all on the line to just be with him and he still chose her. He chose Izzie. And I can’t get over that Mer. I can’t get over the fact that the one person that I love more than anything in this world, saw that I was willing to give it all up for him, and still didn’t choose me.”

“Derek chose Addison, and now look. Addison is in LA and Derek and I are married.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Jo sighed, a few tears escaping her eyes. “Derek was married before you two met and fell in love. Addison cheated on him with his best friend. He chose her out of commitment and loyalty to his marriage. Alex didn’t do that. Alex chose Izzie because he wanted to, knowing that he had the option of marrying me. After promising me over and over again for the better part of a year that he’d wait for me and telling me that he loved me and only wanted to be with me. It’s different.”

“Is it though?” Meredith asked. “Because at the end of the day, both of them chose women they didn’t truly love. And both of them suffered because of it.” There was silence on the other line for a moment before Meredith spoke up again, “Look, at the end of the day it’s your decision. But I think you should know that he still talks about you. At the most random moments, too. They’ll serve hotdogs in the cafeteria and he’ll comment how you hated the hotdogs they’d serve. Or we’ll be passing by a patient and their family and he’ll mention how you used to have the same scarf as the woman in the group. Or when he’s talking to a kid and they tell him that their favorite color is blue, he’ll say ‘that’s my best friend’s favorite color too.’ Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of you, Jo. Just think about it.”

“We’ll see,” Jo let out a breath. “I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright. Please be safe, Jo. Goodbye.”

After hanging up the phone, Jo buried herself in her work until it was time to leave. She drove over to Chief Baker’s house and was welcomed in with open arms and a hot meal on the stove. The few days she stood there were nice. Dr. and Mrs. Baker had been married for thirty-seven years and had two children and five grandchildren. Mrs. Baker—who insisted on being called Lisa—was actually a nurse practitioner that had tons of experience working with ICU and CCU patients.

For the first time in a long time, Jo felt like she had people. The Baker residence was warm and welcoming and nothing like the many homes she grew up in as a child. The Bakers cared. Maybe that’s why she found herself opening up to them about her past and why she was hiding from Paul in the first place. Along with their help and some digging done by their daughter who was a private detective, Jo was able to find enough information on Paul to give her lawyer to put together a strong case that would ensure that Jo was granted all of the conditions of the divorce she sought after, mainly that Paul would not be able come near her and hurt her after the trial was over.

On the day of the trial, Jo was absolutely terrified. She was about to confront her abuser in court and did not know how to handle the nerves coursing through her. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to cry and run away and never look back. She wanted to change her name again so that Paul would never be able to find her.

But that was the easy way out. She’s done enough running in her life to know that fleeing never truly solved anything either. It only made things painful. Still, Jo couldn’t shake the nerves she was feeling coursing through her. For the first time since this process began, she cursed her stubbornness for making her feel like she had to go through this alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo spotted something that caught her attention. It was an old pay phone, much like ones that she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. Jo walked up to it and searched around her purse for some coins to get the phone to start. As soon as it did, she found herself punching in the phone number she knew so well and waited as it dialed.

“Hello?”

Jo let out the tiniest sob, “Alex.”

“Jo? Jo! Oh my God, is that you? Are you okay? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Jo’s sobs grew louder and stronger as she heard his worried voice on the other line.

“Jo, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”

Jo placed a hand over her mouth and attempted to quiet her cries, “No, I’m okay. I just… I really needed to hear your voice... I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Alex breathed out. Even though she couldn’t see him, Jo could picture Alex’s face scrunched in sadness and worry. “Please come home.”

“I can’t,” Jo shook her head. “I, um, I’m doing something today. Something that I probably should’ve done a long time ago. I almost chickened out, too. But, I know I need to be brave. And I need to be strong. Anyway, I just wanted to hear your voice one last time before I go through it. You make me brave.”

“Go through with what? Jo, don’t do anything stupid. Please. I know I hurt you and I probably don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, I need you safe. Wherever you are. So, if you’re gonna⎯”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be,” Jo felt a few tears run down her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed back then.”

“All I needed was you. That’s still all I need.”

“I wish that were true,” Jo whispered and wiped her face. “You probably won’t hear from me after this. I wish things were different, but they’re not.” She paused. “I love you. Goodbye.”

Jo hung up the phone quickly and took a deep breath, running her sweaty palms along the skirt of her dress in hopes of calming some of her nerves. She knew now what she had to do. She had to step into that courthouse and break things off with Paul once and for all.

Back in Seattle, Alex was pacing frantically in the resident’s lounge, trying to call her back only to find out that the number she’d called from was a payphone.

“Dammit!” Alex yelled and punched a wall. It had been almost two years since he’d spoken to Jo. Two years of wondering and worrying if he’d ever see her again, only to hear her voice on the other line of a pay phone for about thirty seconds. Alex sunk down onto the floor in the corner of the lounge and ran his hands over his face, trying to conceal the tears that were slowly falling down his cheeks. “Dammit. Dammit.”

“Alex?”

The voice startled him, causing him to look up at the source. Cristina was hovering over him with a concerned expression on her face. “What the hell is going on?”

Alex shook his head and wiped angrily at the tears, “Jo called me.”

“Jo? Jo called you?” Cristina raised her eyebrows. “Is she okay?”

“She was crying,” Alex trembled slightly at the thought of the conversation he’d just had. “She said that she was doing something today, but she wasn’t sure if she should go through with it and she wanted to hear my voice one last time before she made her decision. She told me she loved me and that I probably won’t hear from her again, then she hung up. I tried to call her back but she called me from a freaking pay phone, Yang. Who the hell uses a pay phone these days?”

Cristina stood silent and sat down beside Alex, waiting for him to say what he needed to say. After a minute, he spoke again, “I just keep getting these horrifying scenarios in my head. She said she wanted to hear my voice one last time… and all I can think is, what if she’s going to hurt herself? What if she's going to hurt herself right now and I’m not there to stop her? She’s done it before. She told me she almost ended it all, once when she was back in college. When she was with… but she chickened out and didn’t do it. I swear to God, Cristina, if she dies… I don’t know what I’d do.”

“She’s not going to die,” Cristina shook her head. “She can’t die. I’ve lost too many friends. She isn’t allowed to die.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No it’s not,” Cristina squeezed his knee. “You aren’t responsible for the decisions other people make.”

“This time it is though,” Alex bit his lip as he looked out into the empty lounge. “I’m such an idiot. I love her. I still love her… I always screw myself out of everything good.”

“You’ll find each other one day. You’ll see her again and be together and be happy. I have to believe that,” Cristina sighed. “Now get up off the floor and wipe your face. You’ll scare the kids.”

————

-Pray for tomorrow, but for today-

-All I want-

-Is to be home-

After Jo’s divorce was finalized and the legal protections were put in place, she considered returning to Seattle. For the first time in almost a decade, she was finally free to do as she pleased. To live her life without the fear that Paul still had the upper hand. Because he didn’t have the power anymore. She’d made sure of that. In her quest to gain her divorce, Jo found out about other women who’d been abused by him in the years since she’d left New Jersey. All of their testimonies led to victory in the civil case against Paul and the beginnings of a criminal trial thanks to the charges being pressed by Paul’s current girlfriend, Jenny. The criminal trial was the main reason Jo decided to stay in Florida. She wanted to be there to testify and see the look on Paul’s face when he finally got what he deserved.

Still, sometimes Jo would look out the window of the hospital she worked at, see the rain, the cars, the bustling, and remember the friends she’d left behind. The family she’d grown to love and care for. But the longer she remembered that, the sadder she got. It hurt too bad to think of all the what ifs. It hurt to picture her people moving on without her.

So, Jo did what she did best. She worked. She worked hard to make sure that she was focused and the best in her class. Jo got the best surgeries, she had every attending surgeon’s attention, she was a rock-star and was even in the process of raising up her own set of baby interns.

Being away was hard, though. Jo found herself walking up to the nursery and NICU to look at the babies like she and her friends had done so many times their intern year. There was something precious about that period in life. Something so fresh and hopeful and exciting. Maybe that’s why she gravitated towards maternal-fetal and pediatric surgery. It helped that the hospital she was working at was nationally ranked in obstetrics and gynecology. She found herself spending more time on the L&D and peds floors of the hospital, assisting complicated and rare surgeries. By the time she was in her fifth year of residency, she’d decided that maternal-fetal surgery was the way to go. She found so much joy in safeguarding the future of the tiny little lives that would soon be brought into the world.

Her purpose in life wasn’t the only thing that she found on the L&D and peds floors of the hospital. It was also where she met Jason. Jason Myers was an OB resident she found herself spending an increasing amount of time with. He was hot and charming and funny and he was the first guy Jo truly dated after leaving Seattle. It was casual and fun, something that Jo hadn’t experienced in a long time.

They’d been together for about four months when Jo noticed a couple red flags. It started when she began traveling for her fellowship interviews in the last few months of her residency. Jason began to get demanding and possessive. He grabbed her roughly on a couple occasions and had stumbled into their apartment completely wasted and smelling of another woman’s perfume.

“I think I’m going to have to break up with my boyfriend,” Jo sighed as spoke into the phone to Meredith.

“You’re finally going to break up with that asshole? Thank God,” Meredith replied. “Jo, you could do so much better.”

“I know. You were right,” Jo rolled her eyes as she pictured Meredith’s smug face. Before she’d even started dating Jason, Meredith told her that it was a bad idea, despite having never met him. “It was just so easy in the beginning. Sure it’s been fun, but I knew it would never be more than just this. But for the past month, he’s just been so mean and nasty. A complete douchebag. I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving for Michigan in a few weeks, for crying out loud.”

“You know, Dr. Herman still hasn’t filled her Maternal-Fetal Surgery Fellowship position yet. You should reach out to her and see if she’ll take you into consideration,” Meredith suggested.

“Mer, the Maternal-Fetal Pediatric Surgery Fellowship at UMich is a fantastic program,” Jo said as she continued to walk down the halls of the hospital. “Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to face Alex after all these years.”

“Jo, you wouldn’t have to,” Meredith paused. “Alex got into Hopkins’ Pediatric Surgery program.”

“He what?”

“Yup,” Jo could almost hear the smile in Meredith’s tone as she filled her in. “He’s going to Baltimore to be a peds fellow.”

“That’s amazing,” Jo breathed out. Truly, she was so proud of how far he’d come in his career. “I knew from the moment you talked about the Africa project that brought you Zola that he’d be going into peds. But Hopkins? God, I wish I could tell him how proud I am.”

“I’d say you could always call him, but that suggestion would fall of deaf ears,” Meredith chuckled lightly. “Anyway, he’s leaving so there's nothing stopping you from coming to Seattle. Come home, Jo. I’m sure UMich is great, but Herman is the best of the best. Plus, we’re here. Me, Cristina, Lexie, Bailey, your new niece. We’re all here in Seattle. Come be with us.”

“You know what, I think I will apply,” Jo said after a moment. “I’m tired of running.

“I’ll email you Herman’s contact information,” Meredith exclaimed excitedly. “Good luck with your break up.”

“Haha, thanks.”

—————

-People I've loved, I have no regrets- -Some I remember, some I forget- -Some of them living, some of them dead-

The plane crash was the true turning point for Jo. That call wrecked her in ways she didn’t know she could be wrecked. She wanted to go over there as soon as possible, but Jo still had two weeks left of her residency to complete before she made her final decision about which fellowship position she would choose. However, as soon as she was relieved from her duties at Mayo in Jacksonville, she found herself engaged in a very nasty break up with Jason and lugged all of her belongings across the country. Four days and some three thousand miles later, Jo found herself on the doorstep of the frat house face to face with a tired looking Meredith. Jo immediately wrapped her arms around her friend as she cried for the sister she’d lost. Jo rubbed comforting circles on Meredith’s back before she looked up and locked eyes with Alex. He froze and if it weren’t for the small child he was holding in his arms, Jo was sure he might’ve passed out with the way his eyes widened in disbelief.

Jo ushered Meredith back into the house and motioned Alex to the door, where he went to grab her bags and pull them inside. Meredith grasped at Jo’s arms as they sat side by side on the couch, “Lexie is dead. Mark is dying. Arizona is dying. Cristina won’t speak. Derek’s arm is ruined. And I… I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, Mer. I’m here. I’m here,” Jo smoothed down Meredith’s hair soothingly as she attempted to keep her own tears at bay. “You don’t have to worry about that right now. You don’t have to be in control. You don’t have to care of everyone. Just rest. You need to rest.”

A couple hours later, Jo was sitting on the couch with Meredith’s head on her lap, finally sound asleep. Jo had been staring out the window, lost in thought when she heard a couple footsteps come down the stairs. She looked up and saw Alex staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Jo breathed out in response.

“I just put Zola to sleep,” Alex pointed up to the second floor. He stared at her in silence for a minute more before speaking. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Jo gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I’m here… what are you doing here? I thought you were going to Hopkins.”

“I told them I needed to hold off for a month because of Robbins. How do you know…?”

Jo motioned to the friend that was currently asleep on her lap, “We’ve kept in touch.”

“You what? You guys talk to each other?” Alex asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah. About once a week,” Jo whispered nonchalantly.

“You two talk to each other. Once a week?” Alex scoffed. “And you didn’t think to, I don't know… maybe call me? Meredith didn’t think to tell me that she was in contact with you?”

“I asked her not to say anything,” Jo eye’s moved away from his face to look at Meredith’s sleeping form.

“I was worried about you. I thought you were dead,” Alex glared at her.

“Wait, what?” Jo’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of that phone call a year and a half ago!” Alex whisper-yelled. “You called me from a freaking payphone, sobbing and said that you needed to hear my voice one last time before you went through with ‘it.’ I had no idea what the ‘it’ was. You have to know what that must’ve sounded like from my end. I’ve been playing that conversation over and over again in my head for the better part of a year and a half, wondering if you killed yourself.”

“No, Alex I would never… I mean, I know I tried it once, but I value my life now. I would never do something to intentionally harm myself.”

“Then what the hell were you doing calling me and scaring me half to death like that?” Alex crossed his arms and looked at her seriously.

“I…” Jo took a deep breath. “I got divorced from Paul that day.”

“You’re free?” Alex’s face softened slightly.

“I’m free,” Jo confirmed, eyes watering. “I got legal protections that day as well and I made the decision to testify in Paul’s criminal trial that would determine whether he was guilty of the charges his then-girlfriend, Jenny accused him of. I wasn’t the only girl he abused, but I got to make sure that he never gets the chance to do it again. He’s currently serving five years in prison for domestic violence, abuse, and a couple of other charges.” Jo paused. “I called you because I almost didn’t walk into that courtroom. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same room as him, even with everyone else around. But you always did have a way of making me feel like I could do anything.”

The pair got quiet. They stood in the tense silence before Alex asked the question he’d been wondering since she walked in through those doors, “How long are you here for?”

“I’m here to stay,” Jo shared. “I’m Dr. Herman’s newest maternal-fetal surgical fellow. I came as soon as I could when I heard about the crash.”

“Maternal-fetal? What happened to ortho?”

“What happened to plastics?” Jo's mouth twitched up into a small smile. “So, peds, huh?”

“Turns out I’m great with those little suckers,” Alex chuckled lightly.

“Me too,” Jo smiled shyly. “I’m especially good when they’re in-utero though.”

“Guess I’m the out guy,” Alex shrugged, a comfortable smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Jo bit her lip lightly. “Where’s Izzie?”

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Jo tilted her head in question. “Oh God, don’t tell me she died or that her cancer is back.”

“No,” Alex breathed out a laugh. “Well, honestly, I don’t know. We got divorced. I haven’t spoken to her since then.”

“You what?” Jo’s jaw dropped. “What⎯when did this happen?”

“About four months after you left.”

“I need to go,” Jo gently moved Meredith’s head from her lap and slipped on her shoes, making her way towards the door.

“Where are you going? You just got here?” Alex moved close. “You can’t leave, not with Mer like this.”

“Relax, I’ll be back before she wakes up. I just… I need to get out of here. I need to get away from you,” Jo walked out the door into the warm June night.

She considered finding a hotel or going to the bar, but Jo was too exhausted from her four day trek to Seattle to go anywhere. She unlocked her car and jumped into the back seat, situating the seats so she could sleep there for the night and avoid the many, many problems until morning.

In the days and weeks following, Jo became an invaluable asset to Meredith as she navigated the many hardships that came with the plane crash. She moved into her tiny apartment and Jo began her fellowship and started working at Seattle Grace Mercy West once again, to everyone’s pleasure. For the first time in forever, Jo was surrounded by people that she knew and loved, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was utterly alone. Maybe it had to do with the fact that ever since that night she arrived, she hadn’t talked to Alex. Apparently he must’ve noticed, because one day he got fed up.

“Jo, come on. Please talk to me,” Alex grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty on call room. “You’ve been back for over a month. You’ve talked to our friends. You’ve been getting to know Avery. You got friendly with Kepner before she got fired. You helped Cristina pack her things to go to Minnesota. You can’t ignore me forever. You’re a fetal surgeon. We’ve already had five cases together this month alone. Are you just trying to hold out until I leave for Hopkins? Well guess what, I’m leaving tonight so time’s up. You need to talk to me.”

It was true. In the month since their conversation at the frat house, Jo and Alex had an unusually high number of cases together that required that they spend quite a lot of time together. However, aside from the hours in the OR that she was required to spend with him, Jo found herself purposely avoiding him. The past few days had been especially difficult for her as she found out some unexpected information and was doing her best to avoid him so as not to fall apart in his arms.

“Shut up, Alex. Shut up before I punch you in the face, because I swear to God I am so angry with you right now,” Jo was seething, doing everything in her power to keep from screaming at him.

“What the hell did I do? I haven’t had a chance to get on your nerves,” Alex scrunched his face in confusion.

“You haven’t had a chance?” Jo threw her arms up in the air. “You divorced Izzie?”

“First of all, she divorced me,” Alex held up a finger. “Secondly, why the hell do you care?”

“What do you mean why the hell do I care? How dare you screw this up? I left and practically handed you to her. But you went and divorced her? And now you’re some man whore who doesn’t care where he sticks it?” Jo threw her hands up angrily. “How the hell could you let Izzie go? Why didn’t you chase her and beg her to stay? Why didn’t you swear you’d do better? Why didn’t you fight for her?”

“Because she wasn’t the one I wanted to fight for!” Alex shouted. The room went silent. So quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop. The pair stared at each other tensely, no one daring to move. Alex finally huffed a breath. “I could’ve fought for her. I could’ve made it work. But I didn’t want to.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah I know.”

“No, I’m serious Alex. Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?” Jo clenched her jaw. “Why did you even marry her?”

“I—I don’t know,” Alex shrugged.

“I don’t know? I don’t know? That’s probably the most moronic thing that I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. And that’s saying something because you’ve said some pretty stupid things,” Jo turned to face the wall and leaned her head against it. “I told you not to do it. I told you not to marry her. I told you that I was willing to put my own safety at risk to be with you and you chose her. You still chose poor, sick Izzie. You chose her and broke every single one of the promises you made me. Then you got divorced? And you didn’t even bother trying to fight? What the hell was it all for?”

“Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this,” Alex scoffed. “You were the one who left me. With a fucking letter, of all things! You didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face.”

“Because you wrecked me!” Jo yelled. “I gave you everything I had to give. I let you into my life, my bed, my heart. And somewhere along the line you decided that I wasn’t good enough or worth the wait. And stop talking like we were together. We weren’t together when I left! We were never together because you squashed that possibility before we even got the chance!”

“It doesn’t matter because you were my best friend! You were my best friend and you left and didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t leave a phone number, an email, and address. Nothing. You just disappeared. And when you did, it felt like I was a kid all over again. With no one who loved him or cared around,” Alex retorted.

“That’s a load of bullshit,” Jo spat. “You had a wife. You had friends. You had your home. Me leaving didn't completely upend and disrupt your life! I lost my home. I lost my best friend. I lost the only family I had ever known all so that you could have a chance at making your marriage work. Because I knew that if I was around, you’d only feel guilty. So I took myself out of the equation. I did it for you! I loved you enough to lose you, to let you go. Do you have any idea the amount of pain I’ve been in the past three years? Wishing I was here in Seattle, but constantly reminding myself that I left so that you could have a happy life with Izzie and so that I could heal. So imagine what a punch in the gut it feels like to find out that you haven’t even been with Izzie. You’ve been sleeping around with anyone and everyone easy enough to let you get into their pants, while I was in pain, all alone in Florida with nothing and no one but my chief of surgery and my douchebag ex-boyfriend.”

“Well things weren’t exactly sunshine and rainbows here either! But you wouldn’t know because you weren’t here! You’re so wrapped up in how much it all cost you and how much you sacrificed, but I never asked you to do any of it! You decided what was best for the both of us. You decided to leave, when all I wanted was to have you around. Because I have never loved anyone in my life more than I loved you. And that probably sounds pretty screwed up because I married Izzie, but it’s true. Do you know what a slap in the face it was when you left? Do you know that I cried in shower every once in a while because I missed you? And it wasn’t even the sex. It was the friendship. I missed your voice and your laugh and your advice. I missed you. But you decided to pretend like we didn’t matter and didn’t bother to leave me a way to contact you. So, let me make this easier. We don’t matter to each other! Not anymore because I’m done!” Alex bellowed. He took a steadying breath and laughed bitterly. “You know what, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m leaving tonight anyway and you’ll never have to see my face again. Have a nice life.”

Jo waited until Alex finally turned around and walked out of the on-call room before she crumbled onto the floor in tears. She pressed a hand to her chest and tried her will herself to calm down, but it was too much. None of it was supposed to be happening this way. She wasn’t supposed to come back to Seattle only to find out that Lexie died, Cristina left, and that Mark Sloan was getting unplugged tonight. She wasn’t supposed to see Alex at all. She wasn’t supposed to find out that he was divorced. She wasn’t supposed to watch him leave her. She wasn’t supposed to be making one of the hardest decisions in her life like this. Maybe that’s why she took out her phone and looked for Jason’s phone number and hit the dial button.

After he left the on-call room, Alex was a whirlwind, trying his best to make it to the airport with no more interruptions. What he didn’t bank on was running into Meredith.

“Hey! So that’s it? I’m not even as good as one of your intern girls, huh? You’re not gonna say goodbye to me?” Meredith stood in front of him.

“Mer, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Meredith narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t make this a thing,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“Don’t make this a thing? Mark is dying right now, and that’s it. You’re just gonna leave too?” Meredith shook her head in disbelief.

“I’m just—I’m gonna be on the other side of the country. We’ll talk—“

“That’s what Cristina said. It’s not the same thing,” Meredith frowned. “Nothing is the same. Everything is different. Everyone is leaving and everyone is dying.”

“Don’t make this my problem,” Alex scowled. “I’m finally getting the hell out of here. I can’t keep standing around being the guy that should’ve been on the plane that crashed. I shouldn’t be here, Mer. I should be dead. Or I should’ve left months ago.”

“Alex!” Meredith grabbed on to his jacket as he tried to walk away.

“Get off,” he pushed her hand away. “Look, I’m not going to stay in Seattle just because you don’t want to be alone.”

“This isn’t about me not wanting to be alone. Because I won’t be alone. Jo’s here now, remember that? Remember the girl you’ve been in love with since our intern year? The one you’ve been pining over ever since she left three years ago? Well, you’re finally in the same city again. Are you really going to let that go?” Meredith stared at Alex intensely.

“Jo doesn’t want me here. I just cause her pain,” Alex replied simply. “It’s time for me to go. I need to get out of Seattle Grace Mercy Death. I need to build a home and Hopkins won’t wait forever. I have a plane to catch, so, bye.”

With that, Meredith scoffed and turned on her heels, walking away.

Alex watched as his friend walked away in anger and frustration. Shaking his head, Alex turned around and started towards his terminal. He was about to board the plane when he realized that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave and upend his life without knowing that it was the right thing to do.

That’s how he found himself sitting at the bar beside Meredith at the terminal lounge.

“What are you doing here?” Meredith asked.

“Hey! Who is that?” Cristina’s voice sounded from Meredith’s iPad. “Point me.”

“I’m sorry about before,” Alex cast Meredith a sideways glance.

“You should be,” Meredith raised an eyebrow and sighed. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I thought he said he was leaving⎯I thought you said you were leaving,” Cristina commented.

“The guy replacing Robbins is gonna mess the place up,” Alex moved his face into the view of the screen. “Besides, I don’t even like Boston.”

“So what are you saying?” Meredith scrunched her face.

“I couldn’t get on my plane, okay? I couldn’t go,” Alex admitted.

“You’re saying you ditched the flight because you chickened out?”

“What a loser,” Meredith’s mouth twitched and she pulled Alex in for a hug.

“You’re staying for Wilson right?” Cristina looked at him expectantly through the video chat.

“I don’t know… maybe?” Alex shrugged. “All I know is that the thought of leaving without trying to at least fix my friendship with her makes me feel sick. I don’t even know why I care, though. She obviously doesn’t. She left me once, who’s to say she won’t do it again?”

“Wow, you are an even bigger idiot than I thought you were,” Cristina shook her head. “Of course she cares. Who do you think made your medical decisions or paid your bills after you got shot?”

“Wait, what?”

“Jo called me after the shooting. When we realized that she was your proxy, she took a plane to Seattle, decided on the best course of treatment, cried, held your hand for a little, and left all before you even had a chance to wake up,” Meredith shared.

“She did?” Alex struggled to comprehend how he’d never known about her trip all those years ago to take care of him.

“Yeah, she did,” Cristina nodded.

“So, did you just ditch tonight’s flight and you’re planning on taking another one another day or are you going to stay for good?” Meredith waited for him to reply.

“I don’t know yet,” he shook his head. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“I think you know what you need to do,” Meredith eyed him carefully. “Alex, you found your family in Seattle and now you have a second chance to fix things with Jo and you’re really going to leave?”

“You know, I’ve been trying to leave Seattle because for the longest it just didn’t feel like home,” Alex took a swig of the beer that the bartender had placed in front of him. “I felt like I didn’t belong. I wanted to go and find a place that felt like home, but I guess I’m realizing that home was never a place. It’s Jo. It was always Jo and now she’s here and I’m not about to be the idiot that runs away from home again.”

“So, you’re really going to try? You’re not gonna screw up and break her heart again? Because you know that Jo could do so much better than you?” Cristina asked pointedly. “I’m asking because I’m protective of my hairball and I won’t hesitate to come beat your ass if you do. Fear of flying be damned.”

Alex let out a soft laugh before growing serious again, “She deserves better. She deserves someone better than me. But I don’t want her with anyone else. So, I guess I’m just gonna have to be better. I have to become the man she deserves, because she’s everything. She’s home.”

-All I want-

-Is to be home-

31 notes · View notes

haikyuuscreaming · 5 years ago

Note

hi! i love your work so much and i was wondering if you could write a scenario for iwaizumi's little sister dating oiks? sorry if this isn't the kind of ask you're used to lol but thank you for this blog

GUESS WHAT HOES, I AM ALIVE AND VIBING AND IVE BEEN UNINTENTIONALLY SLAVING OVER THIS

sooooo i accidentally wrote a… 9000+ word fic about this? oops lol ok check it out if u wanna read the monstrosity (WARNING THERES SMUT AND LOSS OF VIRGINITY SO LIKE READ AT UR DISCRETION PLS!!) https://archiveofourown.org/works/22552522

please enjoy the much shorter (only 1k words), alternative ending to the above fic! :)

“Nii-chan, I’m going out,” You call out.

“Again?” Iwaizumi Hajime, your older brother, sounds kind of suspicious because this is probably the eighth time you’ve said you were going outside of the house in what, two weeks? He knows you’re antisocial, introverted, and a house hermit, so you don’t blame him that he’s getting suspicious. “With who?”

“My friends,” You reply casually. You’re proud of yourself for mastering nonchalance, despite your guilt for lying to your big brother. “Himari and Lisa. We’re just hanging out at a cafe.”

“You guys spend so much time together lately. How do you have the energy, I swear,” is all Iwaizumi mutters as he retreats to his room. “Get home safe. You have enough money, right? Text me when you get there.”

“Yes, sir~”

You leave the house as quick as you can. You’re wearing a giant hoodie that swallows up most of your frame, but once you’re a good dozen meters away from the house, you take off the hoodie that makes the spring heat sweltering. Underneath your hoodie is a cute outfit you were proud to put together, but you know Iwaizumi isn’t dumb enough to think you’d wear that to a girl meeting. No, you’re not meeting your friends at the cafe.

You’re meeting Oikawa Tooru, your boyfriend of four months.

You never got to really privately hang out with him before, mainly because you didn’t know how you would keep it up with your usually lenient but nonetheless protective brother on you, but just recently you’ve had the idea of holding this facade where you go hang out with your friends, while in reality you’re just spending time with Oikawa. Even your aforementioned friends Himari and Lisa are in on it.

As soon as you get to the cafe, you spot Oikawa immediately, sitting at a table on his phone, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose.

(You know he’s been wearing his glasses more and more lately because you once said they were cute on him.)

“Tooru~” You sing out, shaking his shoulders with playful glee and he whines a little bit about how you messed up his game, but then kisses your cheek as a greeting. It never fails to make you flush red.

“You’re still wearing your glasses?” You note to him, poking at the bridge between the lenses and enjoying how his eyes kind of cross once your finger pokes. “I thought you said you liked contacts better.”

“I do,” He states in such a matter-of-fact way that you feel a little less confident. “But glasses aren’t so bad.”

“You mean you’re wearing them for me.”

“You’re so mean when it comes to teasing me! No wonder you’re related to Iwa-chan!”

You poke his nose in an attempt to frustrate him further, but he only laughs it off and pinches your cheeks. “Hey, do you wanna go order some stuff? I heard they have good pastries here~ And great milk bread, too!” His chest puffs out like it’s an honor he did the extra research, and you laugh at his charm.

“Yeah. You want your usual?”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay. Wait here, I’ll get you milk bread too.”

Oikawa frowns and slides over some money. “You know, you’re gonna make your poor boyfriend feel bad if you pay for everything. I brought money too.”

“Haven’t you been treating me to food for the past, what, seven dates?” You narrow your eyes and push away the money adamantly. “You’re reinforcing gender roles. You’re so sexist!”

“Hey, you know what I mean!!” Oikawa whines to you, holding your hand gently and pushing the money back. “Save the money for more boba or something.”

You decide to relent, but not without a price. “You’re right. Plus, I can just buy more food with your money now that you’re offering.”

His gasp makes you laugh as you stand up. “[Name]-chan!! You’re so mean, you’re gonna make me broke. Again!”

“Hey, I always order something cheap when you treat me!”

“Fair point, fair point~”

You feel your phone ringing in your back pocket as you pat Oikawa’s coiffed locks gently before walking to the rather short order-line, reciting your order in your head. Two pieces of milk bread, chocolate croissants, espresso with extra sugar for the baby over there, and [coffee of choice]. This’ll be fine. You order your treats and once you receive them, you walk back over to your boyfriend.

“I got milk bread~” You sing out lightly, shaking the shiny plastic bags of fluffy bread in front of Oikawa. He grabs them without even bothering to humor you, to which you whine. He laughs, his voice airy and genuinely happy, and kisses you.

The two of you are so engrossed in this happy, warm-hearted kiss that you don’t notice the cafe door swing open and a certain person starts walking towards you.

“Hey, [Name], I was craving coffee so I decided to swing by and- what the fuck.”

You break away from Oikawa so fast that it gives you whiplash, and you’re staring into the eyes of your big brother.

“Nii-chan!”

“What the fuck are you doing with Oikawa??”

“Nothing, nothing, Iwa-chan!”

“Were you two literally sucking face? Oh my god I’m gonna throw up. [Name], what happened to standards? You guys are dating?”

“Nii-chan, I can explain-”

“Iwa-chan, you’re so mean to me!! Of course I surpass [Name]-chan’s standards!”

You’re kind of amused the way your brother growls and drags Oikawa by the ear– and giving you a glare that forces you to follow– and drives you both to your house.

The car ride is awkward and silent, but you enjoy it because it’s funny how your usually lax and calm brother gets so riled up over this. You don’t want to see him mad, but it’s also hilarious to watch your boyfriend get scolded (beat up) by Iwaizumi, no matter how much you love Oikawa.

And as soon as you all arrive at your house, Iwaizumi hisses something into Oikawa’s ear (that you’re sure is somewhat akin to a death threat) and the two of them disappear into Iwaizumi’s room.

“[Name]-chan, please help, Iwa-chan’s gonna beat me up, Iwa-chan this isn’t what it seems-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“… Have fun, Tooru?”

Ten minutes later, during which you heard Oikawa screaming for mercy and the telltale roar of Iwaizumi’s voice, your boyfriend walks out of the room scratched up but nonetheless happy to cuddle with you.

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #tooru oikawa #tooru oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #haikyuu

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meowmerson · 5 years ago

Note

i would really love a tomione oneshot that has tom saying "I thought you were supposed to pure?!?!?!?!?!" to idk anybody and tom feeding crookshanks so much he gets fat so hermione gets mad and makes him walk crookshanks lavya

This is so ridiculous i LOVE it

Hermione really had no choice in the matter.

She couldn’t leave Crooks in a vet because she didn’t like the idea of him being in a cage all day. She couldn’t leave him with Harry because Harry would kill Crookshanks (likely on accident, but still) She couldn’t leave him with Ron, because Crookshanks would kill Ron (on purpose, most definitely) Ginny steadfastly refused to look after Crooks ever since ‘the incident’ And…

Well, that was it actually. Hermione didn’t have many friends she was close enough to ask this of.

So it had to be him, unfortunately.

Tom Riddle was a work colleague. They were the two youngest members of the faculty at Hogwarts University, although he has already finished his PhD in Microbiology and she was still finishing her final year of her PhD in Bioinformatics. He kept to himself mostly, but their offices were next to one another, and they had exchanged pleasantries now and then. They had talked about cats a couple times - She knew he had a sphinx named Voldemort, which she thought was a ridiculous name - and she was sort of, a little bit, just a tiny bit familiar enough with him that it made sense to just ask him.

He agreed without an argument, which was somewhat surprising, considering she had heard his occasional rages he had against colleagues in his office. And so she brought Crookshanks in his carrier to her work, handed him over to Tom, and then left.

She would return in two weeks from her travels, and collect Crookshanks to bring him back home.

It would be fine.

—

It was not fine.

Upon her return to the UK, Tom texted her his address so she could pick Crookshanks up straight from his home. It was easier this way, he said, he didn’t think it would be a good idea for a stranger to try and corral Crookshanks into a carrier, it would be better if she came and did it herself, because in his words, it would be ‘better for Crookshanks that way’ She liked that, the fact that he thought about the comfort of her cat.

She knocked on the door of a very nice flat, and Tom promptly opened it.

The first thing she noticed was he wasn’t wearing shoes. It made her feel very uncomfortable, for some reason.

“Take your shoes off at the door,” He ordered, and promptly turned and walked back into the flat. She hurriedly kicked her shoes off and followed, walking down the short hallway that gave way to a large sitting area. Crookshanks was sat on the top of his couch and he was… Uh…

“Why is he like that?” She asked, eying the absolute mass that had become his fur. It was brushed, and shine, and so goofy she could barely see her cat’s face among the absolute monstrosity that was his fur.

“I had him groomed.” Tom intoned, as if that was a totally normal thing to do with someone else’s cat.

“You what?” She managed to tear her eyes away from the monstrosity of fur on the couch to look at Tom to see his own cat jump from the floor into his arms.

“Groomed.” He repeated, didn’t even look in her direction, just stroked the head of his bald cat and opened the fridge to pull out two tins of cat food.

“He—“ She looked at her cat again, lounged contentedly on the leather couch. Could he even see? “He looks ridiculous.”

“No,” Tom disagreed, “He looks groomed.”

“Why did you do that?” She walked over to Crooks, her hand practically disappeared in his fur when she pet him. She went to pick him up, but was thrown off by how heavy he was. “Oh my god—How much have you been feeding him?”

She turned to face Tom, whose cat was perched on his shoulders. He quirked an eyebrow at her as if he thought she was being ridiculous. “As much as he wants.”

“As much as he—are you crazy?” Crookshanks started squirming in her arms when Tom popped the top of the cat food tin. She dropped him and Crookshanks darted over to stand beside Tom. “How much have you fed him today?”

“Twice.” He answered, dishing out the cat food into little bowls.

“Twice?” She realized she was getting shrill, but this was truly ridiculous, “It’s noon!”

“He was hungry.”

“He is always hungry—Look at him!” She gestured emphatically toward her cat, who was rolling on his back and meowing for food, “He’s fat!”

Tom actually had the audacity to roll his eyes. “He’s not fat.”

“He is fat, Tom!” She repeated, “You’ve fattened my cat!”

“He is a perfectly acceptable weight for his breed,” He answered, kneeling down to put a bowl of food in from of Crooks, and another in front of his cat when she jumped down from his shoulders.

“What breed?” Hermione snapped, “He doesn’t have a breed, he’s a stray!”

Tom looked up, looking for the first time like he was listening to what she was saying. “What?”

“He has no breed!” She repeated, “I found him in the rubbish outside my house!”

His brow twisted in confusion, and he looked back to Crooks as he devoured his food. Hs scratched the puffball’s head, “I thought you were pure…” He muttered, speaking to her cat.

“For god’s sake,” Hermione muttered, and marched forward to snatch up her cat. Crookshanks yowled, overdramatic, but otherwise let her hold him in her arms. “Put that away.” She ordered, nodding to the food.

“He’s hungry,” Tom protested.

“He’s overweight!” Hermione screeched “This is ridiculous, your cat isn’t fat, why are you fattening my cat?”

“Your cat,” Tom said slowly, as if she was an idiot, “was hungry. So I fed it.”

“Ugh!” She looked around the room, saw Crooks’s carrier in the corner and stomped toward it. She reached in, and under the fuzzy rug and had left a leash, which Tom obviously had not bothered to use. She marched crookshanks back over to the couch, adjusting her grip when he squirmed to try and run back to his food.

She sat down and got to work keeping him in her lap while she put on his harness.

“What are you doing?” Tom’s voice was much closer than she expected, and she jumped and nearly let go of Crooks in the process. She turned, and Tom was leaning over the back of the couch to eye the harness that was currently being swallowed up by Crookshanks’s fur.

“The real question is,” Hermione said, attaching Crooks’s leash to the back of his harness, “What are you doing? And the answer to that is,” She stood and promptly thrust Crookshanks into Tom’s arm, “You are taking him for a walk.”

“What.”

“I will look after your cat,” She gestured to his cat who was licking her paw after finishing her meal, “And you will take me newly fattened cat,” She gestured to Crookshanks to was rubbing his face against Tom’s. No that was not cute. “On a walk.”

“You walk your cat on a leash.” He deadpanned.

“Only when arseholes make him fat!!” She snapped.

“Obviously not,” He said, “Or you wouldn’t have already owned the leash.”

She thrust a finger in his face, “Fix your mistake, Tom Riddle.”

He stared at her for a long moment, glancing between her eyes and the finger she still held in his face. Crooks sniffed her finger and then dragged the side of his face alongside her hand.

Tom sighed, a sound that sounded like it came from the depths of his very soul, and then set Crookshanks down on the floor. He tugged on the leash, “Come.” He said, and Crooks understood and darted toward the door.

It was only after he left, and she stood a moment feeling very proud of herself, that she realized she was now stuck in the flat of a near stranger while he took her cat on a walk.

Voldemort rubbed up against her leg. “This is mildly uncomfortable,” Hermione said to the cat, then spotted a cat bed with a little sweater in it. “Are you cold?” She asked the cat.

She meowed, and Hermione took that as a yes.

#meow writes #tomione #picture tom coming back from walking crookshanks to find Hermione has fallen asleep on his couch and voldemort (in her little sweater) is c #curled up on her stomach #Anonymous

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transformers-extrication · 4 years ago

Photo

Ah yes, time for the tragic boy, one whom you’ll all already have an inkling about if you paid attention to the text here rather than all the subsequent “oh sparklings more sparklings!” haha, but regardless, click below to read this horror show of a tale.

Rampage is a terrible tale of caution and grief.

Megatron forbade emotional, specifically romantic, bonds amongst his troops, decreeing them as a ‘weakness’. Naturally emotions aren’t exactly the easiest to control.

Rampage was the product of such a thing, an accidental spark forged in error, a, then nameless, sparkling brought to Megatron to have their fate decided.

Soundwave wanted to take the Sparkling and raise it among the gaggle of minions he already had. He’d make them an amazing soldier.

Megatron was outraged, look at this, this… this… WASTE of resources! This USELESS liability! So what if it could be raised into an amazing soldier that’d take FAR too long!

Unless…

So began Rampage’s horrid fate. He was thrown to Shockwave as an experiment. At least he could be of SOME use then.

Shockwave had some minor objections to the surgeries but Megatron pushed him otherwise and sometimes performed the experiments himself. Mostly wanting to ensure it was being done right, and to make a point. Who knows who the point was being made to? Shockwave? Other ‘cons?

Rampage’s soft malleable body quickly began showing lumps and bumps as a shocking variety of code was forced through his system, hastily pushed software was forcefully installed, his natural data flows cut and mixed.

Most of the time Rampage was a shivering, weeping mess of a… thing.

Megatron had enough of using them as a guinea pig and ordered them be mobilised in battle.

Rampage’s messed up form was put straight into an adult-frame, one specially built to be excellent in battle.

Alas, the torment of being locked away in the dark, experimented on endlessly only to be bolstered by the advanced sensor array of the custom adult battle frame feeding an incredible influx of data to his waning processor caused him to break.

Rampage broke free of his restraints, the rampant wild code from numerous experiments clashed and his shattered mind surged energy through his body way too rapidly for it to cope.

His body couldn’t handle it, his systems began overheating and melting, the advanced ‘self-repair code’ mutation he was granted to aid him as a soldier regenerated as fast as it melted, broken structures stretched and peeled open as terrified scientists fled.

It did them no good as the raging beast could no longer think beyond its own pain and rage and chased them down, painting the walls with frenzied streaks of blood and cyber-organs.

Wild and deranged the newly dubbed Rampage smashed his head against the walls eventually breaking through, the outside world was huge, bigger than anything the remains of his infant mind had seen before and the cold air clashed furiously with his overabundance of heat.

Rampage let out a blood-curdling howl as he surged forwards like a one-mech natural disaster, and for all intensive purposes he was.

Buildings, landscapes, soldiers, they all fell, didn’t matter which side they marched for, they were mowed down.

Energy billowed and crackled from him like an untamed volcano, whether his head split apart and blasted foes or his claws shredded the densest of metals nothing seemed to phase this beast.

He even stood still, barely noticing the shots fired at him as he ripped apart his latest victims, all faceless lumps to him, and consumed them, his burning systems blazing through his energy reserves so fast he ate anything with a jolt of power to keep his collapsing systems going.

The Decepticons refused to claim responsibility for Rampage and the Autobots struggled under the dual assault of the Decepticons and Rampage, with a little bit of manipulation to angle his relentless assault more towards Autobot territories than Decepticons.

Scientists and strategists teamed up to try and figure out how to put an end to this monstrosity. Just looking at him, surely this creature will die on it’s own accord soon, it was melting itself from the inside out! It’ll die!

Evidently it was not enough as Rampage made his way through a destroyed camp ignoring the sole survivor nearly crushed by burning rubble.

Having witnessed everyone under his protection slaughtered and friends eaten by Rampage, an Autobot named Depth Charge went on his own warpath.

Depth Charge was the only known mech to survive a close encounter with Rampage more than once as his mission of vengeance consumed his world.

As Rampage’s ceaseless advance continued, Depth Charge found a harrowed and distraught scientist named Rhinox. A mech who had hidden himself away from the world out of fear of his own creation, a terrifying weapon! The Energon Destroyer! Capable of destroying the bonds between the cells of almost anything containing Energon is was lethal to all life on Cybertron. It took much begging and loud arguments before Rhinox finally allowed some of his creation to pass to Depth Charge’s possession.

Shortly after Rhinox, for fear of his discovery being used again by anyone, destroyed himself and his research with the remaining Energon Destroyer.

As dawn broke on a desolate field of destruction following in the wake of the burning, smoking heap of fury that is Rampage, the assault began, Depth Charge and a small group of wary Autobots charged the enemy firing at him and hurling bombs distracting him this way and that while Depth Charge crept closer.

His plan halted briefly by Seaspray, who begged Depth Charge to not go ahead with whatever he was planning, desperately pleading for his friend back, for the last member of his trine to remain with him, to please… don’t go.

Depth Charge seemingly agreed, and turned to go with Seaspray. Until he was sure the slower mech had got a safe distance away and Depth Charge changed direction and charged head-on at Rampage, a furious broiling burst of rage emanating from his vocal unit, getting Rampage’s attention as the two clashed in a blinding burst as the weapon in Depth Charge’s possession went off.

And now, after the tragedy of the thousands upon thousands of lives lost to Rampage the only thing left to tell the tale of agony was a crater of scoured ground unable to host life anymore.

The horrific wounds of that day still run deep in many mechs today.

Especially the two that remained after the blast that finally destroyed the beast Rampage. Seaspray stayed, staring at the smouldering crater where his last closest friend once was.

The other, stood waiting with flames licking at his back until the scanner readings determined that it was safe to head into the crater. Reaching down they found the only remaining chunk of metal in the craters depth. A broken horntip, a droplet of optical lubricant fell onto the horntip “I’m sorry Rampage, you didn’t deserve this” a wavering voice uttered, before placing the tip into their storage, vowing that rather than a monster they shall look at this chunk of metal and remember a small innocent sparkling. And with that, Soundwave silently returned to the Decepticon base and stood silently as Megatron poured out Energon rations announcing a toast to the destruction of that “miserable abomination against nature” as if it wasn’t born from his command.

#Rampage #transformers #maccadam #transformers au #fan design #character ref

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nightspeckle · 5 years ago

Text

High School Au {Part 4}

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

I started this weeks ago but I kinda lost my motivation to write, so sorry it took such a long time! I hope that you enjoy this monstrosity that I have created hehe

******

I watch from the garage door as Cardan backs up and pulls out of the driveway. Oak has retreated back into the house to watch tv. Unfortunately the leach that followed him outside is still behind me.

I wait until Cardan’s car is nothing but a speck in the distance before I turn to face her.

The face looking back at me is identical to mine. That is except for the dubious and accusatory eyebrow raise that is being directed at me.

“What?”

“What! Jude really?” Taryns eyes shine in the afternoon sunlight as she crosses her arms turning herself from human to statue. I shrug closing the door and heading into the kitchen.

“If you are talking about my display by the car lets both keep in mind I have seen you do much worse. I mean muchhhhhh worse.”

“You promised not to speak about that!” Taryns voice climbs as she pushes herself up onto the counter. I shrug again while maneuvering around to search for my barbeque chips.

“But really, Jude?”

I stand from the pot cabinet I had been rifling through to look Taryn in the eyes.

“I truly am not comprehending what you are trying to say here, Taryn”.

She looks at me with a sad smile playing over her face as she shakes her head.

“Cardan Greenbriar? I just-” Taryn takes a moment for the breathy sigh that escapes her “It’s Cardan Greenbriar.”

“I have acknowledged that,” I mutter.

Well maybe not truly, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m just a little confused, and a tad bit concerned.” Taryns eyes are puppy dog wide.

“I really don’t see how you’re in a place to judge.” My voice is firm as I cut her a glance. I mean really, who the hell is she to judge?

“I was just wondering.” Her voice now is as identically firm as mine.

“Great! Well please go wonder somewhere else.” I look up at Taryn to see her roll her eyes while I continue on to the next cabinet.

“Oriana put them over here,”

Taryn hops off the counter and reaches into the spice cabinet before pulling out a glorious bag of barbeque chips.

“Sneaky bitch.”

“She’s just trying to help your addiction,”

“Or she’s saving them for herself.”

“Whatever you say Jude,” Taryn says before sauntering out of the room pony tail swishing behind her. “Whatever you say,”.

....

After polishing off my chips I decide to compile a list of reasons why I want to kill Taryn. It goes a little something like this:

She interrupted my steamy ass kiss

She attacked me before I had time to think about how I fell about said kiss

She made me feel shitty for having said kiss

& most importantly she RAIDED my chocolate stash

I am also compiling a list of reasons to grovel at her feet:

She interrupted my encounter with the devil incarnate

She reminded me that Greenbriars so shitty even backstabbing Taryn is concerned

She felt bad about the chocolate and replaced it

Usually the list making makes me feel better. However, I still feel like my head is spinning around and around and around.

I keep going back to what happened.

He kissed me.

I kissed him back and I liked it.

I liked it.

Shit.

As much as I can’t stop thinking about the kiss my brain has also adhered to what he said to me. Cardan Greenbriar thinks I’m hot. Cardan Greenbriar likes me. Cardan Greenbriar despise’s me.

Unbelievable. My life is a complete and utter joke.

I can’t help but sigh and fall back onto my bed in utter disbelief that this has become an aspect of my existence.

I decide for my sanity that this is too much for a Monday and decide to postpone until tomorrow.

The next thing I decide is that homework is also an unessential aspect of a Monday and crash into a delightful sleep.

....

“I mean honestly what did she expect from me?”

“You really didn’t have to say that,”

“She ratted me out in chem,”

“You exploded the lab on purpose!”

“Minor details,”

“Jude can you please reinforce to Liliver how crazy she sounds,”

“Jude?”

“Jude!”

My eyes snap to Fand’s face mere inches from mine. I had been scanning the cafeteria looking for a familiar form. To my dismay the cafeteria is absent of a lanky boy in head to toe black.

“What are you talking about?” I ask as Fand rolls her eyes.

“What Liliver said to Nicasia,” Fand supplies before texting someone back on her phone.

“I wrecked her,” Liliver says with a shrug.

“If by wrecked you mean was blatantly rude to someone I am family friends with then yes that is true,” Fand corrects leveling a glare at Lil.

I look too Liliver who has a smirk spread across herself and can’t help but high five her. Nicasia is an arrogant bitch. To not congratulate Liliver on this would be an absolute travesty.

Fand rolls her eyes again questioning why she’s friends with us. Something I also question on a daily basis.

“Are you going to tell us why you were hawk eyeing the cafeteria?” Lil asks glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the rest of the student body.

“Van and Garrett went off campus for lunch,” Fand states with an amused glint in her eyes.

“That was not who I was looking for,”.

“Then who were you looking for?” Liliver asks fully intrigued now.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say firmly before taking a sip of the iced coffee I had been nursing all morning.

“I personally adore a defensive Jude,” Fand says cheerily to Lil.

“I hate that you just said that,” I mumble as the bell rings.

I sling my backpack on my shoulder and take off with my coffee in hand leaving behind the shared look of confusion coming from Liliver and Fand.

I don’t waste anytime getting to anatomy. Anatomy is the one class Cardan and I share together. I hadn’t seen him in the halls at all this morning and by lunch time I was antsy.

When I had woken up this morning it had finally sunk in. I had kissed Cardan Greenbriar, my childhood tormentor. The worst part is that I wanted to do it again. Like really wanted to do it again.

However, just because I wanted to spend hours in a dark room with him didn’t mean I wasn’t annoyed. I mean who the hell just kisses someone they have hated for years out of the blue.

I was especially annoyed with his declarations. The fact that he liked me was the craziest thing I had ever heard and yet I was accepting it.

But being told you are despised before being kissed just didn’t set well with me. He had no right to despise me. Me of all people! Out of the two of us I am the only one with the right to despise. What a little bitch.

I mean truly who the hell does he think he is?

But that didn’t do anything to deter me from craving to see him again.

So now sitting in my anatomy class I couldn’t help but wait to talk to him. Of course I wanted to give him my peace of mind but mainly because I couldn’t help of think of what he would look like in the absence of his ever present black clothing.

Van slides into the seat next to me mumbling something about how torturous this class is while I keep my eyes pinned on the door.

When Cardan finally comes in I feel my thoughts freeze. His black shirt is tight and daunting. His backpack is thrown over one shoulder and his walk is lazy and smooth.

I’m cursing myself for wanting his attention. But I mean when he looks like that, who wouldn’t?

I can’t help but twist my hair around my finger. A nervous tic. One that Van knows well, and he cuts me a knowing look.

But Cardan doesn’t look at me he passes by with out a glance and drops down into the seat behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see the dead look he posses so well.

“What?” It’s cold.

“Uh-” I freeze, everything I had been planning to say completely lost. What an idiot I am.

Cardan’s face is blank as my thoughts try to reform. I hadn’t expected him to be so harsh.

Of course with my luck Nicasia would have to show up now.

“Drooling Jude?” She says as she slides into the empty seat at Cardan’s lab table. “I didn't realize you actually liked other human beings, I pegged you as a pig type of girl, you know?”

“I was not talking to you,” I say with a roll of my eyes. She truly is a complete and utter bitch.

“Doesn’t seem like you were talking to anyone,” She says with a smirk.

Unfortunately she does have a point. Van is cutting me an amused look and Cardan’s face is empty of life.

I look at Cardan only for our gazes to lock. He quirks his head a bit and his eyes flicker with a bit of a shine.

But he says nothing and I turn around trying to save myself from making this anymore embarrassing for me.

I look over to Van who is smirking “You know now that she says it I could see you living happily ever after with a pig.”

“Oh shut up, you roach!” I can’t help but punch him in the arm as we laugh. Class starts a few minutes later saving me from the never ending discussion of gambling Van has started up on again.

....

When the bell rings I can’t help but race out of class. My next class is a study and I have to pick up some flyers for the Sadie Hawkins dance the school is throwing. Being the vice president is never ending.

Plus my plan to talk to Cardan went absolutely no where so I might as well move past the delusion that was yesterday.

Now that I think about I wouldn’t be surprised if he was on some phsycadelic drug that randomly makes people go around confessing false feelings.

That would make a lot more sense and it would relive me of having to try to figure out how we even got there.

But as I’m weaving through the hallways a hand yanks me back.

The next thing I know I’m in an empty stairwell. I turn to look at my assailant ready to swing a very effective jab to the throat.

That is until I see it’s cardan. He has a smirk on his face as he tilts his head towards the stairs. I don’t protest as he grabs my hand and pulls me down the stairs until we are partially hidden.

“Hi,” His voice is soft.

“Hi,” I repeat quietly.

“I...sorry about,” He gestures his head up the stairs in the direction of anatomy. “My friends...”

“I get it, they’re complete assholes!” I cant help but grin as he laughs.

I just made Cardan Greenbriar laugh. 24 hours really can make a difference. Who knew Cardan had such a nice laugh.

“Do you think Taryn will tell Locke?” He looks sheepish.

“I can ask her not too,” I whisper. Saying anything louder feels wrong here.

“That might be best for now,” His hand is still holding mine and I can’t help but look down.

It feels nice. Good even.

I understand what he is saying about his friends. If my friends heard I kissed Cardan I would never hear the end of it. I mean never.

I feel kind of giddy when I look up to his face and nod.

“We never got to talk,” I say leaning back into the wall.

“You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk,” Cardan says with a smirk.

“Oh shut up,” I say. “I mean about how you told me you despise me,”

He shrugs “Well I do.” I consider following through with that throat punch until I see his smirk.

“I don’t think you’re aloud to despise me,” I say.

“And why is that?” He asks with a teasing tone.

“Well because between the two of us you are always the mean one to me. Plus it doesn’t really make sense that you can despise someone that you like.”

“You are extremely annoying, rude, and a complete and utter brat,” Cardan says with a bored tone. “Seems like a good reason to despise you.”

I can’t help but sigh. Of course the one guy to ever tells me he likes me thinks I’m an annoying brat. I’m about to comment on how he has my beat in the terrible traits by a long shot when another thought crosses me mind.

“So you don’t like me?” I can’t help but mumble.

He laughs “I do like you Jude. It’s like how you think I’m cold, arrogant, and a dick and you like me anyways,”

I can’t help but stutter. “I- I do not,”

I mean do I?

Cardan’s face is open and I can’t deny the fact that he’s been pretty much all I’ve thought about all day.

“Lie,” He says with a playful shoulder nudge. I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Maybe,”

I gulp as he takes a step closer to me.

Cardan tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear as our breaths mingle.

He smells fresh, like the way the world smells on a spring day.

I don’t stop him as he brings his head down to mine. Cardan’s lips are soft and warm. The move is tentative, slow. He’s asking a question and I answer with the press of my lips to his.

The kiss is gentle, warm. It’s full of soft touches down my back. It’s occupied of the feel of Cardan’s smooth hair dancing in my fingers. It’s slow and sweet. My heart feels like it’s dancing, bouncing in happiness.

I think I could stay here for hours in the feeling that is his gentle lips. In the way his warm hands feel on me. In the way he feels like sunshine in a cold winter.

When Cardan pulls back I can’t help but smile. One of his hands is still resting on my face and his fingers move to trace the smile that has crept onto my face.

When he steps back he does it with an amused look.

“I’ll see you later, Jude,” His voice is warm and kind and then he’s bounding up the stairs.

I can’t help but lean back resting my head on the wall.

I am in some serious shit here.

My heart still feels giddy and there is no denying it now. Cardan Greenbriar really does like me. Me of all people, and that alone makes me feel ecstatic.

What am I doing?

I can’t believe that I spent all day wanting to talk to Cardan. I used to spend my days avoiding him and his cronies and now I’m standing in an empty staircase memorizing the feeling of his body nest to mine.

I stand there for a minute trying to compose my thoughts. To figure out what this means for me. If maybe he was right when he said I was lying.

That is until I look at my watch to see I’ve been in here for 7 minutes. I am so late to pic up the posters. I was supposed to meet Sophie our president 3 minutes ago. She’s totally going to rip me a new one.

But I can’t help but smile as I make my way out of the staircase.

Cardan kissed me, and that is totally worth a Sophie scream.

~~~

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