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sissytobitch10seconds · 2 years ago

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One-Way Mirror: New Divide

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: The apocalypse is finally over, leaving Five and Viktor to wait for Lila to finish helping the Commission. Things are different in the universe that they've wound up in, but they're going to handle it. They have each other. Warnings: Transphobic comments/misgendering, mentions of suicidal ideation and past suicide attempts, canon typical violence, and pregnancy Word Count: 23,721 (2,684 post on tumblr) Ship(s): Lila Pitts/Viktor Hargreeves/Five Hargreeves

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A/N: So if you've been reading the other works in this story you might have noticed that this fic is shorter than the others by about 7-10k and that's because I didn't want to rewrite as much as I had when I wrote them. I wanted to get this out before S4 came out even though that's almost a year away just to make sure I didn't forget, but I was also kind of burned out. I felt like a lot of the stuff in this season didn't need to be rewritten but I didn't add as many scenes as I usually do and I apologize for that. If you're sad that there won't be more fiktorla content after this then there's a high chance I will write some more elsewhere that isn't related to this rewrite. Thank you all so much for reading! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

They appeared back in the home that had been a prison to them for years, but now it seemed like the most wonderful place that any of them could be. They were all in pain from the fight that they had just endured and the stressful situation that they had just escaped, but it was clear that relief was heavy within the group. “Oh, we’re finally home!” Klaus clapped his hands above his head as he turned in a circle, as if trying to make sure that the building they were in was really their childhood home.

“Wait, wait, what’s the date?” Five asked. He set down the briefcase that had brought them there and then lurched for the newspaper on the table. He picked it up and flipped it over to reveal the date, which made his shoulders slump in relief. “April second, we’ve finally evaded the apocalypse.”

“I mean, it makes sense. The Handler was the one that set the whole thing up and we killed her back in the sixties. What with the time traveling causing some problems I’m not one hundred percent sure that it clears it up, but if she died back then it’s going to be hard for her to come forward and then drug me again,” Viktor said. He brought the side of his thumb up to his mouth so that he could bite at the skin there to help soothe his nerves.

Five reached over and grasped his hand, threading their fingers together to give him something else to focus on. “We’ll figure it out. There’s bound to be changes in the timeline because of everything that we did back in the sixties and the fact that we had an interaction with Dad before he was ever supposed to meet us, but we’re going to take it one step at a time.”

“Screw taking things one step at a time, I’m going to get so wasted,” Klaus laughed as he staggered towards the living room where their father’s wet bar was.

The rest of the siblings followed after him as none of them really wanted to be apart from each other after everything that had happened. Viktor detached from Five and fell back so that he was walking beside Allison. “Are you okay? I can’t imagine how awful it must be to have to leave someone you love that much behind, even if it was for his own good,” he said, his voice soft and compassionate.

“I don’t even know if it really was for his own good,” Allison let out a short laugh. “I mean, do you know how awful it is to be a person of color back then? I couldn’t walk down the street to my own home without being afraid of every little sound that I heard.”

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that,” Viktor whispered. “Of course I don’t know what it’s like to be a person of color in any time period, I’ve always been white, but the sixties were a shit time to be any minority. I thought that I was actually insane for a while until Diego managed to drill it into me that I was normal and they were the wrong ones. There are only so many times you can have someone scream in your face that being a boy trapped in a girl’s body isn’t something that actually exists before you start to believe it.”

Allison turned to him, her face soft. “That’s awful, Viktor. I’m glad that Diego was there to help you so that you had someone like I did. Hopefully we never have to deal with something like that ever again.”

“Yeah,” Viktor nodded in agreement. “And if we do, we should try to stick together. We minorities have to have some kind of solidarity even if the way that we’re hated is different.”

She beamed and nodded, knocking their shoulders together playfully. Viktor hoped that she would trust him enough to come to him if she needed something, that he could actually help her. It was true that their experiences in the sixties were very different, since she had been there longer, a woman of color, and actually out in the real world while Viktor was white, trans, and locked away in a mental asylum, but they still shared things that helped them understand each other better. While they hadn’t gotten along very well as children, there was plenty of time for that to change. They were adults now, with developed emotions and flourishing lives that they were both obviously eager to get back to.

Klaus had just gotten up to the cabinet full of liquor when Five noticed that their father was sitting in a chair by the fireplace with a copy of the daily newspaper in his hand. Just as he noticed this, Luther walked up behind him and said, “Hey why is there a portrait of Ben on the mantlepiece?”

“I knew that the six of you would be coming back someday,” Reginald said as he neatly folded the paper up and then stood to face them. It was a chilling experience, being face-to-face with their father again after so long had passed for them. This version of their father also knew who they were more than the one in the sixties had, which brought a whole host of issues by itself.

“Hey Dad, you’re not dead,” Klaus laughed as he walked up beside his siblings with a whiskey bottle clenched in his hands.

“No, why would I be?” Reginald asked as he looked over all of them with that judgemental eye like he had done throughout their entire childhoods.

“No, no reason,” Luther said as he took a step forward so that he was in front of the rest of the group. Allison and Viktor had also fallen in line with their siblings, on edge now that their father was alive unlike he had been the last time they had been here. He turned and glanced at the rest of his siblings for a moment. “I guess we’re just glad to be home.”

“This isn’t your home,” Reginald shook his head.

“What are you talking about?” Allison asked, her voice pitching slightly. Five glanced at her with a wary eye. He had spent a lot of time with people that had been displaced from their homes and their families when they got recruited to be a part of the Commission. He also knew that she had given up her happy life as a civil right’s activist with a husband that she loved very much in the hopes that they would be able to return to a future where everything was the way that they had left it minus an apocalypse or two, so it had to be stressful for her to even have an inclining that the world wasn’t what she was expecting. Her want to stay in a time where she didn’t belong that was actively messing up the timeline was the reason that he had urged her to come with them but had specifically made sure that he didn’t promise anything from the future they were heading to.

Allison let out a breathless laugh as she gestured widely around her, “This is the Umbrella Academy.”

“No, it’s not,” Reginald laughed. “This is the Sparrow Academy. After your show in Dallas, I made sure to seek out children like you that weren’t you. I did a shoddy job in the other timeline raising you, so I corrected those mistakes.”

Someone walked up behind them, which caused them to flip around so that they were looking at who it was. They were all hyper-aware of what was happening around them as their instincts and training kicked in.

Viktor felt all of the blood drain from his face as he realized that the individual that had walked up behind them was none other than Ben. He looked a lot different than he had the last time that the man had seen him. He was fully realized, solid in a way that a ghost couldn’t be even in the world of Viktor’s mind. He was wearing a maroon jacket with blue piping, which matched the blue vest and tie. Ben also had a massive scar down the side of his face, trailing from the lowest part of his hair all the way down his cheekbone. His hair was cut short and spiked upward, a style that the Ben they knew would have never had.

“Ben?” Klaus asked, his eyes going wide.

Five and Viktor glanced at each other, both understanding what their brother was going through. It had to be difficult to be best friends with a person for their entire unlife and then to lose them, only for another version of them to pop up in the universe that no one knew anything about.

“Nice hat, sundance,” the Ben in front of them sneered.

That alone confirmed that it was an entirely different person than the one that they had grown up with. Their Ben was kind and compassionate, even if he had a sharp tongue and the ability to pick out someone’s flaws with deadly accuracy. The man in front of them probably hadn’t stepped foot into a library since he needed to study for school and their Ben wouldn’t be caught dead without a book within twenty feet of him.

“Oh, thank you,” Klaus beamed as he touched the brim of the black cowboy hat. Klaus had always been really bad at picking up on social cues, though.

“W-wait, this isn’t possible. This is the Umbrella Academy, we grew up here,” Allison shouted, beginning to get obviously more and more upset.

“Uh, I think we would have noticed you,” one of the other superheroes snorted. The rest of the other Academy had made their way down to the ground floor so that they were standing in front of the others.

Ben leaned around them so that he was speaking to their father, “Dad, who are these freaks?”

Reginald was already packing up what he had been doing so that he could vacate the room. That in and of itself was odd, since their father had always been somewhat present during the missions that Five had been sent on so that he could see their progress in real time for his log book. “They call themselves the Umbrella Academy. Smelly, ill-manner, perfidious malcontents.”

“Well that’s just not true,” Viktor said quickly. He didn’t enjoy being insulted, especially since he had just spent the last month or so being told that he was wrong, dirty, and shameful.

“Yeah, we’re ameteur-fidious at best,” Klaus defended.

“Klaus,” Diego hissed to try and make his brother shut up before they got in even more trouble than they were already in.

“I think it would be best if you left our house,” the man that was seemingly the leader of the Sparrows took a step forward so that he was standing in front of Luther.

“You mean our house,” Luther replied.

Viktor felt a familiar anxiety setting into the base of his stomach. It was a feeling that he got often as a child when he knew that his siblings were about to start a fight with each other. That usually resulted in their father punishing everyone but Viktor, since Viktor had no powers and thus wasn’t a real member of the Academy, which then resulted in everyone hating Viktor more than they had when the day started. Things were different now, but he had a feeling that it was still going to go sour very quickly.

“I guess we just have to settle this the old fashioned way, then, don’t we?” the leader of the Sparrows asked as he approached Luther once more.

The first punch was thrown before anyone else could say something to stop them from fighting, not that Viktor was even planning on trying. Immediately after, fighting broke out between everyone there.

The siblings all scattered as they tried to deal with the superhero team that was attacking them. Diego launched towards the floating, mocking cube with one of his knives already clutched in his hand. Luther was duking it out with the other leader of the Academy. Viktor darted to the side to try and get away but was followed by the same woman that had spit on Diego when all of the negotiations first started. Five teleported away to deal with some of the other members just as Allison lurched after the woman in glasses. They were outnumbered seven to six, but they were also feral with anger and fear so they were holding their ground relatively well.

Five found himself standing up on the landing in front of the woman that had initially gone after his boyfriend, something that made him see white hot rage right behind his eyes. He lurched forward with his hand balled up in a fist and before she had the chance to react, he teleported behind her and then clocked her across the face. Despite not knowing what his powers were, she still turned around and then spit on him before she crumbled down to the ground like a wet paper sack.

“Gross,” Five whispered as he swiped his hand across his face to try and get rid of the saliva, but he found that there was nothing there. His body began to lock up like it did when Allison’s rumors took hold of him and he was transported to somewhere that he had only seen once before.

He was standing in the living room of the apartment that Viktor and Lila had been living in when he had finally managed to find his way back to them. All of the items that had been strewn about the shelves and the walls were packed up in boxes that were huddled close to the door. He turned around in a circle and saw that the kitchen and bedroom down the hall were also packed up in much the same way. “What’s going on?” he asked, though the words felt like they were being muttered underwater.

Lila was there, then, standing at his side with her fingers threaded together with his. He turned his head to the side and saw the small bump that was protruding from her stomach and the dopey smile spread over her face. Five felt his heart jump up into his chest as he realized that she was pregnant, they were moving because she was pregnant. He didn’t know how to feel about that, that she and Viktor had so readily moved on without him. “You know, when you said that you were going to make Luther and Diego have a pissing contest so that we didn’t have to carry any of the boxes I thought that you were lying,” she let out a little chuckle. “You were right, though, this does work way better.”

“Cars packed up, babe,” Viktor said as he appeared in the doorway. He walked over to them and then kissed them both slowly, languidly. “Are you ready to move onto the next step in our lives?”

“Yes, Gods above, yes,” Five whispered as he reached up with his free hand to cup Viktor’s cheek and kiss him harder.

A moment later the mirage melted away like ice on a hot sidewalk, removing itself from his eyes so that he was left standing directly where he had been before. He tried to ignore the way that his heart ached in his chest at the idea of that not being the world that he lived in. He didn’t want to be reminded of all the mistakes that he had made that resulted in this being the reality they were now stuck in.

He darted through the house to distract himself with more fighting until he could get his siblings out and safe. He chose to put the memory of what could have been had he just stopped the first apocalypse into the part of his mind where he never went, forgetting it entirely.

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dourpeep · 4 years ago

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OKAY time for a college au!!

You 3 know each other from before college

You and kazuha were seating next to each other during your first year of high school you became close enough to greet each other whenever you guys pass by each other

And you and Xiao were best friends from kindergarten to 2 grade but unfortunately you had to move suddenly you two tried to keep contact but the two of you made new friends and kinda lost contact with each other

So when you go to college you meet kazuha at the front desk when you're trying to get your schedule and yall are like "omg I'm so happy to see someone that I know here!" and when you guys check your schedules it turns out that the two of you have the same class during the first period

And you're like "we've got 30 minutes wanna go grab a cup of coffee and get lost together?" and kazu knows that you playfully flirt with your friends so he jokingly says "are you asking me out for a date? Because if you are then I accept!" and you guys talk on the way to class and the two of you barely make it on time

Class ends and you're sad to say goodbye to the only person you know on campus but then all of a sudden he hits you with a "by the way can I have your number?" so you two exchange numbers

Later you're going to your last class and it turns out that this class doesn't have many people you go sit in the back and someone comes up to you and is like "can I sit next to you? " you say yes obviously

But the thing is... there is something very familiar about this guy and you just can't put your finger on it so you kind of stare at him without realizing it

Of course he noticed how hard you've been staring at him and turns around and is like "what? Is there something on my face?" that's when it finally clicks

And you're just like "XIAO??! IS THAT REALLY YOU?!!" but the teacher comes in so you two can't really talk

But the moment class ends you tell him who you are and take a few minutes to catch up

Though I say catch up it was mostly you teasing him saying shit like "I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!" (he's starting to think that maybe he should have sat somewhere else)

So you're like "hey how we go actually catch up I've got some coupons for this café I went to this morning with a friend"

He doesn't have a reason to say no so he just accepts the invitation

When you guys get there who do you meet? KAZUHA! This man actually works there!

When you see him you're like "kazuha why didn't you tell me that you work here?" but he pretends not to know you and is like "oh? Well who might this fine customer be?" you can tell he's joking by the way he's trying not to laugh so you decide to play along

Poor Xiao is starting to regret coming with you (but don't worry he got 2 plates of almond tofu as an apology)

-no primogems (I'll make another part later where you 3 become roommates)

YES I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS-

dhfaeiahe I realize now that I should've just posted this as is since I wasn't planning on adding to this but might as well add in some thoughts I've had about this lovely trio eh??? tbh I didn't add much I just slipped in a few little things hehe

Can you guess the roomates?? Also the bio professor is Albedo ehe

Anyway!!

Considering it's the first semester of college, you haven't yet decided on your major. Luckily, you have quite a few general education classes to take, so you register all in one night.

You'll have the time to figure it all out as time goes by, no?

The rest of summer is spent juggling moving into the campus' dorms, working, and keeping up with some friends from high school. While you've kept contact with a few friends, you definitely kicked yourself in the ass for forgetting to ask Kazuha for his number...how could you forget one of your best friends?

But, you suppose that he's far off in a whole other city with his wish to experience more. You can't help but wonder what he's up to.

Then, the first day of classes starts.

How did you not figure out where everything is first? Instead of moping, you trudge to the administrative building early to ask for directions and, even better, a map of the large campus.

Instead, you find a familiar head of cream-colored hair.

Immediately, you gasp and he turns around in confusion, only for a soft smile to spread over his features. It's only been a summer but it's a relief to see that you know another person. Comparing schedules, he points out that you both have Communications 1301 together.

For once, you're glad you have to take these mandatory courses...

But with an abundance of time (as Kazuha just so happens to know where the class is), he accepts your jokingly firtatious proposal to head to the cafe just across campus to grab a morning drink.

It's hardly been long since you've last spoken to him, but there's still so much to talk about! It turns out he opted to rent out a small studio apartment just a few blocks away from campus! Naturally, he invites you over sometime.

He's also admitted that he decided to major in English--something you're not surprised to hear. After all, Kazuha's a natural at the subject, exceeding the assignments and always so eloquent.

If you recall correctly, he used to tote around a little notebook full of little musings and poetry during high school. You wonder if he still does that.

You talk about how you've just moved into the dorms a week ago, how you're lucky to be rooming with two musically inclined (if not a bit rowdy) people. You're sure that he'd take a liking to them once everything is calmed down a bit. Kazuha just raises a brow in half-doubt.

Before you know it, it's been an hours and, to your horror, your first class starts in five minutes. Not to mention that it was back closer to the admin building and you were on the opposite side of campus.

But it's still fun, Kazuha laughing as you jolt up and tug him to stand, the two of you running to get to class on time. With heaving breaths and flushed faces, you make it just a few minutes late. Luckily, your professor didn't mind because it was the first day...

Following class, you have to make your way to Bio 1301, Kazuha having a major-specific English course to get to. Before you can speak, though, he offers his phone to you. It's newer than his old flip phone you'd tease him about all the time, the screen clean save for a few stray fingerprints.

After you put in your number, he beams and quickly sends you a call so you can have his too.

"Call me after you're done with classes, alright?"

You promise to and the two of you set off.

Biology proves to be uneventful, a full hour and a half of the (rather attractive) professor going over what to expect as well as passing out lab waiver forms. A necessary precaution, he said with a reserved sigh. You wonder what happened.

When the hour ends, you have some time before World History, followed by a Trigonometry course.

By the time you find your trig class, most of the seats are already taken, making that feeling of dread fill the pit of your stomach. Nothing is worse than being forced to take whatever seat is left. But, noticing a seat by the windows, it's not so bad.

You're in the back, though, settling your bag beneath your chair and picking out a pen and schedule book.

At some point, someone walks in and asks if the seat in front of you is taken. You don't bother to look up long as you fish out a notebook, letting him know it's free.

As class goes on, you realize that the guy in front of you most likely hasn't been paying attention. Considering that the professor has been rehashing stuff from Algebra...you're not surprised. But something about his dark hair catches your eye. Not to mention his striking gold eyes...hm.

It's not until you catch his profile as he stares out the window that it clicks.

"Xiao."

His eyes dart to look at you, a confused look washing over his face. You repeat his name.

"Yes?"

Part of him is just about ready to leave as recognition floods your expression, smile wide. How could you possibly---

"I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!"

The tips of his ears turn red fast, something that you remember very well about him, and his gaze quickly flicks over to the professor still dragging on. When gold settles back on you, they're practically begging for you to lower your voice.

"It's been forever--I can't believe that you-"

"If you're going to talk, do it outside of class."

Ah. Oopsie.

Time seems to drag on while you buzz in your seat, excited to see your childhood friend after loosing contact. You've missed him over the years, always wondering what happened to him, how he's been. And finally, when class ends, he gets up and waits for you.

Naturally, you want to catch up, so you invite him to go to the cafe with you for a late lunch.

"You still like almond tofu right? It's all you used to eat when we were little." Laughing, you nudge his shoulder and the color returns to his cheeks as he mumbles a yes.

When you step into the cafe, a familiar voice greets you.

"If I knew a cute customer would be coming, I would've gone on break."

Kazuha leans on the counter, mirth in his eyes and you gasp. It makes sense now, why he's so well acquainted with the campus and why he'd already known what to order when you arrived for drinks-

"What can I get for you today?"

"Your number."

Xiao's face pales at the blatant flirting, wondering if he should've just declined the invitation to the cafe until the two of you burst into laughter. Though, it's hardly better.

"Sorry, sorry- This is Kazuha, one of my friends from high school. Kazuha, this is my childhood best friend Xiao."

With a day so filled with nice coincidences, you doubt that life can get any better than this.

Oh, how wrong you'd be.

#anon asks #no primogems anon #kazuha x xiao x reader #xiao and his two lovely dumb s/o's #college au #polycule #polyamory #meet cute #xiao #kazuha #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fics #genshin impact

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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An Unwitting Sanctuary // Luke Patterson

IN WHICH: Reader finds herself dropped kicked into a whole new world void of demons but filled with ghosts. Having grown up in a top secret religious Order it’s quite the adjustment temporarily stationed in a world less dangerous. But with the help of a trio of teen ghosts and a girl whose throat was nearly slit the transition isn’t fought.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, demons, wounds, angst, and fluff

Words: 5.6k

A/N: Just another fic that I periodically worked on. This is a crossover with the Netflix original series Warrior Nun which I highly recommend.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

It all started a decade ago when you lost your mother to an illness that had desiccated your family's happiness. Your father failed to find peace at the bottom of a bottle before he was a great father. In his last attempt to be a father, he made the tough decision to give you up to save you from watching his self-destruction and so he wouldn't hurt you.

That's how you found yourself numb on an airplane heading for Spain where you had been taken in. Tear tracks slowly drying on your pale cheeks, you tried to find what you did wrong for your parents to leave you.

"Hi." A sweet voice spoke from beside you. A girl with light brown hair in pigtails said with a bright grin, "I'm Ava."

A faint blush appeared on your cheeks at her words, but with one mention of your favourite show, you couldn't help but ramble. The woman beside Ava, her mother, smiled at how easily Ava could make someone happy. Ava and her mom remained by your side, even getting off the plane.

"It was nice to meet you." Ava beamed, revealing a missing tooth. Ava tackled you in a hug tightly, "You're my bestest friend in Spain."

Your little hand waved as Ava's small stature disappeared out the airport entrance with her mother leaving behind a forlorn little girl. A stoic woman using a cane slowly made her way to you emotionless as she glanced at a photograph in her other hand.

"Y/N Y/L/N? You may call me Mother Superion," The Nun questioned, resting both her hands on the head of the cane with such intimidation, "Follow me. You're very fortunate Cardinal Duretti and Father Vincent found you.

"Why do you wear robes?" Your innocent question was taken by Mother Superion with little regard. Mother Superion questioned if the Order could afford having a child in the midst of the Order members' sworn duty.

"It is my habit. It is an outward sign of my religious' consecration to God." Mother Superion spoke, leading the way to an unmarked black vehicle idling for the stoic Nun and the little child. A vehicle that would transport a small American child to a place devoid of parental love and nurtured guidance.

Now at eighteen years of age, you had seen more than most people saw their entire lives; you were no longer the bright-eyed little girl longing for her father's hug. You were a girl who matured beyond her years, dedicating her life to a mission civilians had no clue about. It was a hard life among your fellow Sisters, yet you were closest to the Warrior Sisters you had been assigned to. Mary, Beatrice, Camila, Shannon and Lilith; Mary being your closest friend given you both were part of The Order of the Cruciform Sword but not Nuns, having never taken the vows. Lilith had grown colder and bitter when Sister Shannon was chosen for the Halo, so it was often hard to be around her now.

Mostly when she was gunning to retrieve the Halo from the resurrected formerly quadriplegic teenager girl. A girl that would most likely lose her life if Lilith succeeded and you, along with Mary, made it your mission to stop Lilith. Which led you to a warehouse where Lilith was on a screaming Ava, the Nun so gone you had absolutely no doubts Lilith would any anything for the Halo.

"-and you can't even appreciate that." Lilith hissed in the other girl's ear, "Your loss."

The Divinium blade stabbed into the middle of the Halo, sending severe pain through the Bearer's body. Her echoing screams joining the mystical sound reverberating from the golden glowing Halo itself.

"Enough!" Mary shouted, sprinting as Lilith started to carve the Halo out of Ava's back. In an unspoken decision, Mary tackled the Sister while you scrambled on your knees. You wrenched the knife from Ava's backsliding the blood-soaked blade in your combat boot.

"Ava, you need to get to the side. If Lilith comes, use the skills you gained from the Order." You told the teenager as you helped her up before running to join the combat.

"Fuck off!" Ava shouted, scrambling over to her unconscious friend JC. Another example of why relationships and friendships were impossible, a casualty in the work against the demons.

Your closed fist slammed Lilith's left cheekbone sending a splatter of blood from her lips; you dropped into a defensive crouch. Gracefully twirling, you avoided the hard kick from Lilith while Mary wiped the blood from her face. Lunging back from Lilith, you kicked her thigh, getting distance from her.

Lilith was about to slam her boot into your midsection when a familiar sound echoed in the warehouse. You all went still scanning the room for the unfortunate Tarask that would appear after a portal opened.

"Mary?" Lilith breathed, focused on the golden ripple behind the operative, who slowly turned as the screech grew louder. You stepped back beside Lilith as the Tarask entered the dimension just as terrifying as the last time.

Slipping one of her shotguns, you raised it just taking a shot when it aggressively hit Mary, sending her halfway across the warehouse into a windshield. The shotgun in your hand started blasting at the increasingly pissed off demon.

Lilith was slowly unslinging the Divinium Sword from the scabbard on her back. Your eyes flicked from the movement to the Tarask towering in the room. It didn't take a genius to understand Lilith felt the need to prove herself as the rightful Bearer.

"Lilith, no." You sternly spoke, flinching when the Tarask flipped a car towards Ava and the boy. The horrendous Tarask stopped as Mary joined in, shooting him as your shotgun clicked empty.

Ava was stumbling back, keeping the boy behind her as the Tarask stalked her lifting one of its razor-sharp appendages. Lilith lunged in front of Ava in a moment of redemption as you tried to push Lilith away, but something lifechanging happened.

A twin gasp filled the area as you felt something enter your body from behind. Glancing down, you saw the appendage had impaled your lower stomach right after it went through Lilith.

"No!" Mary screamed as you choked on the pain flooding your system. Sound faded as you could feel rather than hear your scream. A dribble of liquid slowly ran down the corner of your mouth, the copper taste bitter.

Red hot pain came from your midsection along with a deep cut oozing blood from your arm where Lilith had sliced your skin open with the Sword. Lilith slumped onto your back as she screamed, which had you literally slide off the Tarask's appendage with the lubrication of your own blood.

Your body connected with the floor having a first-row seat as Lilith whispered something that aided Ava in fighting the Tarask. With the swing of the Sword, the Tarask burst into flames vanishing through a portal with Lilith still on it.

Your eyes fluttered as Mary limped over your prone form. Maybe now you could join your mother in peace.

"No! Keep your eyes open," Mary demanded, struggling to lift you with her leg. A thin bead of blood-stained your cheek as it ran a path from the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes shut completely faded into a painless sleep.

The next time you woke up in the medical ward where you would stay for weeks after miraculously surviving what should have been fatal. Things changed for you, leaving doctors unclear; even Jillian Salvius' scientists and herself couldn't figure it out. Things got better, but the whole teleporting and you could see the demons once hidden from you.

There were other things you do, but that wasn't as important as the current moment deep in the catacombs of Vatican City. Soon you left Warrior Sisters to help Mother Superion in keeping the Reject Nuns from stopping your mission. After the last one fled, you watched as the entire area grumbled, Beatrice must have to blow up part of the tomb to retrieve Ava from whatever she'd found. You were proven right when Father Vincent carrying Ava appeared.

The Sisters recounted what happened, leaving you shocked. Ava had managed to phase through the twenty feet of solid rock to steal Adriel's bones. Instead of a pile of bones, Ava had found that the supposed Angel had been waiting for her.

"He was alive?" You breathed, taken aback as Ava dropped the bomb that Adriel was alive and very much not an Angel.

"He's a devil." Ava's words proved correct when invisible forces shoved the line of people far across from you. Unlike anything, you had ever seen before in your life.

A dark-haired man strode down the middle confidently with one wave of his arms, sending people flying away and dust from his lost robes. The man was dressed entirely in black and oozed darkness. His eyes gazed at Ava before meeting yours with a smirk.

"Perfect."

Your eyes widened at his blunt statement issued directly at you, "Why is he looking at me like a prized possession?"

"Stay here." Father Vincent spoke, pushing in front of everyone to make his way to the man who should have never been let out. Something deep in your stomach felt wrong; Father Vincent sent your heightened instincts flaring.

You could hear a whisper in your head as somehow words reached across the great distance in Father Vincent's voice.

"My master." Father Vincent verbally revealed his betrayal, leaving you breathless. He was one of few people that raised you from childhood, and he was evil. Adriel whispered to Vincent's ear, he was no Father, before stepping around him.

"I admit my doubt laid in if you could be brought." Adriel's cultured voice spoke, staring at you, "My first step involved finding a capable human, 'A child's awakening born from despair. A child brought from a different part of the world'"

You hyper-focused on the approaching man, barely noticing anything else, even the glance between Ava and Lilith. The entire group began fighting the man cleanly and professionally, you were drenched in blood from close combat.

In a lull, two girls came close together, each with a heavy heart at the short conversation and plan they had made. Lilith had had a dream that the only way for you to be safe was teaming up with Ava and it meant possibly never seeing you again.

"This is what you dreamed?" Ava demanded her former enemy. Lilith shook her head.

"Not this exactly." Lilith murmured back, "It has to happen now. It's the only way, Ava."

Ava squeezed her eyes shut as memories from a much happier time came into her memory before all she knew was heartache.

"Ava, introduce yourself." Seven-year-old Ava looked up at her mother, "She looks sad."

Ava nodded her small head-turning to the other child next to her, "Hi. I'm Ava."

Ava felt happy when she managed to bring a smile to the girl beside her spending the next few hours talking. Ava hoped she would get to see you again, but life had other plans when the car accident happened. Ava would see when you were both jaded and cynical to the once innocent world they both knew.

Grabbing Lilith's hand as Beatrice engaged the combat, Ava, with the Halo's power and the changes in Lilith, opened a portal. A single tear fell from Mary's eye as she slammed her boot into the armour of your combat outfit.

"NO!" You screamed as the portal closed you from your friends, your team, your Sisters. You only caught sight of all them stalking towards your enemy.

The room, a garage of some kind, was modern with plants set in the glass wall with a well-used piano situated in front of it. The room was quiet, thankfully, as you hit the floor at a fast speed, still screaming. The thud echoed around the room as you laid on your side in the fetal position.

"Please let the stitches be fine." You prayed, pressing your hand against your lower right quadrant. Your hand came back wet and sticky as you shouted in pain.

The black clothing hid the blood from your wounds, Adriel's blood and blood from your opened wound. You army crawled on your back towards a material, grabbing the dark sweater you screamed as you pressed against the wound. The pressure almost sending you unconscious.

"It's a killer song."

Your breath hitched at the sound of a stranger, an American stranger too. You shuffled into the corner, unaware of the drops of blood you trailed.

"With Julie's voice, it will be great." Another voice spoke, faltering before speaking again, "Reggie? You okay, you've gone pale."

"Alex? Is that…is that blood?" Reggie, the guy that first spoke, whispered, looking at the drops leading to where the piano was situated. The two guys walked closer to where a small puddle of red liquid was smeared, "Yeah, that is definitely blood."

"Check on Ray and Carlos. I got Luke." Alex spoke, sharing a very concerned look with his bandmate. The two disappeared, unaware of the girl lightheaded intent on staying quiet.

With the room empty, you set about struggling to the bathroom for a mirror, the bruised skin barely shocking you. It came with being a Warrior Sister. Your hands shook as you washed the blood off, stilling at a door opening.

"Blood?" A feminine voice questioned. Peeking around the corner stood a Latina teenager with one of the boys from earlier, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Deadly. No pun intended." Reggie spoke, leading the exasperated teenager to where the piano was; congealing was the bright red fresh puddle of blood, "Your family is fine."

"So is Flynn." Alex spoke, appearing with Luke beside him, "Luke was at the Orpheum.”

It seemed your body decided to betray you with a jump in your heart rate and a flutter in your stomach. You winced, removing the pressure from the dark sweater shuddering as the black shirt pulled away from the wound.

"That is a lot." The newcomer, Luke, spoke, coming to a stop in front of the puddle frowning as he double-checked his guitars were safe. Julie's voice made the boys ashamed when she noticed something they didn't.

"Did you happen to see there is a trail of blood as well?" Julie spoke, gesturing to the drops leading to the bathroom, "Whoever it is-"

Julie cut herself off with a scream as you lunged at her swinging a long sharp knife at her face; Julie stumbled, flailing as you glared at the terrified teenage girl. You didn't care who she was other than your mind was screaming danger. It was Julie being clumsy that was saving her life and you being weak.

"Oh my god! Julie!" Luke shouted at the sudden attack on his new friend and bandmate. All three were about to protect her, even though the sense of touch was still off and on.

You groaned, slumping to the ground once more, breathing heavily, and e/c eyes rolled back in your head, "Fuck."

"She's a ninja!" Reggie yelped, ushering the group away from the girl in agony. His eyes taking in her youthful appearance and the dark black combat outfit. He didn't miss the bruises and cuts on her paling face.

"She almost killed me!" Julie shouted at the bassist, "In case you didn't see?! That knife came very close to slitting my throat!"

Tears filled your waterline as a feeling of being weak flooded your body in such a way you had never felt. You couldn't even protect yourself. The sense of despair taking most of your pain away as a sob broke through.

"She's crying!" The panic in the messy-haired boy voice broke through your tears. Tilting your head to see the very terrified teenagers, the despair was taken over by guilt.

"I'm sorry." You spoke, leaning up, "For…uh attacking you?”

"Greatly appreciated." Julie sarcastically countered with a roll of her eyes, "Who are you?”

"No, Julie, what are you?" Reggie inserted, pointing towards you with his index finger, whereas Alex was intently watching your movements.

"I'm in America. Wow." You chortled, collapsing into a fit of laughter, "Just when I thought life couldn't get more surprising! Oh, wait, I dropped out of a portal in the middle of a fight."

"Can you explain why you're in our studio bleeding…oh, you're bleeding." Alex choked, bouncing on his feet as he frowned at your obvious pain. His eyes looking at the abandoned sweater you had been using against the wound, "If you promise not to attack can I get a first aid kit?"

You hesitantly nodded graciously, appreciating his kind offer, "Get a needle, thread and a lighter."

Luke and Reggie reluctantly helped move you to the couch, with Luke grumbling about stains; he didn't like that a bleeding girl would be on his couch. You wheezed sitting on it, Luke's eyes widening as you started removing the tight black leather.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Luke nervously questioned, scanning to find his friends. Julie had joined Alex in collecting your requirements, and Reggie was getting a bucket of water.

"Removing my armour?" You spoke, sending him a weird glance wincing when the layer pulled the remaining stitches—a curse slipping out of your full lips.

"Oh, that is disgusting." Luke grimaced, leaning away from the wound, still oozing blood and glancing at your chest with a deep blush.

With the other three joining with the items, they watched as you cleaned the area with a wet towel revealing more of the gore. A sharp gasp when you shifted to check the entrance wound on your back, deeming it okay, you inspected the exit wound.

"Okay, stitches tore only. That's good. I didn't want to deal with scrambling my organs." You chortled, removing your utility belt to fold and clench between your teeth.

Doctoring the wound took your mind off your friends' survival, but the thud of a body brought you back to the here and now. Reggie, having seen you about to pierce your skin with the needle, had fainted. You raised one eyebrow before looking at the other three.

"Uh, maybe look away?" You spoke, temporarily removing the belt from your mouth. Returning back to the task, you grunted as you stitched the wound as best as you could. By the time you finished, you were sweating.

"I fainted." Reggie groaned as he sat up, seeing that you were taking clothing from Julie and the first aid kit put aside, "I didn't think ghosts could faint."

Julie and the Phantoms went silent as Reggie revealed their biggest secret to someone new. Julie groaned, putting her face in her hands while Alex shot the same annoyed and exasperated expression at the bassist.

"Ghosts? Better than demons." You muttered with a sigh, "Can I use the shower?"

Julie mutely nodded as she took in both the lack of response and your retort. Fifteen minutes later, a very different version came out of the bathroom. You were swamped in the flannel Luke had offered and the shorts from Julie, but you kept your thick combat boots. It was odd seeing you so feminine and free of blood.

"Thanks." You smiled gratefully at the four teens, "So ghosts? Are all of you ghosts?"

"No. They died in 1995, I'm alive." Julie shrugged, taking a look at her newest best friends that had helped heal a part of her. Helped bring her back to music again, "I'm sure you may have heard of the band Julie and the Phantoms."

"No." You blankly replied, "Look, I was literally just at the Vatican an hour ago….which Beatrice partially blew up…"

Your words trailed off as the situation finally hit you full force because there was no way you were in Italy. Thinking back to the moments before you felt into a portal, you vaguely recalled Lilith meaning another dimension.

"I need a phone." You demanded, quickly retrieving the one Julie offered to type in the phone number ingrained in your memory. One of the many things that Mother Superion had beaten into you literally.

"Andalusia, Spain's Authentic Castle Tours. How can I help you?" The voice asked, located in Spain at a desk in a business building near a deteriorating church.

"Is Cardinal, I mean, a man named Duretti available?"

"I'm sorry, but we have no one in our employment by that name. Can I have a name, please?"

"Never mind." You gruffly replied, ending the call as you tossed the cellphone back to Julie, "I really did get transported. Stupid Vincent and Adriel."

A month was spent finding your bearings in a new dimension with people so far from your regular life it was astounding. Even though you had threatened Julie with a knife, at first, you had bonded with the girl. You were most peaceful when you were in the studio with Luke across strumming on his guitar to a new song. You had quickly become part of their friend group as time went on, and to be honest, you didn't really want to go back.

"What do you think?" Luke asked you, meeting your gaze, "Is it too soft?”

"Aren't you the expert?" You smirked as he disappeared and popped up beside you on the couch with a smile. You weren't like typical girls Luke had known back in the '90s.

"Are you okay?" Luke questioned, turning his entire focus to give you a perfect view of his gorgeous eyes you could never distinguish between brown, green or even blue.

"Yeah. It's weird not having Mother Superion judging my moves or training with Beatrice, but it's okay." You half-smiled, recalling the people that had been in your life every day for years, "I miss them. They were my family."

Luke understood more than Julie ever would, and he knew more about your history than the others, "I get that."

"I had a normal life. Parents that loved me and some friends I loved even at six years old. Memories of my mom are faded, but she got sick when I was five and passed a year later. My dad…he was struggling. His last good parental deed was putting me up for adoption." You admitted slouching to place your head on Luke's shoulder. His heart fluttered at the movement, "I never could make myself look him up. Hurt too much."

"Yeah. I understand the feeling." Luke breathed through his nose, leaning his chocolate mess of hair on yours. The warmth flooding your systems.

The studio was empty other than you and Luke while Julie was at school. Reggie and Alex had left right after the living singer. You guess Reggie had found Ray at the site for his current photography appointment. Alex had a few places he could be at.

"Y/N!" The faint call of your voice in the distance startling you. The harsh yet feminine voice of one of the Sister Nuns bubbling hope in your stomach.

"Did you hear that?" You asked the ghostly guitarist, who frowned in confusion. Your eyes flickered around the studio frantically, "What the- "

"Y/N!" The voice grew louder in the room, with only it heard by you. Your body moved without thinking to the barn doors.

The doors opened with a gentle push as you followed the smoky wisp to the backyard and Luke behind you. Laughter sounded miles away from Julie and Reggie coming down the cement steps. Alex trailing behind only to halt watching your movements and Luke's questions falling on deaf ears.

"Come on! You said it would work!" The grit in the voice that had a life just as difficult as you in losing people. The smoky wisp flashed into a glowing portal as shiny as a frozen pond in the winter.

"I'm a little new at this, Ava! Opening dimensions isn't something that comes with a manual!"

"Lilith? Ava?" You breathed, reaching one hand out to the portal displaying a scene of two of your friends. Each wearing their combat outfits and grimaces as Lilith raised one hand up.

"What in the hell is that?" Alex demanded, reaching to pull you back when your hand disappeared from the fingers to the wrist. Alex stumbled backwards at the sight of your hand being gone.

"The portal," Luke interjected as you became mesmerized with the portal that had your life, your mission in life waiting.

Glancing behind you, the four people that became just as important watched vigilantly as Ava and Lilith fell into the portal. The two girls quickly stood up in defensive movements scanning the surroundings.

Ava shoved Lilith off her to roll onto her stomach than her feet with a scowl. Ava's brown eyes clashed with your wide, shocked ones with an unmistakable look of relief. Ava's foot shoved the hand of Lilith's as her hand shoved Ava's calf.

"Did that just…did she just-"Reggie struggled to make sense of the two girls appearing out of completely nowhere. His light eyes frantically moving between the people in the vicinity.

Striding up to the two girls, you punched Ava in the face with a hiss as a splotch of blood splattered your cheek.

"Ow!" Ava shouted, holding her cheek from the force of the hit with a frown.

"That's for sending me to another dimension!" You exclaimed before tugging her into a hug that left both of you uncomfortable. Her growing up in an orphanage and you in the Order had very little physical affection, "Vincent?"

"Missing. Camila's been searching." Lilith interrupted, brushing the dirt from her clothing with a tentative smile. It was silent for a mere second before the formerly cold Nun lunged to hug you tight, "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Can someone please explain?" Alex questioned, flinching when Lilith made direct eye contact with the blonde drummer.

Her dark eyes staring the male down unflinching before her eyes found three other strangers standing around.

"Alex, this is Sister Lilith and Ava. We're teammates." You slowly admitted having kept some parts of the story from them.

They knew what you came from, a different world very different from theirs and worked for a secret organization. They didn't know much more than that as the Order's status as a secret.

"Teammates? Why are nuns involved in your group?" Luke asked, crossing his arms with furrowed eyebrows. Distrust sparkling in his hazel eyes for the first time since you first appeared in his life, and it hurt you.

"We're-”

"Ava!" Lilith hissed, narrowing her eyes at the American girl hellbent on breaking all kinds of rules. Ava's scathing glare, in return antagonizing her further, "The only reason you know about the Order is because of the Halo."

"Because I would still be a dead formerly quadriplegic girl!" Ava snapped, glaring down the person that became a frenemy after the Vatican, "This thing in my back is the only reason I'm alive!"

"I am so lost," Reggie mumbled under breath as the oddly dressed teenagers sparked into a rushed argument. His eyes caught Lilith's hand turning into a fist while Ava got all in the other girl's face.

Your eyes moved between the volatile duo that had brainstormed together to keep you safe. Without their secret plan, it was a wonder what Adriel would have had in mind with you. The memory of his fascination with your very being and the way it appeared he had somehow manipulated arrival to the Order. But how could he when he was trapped in a long-forgotten twenty-foot concrete tomb?

"Ava!" You commanded her full attention, "Stop. We have bigger things to worry about. Is there a plan to find Vincent?"

Both girls solemnly shook their heads in sync, "No."

"Let's get inside before Mr. Molina finds two strangers in his backyard." You ushered the two girls into the studio. Lilith scanned the building's interior, no doubt looking for threats as one would with the lives you had lived.

Ava was swift to take the kevlar upper body armour off her body, leaving a thin black long sleeve shirt. It was tossed onto the couch among the notebook you had been using for anything to do with your other life.

"What have I missed since Mary planted her heavy ass boot in my chest?" You demanded, recalling the painful feeling of Mary's kick. The tough girl didn't hold back in anything she did combat wise "How does she even walk in those cement traps?"

Julie and the guys found seats in the room around the three alien world individuals who spoke as if they were alone. They heard mentions of someone named Adriel and Areala with the odd mix of words they didn't comprehend.

"So we go back, and we kick his ass." You snapped, crossing your arms, "I didn't even get to use my new-"

"Are you forgetting he hit me, sending me a few feet in the air? How six of us, five being highly trained individuals, failed?" Lilith retorted, mirroring your stance, finding an ally in Ava's unstaggering support.

"They all threw daggers, Camilla unloaded her crossbow, Mary beating him with the shotguns and even shooting him? That barely left a dent! For fuck sakes, he took an arrow to the neck, and he still got up!" Ava completely snapped with a heated glare in her milk chocolate eyes with hints of dark chocolate.

"That goal wasn't to end him; it was just to kill seven minutes for Ava to recharge." Lilith uncharacteristically softened her tone. Her dark eyes lightened in both comfort and sympathy, "We almost didn't make out of the fight. Adriel brought his wraith demons-"

"Like the pussy he is." Ava scoffed, rolling her eyes at the look she earned from Lilith, "What! Just because you're a Nun doesn't mean I can't swear!"

"Question," Reggie spoke, raising his one hand in the air, receiving the Warriors' attention. She shrivelled under the glares of the Nun; your frown proceeded the sharp punch to Lilith's arm for her action.

"Don't be mean to him." You stepped closer to the band that had grown to be close with you despite the rough introduction. The arm of Luke's chair bumped your waist, knocking you off balance. Luke's warm hands settled on your hips to steady you.

"I only just got used to ghosts," Alex whispered to himself, pushing his hands through his hair. His expression solely of confliction and emotional agony.

"I'm sorry, but did he just say ghosts?" Lilith questioned, staring at the blonde-haired drummer, "Better question, why are you hanging around with them?"

"Because after I was so kindly shoved into another universe, they welcomed me in."

"After you nearly slit my throat too." Julie inserted, climbing to her feet to station herself beside you. Her face stoic, staring down the two females opposite to you and her.

In a moment of unison, the dead boys all stood up to match Julie in her support. Luke's hand brushing against yours momentarily before his pinky wrapped around yours. Lilith and Ava didn't miss the small movement.

"Lilith, Ava, these are my friends. Julie and her band of ghost boys." You softly spoke, nodding towards the Puerto Rican teenager with a smile, "This is Luke, Reggie and Alex."

Alex lifted his hand shoved it into his jean jacket pocket with a happy smile that belied his anxiety and confusion. Reggie's flushed cheeks squished as he beamed at the new people while Luke was more cautious.

"Ghosts?" Lilith questioned once more, with her stance becoming combative and distrusting. Her greying hair peeking out under her black combat veil, a testament to her time in the dimension where the Tarask took her.

"Relax. Lilith." Ava spoke, straightening up with her lips pursed together, but she refused to relax. The room had waves of tension from the people inhabiting the building at the moment, "We just came to grab you."

The residents all slightly stepped in front of you, Luke's one arm behind him as he kept his pinky intertwined with yours. While the whole story hadn't been revealed to them, they knew that whatever waited in your homeworld was much worse than a pesky Broadway wannabe ghost in vintage wear.

"I don't know the full story, but she is not returning with you. There's a reason why you sent her here." Luke passionately spoke, glancing at the two girls with ulterior motives to dropping in for a casual conversation.

Your finger squeezed the messy-haired guitarist's own finger before you stepped around the wall of four musicians. Your name whispered behind you as you stepped up to the Warrior Nuns in front of you. The room filled with tension.

"Lilith, unlike you and the other Nuns, I didn't choose this life. Neither did Ava. We both got handed a really shitty hand of cards that ultimately placed us in the path of the Order." Your hands reached out to grasp the older girl's hands.

Luke sent a look to his bandmates with a sick feeling sinking in his stomach as he anticipated your decision to leave. It physically ailed him as if it hadn't hit him before that this world wasn't the one you were from. Why wouldn't you want to get back to your own world with your family?

"-But you can't come back." Is the words Ava spoke that had Luke coming back to the present. A certain light feeling took over him.

"Not yet, at least." You murmured with a bittersweet smile placed on your pretty features. Despite ignoring it, Lilith and Ava had already known from the moment they saw your interactions with the band what the outcome would be.

This was your home. At least for now. Lilith couldn't blame you, not after what happened, and that was okay. It was safer with you here until they could figure out a plan about the havoc in their own world.

"If you want, you can stay here for the night." Julie offered with a small smile, "That way, you can catch up properly. My dad would be cool with the guys bunking in the basement."

After the Orpheum, the boys had developed the capability to be seen when they wanted, and Ray was informed of certain parts. Ray knew much about them, but he wasn't privy to the tidbit that the guys were dead.

"We have to head back. You're completely sure you don't want to come with us? Things may go bad, and we won't be able to get you back. You'll be stuck." Lilith warned you with a faint smile upturning the corners of her lips.

"I'm not stuck. I think this is where I was always supposed to be, even if it's only temporary. In this life or the next."

"In this life or the next." Ava and Lilith echoed back before they opened the portal to your former world. The portal closed behind them, leaving you with a bittersweet feeling in your very soul.

A single tear trailed down the apple of your cheek as the life you once had closed, and who knew it you could return to that chapter. Calloused fingers brushed the tears off your cheeks before a pair of lips lingered on your forehead.

"You good?" Luke murmured against the warmth of your head. His heart ached for you because while his parents didn't know he was dead, he had the opportunity to visit them.

"I will be." You whispered, tiptoeing to press your lips against his soft pink lips. Luke sharply inhaled at the action before he melted into it.

Yeah, you would be okay.

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years ago

Text

five golden rings -> five silver rings | m. rantanen

a/n: an hour later in all the rest so far, but here’s fic number five in my 12 days of christmas series! rest of the series linked here.

word count: 2,470

warnings: mentions of alcohol

You took a deep breath and smoothed out your dress before adjusting your hair one last time, deciding after all this time it was best to settle for that one pesky curl being out of place so you could get going. You grabbed your earrings off the dresser, a gift from Mikko, and headed to the living room where he was waiting for you. His suit jacket was tossed onto the couch next to him, his eyes trained on his phone. In the faint light of just the Christmas tree, illuminating his jawline his free hand came up to scratch, his blonde curls outlined by the light, he looked every bit as angelic as you thought he looked the day you met him, and every bit as angelic as he proved to be since that moment, worthy of the top of your grandmother’s Christmas tree. He had to settle for her mantle next to it though.

“Ready!” was how you announced your presence to him.

Mikko lifted his head from his phone as a lazy smile pulled slowly at his lips. His light eyes danced up and down your body appreciatively in a way that told you the dress was worth its uncomfortableness. You smiled and your cheeks heated under his gaze, but he just heightened it by letting out a low whistle.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he spoke through his smile.

“Christmas isn’t for two more days,” you reminded him as you grabbed your coat from the closet, attention away from him for a moment.

“Well then.” Mikko’s voice was suddenly in your ear and you gasped as you felt his large hands slide around your waist from behind. You hadn’t even heard him get up. “I guess Christmas came early for me then.”

You slid a hand down his forearm until your hand covered his. You slid your fingers into the gaps between his, lacing your hands together. He squeezed your fingers between his and pressed his hand against your stomach to push you firmly against him. A kiss to your neck followed by another and you knew you had to be the one to put your foot down and stop this so you could actually make it to the party sort of close to on time.

“Mik, you can do this later,” you mumbled out as he kissed your neck.

“Is it a crime that I want my fiancée?” he muttered out against your skin. “Especially when you’re wearing this dress…”

He trailed off and you were slowly getting pulled into the warmth that was Mikko Rantanen, but you had to stop this for now. Mikko needed to make it to this party seeing as it was for him. Well, him and the rest of his teammates, but your vested interest was in your fiancé. You pulled his hand away from you and stepped forward toward the closet, wrapping your hand around your coat again. Mikko groaned, but reached for his coat hung up next to yours instead of trying to pull you back in. He knew you were right, even though he didn’t want you to be.

You flicked off the Christmas tree before following Mikko out the door, hand in one of his large ones. He held your hand as he drove, a habit he picked up early in your relationship neither of you wanted him to shake. Especially after the ring Mikko agonized over made its way into your hand, he never let it go in the car. He frequently pressed soft kisses on the back of your hand periodically at stop lights. Under the streetlights decorated with wreaths lining the street of Denver, like under the lights on the Christmas tree earlier, you were looking at him and were reminded just how much you loved every part of him, every single thing he brought to your life. The holidays made a lot of people sentimental, you included, and there wasn’t anyone who deserved your sentiment more than Mikko.

With his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the party, it didn’t feel as overwhelming as it was. The Avalanche Christmas party, not the ugly sweater drunken Christmas-fest that occurred at the Landeskogs, but the formal one that required a dress this nice that you could barely breathe in and heels as high as you could manage. It was all heightened this year by the silver cup on the table at the center of the room, visible from every angle. With the season shifted back this year, you had watched Mikko hoist the cup in October, shifting everything back and causing events and timelines to converge. The decision to give the team their championship rings at the Christmas party this year gave the whole event a little more fanfare and a little more weight.

Mikko grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter’s tray and handed one to you with a wry smile, his dimples showing alongside that beautiful smile you loved so much. You tapped your glass to his before raising it up to him, the first of many silent toasts for the evening to celebrate his greatest accomplishment to date. The cup in the center of the room took you back through the times it starred in your memories. You looked at the Cup, shining under the lights, and remembered the way Mikko looked at you on the ice as the realization that his childhood dream was a reality hit him. You remembered the moment you watched him hoist it over his head like it weighed nothing, when from your own experience trying to lift it in his parent’s backyard in Finland, you knew it wasn’t all that light. The look of joy on his face, the brightness in his eyes, every single time he saw the Cup and knew he had won it, that his name was engraved on it, the feelings that expression on his face gave you reminded you of a lot of things. The warmth of a steady burning fireplace, the innocent untampered with joy of a child on Christmas morning, but most of all, it brought back the memory of Christmas two years ago, when he had the same look on his face, the look of a dream coming true, when you told him that you loved him too.

“Ready to mingle?” Mikko asked you, stealing your now empty champagne flute from you to place it on a tray passing by. “You know they all just want to talk to you instead.”

Coaches, executives, owners, and what felt like endless people with endlessly similar yet different job titles later, your feet were killing you and you’d had a few more flutes of passing champagne that you were definitely feeling. Mikko dropped down into his seat next to yours and you sighed with relief when you realized he’d grabbed two drinks on his way to the table.

“My savior,” you smiled at him as he leaned in closer to you. You stole a quick kiss before adding, “Did it hurt when you crash landed in Santa’s sleigh? Because you’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Did you just make a terrible Christmas themed, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven,’ joke?” Mikko was laughing as you nodded in response. “God, I can’t wait to marry you.”

You both turned your attention to the stage. One of the people you’d shaken hands with and turned on your most charming smile for was up there giving another congratulations speech. You were sure it was supposed to reflect the hard fought sixteen wins the team put in for the Cup and all the hours before and in between those, but you’d heard so many of these speeches since the team won that glaringly shiny cup in the center of the stage now that they all blended together, even as they were happening. The garland in the background and Mikko’s fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder were the only two things that made the speech stand out from all the others. You still gave it a standing ovation, like everyone else around you did.

Two more speeches later, and a veritable army of people suddenly emerged from doors you hadn’t realized were there with stacks of black boxes in their hands. Mikko rubbed his hands together excitedly. You knew he’d never wear it, but it would be an understatement to say he was excited to see his championship ring after months of waiting. As soon as the box was placed in front of him, Mikko’s hands were dancing on it, dying to open it and see its contents, but he was waiting for his teammates spread around the room to receive theirs as well. Everyone had been waiting for this moment and he wasn’t about to be the one to spoil it. Still, he looked like a child who had just had a present placed in front of them that was so uniquely shaped it could only be the one thing they most desperately wanted who was then told to wait for everyone else to get their presents too.

Mikko flipped open the top of the box as fast as humanly possible when he finally could. You could practically see the glint of the ring in his eyes as he reached forward with shaking hands to pick it up. He whistled long and low as he appraised it in his hand, turning it over and over slowly to see it from every possible angle. He shook his head softly, a youthful smile pulling at his lips. The championship ring was always a small part of the dream, the most material part, but also one of the more physical representations of it he would get to keep with him forever. It was a moment, winning the cup, that might not come again, no matter how hard he worked and your fiancé worked harder than anyone you knew. Because of that, you filmed him opening the box and sliding his hard earned championship ring on for the first time, wanting to give him every single opportunity to savor this moment over and over again.

“Baby, look!”

Mikko’s mouth was pulled into a wide open smile, absolute elation on his face, the monstrously large ring on his finger. You laughed as you filmed his reaction, his wide-eyed, wide-mouth joy burned into your phone memory forever. You couldn’t help but ruin the moment for just a second to lean forward and kiss him. Mikko didn’t hesitate for a second before kissing you back.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered softly to him, making him smile impossibly wider than he had been all night.

“Thank you,” he replied just as softly. “That reminds me. I have something for you actually.”

You groaned as Mikko leaned back into his chair and fished around in his suit jacket pocket for a moment. He pulled out a small black box, thin and long like it contained a bracelet, but slightly wider than that. Mikko had a penchant for getting you far too expensive jewelry, a habit he picked up early on your relationship that culminated in the ring on your left hand you hadn’t even wanted to venture the cost of when he slid it onto your finger. You didn’t think this Christmas would be any exception, even though your ring had come this year already. You knew Mikko better than to think this Christmas would be any different, except he was two days early.

“You’re early, Mik,” you sighed, tossing your napkin onto the table.

“Fits better with today,” he told you as he extended the box out to you.

You placed it on the table and gave him a small glare out of the side of your eyes, which only made him laugh. You opened it slowly, as painstakingly slowly as you could, just to make him suffer a little before getting your reaction since he cracked and was giving you a gift two days early. When you finally had it fully open, you gasped softly at the contents. Five silver rings sat nestled in the velvet, of various sizes and thickness, all beautifully polished and shining.

“I know you like those sets, with smaller rings that go like, on the top of your fingers and the bigger ones that go where your rings normally sit?” Mikko was pointing to his own hand to try and show you. “I thought um, five silver rings on the Stanley Cup, five silver rings for you? It didn’t feel right to get a ring myself and not get you one, since you’re my biggest supporter.”

It was a little cliché and you knew it, but your eyes teared up a little anyway. You let your fingers dance over the rings slowly, tapping over the one with the smallest diameter first and working your way up. You knew they were completely custom, and platinum not silver like Mikko was trying to make you believe for the sake of his homage to the Cup, which wasn’t even entirely silver itself to begin with. When your fingers reached over the biggest and widest ring, Mikko cleared his throat.

“There’s, um, you should take a good look at that one.”

Which was your cue to slide it from the box and look for an engraving on the idea. You ran the tip of your finger over the letters before your eyes became too cloudy to see them clearly anymore. It was just one word. Kiitos, in his native tongue. Thank you. That’s all he’d engraved inside, but it meant the absolute world to you. You saw Mikko as a part of all of your successes, your highest highs made possible and sweeter because of him and his steadfast love and support. You were holding evidence he saw you as part of his greatest success too.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he told you softly, “and thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Everything was vague, yet all encompassing as a word. All encompassing because Mikko meant it so. He was thankful for you, saying yes when he got down on one knee earlier that year. He was thankful for your support. He was thankful for your love. But most of all, he was just thankful by some miracle that felt a lot like Christmas itself, you picked him back and were working on vows just like he was to say that you would pick him for forever. By this time next year, he would have heard those vows and you would have heard his. But Mikko didn’t want to skip ahead. He chose to live in the now, in that night with you, cherishing the Christmas that was to come in two days, while looking forward to his lifetime of them with you.

#mikko rantanen #mikko rantanen fanfic #mikko rantanen writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine

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laurieteddy · 5 years ago

Text

good company | amy march

description: where amy shares her true feelings and

request: “Could you write a Amy March x fem reader ? Maybe something like reader is a model for Amy’s painting classes and Amy falls in love while painting her and so she pursues the reader?”

warnings: light angst in one part, and mentions of homophobia bc of the time period

word count: ~3,650

a/n: so, so, so sorry this tool me so long!! requests just always seem to... i hope you like it! also, the painting classes part was sort of small, sorry!!

---

This wasn’t what Amy had expected when she thought of what would happen in her art classes. Of course she knew she would be painting live models, that much was obvious, but she hadn’t even imagined that she would fall for any of them. The models were there to do their job, and the artists were there to paint them. It was as simple as that, or was supposed to be.

When you came in, though, it changed things.

It wasn’t as if it was like “love at first sight” which a younger version of Amy would’ve believed in more. Though, as time passed she seemed to only admire you more and more. You held yourself so delicately yet seemed so carefree when talking to others before a session began. She had observed you closely from the first day she met you, which could be shrugged off in the beginning because you were the subject she was painting, of course she was observing you.

Amy shook it off as long as she could, it was completely new to her. Sure, she had feelings for Laurie at a younger age, a lot of people tend to have a crush at some point in their lives. But you were a woman, this changed everything. She told herself she was infatuated because you were the model, you were of her interest because you were the subject she had to focus on. But it felt like more than that. It felt, to her, similar to the feelings she had toward Laurie those few years ago.

The two of you had spoken quite a few times, before and after classes and sometimes during breaks if there were any. You had noticed her gaze always seemed to be following you, which you would tease her about on occasion. Amy always seemed to have a smile accompanied with a blush when she talked to you, she couldn’t help it. In times where you might poke fun at her you would earn a deeper shade of red from her cheeks.

She was glad to be able to talk to you. You reminded her of home in ways, being so carefree but at the same time you were careful to pay mind to your surroundings. You would both tell each other stories of your homes and families, your hopes and dreams even if they were silly, you would talk about anything just to have a conversation. Conversations you shared never seemed to be dry, even if you were only talking about the weather, because it was just nice to be talking to each other.

You were glad to have met Amy, finding yourself naturally drawn to her. It became a nearly daily routine to spend at least an hour of your time with one another, finding company outside of classes too now. You were more familiar with the area and so Amy took advantage of this to have you show her around. On top of that, while she fit in with most crowds just fine, she preferred your company over most other’s there, especially Aunt March.

“How’ve you never had a pickled lime?!” Amy laughed as she looked at you with furrowed brows.

“I’m not sure,” you shrugged. “I guess they just aren’t as popular where I’m from.”

“They should be,” she grinned. “You know, I actually got in trouble at school for having them. That was my last day of school there, it was a dreadful place from the start.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, it didn’t sound in character for Amy to get into trouble for something so foolish. Then again, you didn’t know her at that age. Her aunt certainly seemed to think she had drastically changed though. And if you looked close you could see a more “rebellious” side of Amy. For the most part she tried her best to be proper, still allowing herself to relax though but doing so less and less it seemed.

“Why would you even get in trouble for simply having them with you?” You connected your arm with her’s as you walked through a garden.

“Well, we would trade them and the teacher decided to put an end to it, it did nothing though. I was in debt so my sister gave me money and I was able to buy enough to repay people.” She sheepishly said, “I brought a whole bundle to school but I was too obvious with them.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you, Amy March, actually broke rules and got into trouble at school?”

“I’m not trying, I am telling you,” she laughed. “It wasn’t worth the cost though. I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Ah, there we go. That sounds more like you,” you grinned and leaned against her arm.

She smiled, shaking her head at your response. Then she realized, she had grown quite a bit in what seemed like no time at all. Or, at least, she had matured plenty. It was weird to actually consider how much had changed. It made her wonder, had you changed from childhood or were you always so outspoken?

“What about you?” She glanced over, “Tell me a story from your childhood?”

You paused to think, deciding on what story you should tell her. When you thought about it most of the stories seemed to be about the same. While Amy seemed to be more outgoing in school and through childhood, you seemed more reserved. Now, though, your personalities seemed to, in small ways, flip and become the opposite of what they were.

“I didn’t talk to many kids at school,” you began, “I had one close friend, who I haven’t talked to since then. I didn’t have the same interests as the other students seemed to have, didn’t hurt me any though.”

“Well, you do seem to have found a fairly large and worthy friend group now.” Amy locked arms with you.

“I wouldn’t say large, but I thoroughly enjoy their company. I’ve found more people to relate to in my adulthood than I ever did through school.” You raised your brows, “Now, that isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy at least parts of my childhood.”

“Oh?” She questioned, “Would you share more, then?”

You smiled at her, nodding gently before telling her about another bit of your childhood. Amy listened closely, nodding every once and awhile to assure you that you had her attention. You didn’t talk about your past much, and she was always curious to learn more about you.

For hours you walked together, eventually stopping to sit on a bench by a pond. Amy was still asking you questions about yourself and would occasionally share some stories of her own. While you had been doing this for days now, talking hours on end with one another, neither of you were growing tired of it. If anything, you both couldn’t wait for the next time you would get to chat.

Recently you were finding yourselves at a lack of time spent together. Amy was talking to a man, one that was sure to propose to her soon. He could offer her money, a well enough life, just material things that Amy recalled dreaming of having when she was younger. But, she didn’t find herself too interested in him. While he was easy enough to get along with, it wasn’t exactly all she was looking for in a relationship. Then again, that wasn’t really the point of marrying him, as Aunt March would remind her.

“Won’t we talk tomorrow?” You asked, already knowing her answer.

“You know I’ll do everything I can to make the time.” She smiled sadly, “I have plans with Mr. Vaughn tomorrow.”

You could feel your heart clenching, a pain you were growing used to. Fred Vaughn, of course. Never would you dare to say anything against him, he wasn’t a bad man and you knew Amy was only doing what she must. Still, it would be a lie to say it didn’t sting a bit when she had to leave you for him. Maybe the fact that he was a good man only made it worse too. There was no real reason to have anything against, that’s what all of your friends had said.

“Don’t worry yourself too much over it,” you smiled, “we always find the time eventually. Mr. Vaughn makes good company as well, I think you’ll find yourself losing track of time with him.”

“Hmm, I disagree.” She continued walking slowly, “While Fred is good company, my mind doesn’t seem to stay focused on him even if it’s only the two of us. He is a very nice man, but…”

Amy wasn’t really sure what she was about to say. It was all true, she did find Fred to be a kind man and good company, but there was still something that Amy didn’t quite mind about having to spend time with him. She figured at first it was just the idea of actually becoming a married woman, losing all that was hers really. And, yes, that was still a part of it but there was more that she couldn’t place. Or, well… she didn’t want to think about it.

“What is it?” You reached for her hand, gently pulling her to a stop.

She didn’t turn to face you, she wasn’t sure that she could. There were too many thoughts to gather, too many words to say. Where to begin? And where would it end?

“Sometimes I just wonder if I actually like Fred or if I just like the convenience of him,” she admitted. “Like I said, he is a very nice man but I don’t know that I can see him in the way Aunt March wants me to.”

“What do you mean?” You already knew, and you knew there would come a time when this would happen, when you might lose her.

“We’re expecting him to propose.” She looked at you, “And Aunt March expects me to say yes.”

You tilted your head, “Will you?”

Amy gently pulled her hand from your grip, looking to the ground. She didn’t know her answer to that. She didn’t want to say yes, not really. It was giving her life away, but at the same time it was a promise of a, at the very least, decent marriage. Fred made good company, but he wasn’t who Amy pictured spending her life with.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Your tone was a bit sour, you were hurt by the idea that she may say yes.

“I just don’t know.” She took a deep breath, “I don’t know that marrying him is what I want to do but I need it’s… It is just what I need to do.”

“What you ‘need’ to do?” you scoffed. “Amy, if you don’t want to be with him then it isn’t what you ‘need’ to do.”

“It is though. For my family, for my future. And if I ever wish to have children it would be good support for them.” She took a step away from you, looking over the horizon. “I may not think it wise to marry him today but I can’t think about just today, y/n.”

You weren’t sure why there was this anger growing in you, if it even was anger. You supposed it was because, as you had thought before, you didn’t want to lose her. Marrying Fred Vaughn would mean she would have to go. She would lose everything that made her life her own, now and in her future. To you, it didn’t seem worth the cost. Amy seemed so happy where she was.

“Life isn’t just about money, Amy. It’s about happiness, what brings you joy. And a life with Fred Vaughn? What else can he offer but money?” You moved in front of her, a pleading look in your eyes.

“Stability. Help for Beth. A promise that I have at least some sort of good future.”

“You keep saying that, “good future”. What do you mean by that? What is a good future to you?” Part of you knew you were likely overstepping but you were so frustrated, and you truly didn’t want Amy doing something she didn’t want to do.

“I mean,” she paused to think for a moment. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you, why do you even care so much?”

Another stinging went through you. How could she ask that? Wasn’t it clear how much she meant to you?

“I don’t know,” you snapped.

Amy was taken aback, that wasn’t what she thought you’d say. She was expecting a list of reasons, a speech about how marrying Vaughn was the wrong choice. She thought you’d be ready to fight back. It wasn’t that she wanted to fight, she wasn’t even sure how it built up to where it was. You were both just becoming more and more defensive.

You both stood in silence for a few moments, taking in all of your new thoughts and uprising feelings. You knew it wasn’t so simple for her to just decide not to marry Vaughn. Amy had a lot to consider on the matter, too much for your or her liking. There was just this piece of you that wanted to be selfish though, to hold Amy close by your side and keep her for yourself. But you… you had nothing of “value” to your name. No money, no land, no name to pass along. No name to pass along. That was, you couldn’t marry. It was an entirely different topic on its own.

Two women marrying? It wasn’t something people would even talk of, let alone something that could happen in the time. Even being together, in any form, was frowned on by most.

This was likely, whether she realized it or not, Amy was pushing back the idea of having even the slightest feelings for you. Her family wouldn’t care, at least her sisters and parents wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure what Aunt March would think, though she didn’t know what that mattered to her either. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about what all of those around her would think, it was an overwhelming thing for her. Amy saw herself as a people pleaser, though when she was younger it may have not always seemed that way.

Nothing about it was easy.

“I don’t have the luxury of being so carefree,” she began. “I know, too, that it isn’t always a luxury for you. I recognize your past was complicated but…” she took a breath in, “that doesn’t make mine any less so either.”

“I know,” you whispered, “I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to attack you like that.”

She nodded meekly, unsure of where to go from here. Now was the perfect opportunity to talk through everything running wild in her head, she wondered if you could offer some answers. Was it worth the risk of her potentially becoming so vulnerable? She would find out.

“Do you remember the first day you came in to model for my class?” Amy smiled at the memory, and out of relief for a change in subject.

“Of course,” you chuckled awkwardly. “You seemed so nervous, more than many of the others.”

Her cheeks tinted red. As she ducked to hide it she let out a soft titter, “I was. The class was so intimidating in the start on its own, and then you walked in.”

You frowned a bit, worried the story might turn negative given your previous conversation. Amy noticed, being quick to reassure you with a gentle smile and her hand landing on your own.

“You walked in, laughing, letting your scarf flow behind you. Your overcoat was the complete opposite from your outfit, I remember scolding a few people for being quick to judge you on such a trivial thing. Your hair was wild, like now,” she smiled as she brushed a tuft of your hair behind your ear.

You were blushing now. “So we’re talking about how messy I appear?” you joked.

Her brows furrowed, “Not at all. I mean all of that to say… I couldn’t believe how effortlessly beautiful you were when you walked in.”

Both of you could feel your hearts pattering against your chests. For you, you thought you might be over analyzing again, if you ever had in the start that was. For Amy, she was shocked she actually worked herself up to say that. While it was simple enough, and no doubt something one could say to a friend, it was coming out in this brand new context.

“When you came up to me after class, and you complimented my work.” She laughed, “I was at a complete loss for words. I remember being so nervous when you came up to me, I didn’t know what to say but you were so sweet. You asked me some questions, and I did my best to answer while trying to hide how… hypnotized I was. I kept thinking to myself that you would notice, that I would scare you away when you did.”

You weren’t sure what to say, you still couldn’t quite tell where the conversation was going, you were avoiding saying something you may later wish you kept private. There was also still this fear that you could be interpreting it wrong, though as she went on it seemed less and less likely that that was the case.

“I don’t want to marry Fred Vaughn,” Amy frowned and faced away.

Her fingers were lightly tracing circles over the back of your hand, something she often found herself doing to her own hands when nervous. She didn’t exactly expect any response from you, but the silence was eating away at her as each second passed without you speaking up. Where to begin?

“So don’t.” You held her hand still between both of yours.

It wasn’t so hostile this time, you were calm. Your tone sounded to be more suggesting rather than demanding. Amy was more willing to hear, both of you were.

“Fred is a lovely man, perfect company… but if that isn’t who you want to marry, don’t.” You released her hand, “Status fails to matter when you find yourself at a lack of joy.”

“I’ve heard that a few times from my mother.” You often reminded Amy of home. “Meg too, and it seems to have proven itself to be true in her case. They haven’t much, but they do seem so happy with each other.”

What Amy was trying to say was so much more than what she was getting out. She hoped you might expand, understanding you were likely nervous too. A few more moments of silence seemed to last for hours, though it was more like a minute. Talking about it was hard, not as hard as she had initially believed but it was still difficult.

“What if-- just, what if I don’t want to marry Fred because...because I don’t want to lose you?” Maybe it would be easier to be more straightforward.

“Lose me? Amy, you could never,” you moved closer to her.

“No, I know. I know that we will always have our friendship, our memories and so on. But, what if I’m afraid of losing all of it? Our long walks, never ending talks. What if you understand me better than anyone… and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose the feeling of holding you close,” her fingers intertwined with yours. “I don’t want the butterflies in my stomach when you greet me again to leave me. I don’t want to give up our spontaneous picnics or races. I want to hold it all close to me, I want to keep you close to my heart.”

“Amy,” you couldn’t help but smile, “I mean, what about everything you had said earlier?”

“Those words were spoken out of fear, y/n. I… I’ve been afraid to say any of this to you. I thought you might run the other way, and I was terrified of what would be said had anyone found out but… I don’t care. Someone will always have something to say about me, right?”

You were thrilled to hear all of this, but at the same time there was a bit of conflict. Amy didn’t tend to be so spontaneous, you wanted to be sure she meant everything she was saying before letting yourself react too much. It didn’t feel real, how could it?

She talked about the day you met so lovingly, and she seemed so smitten when describing you that day. It was almost like sitting back, listening as she talked about someone you had never met. It just seemed like true admiration so it was hard for you to imagine she was talking about you, not some stranger.

“I’ve wanted to say something similar to you for some time,” you finally admitted. “I thought it was a lost hope, seeing how we all thought you’d be marrying Vaughn.”

“Ugh, enough about Vaughn, don’t you think?” She groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically with a grin on her lips.

“Absolutely,” you smiled and joked, “who knew I’d be stealing you away from him.”

“I did, the day I met you.”

You laughed as you both continued your walk. It was getting late, neither of you had minded. You spent hours more talking, about things you had been burying for too long and about how things would be changing. It was getting easier to talk about, and you’d catch yourselves tossing in random jokes from time to time to keep the atmosphere cool.

Aunt March wouldn’t be happy to hear the news, Amy didn’t care any longer though. Really, it was the last thing on her mind then. She was happy to just be walking with you.

#amy march x reader #amy x reader #little women fic #amy march x fem!reader #amy march fic #amy march x you #amy march x y/n #requested #good company

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slashermom · 5 years ago

Note

I love the childhood friend HC's big-time! Amazing! Perfect! Maybe you could do one for Bo too? Possibly with someone he met during his foster kid years(who wasn't a foster kid themselves)and they eventually find Ambrose with the hope of finding something?

Bo was born with a chip on his shoulder and stiff upper lip which only intensified as he got older and eventually went into the system.

He wasn’t there to make friends and made it clear he didn’t need anyone to take care of him.

His ‘me against the world’ attitude made it very difficult for him to keep a foster home for any period of time.

But on his third or fourth go-around, he found himself in a neglectful but nice enough home.

The folks there didn’t really care about what Bo did or where Bo went, which was like hitting a pot of gold for the young boy.

Which is how you two ended up meeting.

You lived across the street and you two would often see each other as you were going about your day.

You saw Bo frequently and you didn’t think you had seen him smile once. Always had his hands in pockets and a 1000 yard stare.

Maybe he wants a friend? That must be it! He’s just lonely. You had never seen him hang around with any of the other kids in the neighborhood either. If he did, it was to start a fight or chase some poor girl around.

You ended up being very wrong. He, in fact, did not want a friend.

When you tried to approach him he told you to: ‘Fuck off and let him smoke a cigarette in peace.’

What an asshole.

But you weren’t gonna quit that easy.

Maybe you could win his friendship? Come to think about it, he often had a bent cigarette hanging out of his mouth; and your folks often left cartons of cigarettes laying around and wouldn’t miss one or two.

So you waited for the right moment when your folks were out and about and snagged some cigarettes off the coffee table. You waited till you saw Bo descend the front steps of his house before exiting your own.

You quickly caught up with the ball of anger that is Bo Sinclair and tried your best to match the long strides. He did his best to ignore you as you dug into your front pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes and held it out to him.

He stopped walking and turned to you with furrowed eyebrows.

Were you trying to bribe him into doing something sketchy? Maybe you had a little crush? No, that can’t be right. You were definitely trying to poison him somehow. Bo was genuinely convinced you might’ve somehow rigged the tobacco filled stick to blow up in his face once he brought a flame to it.

But you just shrugged your shoulders and said you just wanted to do something nice.

Something nice, huh?

Nice things were few and far between and Bo decided to take it in stride, even if he was apprehensive.

You took his grumble as a sign of appreciation and only mild annoyance and began to follow him around.

At first, Bo was irritated with you hanging around him. Just because you gave him some cigarettes and he didn’t give you hell immediately didn’t mean you were friends.

But soon enough, he came to accept your presence. You evolved from an annoyance to a part of his routine.

He would wait outside your house with the most disinterested look but secretly he was excited to see what you had in mind for the day.

You quickly realized that Bo liked to look for trouble. He hated sitting still. So you began to try and steer him away from the groups of older boys that needed an ass-kicking or the nice Pontiac that was begging to be taken for a joy ride.

You knew Bo did that stuff for attention, so you just devoted your free time to distracting him.

Bringing him down to the creek or racing him on bikes through the town. Letting him rant about anything that was bothering him and laughing at the way he described the people that bothered him. (Bo gets very creative when it comes to name-calling.)

You even once brought him over for dinner and he was so well behaved that your family thought he was the best thing since sliced bread.

Always saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, calling your folks ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’.

You were happy he was behaving, but it was almost infuriating how fast he could flip the switch from asshole to angel.

You: You're such a kiss ass!

Bo: Only when a meal is involved.

He often talked about his home town Ambrose in his more docile moments.

Not really the people or his family, although he did mention a couple of brothers every now and again.

But more about every nook and cranny. All the places that made him happy or had a good memory attached.

He would vocalize his fantasies about what he would do when he got back. A look of longing with sparks of rage flashing in those blue eyes you had grown familiar with and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

You wondered if that’s where he got the scars on his wrists. You hadn’t noticed them at first, but as you got closer you often caught yourself staring at them. You knew he would never outright tell you what happened.

Your money was on his birth parents.

“You could come with me, y’know? I’ll show you around and maybe you can help me clean up that shithole.”

He only made side eye contact. He didn’t want you to know he actually cared.

“I’d like that a lot, Bo.”

Not long after that discussion, Bo lost his temper on his foster family and found himself getting ready to be placed back into the system for god knows how long this time.

There was no formal goodbye between you two before the Sinclair boy was off to terrorize another foster home.

You were angry at Bo for a long time. Thinking he didn’t even care enough about you to at least see you before he left. It wouldn’t surprise you. But you believed Bo was better than that.

You learned he wasn’t given the option to say goodbye. The system workers already knew Bo’s temperament and were way past giving him any leeway.

But boy, did he fight to stay.

Everything in his whole life had been decided for him and taken from him. Then when he finally gets something good - something that’s his - that’s taken too.

It would be a little more than a decade before you set off to find your childhood friend. Wondering if Bo Sinclair had found his way back home, you decided to try and find his home town.

But that proved to be little more than a challenge. You had seen the signs talking about the House of Wax Bo had described a few times but not like they gave clear directions.

You ended up stopping at a diner to see if any of the staff knew about where you could find this town but nobody really had a clue. Fortunately enough for you, a scruffy looking man leaning against the counter overheard.

“You talkin’ about Ambrose? I could take you there.”

You conversed with the man for a bit, telling him he didn’t have to go out of his way to take you there. He promised he didn’t mind at all and you let the man escort you. He did give you some weird vibes but he seemed harmless enough and you needed to find this town.

He made small talk while you drove down the dirt road. You admitted you were looking for an old friend of yours by the name of Bo Sinclair. The man piped up at the mention of the name and gave you a toothy smile.

“Bo havin’ friends? Now that’s something you don’t see every day! Especially pretty ones.”

You laughed and nodded. The way he talked about Bo with such familiarity, you wondered how they knew each other.

He brought you through the washed-out road and into what you assumed was Ambrose.

It was just as Bo described it. From the service station to the apartments.

Your chest got tighter as he drove deeper into the town before stopping in front of what looked like a movie theater where a man was on top of a rickety-looking latter.

The driver hopped out of his truck before hollering up at the man who was adjusting the sign.

“Bo! You got a visitor!”

You were quick to hop out of the vehicle and get closer to him. Eyeing the boy you used to know so well as he descended the shaking latter.

On the final step down, he removed a cap from his head and wiped the sweat from his hairline, getting ready to ask his brother what he was going on about before his eyes met you.

A beat passed as you both took in each other. You admired the strong young man he turned into with a smile and he was just as much in awe of who you turned out to be.

“You still need help cleaning up this shithole?”

Bo was quick to wrap his arms around your midsection and pull you up into him. He thought about you more than he cared to admit over the years. Wishing he still had you around to be his accomplice to all his shenanigans. He even missed your playful punches and slaps.

As he breathed in your perfume/cologne and felt your chest vibrate with laughter he began to think you returning to him was the universe’s way of saying sorry for screwing him over for the past couple of decades.

You were the first to pull away and take a small step back to get another look at him before perking up and reaching for your back pocket.

“I got you something.”

He raised his brows just like he would when he was a boy and watched as you pulled a package of favorite cigarettes out.

Even after all these years, you were still the same, and Bo was more than thankful for that.

#how yall doing today?#feeling funky?#feeling fresh?#bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005

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andipxndy-writes · 4 years ago

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holiday mishaps (part 1)

fandom: alex rider x ncis [crossover] warnings: mentions of blood, typical ncis stuff requested by: @lilcoffeecup word count: 4.6k

cross posted to ao3

summary: Alex Rider just wanted a relaxing holiday, somewhere where he could relax without any trouble cropping up. And with Jack and her family, he almost got that. ALMOST. And then he had to go and take a midnight walk. On the other hand... Ziva David swears she recognises the fair-haired witness to their murder case.

notes: this was a fun little prompt to get!! it was originally requested to @theneedlesslobsters, which i was pretty hyped about. this ended up being... a lot longer than i anticipated, though. aimed for 10k, ended up with 30k+. so i’ve split this into 5 parts as best as i could. apologies in advance for any typos throughout :P

holiday mishaps

When Alex had imagined himself going on holiday, this certainly hadn’t been his intended outcome.

Granted, it had been a while since he’d actually been on holiday, and most of the times he’d been on holiday in the past they’d been during the more peaceful times in his life, but just once he was asking for there not to be an eventful screw-up during the MI6-light period of his life so that he could actually relax. Just once.

Apparently, that was too much to ask for.

All he’d wanted to do was go to the mall with Jack, explore a little bit, maybe buy himself some souvenirs to take back home to his friends. The friends he had disappeared from for months before finally returning with his “dead” housekeeper to the home and the school system of his childhood. Of course, switching education systems had been a hell of a lot to deal with, but as an A-Level student now he didn’t find himself trying too hard to play catch-up. He’d even caught up to and surpassed Tom (not much of a feat but he’d take it), which had irritated his best friend to no end. He would have said it made his other friends laugh, but then he didn’t really have any other friends.

But anyway, he’d wanted to go to the mall with his best friend, and that had backfired spectacularly, so now he was paying for it. Not in the literal sense, which is what he’d been hoping to do with a few souvenirs and some new clothes, but more in the metaphorical sense. And he hated that, because there was this whole thing about the customer always being right and not having to pay for something that they were disappointed with or didn’t like and that logic was sorely lacking right then.

How had it backfired? Well, at that specific point in time, he was heading through the mall, weaving through the crowds in an attempt to get away from his pursuer… whoever they were. He hadn’t entered the mall with the pursuers, otherwise he would’ve turned around and gone straight home. They’d somehow latched onto him and recognised him whilst he was there. Whether it was from the case he’d accidentally got involved in, or from one of the many missions he’d done in the past, he didn’t quite know. All he knew was that they were chasing after him and were probably going to kill him if they actually caught up to him. Or rather, that was what he was assuming.

He just considered himself lucky that Jack wasn’t with him but had gone off somewhere else. Even though that meant he was alone, it also meant that she was safer than he was, and hopefully the pursuers had stuck to chasing him instead of her shock of red hair. He would be absolutely fine with that.

Moments later, he was crouched down behind a bench, hoping to whatever deities existed that no one found him or outed him to his chasers. Perhaps if he waited there long enough, they would leave the mall, and he could find Jack and walk out just fine, and maybe go home or to the Navy Yard or wherever he’d be safe. Maybe even one of Jack’s siblings lived close enough for him to head there afterwards and give her parents a break, make the situation less stressful for them. Then they wouldn’t have to explain anything to them too. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

It was as these thoughts were running through his mind that exactly what he didn’t want happened.

His phone rang.

***

It would probably be best to explain exactly how Alex ended up in that situation in the first place.

In the teen’s defence, he hadn’t intended to get into trouble in the first place. It had been his idea to take the holiday to the States, yes, but that had been partially because he’d missed out on the A-Level Politics trip to New York and partially because he knew Jack was missing her family. Plus, it had only seemed fair for her to actually see them before she decided to contact them asking if they could help her out finishing her Law degree — as much as Alex wanted to help her out with his own savings, she had refused to take any of it. Which he considered stupid but he wasn’t going to push her. Pushing Jack was a stupid idea in and of itself.

Anyway, the trip had started off really well. Even though Tom hadn’t been able to come with them, Alex really enjoyed it at the start. They went to New York first, for Alex to catch up on the school trip that he’d missed and see all the sights everyone else in his class had spoken about, and they ended up spending most of the time sightseeing and trying various restaurants they’d seen on The Food Network (which Jack had thoroughly researched before they’d travelled). It was different without all of his classmates, but the teen found himself enjoying it more with Jack than the gaggle of twenty-or-so other teens who would’ve been on the trip. Alex thought he would have been stuffed silly for the rest of his life from all of the restaurants they visited, but somehow he always had space for more. Jack, obviously, started calling him a bottomless pit.

After about a week and a half in New York, they’d travelled down to Virginia. That happened to be where Jack’s family lived, and after everything she’d been through the past couple of years Alex was both excited and nervous about meeting them. After all, he was pretty much the reason why she’d stayed in the UK and dropped out of her Law course. Of course, he was also the reason why she was going back to study again.

Apparently Jack came from a military family, and so they lived on the base there. Quantico, Alex believed it was called. He’d been (rightfully) nervous when he’d found this out, but then he actually met them and he realised there had been nothing to actually worry about. He hit it off pretty quickly with Jack’s brothers and nephews and had been more than pleased when Jack told him they were spending a couple of weeks there together, as a huge family. He got in some good bonding time with them, and he even added them on socials so that they could message each other whenever he wasn’t around. Honestly, though, he enjoyed playing video games with them a lot more than he would enjoy messaging them on socials.

It had been whilst he was staying with the Starbright family when everything started to go wrong. Of course, it had been after a solid week of staying with them before anything actually happened, but it was more the fact that something had happened that pissed him off. He couldn’t even take one holiday to visit his housekeeper’s family without something going wrong.

Damnit, MI6.

It had happened on a late night walk. He’d wanted something to snack on in his room (whilst checking messages and playing games on his phone instead of, you know, sleeping), and of course Jack’s parents hadn’t had what he was craving in the house. American snacks just didn’t tickle his fancy like food from home did, but they would have to do. But he wanted something stupidly salty and really unhealthy, not granola bars. Hence, a late night walk. To the nearest convenience store. Which wasn’t too far out, hopefully.

Jack hadn’t minded letting him go out alone as long as he took his phone, and her parents seemed to trust that he’d be safe on the military base, so he’d been fine going out alone. In fact, he was glad to be going out alone. Sure, he enjoyed the company of Jack’s family, but as a self-proclaimed introvert sometimes he just wanted to be alone to recharge. Being surrounded by so many people usually prevented that.

The trip to the store had been pretty quiet. He’d taken his headphones with him, sticking them into his ears and playing some music on his phone as he walked. It was an album that Tom had recommended to him, and he had to admit — his best friend knew his tastes really well. And the store wasn’t even that far away, just as he’d hoped; it was only a fifteen minute walk from the house. The fresh air was nice too, and it gave him the chance to stretch his legs without asking whether he could go out for a morning run and risking someone deciding to join him (read: self-proclaimed introvert). When he entered the store, he headed straight for the snack section, looking through the different options available.

He didn’t really want to buy just cheetos, but he wasn’t really feeling like just chocolate either. It took him a little while to decide on what to buy, but in the end he grabbed a pack of cheetos, a couple of packs of chocolate, and a box of Cheerios to just snack on in his room (he knew what he’d said about healthy snacks before, but Cheerios had light layers of sugar on the outside so they counted as snack-worthy). Jack would probably judge him for it, but at this point he didn’t really care.

The cashier didn’t even really question him, popping a bubble of gum as he paid for his items and took everything in a bag large enough for all he’d bought. He had been half tempted to throw in a couple of sodas as well to make it a full midnight-snacking stock up, but he knew Jack would probably flip out if she saw it.

So yeah, the whole heading to the store and buying things at the store part was perfectly fine. He hadn’t encountered any issues, no one coming after him or anything.

No, the issue started when he was on his way home.

See, on his way to the convenience store, there had been a couple of alleyways that he’d passed on his way over. He hadn’t felt any need to look down them with the directions he’d been given and the fact that he was a bit of a danger magnet, and he’d had his headphones in anyway. If there was anything going on, he was blissfully unaware.

On the way back, though, he only had one in. Which meant that he was still alert as he headed back, listening out for anyone who could be sneaking up on him to mug him or something of the sort. After all, he was carrying a bag of shopping home. Anyone could see him as a target then.

That was the only reason why he’d heard the yell coming from one of the alleyways he’d passed on his way down, and he paused for a moment before backtracking to the entrance of the alleyway.

The alley itself was very dimly lit, so it took Alex a few moments for his eyes to adjust from the more clearly lit main street. When his eyes finally did adjust to the darkness, what he saw made his heart plummet. And then it made his instinctive, protective side kick in — the side that he had somehow honed with his time at MI6.

His need to protect.

And that was how he ended up kneeling beside a body, hands pressed to a wound to stop the man from bleeding out as his groceries sat forgotten to the side. And whoever had attacked the man laying on the ground had fled, though not before Alex had landed a solid few kicks and punches on the guy so that he hobbled away injured. But then, with the actual attacker gone and him left with the blood of a dying naval officer on his hands, he was obviously the main suspect on what had gone from a homicide investigated by the police to a homicide investigated by NCIS.

As if he needed to get involved in a murder case on a Naval base on his holiday visiting his housekeeper’s military family.

***

Cases weren’t so abnormal to encounter first thing in the morning at NCIS. In fact, they tended to spice up the day automatically just by providing something interesting to do other than paperwork and, in Ziva’s case, enduring the constant chatter of her ridiculously chipper coworkers. By chipper, she meant chatting non-stop about anything and everything that came to mind. And by coworkers, she meant Tony DiNozzo. Him specifically.

She honestly didn’t understand how Tony had so much to talk about, and there were many days that she wished he had lost his voice or was suddenly rendered unable to talk. Unfortunately, the moment she’d walked into the office, she’d realised that that day was not going to be one of those days.

“Will he shut his mouth if I gag him?” she asked suddenly, looking towards McGee. The younger agent typed away at his keyboard, barely glancing up when he heard the question.

“No, he might actually like that,” he commented casually, which earned him a playful grimace from Ziva and a look from Tony.

“I’ll have you know, my bedroom tastes do not involve gagging,” Tony pointed out, “yet.” He almost smirked when he saw McGee’s face flush and Ziva gag again, before a glint appeared in her eyes. A glint that made Tony almost regret what he’d just said.

Almost.

“Perhaps your tastes involve other types of bondage?” she asked, almost sounding innocent.

Tony didn’t fall for it one bit.

Before he could respond to her, though, Gibbs marched into the bullpen and towards his desk, halting all conversation. After all, it wasn’t the sort of thing that they wanted to discuss in front of the man. It would have been… ridiculously awkward.

“Grab your gear! Dead Naval officer in Quantico.”

By this point, all three agents had learnt not to question how someone had died on a Naval base, or who exactly had thought it smart to kill someone on a Naval base when there were so many officers living in the vicinity. In fact, they barely said anything as they all grabbed their bags and headed straight for the elevator.

As the doors shut, though, Gibbs casually commented,

“You should see a doctor about those bruises on your wrists, Tony.”

Which, of course, made Ziva and McGee turn to Tony with wide eyes as the more senior agent stumbled over his words, trying to explain himself.

***

When they arrived at the scene, they were almost immediately allocated to different jobs: bagging and tagging, interviews, and crime scene photos. The scene itself seemed to be in an alleyway just off a main street, dumpsters from the buildings either side of the alley placed at varying points along it up until the chainlink fence at the end.

The scene itself, with the dead Naval officer, was about halfway down the alley. Which, at first glance, was a little confusing. Anyone who was running from an attacker would head straight for the chain-link fence and probably get there or get significantly closer before getting caught. Which Ziva didn’t hesitate to point out as she moved to take photos of the scene whilst Tony bagged and tagged evidence.

Tony simply raised an eyebrow at her as he bagged yet another piece of evidence. “You speaking from experience, Ziva?”

Ziva just blinked at him, confused for a moment. “You ask me as if you have none.”

“Experience in being chased or climbing fences?”

“Experience in being caught by your attacker at the fence.” The scowl she got from him only made her smirk, and she turned back to taking photos of the scene before he could come back with any sort of smart comment. If she wasn’t looking in his direction, it made it easier to zone him out and therefore easier for her to do her job. “Am I wrong, though?”

They both knew that she wasn’t wrong.

Before they could really continue their conversation, though (which was held a good way from Gibbs and Ducky so that they didn’t get overheard and told off for slacking), they were interrupted by someone approaching. All Gibbs had to do was send them a look and they’d zoom back off to work for fear of being so seriously told off, so they knew it wasn’t him when the approacher came with a significant lack of yelling or judgement.

In fact, they were just over halfway through their assessment of the scene when McGee had headed straight over, notepad in hand as he straightened his hat awkwardly. Like he was about to say something that the others — more specifically, Gibbs — wouldn’t quite like. He awkwardly met Ziva and Tony’s eyes before he started to speak.

“Uh, so our main suspect… well, the guy that was found at the scene when the officer was dying, he’s uh…”

“Quiet?” Ziva offered, at the same time Tony said, “Eclectic?”

McGee was clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Tony’s comment, and had opted to focus on Ziva for the rest of the conversation. Just so that he didn’t start yelling at the Senior Field Agent. “Yeah, in a way. Like, closed off. He wasn’t really answering the questions, refused medical treatment, and he has a guardian or something who’s come to try and get him to go home with her.”

That was when a frown suddenly appeared on Ziva’s face. Tony was the one who spoke, though.

“A guardian? What, is the guy a kid?”

When the only response was silence, it made Ziva more than a little worried. She’d got a brief glance of the suspect who had been at the scene as they’d approached the scene, and she hadn’t thought he was any younger than twenty. With the need of a guardian, though, that meant he had to be younger than eighteen.

Basically a child. Legally a child. Which meant that his guardian was most definitely allowed to be around during any sort of questioning and interrogation. Sometimes that was helpful, sometimes it was difficult. Very difficult.

And it seemed like McGee couldn’t tell which one it would be.

“Have you told Gibbs?” Ziva asked, glancing over McGee’s shoulder to try and take a look at the person he’d been interviewing. She could barely catch a glimpse, but what looked to be a fair-haired young man was sat on the back of an ambulance, trying to scrub what looked like blood off his hands. She didn’t know what the guardian looked like, but a redheaded woman was standing not too far from him, the only thing between them being a police officer seemingly mediating the whole situation.

McGee glanced over to where Gibbs seemed to be just finishing up with the body, leaving Ducky and Palmer to deal with the body and escort it back for the proper autopsy. “Not yet,” he answered, “though I guess I’m gonna tell him now.”

“I guess you gotta,” Tony responded sarcastically. Ziva nudged him with her foot, sending him a look. As soon as Gibbs approached the group, McGee turned to explain the situation to him, leaving Tony and Ziva to continue going through all of the evidence at the crime scene. They could only hope that the guardian was more reasonable than most guardians tended to be — cooperative and willing to let their ward actually talk.

***

When they finally got the kid to the conference room — because he still seemed more like a witness than a suspect, and because there was a guardian present who probably wouldn’t take too kindly to having their ward being questioned like they were a murderer — they found out that he was definitely a teen, probably around sixteen or so. He was also British, and on holiday to the States with his guardian to sightsee and visit her family. The guardian, on the other hand, was a lot more vocal about the situation than the teen was, almost ready to fight as soon as they’d stepped into the conference room. It had taken the interrogator, who happened to be Ziva at that moment, several minutes to convince her that the teen (who she had by that point had found out was called Alex) wasn’t actually in trouble but was just being asked about his opinion on what had happened. And even then, Alex had to nudge her a couple of times to make sure she didn’t just scream the room down.

When she eventually did calm down, Ziva got a pretty comprehensive understanding of the situation that made her realise that Alex wouldn’t have been in such a situation if someone had just gone with him to the store. Yes, he was capable of walking to a store by himself, but he was also on holiday in a foreign country, in a place that he wasn’t particularly familiar with. But, he was a teenager. Teenagers liked to do things by themselves. She certainly remembered doing things like that as a teen — or, at least, trying to do things like that before getting caught and told off.

She still didn’t quite understand how his guardian had so willingly let him roam the streets of a foreign country freely, but before she’d had the chance to ask such a question, the teen started looking very uncomfortable in what he was wearing. After all, he was still in what he’d worn the night before, and the front of his outfit was stained with blood that would definitely be very difficult to get out. Ziva decided it was alright for them both to go. If they needed any more information, they could call them back in for questioning.

In fact, Ziva made sure to point this out to them. Whilst Alex, the teen, had been seemingly okay with it, his guardian clearly had not. She had a feeling she knew exactly who would pick up if they called them back in for further questioning.

Ziva’s time focusing on her thoughts was cut short when Tony suddenly appeared beside her on her way back from the conference room. She didn’t doubt that he’d been listening in from the other side of the door for anything and everything that could be of interest to their case, as if she couldn’t do the job well enough herself.

“Well, that sounded like a fun conversation,” he commented, and she couldn’t quite read whether he was teasing her or just being sarcastic. She decided the first one seemed a more plausible conclusion and went with that, deciding that the best reaction would be to scowl at Tony before rolling her eyes at him. A usual response to him when he said things like that, and it wasn’t as if he was put off by her reaction if the smirk he gave her was any indication.

“Was the conversation not what you expected?” she challenged as they continued down the hall and exited into the general office area.

He gave a little shrug as they spotted the bullpen across the room, heading over to it. “I guess an interrogation— sorry, a conversation is what you expect of it, not me.”

Ziva glanced over at him as they reached the bullpen, moving towards her desk. It was when she’d sat down that she took the time to really scrutinise his face. “It was not what you expected,” she stated, knowing that was what he meant without even having to ask the question.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her as he sat on the edge of his desk. “Oh, so you’re coming to conclusions without even asking me my actual opinion now?”

Her nose scrunched up as she stood and leaned on her desk, pointing at his face, wiggling her pointer finger a little bit. “Your opinion is written all over your face.”

Tony barely hesitated before turning to McGee at his desk. “Is my opinion written all over my face?”

McGee didn’t even look before answering, “You’re as readable as an open book.”

Before Tony could argue, Gibbs was rounding the corner into the bullpen, causing the two bickering agents to quickly move to stand in front of the plasma whilst McGee remained at his desk, tapping away.

“What have we got?”

As pictures appeared on the screen, Ziva zoned out a little. The image of the teen had appeared alongside the image of the dead Naval Officer, Petty Officer Lewis, and Tony and McGee were rattling off details that they’d managed to find about him — his lifestyle, when he’d last worked, who he was married to, where he lived, where he was from, all of that sort of thing. The kind of thing that would explain if and when he could have found someone who wanted to kill him, that sort of thing. Ziva had already caught up on all of this before going into her conversation with the teen to figure out whether he was actually involved in what had happened to the officer or just an innocent passerby. From what he had told her, it seemed like he was more the latter.

She considered herself lucky that she managed to zone back in just as she was needed for information, and she snatched the clicker from Tony before zooming in on the teen.

“Our first and only suspect so far,” she started, “Alex Rider. Sixteen, British, lives in London with his guardian Jack Starbright.” A few more clicks, and a redheaded woman’s license appeared on the screen beside some of Alex’s extra details. “Alex is a regular school student, clean record, nothing out of the ordinary that would tip him off. Trained in the martial arts, but it seems like more of a hobby than anything.” Another click, and the image of Jack’s license zoomed in. “Jack is an American citizen, born in Virginia and raised on base. Her family are Navy, she has numerous brothers… nothing out of the ordinary with her either. It seems more like they stumbled on the situation out of…” She trailed off before she could finish that situation. She knew exactly what would be said about her observation.

“We don’t believe in coincidences,” Tony commented, glancing towards Gibbs as if he was looking for affirmation.

McGee raised an eyebrow at Tony. “I don’t know, Tony. This looks like a case of wrong place, wrong time to me.” And Ziva agreed wholly with that statement, she really did, even though there was the whole rule about there not being such a thing as coincidences. But she didn’t even need to look at Gibbs to know that he did not agree with that statement at all. He was probably staring at the screen with that usual steely look as he tried to come to a conclusion, trying to work out the case mentally and wait for his team to catch up.

“Question the family,” Gibbs suddenly suggested, moving to his desk to grab something. “Find out more about the kid, and find out more about the Petty Officer Lewis. His past and current contacts. Get more suspects. I need more information, and I want to know everything.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation and everyone mentally assigned themselves a task, before they all parted ways to do what they needed — leaving Tony and Ziva both grabbing their bags as they headed to the elevator, doing exactly as Gibbs asked them to do.

After all, who else would question the family?

#writing: mine #written for: lilcoffeecup #writing: fanfic writings #fandom: ncis #ncis #ncis fanfiction #fandom: alex rider #alex rider #alex rider fanfiction #multichap: holiday mishaps

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cupcakemolotov · 5 years ago

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With You

Here is a bit of fluff to follow The Way Back. You can read the whole story on that link, but here is the newest bits. Fluffy. Has some mentions of past torture. People being naked in bed together, but no real smut. Probably NSFW as a precaution. Thank you to @goldcaught for looking it over. :)

The early afternoon sunshine shone brightly through her childhood bedroom, and Caroline had never been happier. Most of that had to do with the man next to her. The full bed snugger than they’d ever have before, but she minded it not at all. Particularly when Klaus was sprawled out on his stomach, the smooth dips and planes of his back bare to her gaze as he dozed lightly next to her. She’d woken from her nap earlier, and had been loath to move and break the quiet. Instead, she grabbed the iPad on her dresser and ideally flipped through a book she’d been reading, but her mind hadn’t been really on the words.

Not today.

For his part, once Klaus had stirred enough to realize she wasn’t leaving, he’d curled his hand around her thigh and settled, seemingly uninterested in moving. In a bit she’d be forced to kick him out before her mom returned, but for the moment, it was just the two of them. It was nice. They’d had moments like these before, and they’d likely have many of them in the future, but cuddled up in her childhood bedroom was a bit surreal.

It had been so long since she’d felt this kind of happiness, the safety of it even next to Klaus, that she sometimes struggled to process it. Every day, the memory of that cell where Bonnie paid such a terrible price faded just a little, so the knife of it hurt just a bit less. But it was something that had marked her as surely as her vampirism. Setting the iPad down, she carded her fingers through his hair, because she could.

Later she’d coax him into shower and luxuriate in the feel of his wet skin against hers. Right then, she just wanted to breathe in the moment. It had been almost a month since they’d discovered that Bonnie had sent them both back, that they were together, she still couldn't get enough of him. It wasn’t just the sex, though there had been a lot of it, it was him. The way he felt, the fact that he was real. The way she could slide a hand across the mattress after a nightmare and feel the heat and flesh and bone of him against her palms.

She’d only been without him for weeks, she couldn’t imagine the need he’d nursed in his chest all the decades he waited for her to be born. The way he must have struggled knowing that she wouldn’t be her anymore, the decision he’d come to not to care. He hadn’t spoken of that moment when they’d realized they were here, the right Klaus for the right Caroline, and she didn’t know if she’d ever ask. The taste of him in that moment, the look behind his eyes, it would linger with her for all of her long life. The relief and need and gut wrenching want had left her breathless and aching with all the same emotions.

Suddenly needing more of him, she pressed her lips to his shoulder and breathed the familiarity of his skin for a long moment, and he made a noise low in his chest and she smiled with lips still pressed against his skin. It was likely that Klaus wasn’t really sleeping, he needed so little of it, but he was relaxed, the lean lines of him loose and his eyes closed. She’d thought it would be strange seeing him here in her childhood bedroom, if not her childhood bed, but somehow he still fit.

She should honestly stop being surprised by that.

“You know,” she murmured softly, knowing he was listening even dozing. “It’s a good thing my mother’s schedule is so very predictable. I am not sure how I would have explained to her how I could afford a new mattress.”

Klaus’ made a low noise, his voice a low rumble of sound. “I’m sure you would have thought of something.”

She snorted, sliding back down into the bedding, propping herself up on one elbow and tucking her legs against his. Fingers reaching out, she traced the familiar lines of his triangle tattoo slowly. “Probably even something believable. But then there is the iPad, my new laptop. Your minions lingering outside my house.”

One eye cracked open as he shifted to look at her. “Don’t forget the jewelry.’

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite manage to hide her smile. A certain diamond bracelet was tucked into her jewelry box, and she was certain there were a few other surprises in her near future. Subtle her lover was not. “Mom is going to notice eventually that something is going on, Klaus. Particularly when as far she knows, I don’t have a boyfriend as Tyler is clearly no longer in my life. Forbes women are sometimes obtuse, but we are not idiots.”

Klaus rolled to his side and pulled her close, pinning her beneath the heat of his body. His hand tangled in her hair, and his lips pressed behind her ear, teeth scraping softly as she shivered beneath him. “No more boys for you, Caroline. Even for show.”

Laughing softly at the possessive note in his voice, she slid her fingers into the short curls at the nap of his neck. Curling her leg around his hip, she pressed against him, content to ignore her body’s reaction so she could just enjoy feeling him. “As if I want anyone but you,” she replied, but there was no bite in her voice. Instead, she tipped her head back and kissed the edge of his jaw. “But I do appreciate the new bed.”

She’d known exactly why he’d done it the moment it’d been delivered. That he’d shown up not fifteen minutes after her house had quieted down and she’d straightened her room back to sorts hadn’t been a surprise. The horrors of her childhood, the boyfriends who had shared her bed were many, many years in her past but neither of them had ever shared gracefully.

A point Klaus had demonstrated thoroughly with his mouth.

His laugh was soft, and so were his lips as he moved down her neck. “You’re welcome, love. Since you have continued to refuse to move into my home, we might as well make the best of our time here, hmm?”

She tugged on his hair sharply, and he nipped at her collarbone in retaliation. She shivered, and her voice was a little breathless when she spoke. “You know why I haven’t.”

For the most part, they’d managed to keep the changes in their lives secret from her friends and family, but Caroline was under no illusions that it wouldn’t last forever. For one, neither of them would be satisfied by the back and forth forever. Klaus was already making his displeasure clear, particularly after her late night phone calls on the nights she didn’t sleep post-nightmare. Before they’d lost the war, they’d shared a bed for twenty years but it had been nearly a century since Caroline had seen her mom and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to risk being cut out of her life.

Not yet.

Klaus settled against her, and he sighed as he lifted his head. “Caroline…”

She smoothed her hand through his hair. “I know. I know, Klaus. Kol is already complaining that we haven’t done more to take down Silas’s little cult and we both know what’s brewing in New Orleans. The protections you’ve put in place to deal with Ester and Finn are holding, but for how long? I just...”

Her throat closed a little at the idea of leaving her mom. She knew exactly how many hours, how many days it was until the date of her death. A death she was determined would not happen in this time period. But even knowing that some things were changeable did not stop the lung gripping fear that sat in her chest at the thought of losing Elizabeth Forbes again. Then there was Bonnie. This Bonnie. She didn’t know what she wanted to do about the girl who had so much potential and so much hate for vampires but who had been the truest friend Caroline had ever had. How did she tell her the truth?

His eyes were understanding, but his voice was firm. “Things will start escalating soon. Another month, perhaps less.”

Caroline considered that and sighed. “We really do need to deal with your mother.”

He made a low noise. “She’ll hold, for now. And being in a box means she can’t scheme against us. Mikael is dead. We will need to figure out the most expedient way to free Freya, but the pieces are coming together.”

“Of course they are,” she murmured. “Most of our enemies no longer have the element of surprise. At least, for the next hundred years or so.”

“They will struggle beyond that, I assure you.”

She tipped her head in silent agreement. Klaus hadn’t survived his father for as long as he had by being a slouch, and the mistakes that had led to his captures and the deaths of his family had left a mark. She had no doubt that his paranoia would ride him hard for centuries to come, and that the coming out to the supernatural world that had left New Orleans in near ruins would never happen. Whatever had driven him to take New Orleans on, to strive to be some sort of self appointed King, it had burned up in his rage. Instead there was a monster that was harder, sharper when he had already been so dangerous. Marcel, she knew, would have no idea that Klaus had slipped in and out of his city as he worked to free Freya.

They’d once thought Klaus a nightmare. The witches had no idea of the monster they had created. But they would.

She had a list of witches that would still meet a messy end, and Kol had already agreed to help her. She was fairly sure Klaus knew of the plan, but he hadn’t said anything to her about it yet, which was for the best. She was willing to wait until Dahlia was dealt with, but Klaus wasn’t the only one who held a grudge. Rebekah had made a handful of comments that led Caroline to believe she was very interested in those grudge lists as well.

“Do you wish to stay here?”

Caroline blinked at him, caught off guard by the casualness of his tone. “What?”

His face was carefully neutral, words slow. “We have a few weeks before we have to make our first move. Elijah is committed to staying here and keeping an eye on things. I had thought perhaps you’d like a chance to get away from here for a bit, unwind. But if you’d rather spend the time here…”

Her breath caught and eyes softened. “Just the two of us?”

Klaus’ head tipped in silent agreement and she bit her lip at all the unsaid words. It didn’t surprise her that he’d notice the toll being here took on her, the pleasure pain of being with a mother who was alive and didn’t know who she was anymore. And for all that she wanted to spend every possible moment with that mother, being somewhere else, somewhere she could breath outside of these small pockets of time?

She wanted that suddenly with a need that left her throat tight.

“I want to go somewhere new,” Caroline said slowly. “Not any of our usual places. Somewhere you’ve never taken me.”

His mouth curved slowly against her sternum. “No? I have some very fond memories of some of those places, love.”

She laughed roughly and dug her nails light into his nape. “So do I. But this…” she tried to find the words she wanted to say. No matter how the dice rolled with the life she had been thrown back into, this monster was the one constant she didn’t have to worry about. It had taken dozens of witches and hundreds of lives and a prison world to separate them last time. “This… I want something new for us. Something different. I don’t want just weird future/past memories when we're in the middle of this war, I want memories from this new now of ours.”

Klaus rose up and caught her mouth with his, a hot press of lips that spoke of a thousand things that had always been difficult for him to say but that he showed in all the ways that counted. When he pulled back, his cheeks were as flushed as her own and his eyes burned. “What happened will never happen again, Caroline.”

She believed him. In her bones, her monster stirred in agreement. Forewarned is forearmed, and she and Klaus would never be so easy to fight again. “I know.”

His next kiss was hotter, wetter, and when his mouth skimmed down her chin, her jaw, to find the line of her neck again she curled one leg around the lean line of his waist to pull him closer. Days, weeks of this, somewhere quiet and them? “When can we leave?”

He placed a sucking kiss that would have bruised a human between her breasts. “Tonight.”

She shuddered at the hint of teeth. “Tomorrow.”

A arched brow as he blew a teasing breath against her nipple, the tip of his tongue following it for far too brief a moment. “Why?”

Caroline harshly bit the tip of her tongue to hold in her demand for more, the way his lips rubbed lightly against sensitive skin. “We’ll tell mom tonight.”

Klaus paused, gaze snapping back to her face. “Sweetheart…”

She shook her head. “Tonight. I’ll stay at your place if I have to, but I want you with me when we have this talk. Then we’ll go tomorrow. It will give her time to think it over, and Elijah can keep an eye on her for us.”

“You're sure.”

She smiled. “I am sure.”

He made a low noise in this throat. “I’m not a kind enough man to talk you out of it. I’ve grown tired of you not being in my bed, of your things missing from my room, Caroline.”

Before she could draw breath to respond to that, that note of soft warning, he’d sucked her nipple into his mouth with intent. She moaned, spine arching to move that much closer to his mouth. Klaus took his time, thumb a slow counterpoint on her other breast to the hot suction of his mouth. Shuddering, she fisted her hands in his curls. There would be plenty of time for them to figure everything else out. Right then, they had just over an hour before her mom clocked out of her shift, and it was clear that Klaus had plans for that hour.

Plans she was fully onboard with.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabble #fluff #fluff and fluff and fluff #so much fluff

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pretty-rad-arson-dad · 5 years ago

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Hey guys so, about the whole situation that had happened with me being fasley accused of being a pedo, I said I'd make a post telling our side of the story (cause this involves so much more than me and them) and involves about 10 other people.

Also, ahead of time, sorry if this is messy, I just really don't know how to make these kinds of posts to clear things up? Explaining things like this is not something I'm good at. I was also going to post this sooner, but stuff in my persona life happened, and I've also received threats from this person's friends if I tried to come forward with my side of the story (or more like made anymore posts about it, as there's already a whole call-out post about them on Instagram, which I'll be showing later). After some debate, I actually realized it would probably be best if I actually did, just to get a warning out, even though I know there's a chance this won't be recieved well cause this is fucking Tumblr... And again, I'm just trying to tell our side of the story and warn others so the same doesn't happen to them. Also because I do believe this guy might have a Tumblr account and might try to seek out more people to abuse. I sure as hell know one of his friends who helped stalk us have a Tumblr though.

So, the person making the accusations was someone who joined my discord server, and at the time of joining, he was saying that he was of age. Several members on the server can vouch for me when I say this. Of course, in regards to him telling us he was of age, this is apparently something he failed to mention when he decided to make that callout conveniently enough. I'm still unsure of what his actual age is, wether he actually lied to us about being an adult when he joined the server or if he was lying when he claimed to be a minor in his callout.

Anyways, sometime after he joined the server, he started to become a problem. Me, being an idiot and feeling bad for him, allowed his behavior to slide, though I didn't know the full extent of what he was doing til a bit later.

He would constantly talk about how he was being abused and we'd try and help him with advice, which he never really listened to, and if anyone on the server mentioned that they had done something fun or had a great time doing something that day, he'd go off and make us feel guilty for having fun, cause his at home life was shit and apparently if he wasn't happy, we couldn't be either. He actually tried to pull some shit while I was celebrating my birthday with my family. This kinda becomes a bit important later? Or at least the day becomes important later.

He's also known as kind of a pathological liar on the server, claiming that they one of the official FNAF artists (one who doesn't exist, btw), and start rumors about YouTubers and other people we liked, and whenever I'd ask for proof, they'd get all defensive. This itself isn't a big deal, except he also has the tendancy to start rumors that people are pedos if he gets into a heated argument with said person. It's actually happened when one of my friends said he didn't feel comfortable with people shipping things between adults and children. This caused a giant argument to erupt and I had to temporarily boot said friend from the server. At this time, my accuser then decided to make accusations that the friend of mine was a pedo because he... Didn't like people shipping adults and children.... Of course, we told him to cut the bullshit and stop causing rumors.

Now, keep in mind, they got upset over someone being grossed out by shipping adults and children.

This becomes a bit important later.

We ended up having a few other problems with them as time went on, them critizing other members AUs (well, more along the lines of bullying them for their AUs and projects), more guilt tripping and at one point, even bragging about pushing someone to suicide (at least that's what 2 of the other server members are telling me, I can't confirm this, as it seems it happened during a period I had no internet, and there's a good chance they might have deleted it, but do feel free to take this with a grain of salt).

Eventually, he actually ended up leaving the server for good because of Tupperbot. Adding the stupid bot was the second best decision I've ever made in regards to him, honesty.

However, for a lot of us, the main tipping point was the roleplays and private DMs.

He loved to roleplay some pretty fucked up shit with a lot of people on the server. We've actually had one member as young as 11 come forward and say he had tried to do shit with them too. Keep in mind, he told us he was an adult when he joined. He would love to roleplay all sorts of weird, incestous and pedophilic shit with us, and would force it on us out of the fucking blue. Another thing worth mentioning, me and a few others are victims of childhood sexual abuse and rape. He CONSTANTLY put this shit in most of the roleplays he did with no regard to how triggering it was for some of us. We never even got a warning or an ask if it was okay to have something like that put in a roleplay. Some members spoke to him about their discomfort involving the shit he was putting in the roleplays, but it was disregarded and he'd continue to do it. Some of us were even so scared to say anything about it, as we were afraid he'd lash out at us and threaten us, so we just put up with it.

Aside from the roleplays were the really weird direct messages he'd sometimes send. There were times someone would be venting (this would happen in the server as well) and he'd respond with that they had no reason to be upset and that he's been through much worse. There would also be times when someone would be feeling depressed, and he'd make these private little group chats to try and "intervene" by inviting a few of us in there with the said person. This would be fine on its own, but he always made it a point to invite one person that we've REPEATEDLY had to tell him not to invite. I'll call this person Wah, cause I don't want to cause them any more stress by exposing their account name. Wah was someone we've told him not to invite because she was, at the time, experiencing a lot of suicidal idealations and we were worried putting her in a situation like this where one of her friends was feeling like killing themselves and her having to help to talk them down would be the sort of thing to set her off into hurting herself. We obviously didn't want that, so we made it a rule not to ever get Wah involved. Accuser knew this and went and always invited Wah anyways. And would shrug it off whenever we'd go off and remind him of Wah's own mental health issues. There has also been at least one instance with them and another user, who was feeling suicidal. They mentioned they had been wanting to kill themselves and accuser went off about how if they killed themself, accuser would kill themself too. This obviously scared the shit out of this person and made them feel more awful.

And there of course, is the shit they did to me. They'd sometimes randomly flip out on me in my DMs out of literally fucking no where, and purposely trigger my PTSD.

There's more, but I can't remember all of it because just so much went on.

Anyways, sometime after they left the server, people began coming forward with their experiences with accuser, telling all that he'd been doing in DMs, and mentioning his prior behavior on the server. We started venting about the way he had been treating us in the vents chat because well, we figured if we couldn't try to talk to him about his behavior, at least we could vent amongst ourselves. Apparently he had actually made a few friends on the server and they let him know we were talking about him.

Fast forward to my birthday celebration and I'm getting DMs from him. They start our fine enough but eventually he suggests we start a thing where we mention one positive thing that's happened to us each day. Cool, a fine idea on it's own, but as I've mentioned above, he's had the tendancy to make us feel like shit for having anything cool and fun in our lives, so of course me, and a few other people who apparently had received the same message, were hesitant.

I left him on read to think about it and also because, again, I was celebrating my birthday and I was about to blow out the candles on my cake and open gifts.

I don't remember all of what went down, and I don't seem to have access to the Instagram DMs anymore since I have him blocked on there too, but eventually, I received a message of him flipping out because he knew about our vents. I believe I might have ended up calling him out and telling him exactly why we were doing it, but I can't remember. This happened back in May so the memory is a bit fuzzy and I don't have the DMs anymore.

All I know is that most of the members of the server decided to cut him off.

After that, he tried to tell Wah I wasn't who I seemed to be and attempted to ruin our friendship, made several accounts to stalk the Instagram accounts of serveral other of the server members and I, and then we ended up having to kick a few of their friends from the server cause they were starting to cause trouble.

Then there was silence for a bit.

And then there was the incident. They had gotten a (at the time former) friend of ours involved by lying and manipulating them into believing I was doing all sorts of nasty shit. The friend, who I'm going to call Pasta, ended up bringing that stuff over to Tumblr, unaware that they had been lied to. I'm not sure if it was Pasta who reached out to us, or if it was one of us who reached out to Pasta, but we ended up telling them what was going on, and somehow, accuser found out, and accused them of being a traitor and freaked out on them. They admitted that accuser was responsible and we ended up making up.

I've also since then had some of accusers former friends come to me and tell me about the call-out, further confirming that it was them who started all this as a way to try and get back at me.

And, since of course some obligatory proof is required, I shall provide these call-out posts with some screenshots. And you can even see in the comments we're far from the only ones who have dealt with them.

These aren't the only things from them, obviously, but considering the fact that we've all now got them blocked and some of us have even deleted the DMs (because tbh, most of us thought that cutting them off would be the last of it), this is what we currently have.

Anyways, thanks for reading this long ass mess. Hope y'all stay safe.

#drama #//pedophilia #//incest #//rape

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chiseler · 4 years ago

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Echoes

One book from my childhood has always haunted me. Cursed Be the Treasure, by H. B. Drake, didn't just get under my skin, it crawled inside and gnawed. An "adventure" tale of smugglers and pirates, of guilt and vengeance, it was a cold soak in an alternately reality that I could believe with all my heart.

My mother presented it to me at I'd guess age 10 or 11. Probably it had been in our collection all along. I assumed it was from her own teen years, so in the 1910s. I never knew where my mother came by such things, she seemed to absorb offbeat, peculiar works through some etheric transfer.

Over the years, I remembered little of the plot – just two incidents so horrific that they hung on me like literary albatrosses.

Perhaps five years back, that haunting returned and I felt the need to find that book again – the original had disappeared into the mists of yesteryear. I bought a copy online – a mere $3.50 if I remember rightly – a ratty-spined hardback. I immediately determined not to read it. I couldn't face the possibility that it would be just another "young adult" monstrosity that had overwhelmed my feeble mind. That would be a gut stab.

But with Daniel Riccuito's strong-arm encouragement, looking for an "unusual" book from the '20s or ''30s – my pick – I immediately thought of Cursed Be the Treasure... but "uh-oh, wrong decade." Yet when I flipped back the creaky cover, I found the copyright was 1928. So I committed to reading it again, with dripping trepidation.

And...? It resonates with the "now" of me as solidly as with the "then" of me; it's left an unusual sense of wonder, a "how can the universe work this way?" that I pooh-pooh in daily life.

Before getting to that: Who was H. B. Drake?

I've found minimal online biographical info on Henry Burgess Drake, who had two (at least) parallel careers. Born of British missionary parents in China in 1894, the next to last of seven children, he served in WWI, then taught English in China, Korea (at a Japanese university) and England, sometimes alongside his younger brother, Eric – this bio snippet, an aside to a longer one of Eric, does not mention Henry's writing. During (or before?) WWII, Henry served in the British Intelligence Corps, "to recruit spies to penetrate Japanese held territory" in China.

Of his alternate existence, fantasy and SF sites note him mainly as author of The Shadowy Thing, which had a strong influence on H. P. Lovecraft. You can purchase a 1928 hardback edition online for $967; I don't plan to. Beyond that and Cursed, he penned a few sea and other adventure tales (sometimes as Burgess Drake), and a five-volume Approach to English Literature for Students Abroad during the '40s and '50s. He died in 1963.

I've had little truck with adventure stories. The Conan tales bore me silly – great gnarled nonsense. I recently downloaded a humongous boulder of public-domain fantasy/SF/adventure (many of them novel-length), looking for a simple, non-challenging read. The first four I staggered through were almost malignantly bad – cumbersome slagheaps of adjectives, mostly multi-page descriptions of otherworldly scenery, including, so help me, two travels through nothing – quite literally a void interrupted by different-colored lights. They showed less imagination than an addled exterminator.

It's turned out that what I was looking for in that muck, without knowing, was Cursed Be the Treasure, which harks back to lesser-known works such as R. L. Stevenson's The Wrecker, about a ship ("The Flying Scud") in which the adventure is as much inside the narrator as mired in convoluted events wavering beyond the written horizon. I think Drake also took inspiration from Dickens, especially Nell's wanderings through the countryside with her grandfather in The Old Curiosity Shop. (Though unlike Dickens with his often black and white characters, all of Drake's emanate shades of moral grey.)

The first-person narrator of Cursed is Tommy, recalling his youth from age 6 to roughly 17, consumed in continual flight with his father from the vengeance of what his father calls Shadow-of-Fear. During their flight, they are briefly "trapped" by a witch-like figure, Bite-in-the-Dark, whom Tommy kills by accident. Then the flight continues, because... who or what is Bite-in-the-Dark, and can the greater Shadow-of-Fear be killed?

Baldly stated, this can sound silly. But it's written with a riveting intensity of isolation and unfocused fear. His father will run forever to protect Tommy, but does not feel he can, himself, escape the inevitable. And there are also the magically bright summers at the Dolphin Inn, where Tommy investigates the caves and rock ledges of the coast, the supposed refuge of smugglers, uncovering secret passageways leading to... what?

Along the way, he and his father stop at a supposed haunted house. Tommy sees a ghost (does he?) and encounters a skeleton (he does).When his father must leave on for an extended period, Tommy goes to school for the first time – his father's extensive, intensive knowledge had been enough to meet his educational needs.

Tommy makes friends with Worthing, an older, rule-bound student (who faults Tommy's adventuresome ways). Tommy invites Worthing for a stay at the house, during which Tommy finds a hidden passage and loses it again. In a later stint at the house, he meets Captain Field and his daughter. She, like Tommy, is traveling alone with her father, and like his father, the Captain is haunted by an implacable enemy.

Why no mother for either of these near-bewitched children? The word "mother" never appears in this tale. For both, the single parent and the single child have always been thus.

From here on, I'll leave the plot alone, because it's the method of telling and the near-perfect pacing that make this book, in my mind, close to a masterpiece. Reliving it, retrieving the incidents I forgot through the years, was unlike any other literary experience I've had; 70 years between readings, and it holds the same searing chill. And those two remembered incidents that I did recall – I can't talk sanely about them. The second details perhaps the worst mistake any human being could make.

There's nothing overtly supernatural in the telling, but the possibility of it hangs like a torn curtain. As Tommy slowly uncovers clues, a more enmeshed tale emerges, tying together disparate elements –almost typing them together. Certain small details don't quite fit... but not because Drake is lax. It's because nothing here can be complete, wholly true or fully whole. A "definitive" through line would only cheapen the tale. The passageways by the Dolphin Inn lead to no found end; the lost treasure is truly cursed – through the intertwined vengeance of those who fought and killed for it, and the inescapable guilt with which each must live.

That's the book, as written. But its effect on me goes beyond the words. It reaches something in me as inescapable as Shadow-of-Fear, like a reflected study of my life. Not Tommy's flight – the entire tale. I have none of Tommy's robust, adventuresome spirit... at least not externally. But something of my mind works the way this story works, with the details incomplete, the compounded feeling of guilt, the need for everything to be different, released. It was somehow like I was reading myself.

But a few details....

The novel I've been working on for the past couple years (before I reread Cursed) encapsulates a woman in her early 30s:

raised by her father, from the ages of 4 to 16

haunted by the past and her eerie effects on the present

with no direct memory of her mother, though unlike Tommy, the not knowing torments her

her name is Jenny; Captain Field's daughter's name is Jenny

This litany of congruence rattles my innards.

Did those plot details from Cursed that I thought had been lost remain hidden in the far reaches of my mind?

I don't think so. On rereading, the early chapters seemed fully new to me.

Are there cosmic associations that exhibit when we least expect them, in the least likely ways?

I think that even less.

I see the world as a grand accumulation of circumstances, ruled by laws that we can never directly experience or untangle as they apply to the minute incidents of life. Sometimes these circumstances heap in symmetrical piles that can delight or terrify, as did the Dolphin Inn and Shadow-of-Fear for Tommy.

In my case, the dovetailing of this marvelous tale with driving events in my life is an overwhelming gift.

I refuse to question it.

by Derek Davis

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ohpedromypedros-main · 5 years ago

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A Trickling Stream - Part 2

Read part 1 here.

Part 3

A/N: Welp, here’s part 2 for serial killer!Dacre. I’ve been working on this for quite a bit. I hope y’all like.

Word Count: 2,437

Characters/pairing: Dacre x Reader

Warnings: mentions of murder and death, serial killer things, smut (you’ll thank me later), fluff, angst.

(you’d never guess this man were a serial killer. 😏)

Reader’s POV

The light from the rising sun peaks brightly through the hotel room curtains, your body tucked warmly beneath the blankets and curled snug against your boyfriend of 6 months. You don’t know what it is about Dacre, but the day you met him, you knew your life changed forever.

He treats you differently than any guy before him had, you’re like the angel he’s been asking for his whole life. He told you all about his childhood, the abandonment by his birth parents, the emotional abuse he went through with each new foster family, the bullying he endured, and above all else, the lack of love. You want nothing more than to show Dacre what it feels like to truly be loved and wanted in this world and you won’t let a thing stop you from doing so.

Not even the dark secret he kept from you when you first met and got together. You’ve been traveling with Dacre for a whole year, but only started dating after 6 months of knowing each other. It was at the 2 month mark of traveling together when you found out about Dacre’s secret, which was a total accident on your part.

~10 months ago~

Dacre slipped out of the bed where your sleeping form lay, a nightly routine he had even before the two of you started traveling together. Obviously Dacre wasn’t stupid enough to murder a person in broad daylight, so he always did the deed at night while you slept. It was during the day that he’d take you to the spot he buried his victim to take his photos of the “scenery”.

But his photography didn’t stop at just the locations. It was only after meeting you that he started taking pictures of the victims while they were bound up, beaten, and murdered. It was his new sick obsession. He had the developed pictures in a secret envelope which he kept hidden from you, but this particular night he forgot to stick the envelope back in his camera bag. It totally slipped his mind, something he’d only regret for a short period of time.

You woke up early that morning and whined when you felt the empty spot beside you, figuring maybe Dacre had gone out to get your coffees a little earlier than usual. Rolling out of bed, you walked into the motel room bathroom to go pee before washing your hands and fixing your messy bed head. When you were finished in the bathroom you walked back out to the main area of the motel room to open the curtains, bring a little sunlight in to brighten the room.

When you passed the counter where Dacre kept his camera, you smiled when you saw the envelope sitting underneath his camera bag. You hadn’t seen that particular envelope before, so you figured maybe he was going to start a new portfolio. When you opened the envelope and took out the first picture, your heart stopped and the photo fell from your hand. The photo was of a middle aged woman with her throat slit, blindfold over her eyes, and hands tied behind her back.

You were shocked, wondering how or where Dacre got these pictures, not even hearing the motel room door open and shut. You didn’t hear his voice softly murmur your name or even sense him approach you. It wasn’t until he saw the picture on the floor and the shock on your features that he realized what you found out. He gently grabbed your shoulders and you yelped in surprise, looking right at him. You wanted to step away in fear, to scream at him to leave you alone, but seeing the look in his eyes, the desperation, you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you. If he wanted to, you’d already be dead by now.

“Dacre, what--”

“Y/N you cannot say a thing to anybody.”

“Y-you killed that woman?” You breathed.

“Yes.”

“Oh god... Why?”

“I-I…I’ve been killing people for years…”

“And you take pictures of them???”

“That only started recently… Look,” he sighed, cupping your face and looking deep into your eyes. “I would never hurt you. Not a single thought about hurting you has ever crossed my mind. I’m sick, Y/N… Mentally sick and nothing will ever change that. I’ve done many bad things to so many people and I don’t think I can ever stop. I like the power I have over them...the control of their lives… My childhood, all that led up to this. I’ll never be a normal person.”

You could only nod, whatever uncertainty you initially felt washing right away. As sick as it was that he murdered people almost daily, you still loved him just as much as you did before finding out his biggest secret. And truthfully, you couldn’t really talk on the subject of murder, you did hire someone to set up your parents’ murder suicide just to gain a lump sum of money. Guess you both had your secrets.

“I have something to admit too…” You murmured, trusting him enough to share your own secret with him.

“What’s that?”

“I...I hired a hitman to set up my parents’ murder suicide… I was desperate for the money…”

Dacre gave you a soft understanding smile, bringing his hands up to cup your face.

“Your secret is safe with me as long as mine is safe with you.”

“Yours is safe with me, D.”

~ end flashback~

Fluttering your eyes open with a yawn, you smile at your boyfriend’s still sleeping form, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He stirs a bit, smile pulling at his lips. He opens his eyes after a moment, squinting them while they adjust to the bright sunlight shining through the curtains.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” You giggle, brushing your fingers through his bedhead.

“Mmm morning, beautiful. Sleep okay?” He smiles, pulling you close for a soft good morning kiss, something he does every morning.

“I slept very okay. How about you?”

“I slept wonderful having you next to me.” He smiles, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you so you’re on top of him, gently rubbing his hands over your ass. You giggle quietly, giving his chest a light slap.

“Baaaabe.”

“Mm?” He hums, running his hands up and along your back.

“I’ve gotta use the ladies room real quick then I’ll be right back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You give Dacre a grin, quickly pecking his lips and crawling off the bed to use the bathroom. After relieving your bladder and washing your hands, you return to where he’s still laying waiting for you.

“Miss me?” You murmur, crawling back onto the bed and over to Dacre where you straddle his waist, hips rocking against his own as you lean down and kiss him deeply. He groans into your mouth, hands moving to grip your sides.

“Fuck, babe… I think you already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah?” You smile, kissing along his jawline and toward the shell of his ear. “Maybe you should show me how much you missed me.”

Dacre hums, gently flipping you over so you’re flat on your back, his knees placed on each side of your hips while he hovers above you to press a long kiss to your lips.

“Mmm I love you.” He murmurs grinding his hips against your clothed core, earning himself a soft whimper in return.

“I love you too,” you breathe, cupping his face and kissing him even deeper, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Let’s get you out of these panties and my shirt, yeah?” He coos, pulling back so he can run his hands up your sides and beneath his shirt that you’re wearing.

“Please?” You murmur, lifting your hips so he can easily pull your panties down and toss them to the floor.

Sitting up, you let Dacre pull his shirt over your head next, it soon joining your panties on the floor. He smiled down at your naked form, adoration in his gaze.

“You’re just so beautiful, babygirl…” He whispers, brushing your hair from your face.

“Thank you, baby.” You whisper in return, kissing him softly while reaching down to undo the button of his pants.

He smiles into the kiss, climbing off of you and the bed for a moment so he can strip himself of his own clothes. He’s back on top of you in seconds, hands cupping your face while he kisses you deeply, rubbing himself along your entrance. You gasp into the kiss, wrapping your legs around him and whimpering with desperation.

“Dacre please…”

“Please what, babygirl?” He hums.

“Please make love to me…”

He smiles and pushes into you in mere seconds, thrusts slow and steady while still going deep inside of you, eliciting several soft moans from you.

“That feel good, beautiful?” He slowly rocks his hips, gently biting down on his bottom lip as he looks you in the eyes.

“Uh huh,” you gasp, head falling back to rest on the pillows behind you. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” He murmurs, burying his face in your shoulder and pressing gentle kisses to your skin.

Dacre may be a serial killer, but the way he makes love to you...if you didn’t already know that he is one, you would probably never know at all. He’s just so sweet to you, shows you every day truly how much he loves and cares about you, despite never having loved anyone else before you. He’s completely head over heels for you and would do absolutely anything to make you feel loved because you make him feel a love he’s never felt before.

“You are my whole world, you know that?” He hums into your skin, pressing his chest closer to yours while continuing his deep thrusts, grinning when you moan out his name. “Love when you moan my name, babygirl.”

“You just feel so good, Dacre…” You murmur, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Yeah?” He coos, aiming right at your sweet spot.

“Yeeaahh…” You softly moan out as he brushes against your sweet spot, legs tightening around his waist. “Right there,” you gasp, nails gently digging into his shoulder.

“Right here?” He grins, repeating his action.

“Y-yeah! Oh!” You moan, slowly dragging your nails down his back.

Dacre groans at the feeling, loving how you scratch up his back while he fucks you nice and slow. He presses his lips to your throat, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses before finally kissing your lips, the kiss deep and passionate, all of his love for you pouring into it in that moment.

“Want you to cum for me, Y/N…” He murmurs into the kiss, dropping one of his hands to rub gentle circles on your clit, coaxing a whiny moan out of you.

“I’m close…” You whisper, rocking your hips against his thrusts to match his pace.

“Yeah you are…” He smiles, aiming for your sweet spot with every slow thrust of his hips, feeling how your walls flutter around his length. “I can feel how close you are, babygirl… Let go for me.”

You softly cry out when that coil finally bursts, clenching and cumming hard around him, his name leaving your lips with the most beautiful pleasured moan he’s heard so far.

“There you go, beautiful… I’ve got you.” He helps you through your high, groaning deeply when he finds his own release, his warm seed coating your inner walls.

“Fuck yes, Dacre fill me up…” You whimper, squeezing around him to milk him of all he has.

“Yeah you like when I fill you up, huh babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear, stilling inside of you just as he finishes cumming.

“Yes…”

Dacre cups your face, kissing you deeply while he slowly fucks you both through your highs. You’re both heavily panting by the time he pulls out of you and you can’t help but stare at him in awe.

“What?” He grins.

“For a murderer, you’re pretty passionate during sex.” You giggle, giving your shoulders a shrug.

“Yeah? Would you rather I be rough?” He teases, hand going up to just barely grip your throat, lips pressed to your ear. “Except you know I could never hurt you… Not a single finger.”

He pulls his hand away with a soft sigh, pressing his lips to your hair.

“I didn’t say I was complaining…” You smile. “I absolutely love the way you make love to me, Dacre… There’s no reason to feel guilty. I know that sigh when I hear it.”

He leans back and gives you a smile, fingers brushing through your hair.

“I know… It’s just… You’re the love of my life and I’m a serial killer, why would I hurt you in similar ways I’ve killed my victims?”

“You think you’ll get out of control if you choke me…” You nod, putting that final piece of the puzzle together. Dacre only nods, moving off of you to lay on his side beside you, letting out another sigh. “I understand, you know… But just because I’m into choking, doesn’t mean I need to be choked.”

You rest your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it so he’ll look at you. When he does, you smile, leaning forward to press your lips to his forehead, one of your many ways of reassurance.

“Maybe I don’t like it rough. Maybe I love it passionate and slow.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Yeah.” You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “I love you just the way you are, Dacre. And that darkness inside of you will never change that.”

“I love you. You know that?.”

“I know.” You grin, pressing your lips to his. “If you ever need some help…”

“Oh stop it,” he chuckles, kissing you with a hum. “I wouldn’t want you to get involved in my dirty work.”

“Just putting it out there,” you tease. “Could weed out the ones who truly deserve it, you know?”

“Hmm… Maybe.” He smirks, running his hand along your side. “How about later after I finish taking the scenery picture, I stay in with you, yeah? We can continue our journey tomorrow night.”

“That sounds wonderful, Dacre.”

“Perfect.”

Apart from your dark secrets, the two of you are like any normal couple. Cuddles while watching movies, going on dates, meeting new people during your travels. He wants the façade of a normal life to keep suspecting eyes off of him when it comes to disappearances in your area at the time and you’re helping to give him the normal life he needs and deserves.

Tagging: @halefirewarrior @takemepedropascal @speedmetalqueen

Anyone that wants to be added to my tag lists, let me know!

#dacre x reader au #serial killer!dacre x reader #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery x you #dacre x reader #dacre x you #dacre x y/n #writing #my writing #writings-of-desire

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selfiecharmedlife · 4 years ago

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Turns out that I still have more that I want to talk about from The Missing. Specifically, there is a plushie in the story that has been on my mind since I wrote that last entry. I’m talking about F.K. and where I think F.K. slots into the broader narrative of the game.

In terms of the story, F.K. is J.J’s childhood plushie. F.K. periodically texts J.J. to ineffectually console J.J. or comment on the events of the game. At first J.J’s relationship with F.K. is uncharacteristically hostile. She yells at her plushie for wasting her time and failing to understand how she is feeling. However, after J.J. gives into despair and is about to accept her death, F.K. that reminds her that she is loved, she is deserving and that she is needed. When J.J. accepts herself and resolves to keep living, the paramedic hands her a blood-soaked F.K. Clinging to the stuffed animal during her sucicide attempt is what slowed her bleeding enough to save her life.

(Ok, I promised I wouldn’t cry)

F.K. is an unusual character in the narrative of the missing. Unlike every other character that sends you text messages, F.K. is the only one that doesn’t exist in the real world. In my last post, I mentioned how deliberate the game is at presenting every element of the dream as having some connection to J.J.’s psyche. Like the other two characters J.J. interacts with (“Emily” and the Hairshrieker), F.K. is an example of J.J. talking to herself. Whereas “Emily” represents J.J’s guilt at having attempted to take her own life and the Hairshrieker represents her anxiety and fears around femininity. It’s a little harder to place exactly what F.K. is supposed to be. It wasn’t until this most recent playthrough that a viewer gave me an answer that I liked; F.K. is J.J.’s coping skills.

From the conversations you unlock for 100% clearing the game, we know that F.K. is a plush toy that J.J. has had since she was five years old. When asked if she even remembers what F.K. was originally, she says she doesn’t remember but that it doesn’t matter. F.K. is a jumbled bunch of different plush toys that has been torn and repaired over the course of many years. To me, that tracks with how a person develops, discards and acquires new coping skills in response to stress in their lives. Further, it makes sense that F.K. would be the image J.J.’s brain would pick to represent that part of her psyche.

This interpretation also fits with the structure of the narrative. From the jump, J.J. is alone on an island, being pursued by a monster and trying to figure out why Emily is running away from her. In these moments, F.K. usually fails to say anything more than “are you ok?” to which J.J. gives a resounding “FUCK OFF!” These exchanges mirror the breakdown J.J. was having prior to her sucicide attempt. She had been outed at school as trasngender, her mother has found her secret via reading her diary and now she finds herself pressured to attend conversion therapy. Even the reassurance of the actual Emily fails to calm her down. It makes sense that F.K. has nothing of value to say in the game because J.J. doesn’t know how to cope with the situation she’s in.

The dynamic of F.K. changes once J.J. recovers her memories and realizes what is actually happening. In that short exchange, she listens to F.K. for the first time. From there, the whole script of the game is flipped as F.K. reframes the events we’ve seen not as a story about pain but as one about recovery and resilience. Having reconnected with her ability to cope, the climax of the game begins.

J.J.’s relationship with F.K. is further developed in the post-game conversations which presumably take place after the climax of the game. Feeling loved and secure, these text messages show us a different side of the protagonist that never comes out with any of the other characters. Even though multiple characters ask J.J. about her future plans, she always brushes them off. It isn’t until F.K. asks that same question that J.J. gushes about her passion for product design and sources of inspiration. The other post-game conversations show a warmth and passion from J.J. that was missing. This is her connection with herself now that she’s reconnected with herself. We love to see it.

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i-write-shakespeare-not-disney · 5 years ago

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Director’s Commentary- Lovesick Addiction, Keith joins Lance in church as he mourns

My commentary is in bold italics- I hope it’s okay I focused on the shoebox because the whole church scene was like... 6 pages and half of it was crying....

Keith chewed on his lower lip for a second before nodding. “I want to be here with you.” I’m gonna be honest. I know I’ve gotten feedback on the realism of Lance’s mourning, but I have no idea how realistic I made Keith as a partner who is also becoming part of it. I don’t actually know how hard it may have been for Keith to sit there and open the shoe box with Lance, but I like to think that although it is a bit uncomfortable, the jealousy is gone and it’s something Keith does want to actively be part of with Lance out of love for him. Which is why I made him stay even in the midst of Lance’s mourning period and after so long without hearing from Lance.

Lance turned toward him and put the box between them. He took a breath and stared at it for a minute. Keith kept his eyes on him while he prepared himself. Then Lance reached out and pulled the lid of the shoebox away.

There were several papers, photos, and even pieces of jewelry. Lance let out a shaky breath and he let his fingers skim over the photos. They had a grainy sort of appearance, like they were photos taken with phones then printed at a Walgreens. A couple were those new, small polaroids.

Lance looked at them and took a deep breath that left him in a shaky exhale. It kind of killed me not getting a chance to write this section in Lance’s POV because this is huge for him. He’s allowing and inviting both worlds to merge here in a place of faith which he had been lacking. He’s inviting this acknowledgement of both Allura and Keith as romantic partners and it’s HUGE, especially after so long keeping them separate and grieving her separately. “This was the first Christmas we spent as a couple. She gave me the cologne you saw in my bathroom that day.”

He looked at the photo in Lance’s hands. The two of them bundled up with scarves and beanies and thick jackets so all you could really see was her hair spilling around her shoulders and their faces as they laughed in the middle of a kiss.

It felt jarring to see Lance kissing someone else. The bitterness Keith used to have to stuff down wasn’t there, just… discomfort. I also really wanted this scene to show the growth and security Keith feels in the relationship. He would NOT have been ready for this if they’d opened the box all those chapter ago when Lance first mentioned the box. Lance put the photo back inside and looked at the others. There was a silly selfie of the two of them where Allura’s hair covered both their faces because the wind was blowing it. Keith could still see their laughing smiles between the strands, the scrunch of their eyes as they winced. There was one someone had taken of them while they sat, each with a book in their hands. Lance seemed to be looking up as if whoever was snapping the photo had called his name suddenly. Allura was leaning against him, focused on her book. They were both dressed up.

“Where’d you guys go?” I know it seems like Keith asking stuff is just a given, but.... Honestly he could’ve stayed quiet the whole time and just let Lance talk when he needed/wanted. But I had this question from Keith’s end because I wanted to show that Keith is welcoming this information, this conversation. It’s not one sided. It’s a conversation and Keith wants to be part of it. He wants Lance to trust him with this, wants him to feel safe and comfortable talking about it. So he asks and he’s curious and it’s him opening that space for Lance. Reassuring him that he means it when he says he wants to be there.

Lance smiled sadly. “That was after Ash Wednesday. See the smear on our foreheads?” He sighed. “We actually weren’t dating yet in that one. I also wanted to make sure people recognized that his relationship with Allura wasn’t always romantic. There was friendship there, a bond that went back to childhood. A closeness that grew before the romance. It’s mentioned either before or shortly after this excerpt but I needed to drive home the fact that Lance is not only mourning a lover, he’s mourning a friend. Even when he’s been with Keith for 30 years, he will still mourn Allura because she was still his friend of several years. But my dad kept telling me to buck up and be a man and ask her out already.” Keith hummed and nodded. He looked into the box and skimmed the other contents. “Are you sure this is okay?” Lance asked.

He met Lance’s eyes and smiled sheepishly. “It’s a little strange. But I’m okay.” He pointed inside the box. “What’s with the index card covered in algebra equations?” The index card, I just really wanted a mundane object that would show how easy and natural their relationship was but also didn’t want it to be a sticky note because of that Valentine’s day headcannon I have for them.

Lance set the photos down and lifted the index card. There were a bunch of sticky notes attached to the other side of it, stacked sloppily over each other.

“This is from one of the classes we shared for gen ed. She left me a note on it when I wasn’t looking, and I just found it between my study guides.” He peeled the sticky notes off and Keith saw some loopy, round handwriting scrawled across the other side in black marker.

I like the look on your face when you get confused. It’s cute. -Ax

Keith knew exactly what she was talking about. That scrunch of his eyebrows, the way he pressed his lips together in a slight pout, the way his eyes would squint suspiciously, all topped with a slight tilt of his head. It was fucking adorable. So. I really liked the idea of creating a sense of similarity between Keith and Allura through Lance. The two people who love(d) him in this romantic way both knew him well enough to know what his confused face was and to find it endearing. They’re similar in their love for Lance, and it also shows that there’s parts that are integral to Lance that didn’t disappear after Allura’s death. Even if it’s as small as a facial expression.

“The professor was trying to explain logarithms. I never understood those,” Lance said. He flipped the edges of the sticky notes. “She used to leave me notes in my stuff. In my backpack. Between the pages of my books. In my wallet. Telling me to listen for the birds that day. Things that reminded her of me. Or just to remind me that… she loved me.” I want to expand on this in the prequels, but the idea was that Allura liked to mention things Lance could make poetry out of. While also letting him experience the present. As someone who knew she was on limited time, Allura was often the one reigning Lance back to just be present and enjoy the moment (something else Keith and Allura have in common) when Lance wanted to rush forward and plan the future. So she mentioned little things that could help him be present like bird songs. He traced the loops of her writing and pressed his other hand to his eyes.

He took a moment to pull himself together, placing the stack of notes back inside the box. While Lance breathed, Keith noticed the glint of a chain and a bracelet. The cross on the chain and the little infinity sign on the bracelet were the same as the ones Allura had been wearing in the photos. He could see them clearly on a small polaroid of Allura laying out in the sun- the very same cross and bracelet. I wanted the jewelry to stand out because they didn’t go to Coran and they weren’t buried with her. They were given to Lance.

“She really loved you,” Keith said softly.

Lance looked over at him and managed a nearly imperceptible nod. “I miss her. And it just sucks that… this isn’t the kind of missing someone where you know you can drive a few hours to see them or just wait a few months to be with them. It’s permanent. There’s no possibility at all and I can’t do anything about it.” Depending on how long you’ve followed me, you may or may not know I’m thanatophobic. So I basically put the fears I have of death into this. It’s kind of surreal trying to get into your head when someone is gone in a permanent way that has no chance of changing and I tried to phrase it in a way that would carry that weight of pain and finality. As he spoke, his voice broke more and more between whispers, some words barely distinguishable. “And when that reality hits me I just feel… so powerless and small.”

Seeing Lance break down further, Keith got up and moved to the other side of Lance so he could wrap his arms around him. Lance pressed his hands to Keith’s chest.

At first, Keith thought Lance was trying to push him back. That he might need space. But when Keith started to let him go, Lance’s body curled further into him. His palm pressed against his chest, seeking something. Seeking Keith’s heartbeat. Lance’s face tucked into the curve of his neck. Lance’s way to be present. The last time he did this was after a nightmare of Keith dying, so for Lance, the heartbeat is a way of comforting himself with the knowledge that the person he loves is alive.

They stayed that way for a long time. Keith let his finger twirl an unruly lock of hair by his ear, his other arm wrapped around Lance and gently skimming his fingers over him back. Lance kept his hand at Keith’s chest, occasionally pressing harder, occasionally letting his hand slip before settling back in place.

Eventually, Lance lifted his head. “I’m gonna pray a little,” he said with a tired, raspy voice. “Then we can go back. If you’d rather wait in the car, you can.”

Keith hummed and looked around at whoever was left still praying. “Can you show me how? Teach me one of the prayers you like so I can do it with you?”

I’ve mentioned why this last bit matters so much to me. I mean for one, it’s a big step that Lance made the step on his own to voluntarily go to church and another that he’s sitting to have his conversation with God. But there’s also so much in the fact that Keith is also offering to join him in this because he knows what it means to Lance. Anyway this is one of my favorite parts especially with the part the follows this where Lance gives him a simple little kiss and Keith is very confused and wondering if it’s allowed. That part, I think shows another merging of worlds for Lance. A merge of his faith with his identity as someone who loves a boy.

#director's commentary

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42eyeballs · 5 years ago

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a continuation of the biblical parallels ive found in tma but it got way too long

Bereshit starts with the beginning; God calls the (added) expanse Sky... and there was...a second day... and God saw that this was good. And God said, "Let the earth sprout vegetation..." The earth brought forth vegetation: seed-bearing plants of every kind... and God saw that this was good. (1:8-12) An inverse would be a change in sky (look at the sky. It’s looking back) to show the end of the world (the apocalypse), and if fear is to be taken as a type of sustenance surely then the mention of vegetation of every kind would be akin to the ritual of which brought all the Powers through to the new world at once (180), creating a fertile land full of fear to devour.

It is noted that the world was created before Adam was placed into it (2:8)! Creating a slight shift in timelines for their beginnings, paralleled by Jon staying within the cottage for his chrysalis, staying there until he emerged as an adult insect (?). Insect imagery aside Adam was created and placed into his Eden as a full adult, as so is Jon. “This place wishes to be our tomb. But the Eye does not wish that. No, the Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis.” (162) Which has an implication that it was always meant to be a stage to pass through, similarly there are interpretations that the Garden was always meant to be an intermediary stage humanity was meant to grow out of (along with a few other things). If there is the cottage, there is the Garden; if there is the world outside of Eden, there is the world wracked by the apocalypse.

The cottage is this false artificial refuge from the other parts of the world. Eden was this prison of everything the couple may have needed. 162 describes the cottage as a place “deep in the heart of fear, where [they] trap [themselves] and claim that it is safety… a rotten sanctuary of lonely companionship” and yet is small enough that “the one [Jon] loves is always near, so close that refuge sometimes feels a prison.” Eden is a sanctuary where the only one to talk to and lean on is a lover; the world will rage on but this small bubble will never change, just wait for when they are ready.

There’s also an interesting inversion with Eden being given to have this motif of having been created and alive, all of which from the perspective of the setting is very passive, and the Extinction being active in its creation; it will seek to create a lifeless world. Some interpretations suggest it might replace us with something new - that can then fear annihilation in turn, which has a similar flavor to Spinoza’s idea of a substance that desires only it’s existence - said substance only wants to be itself, it wants to be eternal. Such is inscribed into it’s very being, and yet there are different modes of the substance that exist differently. Oliver calls himself a death prophet, and says he has knowledge of death but not an understanding of what to do with it or why (121); Jon who watch[s] and know[s] and understand[s] none… listen[s] and hear[s] and [does not] comprehend (160) is a fascinating parallel in structure of Spinoza’s idea of prophets that are gifted with knowledge but not understanding - knowledge that is gifted to them via some mode of the substance.

There is also a period of time before the creation of Adam and the giving of life to him, and if we are to take research Jonathan as being in his insectoid egg, and archivist Jonathan as being a sort of larva that has yet to reach adulthood in his chrysalis, then this is the period of larvae. He is alive but not fully peaked in his awakening as an avatar. He does not yet see and is not yet fully living as such; the shift being when he shifts in his hospital bed and begins to breathe again (121), a parallel to when God blew into Adam the breath of life, and man became a living being (2:7). Jon, about two months after living again, takes out a bone, specifically a rib, specifically specifically something he won’t miss, for an anchor (131), and jumps into the Buried. Why specifically a rib? It is the same bone as the one God took out of Adam to bring him Eve (2:21), though she had not a name until after they had already left the Garden. Adam had all the world’s array of animals and wild beasts to choose from and yet none were a fitting partner; the Hunt has an affinity towards predatory animals, one could say wild beasts. This is where Daisy fits in. Martin had not yet been brought to Jon yet at this point, and slotted between the place between being Alive and Partnered is Daisy who is not his wife and who is not his partner and who is, or was and will be, a wild beast (2:19-20). Martin, who has very aptly been called Jon’s actual anchor to humanity, and Jon’s actual anchor out of the Buried, placed dozens of tape recorders (132, 134) on top and around of the coffin, waiting for Jon. There is no hard evidence that says that without Martin's actions, Jon could not have found his way out again, but there is the implication because he does lose the presence of his rib while in there, only to be reunited with it after Martin has placed the recorders. This actively associates Martin with being Jon’s anchor instead of the rib, swapping their places. A bone for a person.

Jon goes into the lonely for Martin, and is able to find him and, more than that, bring him back (159). They are together despite the Lonely saying that to live is to be alone. They are together, and they link living (as opposed to surviving) to loving (be it in whatever form it may) (159), similarly there is God’s statement of how it is not good for man to be alone (2:18). Martin can be heavily associated with an Eve persona now, and he continues the role in the cottage by giving Jon the statements.

God said not to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and bad (in some translations); Jon, as soon as he knew what the statement was, knew it was bad, knew he did not want it, he knew he should not read it. Statements have been written to become more equivalent to food as the plot goes on, accumulating into this final statement, this final fruit of knowledge, where the world then goes topsy turvy and flips on its head. This is where there begins to be a massive inversion of the parallels, not a diversion but more of an opposite in sides. If Adam were to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge, his “eyes [would] be opened and [he would] be like diving beings,” (3:5), same goes with Jon and his statement, but Adam was also told if he eats the fruit, he would gain the ability to die (2:15-17). Jon wouldn’t gain the ability to know good and evil, he already had that, however little he may have used it. If anything being so close to such a source of power made it harder for him to determine what is good, and what is evil (171, 174, 166, etc.), along with the added bonus of not really being susceptible to death, but oh does he gain raw knowledge.

Eve, of course, is told to eat the fruit by a snake, and Adam eats the fruit that Eve gave him; interesting then that Elias puts his false statement in with real ones to be delivered to the cottage (the fruit in the Garden) for Martin to give to Jon (Eve to give to Adam). This also equates Elias to a snake which is wonderfully appropriate. There’s also this small line where Basira said that she would just send a bunch of statements because she wasn’t sure which ones he has already read, not that big of a line but it does imply that there was likely some statements that he had read, and at least one that he hadn’t (Elias’); there was also likely two trees of which Adam has not eaten from, until the end, the tree of knowledge, but there is also a tree of life. In reading the statement, Jon invokes the line “I am to be a king of a ruined world” (160); Adam was meant to rule over and master what filled the earth, the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, all the living things, but his world was meant to be one of joy and prosperity, and this carries over onto Jon who does see beauty and wonder in the world that is.

Adam and Eve aren’t immediately cast out, they first hide themselves from what they have wrought upon them; Jon too, hides from what was wrought upon the world, until he doesn’t and he is filled with hatred and anger. Eve, too, was filled with anger and enmity for the snake, which presumably Adam shared but the text isn’t specific, but Martin was already ready to leave if not angry. So God banishes them from the Garden, to “till the soil from which he was taken,” (3:23) and on one hand this is to make it so that humanity cannot have both the knowledge and immortality, but it also acts as a way to say that humanity has grown enough to leave the house of their childhood, that Jon is ready to leave his chrysalis. The banishment from Eden is also the destruction of Eden, as it no longer has anyone to tend to it, as was Adam's original purpose; Eden, being the only place Adam ever was, his whole world, then being destroyed, even if he was not able to watch it actively happen. Elias, too, forces Jon to destroy the world he has lived in (180), and he passes out, only being able to see the result of him reading the statement. But more so, Adam and Eve were afraid after they knew (3:10).

They walk through the door of the cottage, and the gates of the Garden, into the world that is now theirs to do with what they will. Adam and Eve have death slowly approaching, but it is not here yet because despite what most translations say, they do not immediately die, death, and the End, is very patient (121). And the biblical couple propagates, and births Cain and Abel. Cain kills Abel, and is cursed to become a ceaseless wanderer on Earth, which interestingly is what Jon is doing, slowly wandering towards the Panopticon, but Cain is also marked, so as to allow for him to wander without fear, without being killed despite what others (what others I don’t know) may want (4:12). Jon, too is cursed with life, and he cannot likely be killed by just anything, but the curse says nothing about hurt, which is where how Daisy could hurt him makes sense (179) despite what he might have intuitively thought.

Time goes on, and God regretted what she had made, and her heart saddened (6:6), which is right before the Flood. If we stretch to say that the plot will continue to follow this path, and it may due to it being said that if there were a removal of the Fears the Earth would go back to normal, similarly to the Floor getting rid of all but a few select humans.

This leaves the questions: who plays the role of Abel? It may well be Lukas, but I’m not sure as Abel also carries farm animals including sheep and perhaps cows as iconography, but he was also meant to be the second of a pair to Cain; if the Flood is to happen, who will be saved? Who will be left to die? The nephilim already have some kind of divinity, which has been sprinkled around with the Fears and Jon and God, but where do they lie?

One last thing to mention is the usage of the Torah as a way to store stories, as an archive of the history of a people if you will, and archivist[s]... care about compiling experiences [and] collecting the fears of others (180). Records of fear and records of strength in face of adversity. Jon is an archive of fear, but he may well also be an archive of love and strength.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #playing the role of adam and also cain maybe #martin blackwood #playing the role of eve #i have more to say but it doesnt fit into the narrative of this

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