#not looking forward to when this breaks and i crash. but like whats the pattern her? how long has this been happening? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

litnerdwrites · 5 months ago

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I was out all day yesterday, so I couldn't upload it then, so here it is now. Day seven, extended version. I do have plans to make this a series, and once I have all three series planned out, I'll be sure to ask who's you want to see first. Be sure to look out for more Euphemia content until then too. On a side note, did anyone see Kerri's stories, where she was scrolling through the first few pages of Throne of Secrets. We got a glimpse at the first couple of pages and honestly, ever teaser just makes me more impatient to read it.

This is probably my favourite piece, and the longest that I've written. Even though it's extended, there's so much more that I wanted to add, that I'll probably put into the series. I really loved writing Lust, and trying to balance gentle, romantic side with his lustful, jovial one. Although, I don't think there was much room for the latter here but I'll be sure to give it ago in the series. What are some of your favourite Lust moments from the trilogy? Let me know! @princeofsinweek

Day 7: Lust/Lover

Speak Now - Lust x OC

WC:4,077

TW: Almost forced marriage, abuse (father striking his daughter, plus forced fiancé hurting bride), mentioned death of a parent, mentioned canon typical violence.

Amara was stone faced as her ladies maids tittered around her, tugging, tucking and tidying up her hair in preparation. They had tried to make smalltalk at first, but when she didn’t respond, they quickly gave up.

She wanted to grimace at her reflection. She wanted to tear the pins and veil from her hair. She wanted to smear the makeup from her face, even if she had to break a few nails and tear her skin to do it. She wanted to rip the silk and lace from her body, and throw it to the pigs.

She wanted to run.

But she couldn’t.

All because she had nowhere to go. Noone to turn to.

The gown itself was classic. An a-line gown made of silk, with a sweetheart neckline, and thick lace sleeves. The ivy patterned lace reached right to where her neck met her head, and somehow managed to irritate her skin. Yet, despite her growing discomfort, she remained like a statue, even as the maids began wondering if she even lived or not.

“You will wed the Prince, and you will finally make yourself useful to me,”

Even as it echoed in her own mind, her father’s voice remained harsh, arguably colder than even the northernmost flaming tombs. It became his usual attitude after her mother had been killed by who Amara now knew was the Goddess of Death in an act of vengeance. The father she knew and loved lasted until the funeral, but once people began moving on with their lives, things began to change. Gone was the gentle, doting father she knew, and in his place was a shell of a man who only sought power and fame.

Even at the expense of his own daughter.

Part of her, thinking back to that night, when she felt as though things had turned around for her.

Growing sick of the scent of alcohol and sex in her home, she’d wandered to one of the many cliff sides in Palermo.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, eyes locked on the crashing waves below, but not really looking at them.

It would be so easy to just… Push herself forward, and let herself fall. So, so easy.

But, before she could properly contemplate the idea, he was pulled from her thoughts by the distant sound of music. As if in a trance, she made her way down the side of the cliff wondering if it was the cold, or anticipation that had her limbs trembling. What she hadn’t expected was to find a bonfire, and a single male dancing on the beach.

The sculptures that nobles commissioned from renowned artisans to line their overly elaborate halls must’ve been inspired by the man. His skin was gold, and hair dark. His charcoal eyes seemed to glow under the light of a flaming circlet that wrapped around his head. Yet, somehow, she got the impression that if she met his gaze, she’d feel like she was trapped in a darkened abys

se of desire.

“If you like what you see, then why not join?” The male’s voice jolted her from her thoughts.

He had been across the beach a moment ago, but now he stood right in front of her. Too close. His face was too close, as he bent at the waist to examine her. It was only then, when she felt that flaming circlet flicker against her forehead that she realized how… Wrong- no. Not wrong. How… Strange it was.

“Doesn’t your head get hot during the summer?” she had blurted out, before slapping a hand over her mouth.

The man’s eyes widened, and he had jerked back, clearly surprised by the question. He observed her, eyes narrowing somewhat, before leaning back, letting his lips spread into a grin.

“There are no summers where I’m from,” he shrugged. She blinked up at him, hands still pressed to her mouth, but eyes wide and curious. He seemed so jovial when she first saw him, then he looked like he could see all of her secrets laid bare, before going back to seeming like he was having fun. “Should you not be more concerned by this?” he cocked his head to the side.

Amara dropped her hands from her mouth, and blinked up at him again. After a few moments under his expectant gaze, she raised a brow, and rocked on the soles of her feet, answering with a shrug. “No. My mother was a witch,”

Lust’s brows shot up.

“You seem remarkably comfortable sharing that, when all it would take is the wrong person overhearing for you to be condemned,”

“You aren’t exactly human either, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she pointed out, “I know enough about malvagi to know that if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Clearly, you don’t. Not as of yet, anyway,”

Lust’s brows shot up again, as he circled her.

Amara held her chin high, eyes tracking the male.

Silence stretched on for what felt like hours, though was likely only minutes.

“Do you know who I am, Stella Stregah?” he finally asked.

“A Malvagi,” she stated, matter of factly, before looking behind him, “Why are you having a bonfire all alone?”

“Would you care to join me?” was the only response he gave.

“Will you attempt to use your powers on me?” she asked.

“Dance with me, and perhaps you’ll find out,” the demon bowed at the waist, offering his hand to her.

Amara eyed him skeptically, but shrugged and accepted.

Music filled her ear again, though there was no discernible source, as the demon guided her through the steps. Amara let him. She followed his lead, though never once made eye contact with the demon.

“Which one are you?”

“I am the Prince of Lust,”

She narrowed her eyes on him. Taking a moment to examine herself, and thinking over their interactions thus far. It didn’t seem like he used his powers on her.

“Why haven’t you tried to influence me with your sin, yet?”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” Lust huffs.

“What?”

“Our powers can only inflate emotions that are already present. When I reached out to inflate yours, I sensed no emotion to inflate. Either you truly feel nothing, or they’re so deeply buried that even I can’t find them,”

“I…See,”

“Is that why you considered jumping from the cliff, Stella Stregah?”

Lust raised a brow, examining the way her face scrunched.

“That’s not your concern, Malvagi.” Amara snapped, moving to pull away.

He chuckled, yanking her into a spin, before she could, then caught her, and pushed her into a dip, hand cupping the thigh of her raised leg. His face was mear inches from hers.

“No need to be so wrathful, little witch. Let go of your troubles for a night. Release those pent up feelings and give in to your desires,”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she told him, point blank.

“I never said you should. Not unless those are your desires,” Lust shrugged, not rising from the dip, letting his hand trail down her leg, “Dance. Drink,” she glanced behind him to see a table of drinks and food she hadn’t noticed before, and on the other side, comfortable looking chairs were laid out around the bonfire, “Rest. Talk. Sing. Give into whatever brings your pleasure,”

“You mean to feed your sin,”

“Perhaps. But can you deny that giving in to pleasure, forgetting what ails you, even for a single night, would be bad?”

It wouldn’t. She knew it wouldn’t.

“Surely you have plenty of people available to feed your sin,”

“Yet I crave you,”

Amara’s eyes narrowed.

“If I give into pleasure, you won’t use your sin on me?”

“Not unless you ask, little witch,”

“Then it’s a deal. Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight.”

It hadn’t been just for a night.

She had returned two nights later, and made the same deal again, swearing it was the last time. Then again. And again. And again. And again.

Eventually, she gave into more and more of her desires, spending more than a couple of those nights with him making love on the beach, or in a cave. One time, he’d even appeared in her bedroom while her father was out drinking. Lust had wrinkled his nose when he appeared, be it at the sorry state of the place she lived in, or the clear evidence of her father’s vices, despite his own position, she couldn’t tell.

Eventually, she’d found herself coming to enjoy the jovial prince’s company. Perhaps it was unwise to do so, given what she knew of the malvagi, yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Even as she began to desire more than just his body. Instead, she longed for tender nights where he held her by the fire after a particularly vigorous session of love making in a cave.

Foolishly, she longed for the scowl he gave at her proposal to roast marshmallows over his flaming crown, before reluctantly agreeing if only she never shared it with her brothers, only to watch her oh, so tenderly as she made s’mores for them. Above all, she longed for the high she felt in his presence, which she recently learned wasn’t due to his sin, but rather her own feelings, and delusions.

That was all it was. Delusions.

Princes of Hell are content to rule alone, with no desire to share their power with anyone.

Now, at least she had her memories to hold onto as she got married. Then, when Prince Zarus would transform her into one of his own at the reception, right before injecting her with his venom, she’d likely lose all senses, or memories of her Prince. Perhaps that would be the mercy. To forget all of it, and be lost in the oblivion for the rest of eternity.

A sharp knock snaps her from her thoughts. In the mirror, she watched the lady’s maids quickly shuffle out, but glanced away at her father’s entry. She refused to even look at him.

He, obviously, noticed this too, but for once, did not strike her. Instead, he examined her.

“You don’t look like a whore, for once,” he comments. Amara said nothing. “Don’t look so sullen when you walk down the aisle. You are to wed royalty, and if you wish for comfort in your new life, do not let the prince tire of you.”

“Don’t pretend this is for me,” she whispers, “All this is so you can gain wealth, power and immortality. You care nothing for how I feel about the matter.” Tears well in her eyes as she gazes at her reflection, feeling like an imposter.

Her father approached, ignoring her flinch as he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning beside her head to watch her in the mirror.

She refused to meet his gaze.

“Nonsense. You’re the precious,” his hands squeezed uncomfortably tight, voice strained, “daughter that my wife left behind before she died. I am merely doing what is best, so that you might live a life of comfort,”

Amara wanted to retort. To hurl insults and decor at him, but knew the guards would happily inject her before the wedding started, upon their Prince’s orders, and drag her down the aisle in that state of euphoria if that’s what it took. She didn’t want that. She wanted to put it off as long as she could. Yet, she also wanted to be rid of her father.

Mercifully, another knock at the door dragged her father away with one, final, painful squeeze of her shoulders.

She barely noticed the newcomer enter after her father, the woman draped in silver, emanating a familiar sensuality. Amara’s eyes snapped to hers as she pressed a finger to her lips. A slip of paper drops in front of her, before she uses transvenio to make her escape.

Eyes wide, Amara reaches for the paper, slowly unfolding it.

My dearest Amara, You don’t have to say yes. Meet at the back door and I can take you away from here, somewhere you’d be happy. I’d give absolutely anything for that, so I ask that if you wish to escape this, then come find me. I’ll be there until the reception ends. Forever yours, Prince Lust.

The message burst into flames, leaving behind a slip of paper with a map drawn on it. It appeared to lead from her room to the place he was waiting. The only issue were the guards outside her room. With furrowed brows, she shoved the paper into her pocket, hoping she’d have a chance on the way to the altar.

Finally, when her father came to collect her, she walked to the end of the hall.

“Father. I- I forgot my necklace! Could you go back and get it?”

“Just leave it, before we’re late,” he assures, with thinly veiled irritation and faux kindness.

“But it was a gift from the Prince. He’d be terribly angry if I don’t,” she tried.

Her father raised a brow, but nodded to the guards, who turned back. She and her father had watched them head back up the hall, to her room, before she turned on her heel, reaching for the paper. She’d made it halfway up the hall before a firm grip pulled her back.

“Where do you think you’re-” he noticed the paper. His eyes slid over the map, narrowing on it. Before she knew what was happening, a sharp sting was felt across her face, strong enough to send her to the ground, “You whore! You think you can escape this? You think you can embarrass me?!”

She shrank under his ire, more tears welling in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry-”

He yanked her up by the arm.

“No. But you will be. Just you wait until the reception is over,” he hissed, “Now compose yourself,”

She did her best as they stood in the hallway, certain that the guards heard everything. A put of dread opened up in her stomach and minutes ticked by far too slowly, yet far too quickly at the same time. Each second was like a step towards the gallows.

She barely processed the guard’s return or her father clasping the necklace around her. She didn’t bother to hide her stiffness, or heartbreak, even as her father snapped at her to smile. As far as she was concerned, this was as good as walking to the executioner’s block.

The doors to the throne room opened, revealing the altar, where the immortal throne, where Zarus, sat at the end of an aisle laid with red and black petals.

Amara didn’t care much what plant they were from, only that it felt like a mocking reminder that the path to her future was scattered with more and more burdens to laden her shoulders.

She didn’t notice when she got to the altar.

She didn’t acknowledge the priest, or her fiance.

She stood in stony silence, with the eyes of bloodsucking monsters pinned to her.

The lines she dreaded most were coming.

She hardly felt like she could breath, much less speak.

She wanted to run.

She had to run.

She needed to run.

Run.

Ru-

“Do you, Amara Willows, take Prince Zarus to be your Prince and your husband, and to serve him and his court, for the rest of eternity?”

Her throat dried up.

She couldn’t speak.

“Amara?” a distant voice called.

She couldn't discern who.

She could feel her father’s harsh glare on her, and the Prince’s hand tightening on hers.

“Amare Willows, do you take-”

She couldn’t take it. She ran. Amara practically jumped off the altar, gown bunched in her hands, as she raced for the doors. There was yelling, and she felt pain in her foot as she stumbled, shoe falling off in the process, but she refused to acknowledge the pain as she made for the doors. It only really sunk in as two guards caught her arms in a bruising grip.

“Let me-”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask those with objections to ‘speak now’ or some bullshit?”

Amara’s head snapped towards the door at the familiar voice. Charcoal eyes met her own, and the flames that circled his head flickered somewhat brighter. As per usual, he wore an embroidered suit jacket and pants, foregoing the shirt.

It was him.

He was here.

Her prince was here.

“There is none in this court who would dare object to their Prince’s union,” scowled Zarus.

“Luckily I’m not part of this court then,” Lust grins, ever the jovial one, “So allow me to say with all sincerity in my non-existent heart,” he mocked, only, there was something different. His eyes had an intensity about them that she’d never seen before, “that I object,”

“Lu-” she tried to reach out, only for Zarus to appear in front of her.

The guards back off when Zarus grabs her wrist.

“On what grounds? You have no right to interfere in our affairs,”

“I do when you take a member of my court,”

“My daughter has never been a member of your vile court!” Her father interrupted, his face going red, from embarrassment or rage, she couldn’t tell.

“You see, that’s where you're wrong,” Lust starts, as he begins his way up the aisle, “She and I had made a deal, that involved her allowing me to fuel my sin through her several times a week. Marrying you would prevent her from holding up her end of the bargain,”

Her eyes widened as she recalled the deal she made, time and time again.

“Each corner of The Underworld has its own set of laws. Human law, the law of the Shifting Isles, dictates that a woman may not enter such agreements without her father or husband’s consent, deferring only to their female line in the absence of a male relative,” her father snapped.

“Yes, however, each law can be overturned by The King,”

“Not without valid reason to-”

“And there is,” a new voice called.

The man who just entered is burly, with dark hair, tied back with leather, and upswept, dark eyes. A scar is carved through his right cheek, a silver gleam against his darker features, and fine black suite. Despite how bored the man seems, the way his hand remains in reach of what appears to be a dagger’s sheath makes it clear that he’s been assessing everything with a warrior’s eye. He came prepared for violence.

Lust told her about him before. Anir. The King’s second.

“Consent is the most important aspect of courtship and marriage. Yet your bride doesn’t appear to want to be here at all,” Lust muses.

“What nonsense-” her father snapped, but was cut off by a withering glare from Anir.

“The King has asked me to confirm this. If it is true, then he’s willing to recognise House Lust’s claim of the woman, and has ordered me to leave behind a declaration of war as a result,” Anir holds an envelope between two fingers.

“This is ridiculous-” her father attempted again, only to be cut off again.

“Of course my bride wishes to be here,” Zarus turns from Anir to Amara, grip tightening painfully on her wrist, “don’t you?”

Amara winces, unable to speak from the strength with which he was holding her. Anir examined her, waiting, but the pain in her wrist became too much. She was sure he was crushing the bone, even before she heard a snapping sound coming from there. She wanted to cry out, only for the pressure on her wrist to vanish in a moment.

That was the moment the petals scattered on the aisle started coming closer. It was as if she was falling.

It wasn’t until warm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her to a warm chest, that she saw Lust kneeling beside her. Through her gaze, though blurred with unshed tears, she noticed a female demon, the one from before, gripping the Prince’s hand almost as tightly as he did her’s. Tighter perhaps.

A warm hand gently guided her face away from the sight, so that she might meet the gaze of her prince instead.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t make it,” she whispered, thinking to her failed attempt at escape,”

“It’s okay, little witch. I’m here now,” Lust whispers, cradling your body.

You turn to see the man, Anir, approaching too. His gaze is calculating as he observes you, likely trying to figure out what to report to his prince.

“What’s important now is that you’re honest,” he tells you sternly, though not unkindly, “If you don’t wish to marry Zarus, speak now, Miss Willows,”

Her heart races at his words, at the opportunity to escape. She wants to reach for it, to grasp it but-

“But where will I go?” she asks weakly.

Lust, who was cradling her wounded wrist in his hand, smiled gently at her. Like he had many times before.

“You’ll come with me,” he whispered.

“But why? You have so many demons to feed your sin, so why-”

“Because I want you,” he reminds her, “I’ll tell you as many times as you need. I want you. Not anybody else,” he leans down to your ear, “Come back with me, to House Lust. Join my court officially. Be mine. Let me make you my princess, and then be mine. Mine for eternity,”

“Lust-”

“Hush. Let me finish,” he waits for you to nod before speaking, “In return, I’ll give you all the comfort and pleasure you want. I won’t have dalliances with anyone else. I won’t look at anyone else. Nobody but you. I’ll give you whatever your heart desires, if you just say ‘yes’”

He’s practically begging, in front of the entire vampire court, and his brother’s second, no less.

You don’t bother to contain your tears as you lean up, wrapping your good arm around him.

“Miss Willows-” Anir begins.

“Amara, I forbid-”

“Yes,” she manages to get out through her sobs, not breaking your gaze from Lust’s, “I want to go to House Lust. I want to leave this place,”

Anir nods, beginning to address the room again, but you pay it no mind. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Lust’s shoulders, mindful of the injured wrist, and buried your face there. The demon from earlier tried to console her, only for Lust to wave her away. He could feel her emotions. The fear, and heartache for her situation, all overshadowed by relife, joy, and desire for her freedom, for Lust. He felt no need to inflate it, instead, he gently encouraged her to let it out however she needed.

It was only when Lust deposited her on a bed covered in deep plum silks, and overly stuffed pillows.

“Care for a bath?” he asked.

“As long as it stays one. I’m far too tired to do anything right now,” she murmured to him.

Lust chuckled, but agreed, as he helped her from, what he called, an inordinate amount of fabric, as she giggled and reminded him that it was only two layers.

“Two layers too many,” he huffed, before tearing the dress from her body and depositing her in the bat.

While she soaked, Lust gently wiped the makeup from her face, before pressing a kiss to her temple. He brought some ointment and bandages for her wrist, silently wrapping it, before carrying her back to bed.

“If you don’t wish to sleep bare, I could have some night clothes brought,” he gently offered, as he helped her dry off.

Amara shook her head.

“I’ve slept beside you, naked, in caves, and on sand. I think I’ll be fine to do so while wrapped in the most comfortable silks I’ve ever seen,” she assured.

Lust smiled, nodding, before reaching for something from the bedside.

“I only wish for your comfort, little witch, before I make good on one of my promises,”

Amara blushed at the reminder.

“You don’t-”

He ignored her as he took a ring in one hand, hew good wrist in the other.

“I want to. Let me make you my princess. My fiance. My only lover,”

She stared at him, noting sincerity in his dark eyes. Amara nodded.

“Then, from now until eternity, be mine, Lust,”

Lust slid the ring to her finger, then pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Mine,” he nipped at her.

She giggled, and nipped back.

“Mine,”

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lover-of-mine · 1 year ago

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This is "Let's Drown Buck, Giving Eddie a Shooting Moment and Triggering a Buck Breakdown: An Updated Season 7 Speculation Based on Exactly One Picture Posted by The Props Department and The Voices In My Head"

Okay, so, my Buck will drown in season 7 spec is in its 3rd installment, you can read installment one here, this one has the drowning work as a climax for buddie in a sense, a mid-season or season finale situation, you can read installment number two here, this one is a climax for Buck to break, and now I'm gonna type out a Buck drowning as a season premiere trigger. (You can go here to see all my Buck drowning thoughts)

So, this whole thing hinges on one thing: the fact that the show consistently mirrors Buck and Eddie's personal journeys, with Buck mostly being a few steps behind Eddie. I feel like we collectively got caught up in the way the lightning reminds us of the shooting, and we failed to notice the way the lightning is actually the well. The rain aspect, the night aspect, the team as audience aspect, the volunteering into the rescue that goes wrong over lightning, the way both of them are screaming, the moments of irrational action with the way Buck is trying to dig Eddie by hand and Eddie is trying to pull Buck up to him, the breathing thing with the way Eddie was about to drown and Buck's lungs weren't working, I think even the way Eddie saved himself and the whole concept of the coma dream can work here (here's a set for visuals).

We know Eddie didn't deal with any of his trauma until after the shooting, dude was very just move forward until he couldn't anymore. And one thing is true, you can draw quite a few parallels between the way Buck was acting in season 6 with the way Eddie acts in seasons 3 and 4. Up to the way you can draw direct parallels between Buck and Natalia to Eddie and Ana (here's a set for visuals), or the way he sounds like Eddie did with the just make the best of it, the way Buck is talking in the cemetery really reminds me of what Eddie tells him in kids today when he drops Chris off before the tsunami. And, well, let's face it, Buck hasn't dealt with any strong emotion ever and this man needs to break to move on with his life.

But, sure, how does any of this adds up to Buck drowning? Most of Buck's major traumas/near-death experiences involve water or breathing, the emergency tracheotomy on the first date with Abby, the blood clots in his lung, the tsunami, the well, the warehouse fire, the lightning leading to damage in his lungs (here's a set for visuals) also, Bobby nearly drowned in the plane crash, he got caught with Chris in a tsunami and then Chris falls back into the water, Eddie nearly drowned at the well, Maddie walked into the ocean, I think even the bathtub incident with Jee, creates this pattern of water hurting Buck or people Buck loves. So water is a common trauma factor here.

Why is this important? When you look at the shooting, there are a lot of things that make it as intense as it is: it happens by chance, it's a case of wrong place/wrong time, they're not supposed to be there but they are because Eddie got called there specifically, Buck has to save Eddie alone because they are there with another house and Buck doesn't trust anyone else, and it brings up a previous trauma for Eddie. I also wanna add the fact that, like it or not, Eddie is that attached to what's happening to Charlie because it makes him think of Christopher, at least on some level. So having Buck drown covers the previous trauma thing and it's very easy to make it happen by chance. So let's work out the rest of it, shall we?

Season 6 ends with Bobby and Athena finally going on their honeymoon cruise. I know I'm not the only one sitting here chanting *cruise disaster* because of that, because let's face it when does anything ever go right for anyone on that show. But the props department posted this picture of life vests. Also, one of the writers posted a picture of a script where you can read the word boats. The speculation of something is gonna happen in that cruise writes itself. Add in the fact that people don't know bathena are on the cruise to begin with and you have a GREAT season premiere disaster in your hands. (I don't really wanna bring up Grey's Anatomy here even though a lot of this has me thinking about 3 Grey's episodes, but if you've seen the show, think the ferry boat crash/Meredith drowning arc in season 3)

That means we have a whole ass ocean to drown Buck in while responding to that. Because what's another thing that keeps trying to kill Buck? That's right, city equipment.

Okay, so back to the shooting elements, wrong place/wrong time, they're not really supposed to be there, another crew, previous trauma, no one else they trust around. Not really supposed to be there/got called there directly can be cloudy, but it could just be a "we're going because it's Bobby and Athena's ship". So that's down. Another house, well, a call in that scale would have multiple houses, them getting separated is expected, so that's down too. Previous trauma, Buck getting trapped under something, Buck almost drowning, water, beaches as a whole, all cover that. Wrong place/wrong time, I keep going back to equipment malfunctioning in some way. Maybe they're lowering Buck somewhere and it gets loose, a harness breaking, the oxygen tank stops working, that's something that can happen by chance and create a situation that triggers a past trauma for Buck.

Okay, so we have a lot of elements at play here let's get to the actual vision.

At first, when I saw the life vests, I actually thought about this all happening while they try to save Bobby. They find Bobby, they get Bobby out, Eddie is working on him because he's the one with medical training, it takes him a moment to notice Buck hasn't resurfaced, then he dives back to go get Buck, mostly because that could have some fun implications on the dynamic between the 3, especially if we go to a situation where Buck could've gotten himself out but doesn't, a situation where Buck stops trying, also because I think Buck believes dying for someone he loves is the way to go, so dying for Bobby would be fine with him, but it wouldn't be fine with Bobby or Eddie, and Eddie not dealing with saving Buck's life again could absolutely redirect those feeling towards Bobby because he can't get mad at Buck for dying, so that could create some fun tension.

BUT, if we see Charlie as a surrogate for Chris, to have the situation be triggered by a stranger that reminds Buck of someone he loves, Maddie, Bobby, not Chris because then Eddie would also be irrational in the situation, Eddie is the one that gets reckless when children are involved, could be fun.

So vision: Buck and Eddie are paired doing water rescues or something, they spot someone, that someone brings a more extreme reaction from Buck, I will say he thinks the stranger is Bobby for convenience over the fact that this whole thing is happening on a cruise Bobby is supposed to be in, but it doesn't have to. They go through with the rescue, because again, the thing they went to do is done when Eddie gets shot, something goes wrong, Buck gets pinned down (I don't love the idea of Buck just stopping swimming, I like the idea of something he could get out of if he tried hard enough but he doesn't have it in him to keep struggling, so pinned down it is, also because that brings up the truck bombing), Eddie doesn't notice Buck didn't resurface for a bit (that can also be fun considering the way Eddie is always the last to know, he was the last to see Shannon in the crash, he only found out Buck and Chris were in the tsunami once they were safe, he was the last one to look up at Buck after the lightning, so fun implications all around) just long enough for us to cut back and forth to Buck struggling and Eddie, then cutting to Buck stopping, then Eddie noticing Buck is not there and diving back in. Then we have the fun little aspects of Eddie saving Buck, dragging him out, Buck being unresponsive, desperate cpr, "you're not doing this to me again", Buck finally reacting, sitting up and coughing up water, if we're lucky him dropping back into Eddie and a nice little "I got you, I got you" if we're even luckier maybe some forehead touching or Eddie burying his face on Buck's hair (let Ryan's emotional power out for a spin yk?).

Implication of this for Buck, Eddie, and buddie could be fun. Because you can have Buck spiraling over the fact that almost died again and he was actually okay with it for a while there, kickstarting a breakdown era, because he thought dying was supposed to give him some peace because of Levi and the whole happiness convention thing, and some fun parallels with 5b Eddie. We can have Eddie spiraling over the situation because he had to save Buck again, and Buck is not dealing with it so he's not dealing with it because they don't talk about what it's like being the one doing the saving. And Eddie is already pulling back from Buck, to have this create a real gap between them is easy as hell. And since I'm a "the shooting was Eddie's oh! moment truther" and I'm a believer that Eddie is fully aware of his feelings and just thinks Buck will never feel the same, to throw that energy on Buck would interesting. Just have Buck dealing with having his oh! moment in a very inconvenient moment and with the fact that Eddie is pulling away from him while he spirals.

Do I actually believe any of this is gonna happen? No, no I don't. But I will share the thought on the off chance it does so can get the bragging rights lol.

I will tag @slowlyfoggydestiny because we were talking about this the other day and her inputs helped a lot while I was trying to work out how to make the drowning a trigger, and also because she's been here with me through the whole "let's drown Buck" conversation 🫶.

If you read this I love you 🫶🫶

#is this madness? yes #am i aware of it? also yes #but *shrus*#911 speculation #only kinda lol #911 #i dont know how to tag this so im just gonna go #drown buck 2024

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bi-bard · 2 years ago

Text

I Fell in Love with the Fire Long Ago - Will Halstead Imagine [Chicago Med]

Title: I Fell in Love with the Fire Long Ago

Pairing: Will Halstead X Reader

Based On: Would That I

Word Count: 1,429 words

Warning(s): mention of past relationships

Summary: Will has been through his share of relationships that crumbled apart. He knew better than jumping to the idea of true love. But when he meets (Y/n), he can't seem to stop himself from picturing what his future with them would look like.

Author's Note: This might be my favorite song on this album. It's gorgeous.

WASTELAND, BABY! - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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There were few people who would look at Will Halstead's dating history and call him particularly lucky.

He hadn't dated bad people. Quite the opposite. He had dated people who had a drive to help people. People that held goodness in their hearts.

The problem was that he kept getting involved with people in his place of work. Being in the same workplace meant that if the relationship crashed and burned, then it burned badly.

It was a hard pattern to break when so much of his time was spent in the hospital.

That was until he met (Y/n).

Well, it took him a while to properly meet (Y/n). At first, they would just wave and greet each other in the hallway of their apartment complex. It was just politeness.

It took Will far too long to properly introduce himself to them.

They had both gotten back around the same time. They waved at each other. And just as Will went to unlock his door, he turned around to face them.

"I'm Will," he said, pulling (Y/n)'s attention from their apartment door.

There was a pause before (Y/n) truly registered what was happening. "(Y/n)."

"Nice to meet you," he replied. "Properly, I mean."

"You too," they grinned at him. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah," he nodded.

(Y/n) walked into their apartment. Will lingered in the hall for a second, grinning at himself for finally getting over himself.

The two became more friendly after that. Simple greetings turned into small comments about work and the weather and the traffic and whatever other small topic could be discussed in the time that it took each of them to unlock their doors and walk into their apartments.

It was difficult for Will to not be curious. To not want to know more about them.

Their conversations only changed when Will got a few envelopes and a package with (Y/n)'s name on it.

He knew it was kind of late, but he couldn't really help his schedule.

So, he walked across the hall and knocked on (Y/n)'s door.

(Y/n)'s eyebrows furrowed as they saw Will on the other side of the door.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hi," they replied, still confused about why he was there.

"Um, sorry, I know it's kinda late, but I got some of your mail," he held out his hand.

"Thanks," they took the few pieces of mail from him. They spotted the package with the envelopes and immediately seemed to brighten up. "Holy shit! Sorry."

"It's fine," Will chuckled at their excitement. He thought it was sweet. It made him feel a need to bite back a wide smile that wanted to form. "Can I ask what brought out that reaction?"

"It's a CD that I've been waiting on," they explained. "It's like how people collect vinyl. I know there's a more convenient way to listen to my music, but the CDs are just so nice to have."

"I get it," he promised. "How many have you got?"

"God, who knows," they muttered. "Almost a bookcase full."

He raised an eyebrow. "Must be an interesting collection."

"Yeah, that's the word people use for it," (Y/n) nodded.

After that day, (Y/n) made a promise to introduce Will to as much of their collection as possible. It wasn't very often because of Will's schedule, but the two had managed to make some kind of pattern out of it.

Will got used to their little schedule far faster than he'd care to admit.

He started looking forward to sitting on (Y/n)'s couch, listening to whatever album they had put in. He learned more about music and the history surrounding different albums and artists than he ever would've on his own. But he wasn't complaining. He found comfort in listening to (Y/n) ramble about it.

Over time, he felt something fall from his shoulders.

Some part of his history fading away. Piece by piece until he was a clean slate.

It was one of the best feelings he had ever experienced.

He thought that he would be resigned to holding those feelings in forever. He was too scared of messing up what he already had.

However, sometimes, our feelings get the best of us.

It all started out like a normal night.

Will went over and knocked on the door.

(Y/n) opened the door and immediately welcomed him, asking him about his day and how work had been.

That was another thing. (Y/n) did far more than just rant about their interests. They started every evening by telling Will to talk about his day while they decided on an album.

They were a good listener too. Entirely engaged. It was nice to know that it was just an echo chamber in that apartment. It was... perfect. That was the best word that Will had for it.

That night, (Y/n) almost immediately grabbed an album.

Will barely got sight of the album cover as their moved. AURORA was printed in big letters and there were two people standing very close to each other.

"I think you'll really like this one," (Y/n) said. "Daisy Jones & the Six, have you heard of them?"

"Briefly," Will replied. That was true. He remembered hearing about the hit band with one album. He had heard Daisy's later work. Beyond that, it was a mystery to him.

"Well, I am happy to be your guide into this amazing world of music," (Y/n) almost bounced onto the couch after placing the CD in the stereo on their TV stand.

Will was happy to be guided through the world. (Y/n) was easily one of the most interesting people he had ever listened to.

Throughout most of the night, (Y/n) was excitedly talking about the history of the band, trying to not take too much of his attention from the music itself.

They had just gotten to "More Fun to Miss".

"So, she sounded kind of different on this song," (Y/n) explained. They paused, letting Will listen to the woman's vocals. "A lot of people wanted to know why. If something had changed. Well, this documentary came out and Daisy and Billy told the world that he had kissed her just before she recorded the final take.

"I mean, the world lost its mind for a minute. It was such a weird thing to have this moment confirmed that so many had assumed happened.

"I personally was never really a part of that line of thinking. I felt like too many people focused so much on that that it boiled Daisy down to who she was in correlation to Billy and not who she was as a person."

Will just sat and nodded. He was so drawn in by just (Y/n) talking that he barely noticed when the rambling stopped. He didn't want it to. He wanted to spend hours, days even, just listening to them talk about anything they wanted.

Because then, he could fixate so wholly on them without feeling a need to look away before he looked weird.

"Are you okay," (Y/n) asked after a moment.

Will blinked a few times. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"You just look a little... distracted," they replied.

"No, not at all," he shook his head. "I just... I just like listening to you."

"Oh," (Y/n) looked down, grinning a bit to themself.

Will felt ridiculous for how easily he could picture spending every day like this. Coming back here after the end of his shift, sitting next to (Y/n), and relaxing while listening to them talk about... anything, really.

He could see dinners and movies and dates. Introducing (Y/n) to co-workers. Kissing and holding each other and getting gifts.

He couldn't remember picturing a relationship so clearly since he was a teenager in high school, thinking about how he would spend the rest of his life with someone that probably just looked at him for a little too long.

"(Y/n)," he said quietly.

They looked at him.

As soon as they did, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to theirs.

It wasn't until (Y/n) started to kiss him back that his hand came up to cup the back of their head, essentially holding them as close as possible.

The entire moment was so... calm. Every other thought was silenced. The music even seemed to fade away for a little while.

Will leaned away first, smiling at (Y/n) as soon as he did. That moment was so much better than anything his mind had constructed.

Maybe that pattern was a little easier to break than he originally gave it credit for.

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Author's Note: Yes, I made Daisy Jones & the Six canon in the One Chicago universe. What about it?

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#will halstead x reader #will halstead fanfiction #will halstead imagine #chicago med imagine #chicago med fanfiction #chicago x reader #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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atherix · 2 years ago

Note

👀

it seems only fair i allow you to bully me now.

My god trying to find a balance between "I will devastate you" and "I will not spoil one of the biggest twists of this story" is very difficult hjfgdjkhkj

That being said, this is still pretty big spoilers. This was, once again, also going to be part of Midnight Miseries, but I decided it would do better later down the line with a few changes <3

I stress to you, if you don't want spoilers with Grian's dreams, don't click 'keep reading'. If you're down for spoilers tho, go ahead <3

The sound of the sea echoes in Grian’s ears. It’s too loud.

Too loud.

The wind is cold and wet and he curls his wings around himself, shielding himself from the rain pittering down-

He stops.

He stares.

His wings are gray- gray and white and lifeless, drained of their usual bright colors. Patterns are drawn through the feathers; eyes staring back at him, purple-black ink running like tears in the rain and distorting the image across their monochrome canvas.

He stares at the rivulets, dripping onto the ground beneath his feet.

The ground.

Sand, wet sand, pale tan verging on gray- gray like his wings, black ink spreading in tendrils like wither decay, washing away from his feet.

The rain plasters his hair to his skin and he lifts a hand, trying to wipe the water running down his face. The sleeves hanging from his arms give him pause and he stares at the cloth, and then follows it down to find himself wearing a robe.

A robe.

A familiar robe.

His breath hitches and he looks up to find himself staring at a forest. It’s not a familiar forest- not the one he passed over all those years ago, not any forest he has ever seen. The trees are like charcoal- like trees burned up in some inferno years ago, never to recover, forever reaching towards the sky. They tremble in the wind, no canopy to block out the swirling storm above.

Behind him the sea crashes.

There are voices in the wind. Voices that urge him to turn around turn around this is wrong wrong turn around, and slowly he does. There is nothing else he can do but obey, his feet drawing him closer to the edge.

He doesn’t feel like himself.

Nothing feels real.

The rain is cold and chills him to the bone, yet somehow it doesn’t feel quite.... there. Like ice-numbed skin, or the brush of a candle flame against calloused hands.

Wrong.

The rain is barely a low thrum around him yet the ocean below the dunes is loud- loud like thunder, so loud it drowns out everything.

Wrong.

The sea isn’t deep, he notices immediately. It licks at the shore barely three feet from the foot of the dunes. The waves are small, hardly large enough to break. Why is it so loud?

Wrong.

There’s something in the water.

A boat, he realizes. A boat, rocking against the waves. It’s tethered down into something Grian can’t see, rusting chains holding it fast in place.

His eyes trail across the water, looking for something. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He doesn’t know, but when he sees it he realizes it could be nothing else.

Someone sits in the water.

Their green robe is washed out, once-brilliant emerald now pale like winter grass, and moves gently in the current- floating and swishing with the water, completely at odds with the crashing thunder.

Their back is turned to Grian, looking out over the water towards an island in the distance, but Grian doesn’t need to see their face to recognize them.

The silver locks are almost indiscernible from the brown in this lifeless place, but Grian knows.

Scar’s hair is wet from the rain and pale- paler than its usual rich brown, almost ashen in the dying light, and the water swirls around his waist where he sits, and Grian is struck again by how wrong this is.

He calls out but can't even hear himself under the waves. Even the lightning that strikes around them is silent compared to the water.

Scar doesn't react.

Grian forces himself forward, stumbling down the side of the dune. Sand rains down around him as he crashes into the sea, ice cold water splashing up around him. It tastes like salt and loss and regret.

"Scar," he gasps out, spitting the sea water out of his mouth as he struggles back to his feet. He moves towards Scar but trips again, his knees knocking against stone.

The water nearly swallows him but he pushes himself back to his knees, ice dripping from his wings. The water turns black around him, ink swirling around in small whirlpools before being washed away by the tide, and he turns to look at the stone. The marble is nearly blinding against the storm-dark water, and Grian really isn't sure what it is, half submerged in the water.

Green runs like blood, like the black ink of his own wings.

(A grave.)

He turns back to Scar to find the Elf gazing back at him, eyes distant.

"Scar," he calls, voice lost among the waves.

"What are you doing here, Grian?"

His voice sounds so far away and Grian pushes his way through the water, reaching out for Scar. His voice is distant and echoing, like he's far, far away, but he's right there, and his voice isn't honey and addicting and Grian’s name on his tongue doesn't pull Grian’s attention, doesn't command obedience or sway him to Scar's words.

Wrong.

Of course not. This is a dream, he can't help but think. Of course Scar's Fae compulsion wouldn't work in a dream.

(Wrong.)

He brushes his hand across Scar’s cheek and he's so cold, cold like ice- cold like death. Grian breathes sharply but feels like he's drowning, and Scar’s eyes are dull green and-

"Where is here?" Grian chokes out through the water in his lungs.

Scar stares at him and slowly raises a hand out of the water, grabbing Grian's hand on his cheek. "I don't know," he murmurs, leaning into Grian's touch- and Grian thinks, with how cold Scar is beneath his hand, Grian's hand must feel so warm to him. "I never know. Somewhere we shouldn't be."

It answers nothing. "Is this real?"

"I don't know."

(Yes.)

"Is this a dream?" Grian asks, even though it means the same thing.

"I don't know," Scar repeats and it's wrong, because Scar always has an answer. Even if it's a legend or a story passed down in some ancient, long-dead culture- he always has some story or theory that was once used, at some point in time, to explain anything.

Scar collects stories and legends and histories the way Grian used to collect funny rocks.

This can't be real.

Scar tilts his head, watching Grian with distant unseeing eyes. "Grian?" He murmurs, and it sounds wrong. Everything- his voice, the water, the wind and the rain... Grian’s name.

(Is this a dream?)

"Scar, my love," Grian says softly, "is there anything you can tell me? At all?"

Scar looks through him and what's left of the light dims. "I've been here before," Scar says slowly, gaze sliding past Grian and to the gravestone behind him. "A long time ago. Every time. Always here. I don't know."

"It's okay," Grian says, even though he thinks it might not be. "It's okay. It's a dream. Just a dream. None of this is real."

(Wrong.)

"I don't know," Scar repeats yet again, then adds, "It's so cold here."

Grian’s wings flap, shaking the water and ice out, and he turns to look at the dunes behind the grave. "Let's get out of the water," he says, even though the storm clouds have only darkened.

Scar's hand on his tightens before loosening once again, and Grian looks at him again. Scar is staring at him, silent as the grave at his back, and Grian becomes increasingly aware of the literal ice clinging to Scar's skin.

His skin, his eyelashes, his hair.

(So much ice, ice like silver.)

"Can't," he says simply. Grian breathes and it feels like drowning. "I can't. I have to... I have to..."

He turns back to the horizon, through the rain fog, and Grian looks as well- towards the light shining through the clouds.

(Don't go.)

"I have to... I can't..."

Grian's looks back at Scar.

Just a dream, he reminds himself despite everything in him screaming that he's wrong wrong wrong.

He can't read the look in Scar’s eyes. They're distant, not present-

Not conscious.

Not aware.

Grian swallows the salt on his tongue. "Scar," he whispers, but Scar doesn't react. Grian leans his forehead against Scar’s and tightens his grip on Scar’s hands. "Scar."

"Grian," Scar murmurs in response.

"We need to get out of the water."

No response.

“Scar?” Grian tries again, but Scar stares at him silently. “Scar, this- we need to-”

“No,” Scar says simply, slowly pulling away from Grian. Grian keens softly, the sound lost in the crashing of the waves around them, and Scar shakes his head slowly. “No. Can’t. That would be... bad. Wrong.”

Wrong.

“Scar, the water is cold,” he tries, desperate, but Scar is turning his eyes back to the horizon already- to the distant light. The wind billows around them and Grian shivers, but Scar doesn’t react at all. “You don’t like the cold. We could- we could-”

“Wrong,” Scar murmurs, and it feels so wrong wrong wrong. “Can’t.”

The dim light is fading and Grian’s chest feels so heavy, like something pulling him down. A tugging at his heart, like a rope or tether being pulled. Like it’s time to go.

Like he shouldn’t be here.

“Scar!” he gasps, cupping his hands around Scar’s face and forcing him to turn back to him. Scar blinks, a flicker of surprise- barely there, barely present- in his eyes, and it feels like victory. “Scar, tell me- tell me something about this place. It’s- tell me something. Anything. Anything at all.”

Scar stares at him, and Grian can almost swear his eyes darken- just a little, just a little greener. A little more aware, a little more here.

“Birdie?” he asks slowly and Grian’s wings fluff up, relief washing over him. It’s almost warm, compared to the frost growing on his skin. “What are you... doing here? In... this place...”

“This place...?” Grian repeats, softly begging for explanation.

Scar breathes in sharply and his gaze snaps to the horizon again. The wind dies down for just a moment and Grian thinks he can hear whispers- whispers in a language he doesn’t know, words he has no hope of understanding. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Where is here?” Grian asks, desperation tinging his voice. “Scar, I don’t know what’s going on. Is this place real? Am I dreaming? Scar, I’m so confused-”

Scar looks at him and for a moment- just a moment- he looks alive. The waves quiet and the whispers fall silent and the wind dies- but Grian can still hear the storm above them, can still feel the rain pelting against his skin, can still see the drops rolling down Scar’s face and-

(Tears.)

“Scar...?” Grian whispers, and Scar reaches up to grab his hands.

“You shouldn’t touch me here,” Scar says quietly in return, gently pulling Grian’s hands free. “You might not be able to leave.”

“What does that mean?” Grian asks, heart twisting in his chest. He can still feel that invisible rope tightening around him, but the incessant tugging has stopped.

“You need to leave,” Scar says, voice firm. Slowly Scar stands up and Grian follows, not wanting to let go. “You can’t be here. You can’t. A dream,” he murmurs softly, and it’s wrong and goes against every thought screaming in Grian’s mind.

“Those two things don’t- match,” Grian points out softly. “It’s either a dream or I can get stuck here. It can’t be both.”

“Wrong,” Scar says shortly, voice mingling with the one in Grian’s head. He drops Grian’s hands and stumbles away, back towards the marble Grian had tripped over before. Grian watches him, rooted to the spot.

Darkness falls, and the only light is that stone. Scar’s hands brush across its surface. Grian feels like he’s falling.

“Scar-” he tries, but when Scar turns to look at him with golden eyes his words die, and that rope is tugging again, and wrong wrong wrong leave now leave now no time get out-

Then everything is gone.

The water.

The wind.

The cold.

Scar.

He blinks.

The canopy above him replaces the endless black in front of his eyes.

Bed. He’s in his bed, and the comforter is wrapped around him- warm, so very warm, even though the bed’s other occupants have left already.

He sits up, body aching, and for a moment he wonders- what happened?

Blondie. Right. There was a fight, they almost died, Tubbo...

He tosses the blankets off of himself and stands up, not bothering to change out of his night clothes before he slips out of the room. He pauses with his hand on the knob and looks at it. Something nags at him but...

(Dream.)

Dream? Right. He had a dream. A strange dream. A beach. Water. Cold. Scar.

He needs to find Scar.

#ask #ask game #Midnight Series #<- this one has pretty big spoilers #mind you I don't think you'll figure out what's happening #BUT #I'm marking it anyway so #spoilers #hermitshipping #Mumscarian #long post

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foreverrunningfree · 1 year ago

Text

@czigonas wanted to see me answer those artist questions and I did them all so it’ll be under the cut

1. Art programs you have but don’t use?

As of rn I cannot draw on my laptop/tablet so technically paint tool SAI and photoshop(idk what version). But I guess I hadn’t used photoshop for /years/ back before my drawing hiatus. Sorry but SAI is so much nicer to look at and to use, for me personally.

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left,right, or forward?

I flip flop my canvas a ton to a) look at it for wonkiness and b) to get specific lines in a direction that feels good, but the actual act of drawing I typically like to have them looking left cause most the the lines flow from top right to bottom left which is nicer to do since I use my right hand to draw even tho I am ambidextrous.

3. What ideas come from when you were little?

This question confuses me on what it’s actually asking soooo? When I was like 12 I had to write a story for school so I did a story about a plane crash in which the survivor came face to face to a rat/bat/cat/dog creature thing? I’ve always wanted to redraw the creature, idk if I have the original drawing I did and I don’t feel up to digging to see if I kept it during all my moves.

4. Fave character/subject that’s a bitch to draw?

My favorite animal color patterns aka brindle, merle ,roan, spots/stripes. So time consuming. In terms of shape, human faces for sure.

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself?

Before hiatus, probably 90% /shared/. Currently, probably 75% /posted/cause I can’t post the porn to tumblr lmaoooo but I have shared them with like half a dozen friends.

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously?

I’m sure there’s a ton but if it’s subconsciously then how would I consciously know?🤔 ok serious answer, probably every single 2D animated movie or show I’ve ever seen, and all the various artists I follow. I mean, there’s parts of my style I can pinpoint you to what it’s inspired by.

7. A medium of art you don’t work in but appreciate?

I’ve never /seriously/ tried oil paint, acrylic paint, or pastels but that shit always looks so good. Also watercolor even though i have tried and enjoyed using watercolors but I am far far faaarrr from being proficient in them. Non drawing wise, I fucking love dioramas, especially those that are then filled in(?) with acrylic(?). I watch a lot of those videos on YouTube.

8. What’s an old project idea you’ve lost interest in?

Most of my old animal ocs I had in the same universe in my mind and had a comic planned that I never got around to. I still love and wanna revisit those ocs. But also my dragon age ocs who I’ve SERIOUSLY BEEN CONSIDERING drawing in @soaps-hoe-141 universe 👀

9. What are your file name conventions?

Before hiatus/ on my laptop, subject or character and whatever was happening in the pic. Now using procreate on my iPad? I don’t think I’ve named a single one lol.

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw?

Nothing, no clothes, nude, nakedness please and thank you. lol but I guess I do sorta enjoy figuring out clothing in general, folds and shit, getting that practice in. Like how it hangs and creases in poses since I’m not used to drawing it.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing?

I don’t usually listen to /only/ music while drawing, I much prefer having a favorite movie playing in the background and/or a show I enjoy rewatching/am actively watching. I also watch a lot of gamer YouTubers I put on as background noise/short watch breaks that their voice is just soothing to me even if I’m not /watching/.

12. Easiest part of the body to draw?

I’m not sure… maybe boobs/pecs for humanoids. General body shape for animals?

13. A creator you admire but whose work isn’t your thing?

Honestly can’t think of a single one. I mean, plenty of artists do work(or with a medium) that I can’t or don’t want to do/use personally but I read the question of “isn’t your thing” as “subject you don’t enjoy”. If that’s correct, then idk what to tell you. I don’t follow or remember people who majority does things I can’t enjoy on some level.

14. Any fave motifs?

Quite a lot of religious imagery I guess ex. Circles around a persons head. Less serious answer is drawing characters in meme formats lol

15. Where do you draw?

Please don’t tell any physical therapists I live like this… on my back on my couch with my head on the arm rest while holding my iPad propped up on my chest like 8 inches away from my face lmao

16. Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing?

Idk???? I do shit for my own enjoyment so I’m not sure? Maybe perhaps backgrounds? Like I could do something decent if i wanted to but I’m not into it so I usually just don’t?

17. Do you eat or drink while drawing?

I take breaks… but while actively drawing? I often drink aka let the horny demons out while I enjoy whiskey lol.

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you’ve broken?

Broken broken? Next to fucking none? some charcoal sticks but otherwise…. None… I majority do digital art so really nothing to break there lol

19. Fave inanimate objects to draw?

Idk? I like doing life charcoal drawings? Of whatever, but particularly statues if that counts? I usually have living beings as my subjects.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy?

Ok, I hate this question, cause we are all good at different things. Maybe it’s just most of those I follow have different strengths than me???? But I guess if I had to pick, recreating from life(or picture) is a lot easier for me than some others(like making it life like/very accurate).

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways?

Yooo, anything I’ve reblogged honestly. Love everyone.

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing?

Absolutely none, again don’t let the pros know cause damn. But I will do stretches or take breaks as needed.

23. Do you use different layer modes?

Absolutely. Mostly for lighting and shading but yes, if I’m doing digital imma take advantage of it.

24. Do your references include stock images?

Yes? I don’t really understand what it’s asking?

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were not inspired by?

Idk? I don’t usually get feedback of that sort.

26. What’s a piece that’s viewed a wildly different interpretation from what you intended?

Again idk? I guess my shit is straight forward?

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff?

Almost never, again don’t let the pros know lol I do sometimes jump between pieces or start a new sketch before going to something farther along.

28. Any art events you have participated in, like zines?

Nope, wanted to and have tried before but I tend to NOT do something if I feel pressured to do it.

29. Media you love but doesn’t inspire you artistically?

Again I feel like this is a weird question or maybe it’s just my understanding of it but I can feel inspiration from all sort of artist shit even if it’s something I’ll never do(ex making a crochet animal or dioramas). I guess I can feel inspired to create from other creators even if it’s not direct inspiration/subject/medium.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

Underrated as in no one has seen aside from a few people irl would be my colored pencil pieces I did during afternoon naps when I worked at a daycare a few years ago.

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hertwood · 10 months ago

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dts s4 e9-10

e9: -another 4433 episode frothing at the mouth for it -if lewis had said 'thats what you get when you dont leave the space' after silverstone could you IMAGINE the things christian horner would've said. but max can say it after running over lewis' head. i guess -anyway i NEED another max/lewis championship fight yall dont understand -'christian is a bit like a jack russell terrier who likes to snap at your heels' no one does reads like toto jfc kaldjfasjdfalksjdf -'i don't believe to be successful you need to be an asshole.' SUSIE I LOVE U MWAH -the way lewis's voice gets high pitched when hes passionate abt something i love him i'm putting him in my pocket -not dts giving michael masi a whole introduction one episode before he gets murdered by public opinion -the shots of jeddah at night are So Pretty i actually really do like this track -the way rb talk about max's ruined quali lap is how i talk abt logan's deleted quali lap in jeddah. btw -the way they use mick's crash to set up "oh theres a safety car all the cars are gonna bunch up now~ wonder if anyone will use this opportunity for new tires :)" just setting up all this information for us to know NOW. for no particular reason :) -not max complaining that the SAFETY CAR is going TOO SLOW hes such a BRAT -god i need to see this race. aus23 levels of chaos it seems -i'm sorry but rb being like 'idk why max is being investigated 🥺 hamilton's the one that drove into the back of HIM 🥺🥺' like omg like max didnt do this EXACT thing to daniel baku 2018. its a PATTERN babes -when will my mans win again :( i'm sad :(

e10: -havent even started but i'm gonna CRY watching this episode i swear i am so serious -i'm already just so stressed out. being a max AND lewis girlie is only for god's strongest soldiers fr -'they like all this drama, but when we actually start racing they dont like it' max is so REAL for this -lewis hamilton rainbow helmet u will always be famous 2 me 😍 -checo max underrated ship btw. that cockwarming fic abt them *chefs kiss* -music is just making my stress worse (phenomenal) -part of me wishes i spent this winter break watching old races instead of watching dts, and this is a moment i'm really feeling it. i'm looking forward to at some point being able to watch this race and form my own opinions -( the end of the day i think regardless this result is never getting overturned and i'm at peace with that and i think other lewis girlies should work on that too~) -i will say. and maybe i'm missing something. i do understand the discourse abt only the lapped cars between max n lewis being allowed to unlap. BUT. if every car got to unlap themselves instead. would the result have been any different. how much does that particular detail matter. -ok now i'm just JEALOUS of u bitches who got to watch this live. i could've been there instead i was experiencing such intense trauma that i've forgotten most of 2021 (also i didnt know f1 existed) -OH I SAID I WAS GONNA CRY I KNEW I WAS GONNA CRY -i love lewis. i will always pick lewis over max. THAT BEING SAID -i watch this and i just feel relief. knowing the pressure he's been under his whole life from his father. for the first time in his life since he was little he gets to lift that pressure off his shoulders. i'm so happy for him. and like. you can TELL. how easier it is for him after this win. no matter the technicalities of this win, i find it impossible to be upset with all that context. i just feel overwhelmed with love

#violently unwell btw #dtsrewatch #she speaks

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 years ago

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The Reunion - Part 34

Summary: Tala (Phoenix) and Echo clear the air; Cora and Fives have a heart-to-heart.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

In honour of our Bad Batch eve, please enjoy this chapter of the Reunion.

I hope everyone has enjoyed their time with their family and gotten a well deserved break after the horrendous that has been 2022. Wishing you and your families an amazing 2023.

Love oo.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Torture, mentions of blood, bruises, threats, implied explosion, angst, fluff, kissing, fear of abandonment, fear of failing, exhaustion, mentions of pregnancy, anxiety, mistrust, I think that’s it. If I miss any please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 6,075 | Previous -> Next

Main Master List | The Reunion Master List

PHOENIX POV

“… tell us where the Jedi is hiding…”

Tech’s face was bruised, his upper lip had a cut, blood trickled down his chin. A black eye began forming on his left eye, he had trouble keeping it open. His goggles that usually decorated his face were on the ground, facing him, the lenses were cracked, the red light was on still recording. A pair of boots stood in front of him, as a black cape blew swinging into view. “I shall ask one last time … clone”

“He doesn’t know anything!” Jaz had an expression of pure terror as blood trickled from the side of her head, a bruise forming on her cheek. Her usually pristine outfit was now covered in dirt and blood, her sleeve was torn from being jostled here and there.

“Then …” the dark figure turned towards her shrinking form, as she was forced to kneel by two troopers standing behind her, “ … perhaps you can tell me. Where’s the Jedi?”

“She doesn’t know anything! LEAVE HER ALONE!” Tech screamed, fighting against the restraints that held him in place, he reached forward with his body hoping to get closer to her, wiggling in place when the butt of a blaster smacked the back of his head, causing him to fall forward.

“One of you will tell us what we want to know, and once we find the Jedi and any who are helping her, they will all die along with that Jedi scum. Save yourselves.” The dark boots shifted between the two, a red light illuminating each face as the boots shifted.

Tech and Jaz locked eyes, she smiled as best she could despite the pain she felt. Nodding her head slowly, mouthing three words only meant for him. His eyes filled with tears, mouthing the same words back, before he took in a deep breath, “Barycir (deploy)” a bright flash covered the area.

“Tala!” Echo’s voice reached my ears, as he shook me, “Honey, wake up” my eyes fluttered open as I looked at Echo’s concerned face. His fingers brushing my cheek, “You okay?” A small warm breeze brushed over my arms and face, there were small bright lights floating behind Echo’s head, swirling in a pattern I couldn’t quite make out. I closed my eyes shaking my head, I blinked a few more times before opening them to see Echo hovering over me.

His eyes were full of concern, “You alright?”

“Yeah” I shifted as he helped me sit up.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure … I saw something … I …” I rubbed the back of my neck, I needed to do some research in the repository, I tried to stand but my legs weren’t working properly, they felt weak and sore, “How long was I …”

“You were out for nearly three hours. You were floating, doing your meditative floating thing that you do, when the air shifted, everything went still as your eyes opened wide, and everything floating around you suddenly dropped and you came crashing down like a rock. I thought you were concussed or something but the scanner didn’t pick up anything.”

“That’s good, at least I was still able to protect myself even while I was unconscious.”

“So… you gonna tell me what happened?”

“The force … it showed me something but I …” I shifted again, finding my footing underneath me. Echo held my arms, making sure I didn’t fall again.

“What did you see?”

I shook my head, “I can’t … it’s all muddled … ” I motioned with my hand to my head, “I need time to understand what I saw.”

Echo narrowed his eyes at me, as though he was contemplating and calculating his next words, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes, no doubt doing his best to push down his thousand swirling questions running through his head, “Okay. What do you need?”

“Our bed and a giant glass of water”

“Done and done”

Echo carried me in his arms over to our speeder, placing me gently on the seat as he climbed in behind me, his arms caging me in against him, making sure I didn’t fall off. Usually, I’d go by myself to do a meditative retreat, however, the force kept telling me to bring Echo along with me. The longer we stayed on Armandine, the greater my connection with the force grew.

With one move, he started up the speeder, and before I knew it we were already half way through the forest and would be arriving back at our base.

The cave system, that had become our home, had grown more elaborate as I learned more about the crystals that grew on Armandine and how to use them. Enlarging the sizes of the rooms, and providing every room with their own refreshers. We were able to have a fully functioning kitchen, there were even another two layers for storage. Thanks to the repository, the crystals created a hangar to store our transports; keeping our presence to a minimum.

I’m not sure at what point I fell asleep, the next thing I knew I woke up on our bed with Echo lying next to me, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close to him. His soft snores filling my ears, watching him rest, filled my heart with an overwhelming since of happiness; for the first time since we had been together it filled me with fear. Almost as though every moment I spent with him was fleeting, something I wouldn’t be able to hold on to; I’m not sure where the fear stemmed from, maybe it was the vision I had.

I closed my eyes for a brief second, trying to quell the fear that was rising in my heart, when flashes of Tech and Jaz beaten and bruised filled my mind. The vision I had before playing out in clarity.

The feeling of being confined, the anxiety rising in my veins, I needed fresh air. I shifted his arm, placing it gently against his stomach. After everything Echo had been through for me, he deserved to rest, to not have to deal with a wife who was losing her mind. I shifted out of our bed, grabbing my jacket, and headed outside.

It was hard to tell what time it was, the nights were longer on Armandine than on Coruscant or even Barab.

“What are you doing out here?”

Wrecker’s voice called down to me, I turned to see him sitting on top of the cave. There was a worried expression on his face, he seemed to be doing okay with the realization he’d be having twins, however there were times when fear gripped him completely. I wondered if this was one of those times.

“Couldn’t sleep, what are you doing here?”

“Same. Figured I’d keep watch, have too many thoughts running around” he motioned to his head.

Mere seconds passed, as I used the force to jump up to the top of the cave, shifting a little before I sat down beside him, both of us looking over the area. The sounds of the forest had started to sound like home, the rustling of the leaves against the wind helped ease the anxiety within my heart.

Silence settled between the two of us for several minutes, Wrecker was very different from his brothers. He was someone who was always optimistic, always up for a laugh, but there were moments when he was serious too. Moments when he was the more mature one out of all us, didn’t happen often but when it did, it always surprised me.

“Wanna talk about what’s got you stressed?” I glanced over my shoulder to look at him.

He looked up to the sky, taking in a deep breath, almost as though he needed every moment to get his thoughts together, he cracked his neck, taking in one more deep breath before shifting his focus to the horizon in front of us.

“Lur and I were talking about our adiik (children), when she mentioned babies needed blankets, kisses, formula, clothes, milk … I mean she went on and on. I thought for sure she was never going to stop, and it hit me …” he turned to look at me, “What do I know about babies? How am I going to be able to provide for not just her, but my kids? Can I even really take care of them? What about teaching them? It was … it’s all a bit …”

His rubbed over his scar, as he took in a shaky breath.

“Yeah, I could see how that would be overwhelming. I thought there were babies on Kamino?”

“Well, yeah!” He shouted, before covering his mouth in realization he was a bit too loud, “Yes” he replied in a softer tone, I couldn’t help chuckle at his adorableness, “However, I never took care of them. We weren’t really allowed to; only those kriffing long necks, and their medical staff were allowed to care for them.”

“Ahh … I see. You know Wrecker, what you’re going through is something very common among new parents. Not everyone knows what to do with a baby Wrecker, it’s not like you’re born with instructions on how to look after a child, but somehow you find your way.” I smirked thinking about my own experiences, “You know, back in the day when I was still a Padawan, my Master forced me to do a few shifts at the Jedi temple nursery.”

“First, there’s nurseries at the temple?”

“Well…” my smile dropped a little, “There used to be.”

“Oh … right.” He cleared his throat, “Why did he force you to look after the kids?”

“He was trying to teach me patience … long story.” I waved off the rest of that tale, “Anyway” I shook my head focusing on the hear and now, “I’d never taken care of a baby in my life, never wanted to, yet despite my objections Master Yoda said it was training I would need. Not sure why he said that at the time, but looking back at it, I’m glad I got to spend that time in the nursery.”

“What happened?”

“The healer in charge of the nursery, left me alone with ten babies, while she went off to deal with something else. Basically, at the end of my shift I was covered in pee and poo, the babies were crying, I was crying, food was spilled on the floor, the atmosphere was full of tension and chaos.”

“Wait, they didn’t give you any instructions?”

“Well, in fairness she may have tried but I was … I was adamant I could handle it, and didn’t really listen all that much to the instructions provided.”

“This is not making me feel better. You are as brilliant as Tech and Jaz, and if you struggled this hard …”

I placed my hand on his arm, hoping to calm him down with the force, “My point is, even though my first time taking care of the babies was the worst experience I ever had, it was also the best. There was nothing, I mean absolutely nothing those kids could throw at me, that I couldn’t handle the second time.

This is your first baby, Wreck, it’s different than what you’re used to and it’s absolutely normal to be freaked out. After all, you’ll be taking care of someone who is completely and utterly helpless. A baby can’t tell you if it’s tired, hungry, dirty, upset, or in pain, it has one option to draw your attention, and that is to scream. Scream at the top of their lungs until you can figure out what they need. They are defenceless. They can’t fight for themselves, can’t advocate for their rights, can’t clean up after themselves, can’t even hold their heads up. You …” I nudged his shoulder, “Are going to be their protector, their provider, their shield, and their hiding place. You’ll feed them, love them, care for them, and even if you screw up, if you shower them with love, and do your best to be there for them, they’ll know they are loved by you and that is the most important thing.

First time parents always mess up, even second time or third times mess up. What matters is that you try and show up. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re also not alone. You have Echo, Fives, Hunter, Myri, Oly, Omega, Cross, Tech, Jaz, Wolffe, Azi, Cody, Gregor, Rex, and me. You have an entire village having your back. We’ll be there to help you both.”

“Is that what happened with the babies at the nursery?”

“More or less, the healer who was in charge, told me everything I did was wrong, but she also told me what I did right, she said I never stopped caring. I constantly showed my love to those children and that made all the difference. I may have been an absolute disaster, but the kids were fed, they were clean, they were crying because they sensed my anxiety and concern.”

“But I don’t know how to do anything?”

“Your sister-in-law literally runs an archive, you don’t think she could find some parenting books for you? She probably already has every parenting book from the entire galaxy available. However, you have to find your own style, learn as much as you can, and see what works for you. Plus don’t forget, we’ll be here for you.”

I smacked the back of his shoulder, only hurting myself in the process and causing him to chuckle. I gave him a light shove with the force trying to get him to shut up, which of course made him laugh even harder.

“Thanks vod’ika” he ruffled my hair, “I always enjoy talking to you”

“Me too”

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you up so late?”

I let out an unexpectedly long sigh, “I guess.” I picked at some moss that was covering the stone, it was a few minutes before I had found the right words, I was about to open my mouth when a very familiar and noticeable presence came out of the cave and stood at the entrance listening to us.

“You gonna join us too, Echo?”

Wrecker glanced over to me, I smirked as I reached my hand out, closing my eyes and wrapping the force around Echo, lifting him slowly and carefully, until he was floating before the two of us. I opened my eyes smiling at my dear riduur, “Fancy seeing you here”

“Well imagine my shock and surprise when our bed began to get cold, when I opened my eyes, you were gone. No note. No message.”

The pain in his eyes stung me like a needle through the heart, I couldn’t quite look at him. Ever since he came back from from Skako Minor, he’d have nightmares of still being stuck in the cryotube. Having no one around him, made him think he was still there.

The anger at failing him built up inside me, as well as the pain of letting him down, “Sorry, I just needed time to clear my head. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

He was silent for a while, they both were, until Echo cleared his voice, and I started to sense his nervousness through the force.

“Uh sweetie, you gonna put me down?” I glanced over to him, he was looking at the ground beneath him, I winced out a sorry and shifted him till he was behind me. He adjusted himself, before sitting down behind me, his legs caging me in on either side of him. Without a second though, he wrapped his arms around me, having me lean back until I rested against his chest.

Wrecker shifted a little, before he stood in his spot, we both looked at him, my head tilting, a silent question as to where he was going.

“I … um … I need to walk the perimeter. Give you guys a chance to talk or whatever …” Wrecker motioned between us, as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Either way, I’ll be back. You guys keep each other company and don’t let me catch you doing anything I don’t want to see when I come back” he finished with a slight chuckle, I could sense his uncomfortableness through the force.

“Got it” Echo’s voice was tense as he answered his vod, his tone indicating he wasn’t in the mood for Wrecker’s jokes. He simply watched as Wrecker walked away, and turned his full attention to me, “I see you were about ready to tell Wrecker everything.”

“You can’t know that for sure”

“Really? Then you gonna tell me what you saw or is that information for anyone and everyone else but me?”

“Echo, it’s not like that”

“No?”

I wanted to answer him, and tell him his anger was unfounded, but all I could manage to do was entwine our fingers, wrapping his arms around me tighter.

“Do you remember the nightmare Tech had before they left?”

“Yeah…”

“I saw it.”

Echo stiffened as he shifted, “What do you mean you saw it?”

“In my vision, I watched as Tech and Jaz were being interrogated”

“What? Where were they? Who was interrogating them?”

“I couldn’t see, I know it was storm troopers and someone important, but all I saw were black boots and a cape. As to where they were … I’m not a 100% sure, it could’ve been Ord Mantell or it could’ve been somewhere else”

“Is this happening now?”

“No. It was further into the future. Maybe a month or two, might have been longer. I couldn’t say for sure.”

“Doesn’t sound ominous at all.” He let out an frustrated sigh, as his hand untangled itself from my own hand and rubbed his face, “Does that mean it’ll come true?”

“I don’t know. Master Yoda used to say the future is ever in motion. We don’t always see the full picture, nor what that vision really meant.”

“We need to contact them! Tell them not to stay on Ord Mantell.”

How I wished it would’ve been as simple as that, “Echo we can’t, as much as I want to, we can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“How do we know that by telling them, we don’t enact the very future we’re trying to avoid?”

“Then let’s go there, rather than sitting around waiting for something to happen.”

“What if that triggers the vision?”

Echo let out a frustrated sigh, he shifted out of our hold, standing and pacing back and forth, “Well kriff Tala, what the hell are we supposed to do? Nothing? Just hope Tech and Jaz aren’t affected by your vision? Hope the Empire doesn’t find them?”

“What if we go there and someone else gets hurt because of our actions?” I responded standing in our spot, letting Echo pace.

“So…” Echo stopped and turned to look at me, his face quizzical, as anger bridled just behind his eyes, they bore into me with an intensity I hadn’t seen in a long time, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re telling me, you are perfectly fine letting them go through what you saw?”

“Of course not! How could you think that!”

“Well I’m wondering since all you do is shoot down every idea, while giving me no-win scenarios and you seem to be perfectly fine with that!”

“Oh! I’m sorry, am I suppose to be the one with all the answers! I missed that vow during our wedding!”

“No! I’m not saying you should, but come on Tala! You gotta give me something!”

“I’m giving you all I have! I don’t know what the vision means! I don’t know if it’s real or if it’s a possible scenario or what they’re going through right now! I don’t know! All I know is the force is trying to tell me something!”

“Great! Well that’s just great!” Echo’s anger was seeping through, something was bothering him.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Why? Why!” He asked stepping forward, “Let me think, you wake up after passing out in my arms on the way here. After, mind you, you were dropped back to the ground like some discarded piece of refuse during your mediation session, and what do I find? I wake up to an empty bed, no note, no message, it took me five minutes to calm down my anxiety, only to find you outside, perfectly calm and content, about to discuss your vision with Wrecker! Not me! Not your husband!” With each exclamation he jabbed his finger against his chest, “Wrecker!” He pointed to the horizon behind me “It seems as though you are willing to talk to anyone first, except me!”

I couldn’t believe my ears, it was the same argument again; about me not prioritizing him, about not putting him first. It wasn’t true. He was always first. I let out a sigh, and shook my head, I turned to look at the clearing before us, I needed a minute to gather my thoughts and to calm down the emotions running through my heart. I wanted to cry, to scream, to yell, but that wouldn’t have solved anything.

“Echo, do you really think I don’t care for you? That you’re not my first priority?”

Echo didn’t answer right away, the silence growing between us, as I felt a void beginning to grow as well, I closed my eyes taking in a deep breath, swallowing down the trembling that was growing, “Echo, I asked you a question, do you honestly think you’re not my first priority? That I don’t care for you?”

“I … what are you asking me?” his voice shifted it was slightly more tender; I could hear how his own emotions were trying to get the best of him.

“I’m asking, do you think I don’t care for you? That you’re not my priority?” I turned to look at him, his face looked shocked at my expression. He stepped forward, his hands cupping my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears, I had unconsciously been streaming down my cheeks.

“Sometimes …”

“Echo you are always my priority. I didn’t wake you because you were so stressed with everything that happened, carrying me to bed, dealing with everything regarding me. I meant to leave you a note, but at that moment my own anxiety was getting the best of me and I just needed to breathe.”

Tears were welling up in my eyes again, I closed my eyes, chewing on my upper lip. I took in a deep breath, opening my eyes and focusing on Echo’s.

“Echo,” I motioned to myself, “I’m not a normal woman. I’m a force wielder and not just that, but an Armandite with additional powers on top of it. I am full of sadness, grief and anger that I carry around inside me every day because of the war, because of what happened to you, what happened on Ryloth.”

His face started to become blurry through the tears, “I’m angry, Echo! I’m so angry that I’m scared of what I might do, the last person I ever want to hurt is you! Don’t you get that! Being on Armandine has been …” I walked out of his hold, running my hands through my hair, “Being here with you has been amazing, but it’s also caused me to deal with everything I’ve been through. I never realized how hurt and damaged I truly was.”

I stopped in my tracks, closing my eyes, “Now that I actually have a chance to rest, not running for our lives every moment …” I took in a deep breath, “Echo every day I wake up, there is a sickening pain in my chest and no matter what I do it doesn’t go away. Not my priority?” I turned to look at him, “You are the only thing that matters to me” tears streamed down my cheeks, “I’m doing my best to stay together for you. I don’t want to be a burden for you. Yet, everything I do, every time I try to be the wife you deserve I just keep failing you.”

Echo closed the distance between us, and placed his hands on my shoulders, “I want you to be my burden. I don’t care about anything else. You are it. If you bleed, I want to bleed with you. If you’re hurt, I’ll heal you as best as I can. If you are burdened then let my shoulders carry the weight for you. I’m here Tala, I have always been here, let me be here. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I married you, from the moment I met you, I knew what I was getting. Have there been surprises? Of course, any relationship will have its ups and downs, and things we never prepared for. Yet, I knew all of that going into this with you and what I would have to deal with, and I don’t regret it. Don’t you remember our wedding vows? When I live, I live for you. If I die, I die for you. Let me live for you.”

I nodded as he wrapped his arms around me, I buried my face in the crook of his neck, as tears streamed down my face.

“I love you, Tala. Don’t push me away. You told me, I’m not allowed to push you away when I’m in pain, well you’re not allowed to either. Understand?”

“Okay” I mumbled out as best as I could; I wrapped my arms tighter around him, grounding myself in his warmth and scent.

“Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow, we can find a quiet place and you and I can sit and talk about everything. When your ready, we can tell everyone about your vision, maybe you just need to meditate more or reach out to Master Yoda.”

I didn’t have the strength, the energy, or even the emotional wherewithal to answer him back, I simply nodded. I felt his hands resting against my neck as he guided me out of my hiding place, he placed a kiss on my forehead, and on each of my eyelids. “Don’t worry, Tala; I’m here. I got you.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

FIVES POV

Lady Cora was fast asleep beside me, the soft Alderaan silk bed sheet covering her. Things had gotten a bit crazy during our last few days here. However, spending time with her had been the highlight of my time here. My finger brushed away a strand of her hair, it seemed to be tickling her nose, as she scrunched it up over and over again. I shifted from the bed and headed to the balcony, taking in theitching to go, especially Wolffe.

“I found her!”

Everyone turned to look at Wolffe as he rushed in with his datapad, Tech and I stood trying to determine what he was waving to us.

“See!” He thrusted the datapad into Tech’s hands. He spent all of two seconds trying to determine what he was looking at before his eyes went wide.

“She boarded some sort of transport” Tech responded, his voice a little distant.

“Exactly! In the middle of the chaos, she climbed aboard a transport.”

“Who’s that?” I pointed to the man holding her hand helping her climb into the ship.

“Tech that’s where I need your help” Wolffe patted Tech’s shoulder, “I need you to find out who he is.”

I let out a light huff, remembering how hard Wolffe squeezed his shoulder, the next thing we knew Tech was scrubbing every aspect of that footage along with Wolffe. Well more like Wolffe was hovering over his shoulder keeping an eye on what he was doing, he stayed that way until Tech found what he was looking for.

“Oh!”

“Oh? What ‘oh’?”

Jaz and I turned to look at Tech and Wolffe, he was practically growling as he looked at Tech’s datapad. “What are you guys looking at?” We shuffled over, the video file was paused there was smoke covering most of the view, in the midst of the smoke, there was the outline of a transportation. It hovered for a minute before it took off, but in that minute the door slid open, someone completely covered in armour leaned out, grabbed a hand and hauled another person into the transport before it headed out of the area. Tech had zoomed in on the armoured person hanging from the transport.

The armour was reminiscent of Mandalorian armour, but there was something odd about it. It almost seemed to be intentionally misleading.

“This armour is of Mandalorian design” Tech finally spoke up.

“Not just Mandalorian, though” Jaz added as she leaned over his shoulder, “That armour …” she zoomed in, “That looks like Commando armour”

We all turned to look at Jaz, “How the hell do you know that?” Wolffe narrowed his eyes at her, almost as though he was assessing a threat.

“Tech showed me all the different types of armour used during the war, during one of our dates.”

We both looked at Tech, “You showed her armour on one of your dates?” I asked not quite comprehending how that could’ve even been a date.

“She was interested in our armour” he shrugged as he examined the image again, “Not to mention, it turned into one of our more …” Tech cleared his throat, “Livelier dates. Getting back to the matter at hand, this armour is reminiscent of Omega squad, although it has been altered. However, my focus is on the transport. A modified civilian patrol transport.”

“What’s so special about a civilian patrol ship, Tech?” I leaned in, it didn’t seem all that unique to me.

“The fact it’s not a patrol ship.” Tech tapped a few buttons on his datapad and pulled up a program that scanned and examined every inch of the transport available, compiling and outlining every line and modification of the transport. “There seem to be a variety of different techniques here, all from various systems, Qiilura, Olanet, Gaftikar, Haurgab and Mandalore.”

“Those are quite random …” Jaz looked at the program, zooming in on one of the modifications, “This … this is a unique type of modification”

“That my dear” Tech smirked, “Is clone modification, a special technique we developed and passed on to other clones back on Kamino.”

“You’re saying Chagri was rescued by clones?” Wolffe’s face dropped.

Tech nodded, “That’s a good thing though”

“Good thing?” Wolffe’s patience was barely hanging on as his jaw clenched even harder, his muscle twitching, “Explain to me how her, being in the hands of clones who had their chips triggered a good thing?”

“Because I believe the clones that made these modifications weren’t affected by the chip, otherwise … why would they fly a modified transport? If they were affected they would be using the new Empire patrol transports.”

“Fives?”

I turned to look at Cora, her hair was a mess, yet it somehow enhanced her beauty even more, regardless of the fact sleep was still present in her eyes, “What are you doing up, mesh’la?”

She wrapped her arms around me as she snuggled into my side, the bedsheet that was wrapped around her warming me up as well, “I reached over and you were gone, everything okay?” She rubbed her face against my chest as I wrapped my arm around her.

“Yeah, just can’t believe we’re leaving already. Feels like I just got here yesterday.”

Silence settled between us, it was almost as though she wanted to say something, her fingers kept trailing against my side, it was a nervous tick I observed she had, we were only supposed to be here for two weeks, we had already stayed three. Rex and the guys seemed okay with the change, but they did recommend we hurry up and get to Ord Mantell as soon as possible.

“You okay?” I looked down at her, “Seems like you want to say something” she squeezed my waist, “Cora, you know you can talk to me.”

“Is there any point to say anything?”

“Never know until you do”

“Maybe it’s better if I don’t say anything; if I don’t say it, then I won’t get disappointed when I don’t get the answer I want.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to give you the answer you want”

“I know, but your path lies on a different one from me”

“Not forever, maybe once everything changes.”

Cora chuckled, “That’s a long time”

“I’m willing to wait” I held my breath, it was a confession that I hadn’t intended to make, but it was true, ever since I met Cora, things had changed for me. She helped me realize moving on from Shaak Ti didn’t mean I’d forget her or that I didn’t still love her, it just meant there was still room in my heart to love, to be devoted to one person.

“What if things become worse or … what if …”

“I don’t make it back to you?”

“It’s a thought. I know we haven’t known each other long, but there is something here, right?” Cora looked into my eyes, a smile gracing her lips, “It’s not just me, right?”

“No. Not just you. I think there’s something here too.”

She closed her eyes nodding, before resting her head against my chest again, “We have crap timing”

A chuckle escaped from my lips, “Yeah, we do” I cleared my throat, pushing down the bubble that was rising, “What should we do?”

“Why ask me?” Cora shifted one of her hands, wiping away the tears that were dampening her cheeks and my chest.

“I’ll follow your lead,” there was a look of surprise on her face, “Didn’t think that was possible?” I turned facing her, as her arms stayed wrapped around me, “Cora, you …” I smirked as I looked into her eyes, “You gave me a new perspective, a possibility I didn’t even realize could ever happen again. Therefore,” I tucked her hair behind her ear, “If you wanna wait, we can wait. You want me to walk away from you, I’ll walk away. However, painful it might be for me. I’ll follow your lead, but there is only one thing I can’t do…”

“Leave your family” she finished the sentence for me.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t leave them to face whatever might happen without me. And not just them, but my other vode are still stuck on the front lines; the Empire is using them for cannon fodder, and I can’t … I can’t walk away from them.”

“I know, Fives, and I wouldn’t ask you to, either.” She took in a deep breath, pulled away, wrapping herself in the bedsheet tighter as she began pacing the balcony. Every second the silence grew between us, my heart felt as though it was beating out of my chest.

She turned to look at me, a solemn smile graced her lips, as a look of defeat encased her eyes, “It’s late, we should probably go back to bed.” She smirked before wrapping herself even tighter in the sheet and headed towards the room, leaving me alone on the balcony.

My eyes focused once again on the peaks of Alderaan, it was too much to expect her to want me to make a life with her; it’s all great in theory but we come from separate worlds. After all she was part of a royal family, me … I came out of a container. Nothing about me is really real, not like Cora. I felt completely pathetic at that moment, I began to wonder if there was a point to me staying with her, or maybe I should just head back to my own room.

“Fives?”

I closed my eyes focusing on the sound of her voice, trying to keep it in my memory as much as possible, I glanced over my shoulder, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

“Good, I want to get as much time as possible holding you in my arms. If I have to wait, I want the memory of us to last until we meet up again.”

My mind couldn’t comprehend what I just heard, I turned to face her, “What did you say?”

“I said, I need as much time with you as possible, until we meet up again. If I’m going to wait for you, I want as many memories as possible.”

With three strides, I closed the distance between us, cupping her cheeks with my hands, kissing her with all my strength.

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cosmicanger · 2 years ago

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A 1/2 review of Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood 2019 review

By Sam B.; Rewatched Jul 24, 2019

To be at the end of an era is one helluva thing, and Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time In Hollywood almost feels prophetic now, coming at the tail-end of an age for cinema, a medium that has since been irrevocably altered, with no clear path forward. The film itself is the opposite of a eulogy, a ressurection of some falsified past. It is a vile motion picture.

The first two interimible hours are a sub-par hangout movie with some cranky metatext. Dicaprio plays Rick Dalton, a star who never quite gets his due, in a startlingly nondescript role that leaves Leo floundering to make any choices in performance. Brad Pitt is very good and very wrong for the role of Cliff, a happy-to-be-here wife-killer stunt double who offers Dalton ceaseless half-earnest validation (the better version of this Hollywood arrived during the film’s awards campaign, in Pitt and DiCaprio’s interview with Marc Maron). The male bonding here is witless and monotonous; Without the too-clever dialogue as a distraction, Tarantino’s just a hack who can’t structure a narrative.

It’s an ugly looking film, too; The cinematography is piss-yellow and lifeless, as if the colorist colorist were a drunk housepainter for a Days Inn. For a filmmaker so enamored with artificial pastiche, Tarantino gives the audience little to gawk at, the low-key energy of those long drives distending into uninspired boredom.

The relative absense of Charles Manson himself in the film is one of the less sinister, clearer creative decisions in the film, because the leader was already omnipresent in California in the late sixties, his hoard connected to every production and party. It’s been argued that this is meant to be emasculating, but the lack of an actual figurehead prohibits any demystification of the cult, let alone real insight into its impact on culture. Manson is made a ghost, breaking any warm delusions the film presents about old Hollywood. The camera explores Spahn Ranch and its inhabitants with the same mild curiosity and nostalgia as the Sunset Strip as if guided by that spectre, but Tarantino offers inconsistent answers to what, exactly, he’s haunting.

OUATIH is hyper-focused on cultures that oppress women, though to what end remains unclear for most of the runtime. Much has been made of Margot Robbie’s lack of lines, but I am less concerned with that metric (her hacky, maudlin setpiece remains the only scene in the film to achieve a childlike wonder) than the quesy evocations of engendered violence. The casting of Maya Hawke (whose mother, Uma Thurman, was critically injured in a car crash on the set of Kill Bill due to negligence and pressure from Tarantino) as Flower Girl feels like commentary, but whether it’s an apology, a brag, or an expression of guilt never gets explored, mostly out of formal ineptitude and cowardice. When Margaret Qualley asks Brad Pitt to suck his dick and he responds asking her age, she muses, “Nobody has asked me that in so long.” This is a heartbreaking line, and coming after the camera has lingered on her feet for several minutes, could be read as confessional, a feeling of complicity on the part of Tarantino. But he demonstrates zero understanding for how this widespread pattern of trauma reverberates and replicates into the present day, compartmentalized into some vague historical evil. It is a useless evocation of real tragedy reduced to an allegorical complication. There are startling few hints at Manson’s white supremacy. The film’s defenders have used the Manson family’s racism as a way of justifying the climax, but this doesn’t take into account Hollywood’s own skiddishness in displaying it. Tarantino has never before shied away from tackling racism’s intersection with misogyny (see: his film directly before OUATIH, the heinous, nonsensical Hateful Eight), and the avoidance here doesn’t read as maturity. If it’s still positing the girls’ white supremacy as justification for Tarantino’s leering, condescending, misogynistic lens, that’s no less infantile, privileged, and stupid than his past work. Pitting two forms of oppression against one another in some kind of quantitative system of value judgement isn’t just lazy semiotics, it’s reactionary political theory.

All decorum falls aways by the time Dalton uses a flamethrower on a screeching, bloodied young girl in a scene that recalls New French Extremity’s sadistic obsession with desecrating women’s bodies as an antipathic aesthetic act. Rick gets the flamethrower from the set of a Nazi-killer flick, just as Tarantino gets the ending from Inglorious Basterds. But unlike his previous flirtations with historical revisionism, there are no films explicitly *about* the Manson Murders’ ripple effect off of which Tarantino can riff, so the ostensibly optimistic ending has no clear path forward. What future is he imagining, besides one where Polanski career is unsullied in some hypothetical alternative path where he’s never caught? The titular fantasy, where Rick Dalton and Tarantino finally get to be the stars of a world where history has been subsumed by cinema, is childish. That very same history carries countless women’s stories of suffering at the hands of men in power, and with a single gesture Hollywood offers not liberation, but total erasure. In its wake remains a film that, despite any political or nostalgic pretense, delights in the evisceration the bodies of women to protect a philosophical status quo.

#quintin tarantino #tarantino #inglourious basterds #once upon a time in hollywood #brad pitt #article #theory #letterboxd

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denimbex1986 · 11 months ago

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'"Maybe I didn't hold you / All those lonely, lonely times

And I guess I never told you / I am so happy that you're mine…"

An adult Adam is cross-legged on the floor, gazing upwards, child-like. His deceased mother mutters the words, never once breaking eye contact, while decorating the Christmas tree.

On the surface, the candles and fairy lights should have evoked a homely warmth, stirring early memories of festive joy. But in this scene the air is thick with regret, and the song's poignant lyrics say more than dialogue ever could.

All of Us Strangers first introduces Adam (Andrew Scott) years after this, in his London tower block, with little but his laptop for company. That is, until his neighbour Harry (Paul Mescal) arrives at his door. What unfolds is a cross-generational gay love story, both heartbreaking and beautiful.

But when Adam decides to revisit his childhood, the film also hits home in another way. Watching through tears, in the dim of the movie theatre, I'm struck by how profoundly it resonated with me, as a mother to my boy.

Motherhood is a redefining experience, one that pushes you to reflect while also looking forwards through new eyes. The film articulates that reconnection with your inner child, and the notion of wanting to do things differently for the baby who's now in your arms.

All of Us Strangers captures a weight carried through to adulthood by many queer people: the distance that can be born from your parents not really knowing who you are. The film arrives as a new generation now starts to navigate its own approach to parenthood, determined not to repeat the past.

All of Us Strangers is steeped in grief. But for a story that orbits a man who lost his parents at the tender age of 12, it's far deeper than a physical absence.

Stuck in a sort of purgatory, Adam is seeking out things that make him feel closer to what he's missing. Against a score of '80s hits, which would have formed the soundtrack of his formative years, Adam arrives back to his childhood home. From the wallpaper to his record collection, it's just as he remembers. His parents are still there too, just as they were on the day they died.

Through Adam's conversations with his dead parents, it becomes clear that even in life they were out of reach.

A father, too repressed to comfort his son when he was crying; a mother, too overwhelmed to centre the needs of her child.

In these new interactions Adam's instinct is to suppress his feelings, comforting and tending to his parents' emotions instead. It speaks of a child who learned that his own feelings were a burden, that vulnerability wasn't welcome.

These post-mortem exchanges offer a chance for catharsis, though. Adam is given the opportunity to come out to each of his parents in turn. Their responses are filtered through the moral panic of their time, but having them meet this older, more worldly, version of Adam allows for some growth.

Adam's inner child continues to push through, still yearning to be seen for himself rather than the image that his parents once cultivated. Much like the film's own use of reflection, his parents saw what they wanted to see mirrored back at them, projecting their own expectations rather than truly seeing Adam for the boy he was.

It's a generational cycle that needs to be broken, and this is echoed in his mother's own regret. There's a push and a pull, as his parents start to realise that they were themselves stuck in a pattern passed on to them.

As Adam crawled between his parents in the middle of the night, in his childhood pyjamas that no longer fit, she told him of her yearning to get better, with time.

But of course in reality, a fatal car crash robbed her – and Adam – of these chances. The thought of the childhood that could have been still continued to tighten with that knot in his chest.

For those of us now trying to parent more consciously, to be led by our children, giving them space to discover exactly who they are, free of assumption and expectation, All of Us Strangers has struck a chord.

Our sons will not keep their tears hidden away, un-wiped, behind closed doors. Neither will they be given a complex about sitting with their legs crossed, or burdened with the presumption that they should surely have a girlfriend. Their childhood home will be a sanctuary, removed from those that don't understand, not a place they want to run from at the first opportunity.

The film and the thoughts it has provoked cling as tightly as that final farewell embrace between Adam and Harry.

Days after sitting in that movie theatre, now two-stepping and twirling around to The Housemartins with my own baby, who loves to dance, in his childhood home, these feelings are further solidified.

"Let's build a house where we can stay [ba ba ba ba build], add a new bit every day…"'

#Pet Shop Boys #Always on My Mind #The Housemartins #Build #All of Us Strangers #Andrew Scott #Paul Mescal

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leam1983 · 2 years ago

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Intimacy, Part Two

I start my shift at twelve-thirty on Mondays, so I can take it slow this morning. Walt starts at eleven-thirty, so he still has a few moments left.

We're discussing in the kitchen, in the wake of what happened last night - and also in relation to the morning talk radio's chosen topic of consent. I've noticed how in typically Straight circles, what happens is you eventually single out the other gender from your group of friends. You've got your guy-friends, and only those guys with close friends of the other gender end up forming a really healthy understanding of boundaries and consent. All too often, you're left with guys yakking it up with other guys and reinforcing toxic patterns. If you're not lucky, you're left with a situation where the only thing that motivates any sort of closeness is basic lust.

Walt opines. "Oh, that works with everyone, all orientations considered. I used to have a handful of female friends as a teen, and didn't really interact with other guys until I turned seventeen. What saved me from maybe making a serious mistake was my being so shy that I didn't even dare to initiate anything. I felt it, though - for several guys in my later circle of male friends."

I nodded in agreement. "So consent isn't just basic politeness, it's a validation check for anything that could follow. What's funny about it is I was so out of it by the time you asked if you could kiss me that I don't remember how you phrased it."

He chuckles. "I was so nervous. You were thirty-six and I was about to turn fifty-six. I'd kept myself out of the dating circuit for a few years and I was so afraid I'd misread you that I probably didn't make much sense."

I remember he danced around the topic after-hours and on the lunch break, rocking on the soles of his feet and looking away in that way he does when he wants to affect evasiveness. The phraseology's left my mind, but I remember he started by drawing a parallel with how used he'd become with assisting me physically.

"I enjoy doing it, you go out of your way to pick me when you need help and there's just something in your eyes that makes me reel whenever you ask," is what he probably said. I don't remember the exact words, because I'd spent weeks avoiding him out of increasing unease. I wanted Walt like I'd never wanted anyone before, and didn't want to open up to someone without an absolute proof of reciprocity.

I remember imagining this would turn out into a complete disaster weeks in advance. I imagined Walt giving me a kind, if withering smile and more or less saying "I'm sorry you misread me, kiddo. I'm actually as Straight as a two-by-four." My panicking is probably why I don't really remember the exact sequence of events.

All I know is Walt asked me, and I replied. It then started with the first of several long cuddles in the changing room.

Things didn't really go any deeper until a few weeks later. We'd both had a particularly shitty day and were looking forward to spending a few minutes in one another's arms, before leaving for the night. Things unfolded as planned, but we both could tell the day had left a mark on us. We needed something bolder than shared body heat and whispered reassurances.

Walt's bachelor pad was Spartan in that Consumerist way of his of chasing for the absolute high-end of what was absolutely necessary. It didn't look like a space he lived in, it was just someplace to crash and spend a few hours sawing logs. We were both hurried, but Walt was, well, Walt - whispering how I had to squeeze his tongue, explore his mouth - savor him the way he would me.

With terms set and consent established, what happened happened. I especially remember the climax, Walt pushing me away so he could frame me in his field of vision, while his other hand insistently pushed me onto him. I realized his lust was just a component of his greater love and respect, and I thanked him for it.

He then hit me with the corniest line imaginable, except he infused it with absolute earnestness.

"Where have you been all my life?!"

I'd later realize that while I'd had Prof, I would've taken a Walt - or someone like Walt - earlier on in life as well, if that had been possible. He needed me, and I needed him.

Can't get much more consensual than that, I'd say.

#life post #love #gay #lgbtqa #cw: sex mention

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occasionally-good-authoring · 2 years ago

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Ichor Chapter Five- I Can Only Meet People One Way. Bleeding Out.

@xanadaus. god. i might really get this done.

Luis threw his knife only a second after they opened the door. I had just pulled my dagger when the knife hit what should’ve been the Fae’s head. It flew back into their house and hit the far wall.

“Now, was that really necessary?” They spoke with a heavy accent I didn’t recognize. Looking back, I think it was Greek.

“What did you do to Jamie?” Will tried to push past the Fae into their house. They closed the door enough to block her way in.

“Settle down, William. I don’t want James, you can take him off my hands. I’ll let you all in if you don’t attack.” I noticed then Mariana had her bow drawn, an arrow trained at the Fae’s head. I think she knew it wouldn’t do anything, but it was better than getting hurt because she wasn’t prepared.

She hadn’t planned for this. None of us had.

“And why should we take your word for it?” She asked. Panic washed over Luis’ face and spread to me, though I didn’t know what it was for.

“Because my words can never lie. Do you know nothing of my people, little girl? We are bound to the truth, tied to it for evermore. You’re a fool to call me a liar and worthless to doubt my speech.”

“I’m sorry for my sister. Tenebris aren’t taught extensively of the Fae. If the offer still stands, it would be an honor to take James from you.”

Luis talked so sweet, I almost believed him. The Fae seemed satisfied with his groveling. I didn’t expect that from him. I half-expected the same reckless abandon he had with Hari, even though there was something behind it, I expected familiar patterns would take more importance.

“Leave your weapons at the door, Tenebris. I don’t want demon blades in my home. They tend to draw, unwanted visitors.”

“I’m afraid our weapons aren’t the cause of that, Fae.”

“Just drop your dagger, Tenebris.”

I hadn’t even realized I was holding it. Muscle memory must’ve taken over without me even realizing. They smiled at me. I leaned down, never breaking eye contact, and set my dagger gently on the porch.

“Thank you. Now do have your friends follow suit.”

“If you think I have any control over them, you’re dead wrong, Fae.” The Fae, surprisingly, laughed. They opened the door wide and smiled.

“Come in, Tenebris. And do call me Kallisto. Fae makes me sound old.”

Above us, the vulture cawed out a laugh. It sounded more like a warning none of us heeded. We set our weapons down on the porch—Mariana putting them all in the bag she brought—and followed Kallisto inside. It didn’t take us long to see Jamie.

He was in the living room right off of where we came in. Unconscious and tied up, rope burns on his slack wrists. Blood on his face. Slumped over in a way that looked like it hurt.

“What did you do to him?” Will yelled. She tried to rush Kallisto, grabbing a flower pot off a side table. Luis held him back, earning himself a few solid blows from Will. Mariana pulled her bun out, which was apparently held together by a dagger disguised as a hair clip.

She pushes Kallisto against the wall, dagger to Kallisto’s neck. They smiled and I knew the only reason Mariana was standing was because Kallisto was letting her. A bead of blood ran down Kallisto’s neck.

“Kit, get James for me, will you?” Kallisto said calmly. They didn’t need to ask again. Luis was having more trouble keeping Will from attacking Kallisto. If Kallisto couldn’t have killed Will within an instant, Luis would’ve let him.

I ran to Jamie, tripping over my feet. My hands were shaking—for how long that had been happening, I had no idea—as my fingers stumbled over the thick rope. I heard a crash behind me, Will had dropped the flower pot.

I scrambled to where the flower pot lay on the floor, shattered, and grabbed the sharpest piece I could find. I went back to Jamie and cut the ropes holding him, he fell forward onto me, much too light for a twenty four year old anywhere, let alone a Tenebris. We gained muscle fast and easy, Jamie however, was skin and bones.

I wish I could’ve blamed it on Kallisto, but he was that way since I first met him. I picked Jamie up bridal style.

“Let’s go, I’ve got him.”

Luis had to knock Will out to get them to stop. Mariana didn’t want to take her dagger off Kallisto’s neck, so Kallisto did it for her. They set Mariana flying back with a wave of dust that put red welts over any of Mariana’s exposed skin.

She pulled a small knife from her bracelet and threw it at Kallisto. They must not have been expecting it because it nicked Kallisto’s cheek. Luis threw Will over his shoulder.

“We have to go!” he yelled.

We ran out the door, the vulture and Kallisto laughing behind us. Mariana grabbing the bag of weapons as she ran. The portal was still open, Luis handed Will off to Mariana as we came to it, Mariana shoved the bag into his arms. He grabbed his brass knuckles out of the bag and waved us through.

He came through last, the map was still in Will’s back pocket. He tore it out and rubbed where the circle was, the portal fading until both the glowing circle and the portal were gone.

“Get to the infirmary.”

I listened, carrying Jamie there. With Will out, it was left to Niamh to patch everyone up, the only other person who had enough medical training not to do more harm than good.

I set Jamie on the nearest open bed, Mariana put Will on the one next to him then melted into the one beside him. Niamh—who had been talking to Hari while wrapping his hand—stood up quickly.

“Do you know what happened to them?” Niamh asked, going to Jamie first.

“Not Jamie, Luis knocked Will out—long story—and the Fae threw some dust on Mariana.”

Niamh nodded. “Okay. Hari, Kit, you two get out while I work.”

I left the infirmary and leaned against the wall. I was exhausted, adrenaline had worn off and I didn’t get as much sleep as I thought. But I knew I couldn’t fall asleep, not now. If they needed me, I had to be awake. Hari stood next to me.

“You should get a bandage for your hand, Kit.”

“What?”

Hari gestured to my hand and when I looked down, blood was dripping from a cut in my palm and along my fingers. The shard must’ve cut my hand.

“Oh. Yeah, I probably should. Thanks.”

I couldn’t bring myself to move. Hari shook his head and walked off. I was acutely aware of my blood dripping onto the floor. My whole body was heavy. I just couldn’t make myself move. It would stop soon, wouldn’t it, I remember telling myself.

Luis found me next, burns along his hands from his brass knuckles. He was wrapping the burns with a roll of bandages, presumably found in the kitchen, but we kept first aid kits everywhere. No one has time to get to the infirmary with an Auru attack.

He leaned against the wall next to me and held the bandages out to me.

“Wash your hand then wrap it, come back when you’re done.” I nodded and took the bandages. I flexed my injured hand, wondering how I didn’t feel it. I was starting to now, a dull throb. When I didn’t move, I expected him to take a more forceful approach. I mean, he had just knocked Will out.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Come on, Kit, I’ll patch you up.” It was easier to walk when Luis grabbed my good hand and walked with me to the closest bathroom. He turned on the sink. “Put your hand under the water.”

I did so, Luis rubbing the dirt from my hand. He turned the water off and dried my hand before wrapping it.

“Go get some sleep, it’s been a long day.”

I looked back to the infirmary.

“If any of them wake up, I’ll come and get you. Sleep, Kit, you look like death.”

I woke up to a scream. It wasn’t mine, though it took me a second to figure that out. I had been dreaming of the day Max didn’t come back. The desperation on Phoebe and Delia’s faces when they woke me.

Me trying to put on a brave face. Finding Max in that damn alley.

It was coming from the infirmary. I ran there, threw open the door to find Will and Mariana trying to wake Jamie up.

“Stop,” he screamed over and over again. He wouldn’t wake up. I was frozen in the doorway, just watching. Will was crying and trying to pretend she wasn’t. Mariana was shaking Jamie. I was standing in the doorway.

Luis came behind me, wormed his way past and joined in the efforts. It took ten minutes for Jamie to wake up, sobbing when he did. He clung to Will. Mariana and Luis stepped back, talking about something I didn’t hear.

I slipped out of the infirmary, the only thought I had being What had Kallisto done to him? My dagger was still in Mariana’s bag.

The dining room was a mess. The map was thrown onto the table, crumpled almost entirely to unreadability. Mariana’s bag was on the floor, weapons spilling out of it. Two of the chairs were flipped over, we must’ve knocked them over coming back in. The other six in all sorts of disarray.

I bent down to grab my dagger. I put it back in its sheath, reveling in the weight of it on my belt. It radiated heat.

The residue of the circle Hari used was still on the map. It would take a two hour drive to get to the dunes, maybe longer to get to Kallisto’s house. They’d most likely have put the illusion back, so I grabbed the map. I had no idea if my dagger was made of iron. I picked up one of Luis’ knives. I didn’t have a place to hold it, so I tucked it into my bracelet. It was heavy and bronze with a leather pocket faced towards my wrist.

Max had made a deal with a Fae to get it, so it held whatever I put in the pocket. It was engraved with butterflies, vultures, and snakes, a group I never understood.

“This’ll keep you safe, Kit. Never take it off.”

And I never did.

I went to my room next. I hadn’t changed clothes, so I was wearing something practical. Thick jeans, a black tank top, and a worn green and black flannel. I put on boots and my leather armor. I grabbed a bag from my closet, sturdy and leather, and filled it with whatever medical supplies I had. One roll of bandages, surgical tape, and cotton pads. The map went in next.

I went for the front door, looking into every hallway before I turned into it. They’d either stop me or try to go too, neither of which would end up good. This was my decision, nobody else would get hurt if it went bad. I was going to come back with answers.

Had to.

I had reached the front door, even had my hand on the handle.

“I know what you’re doing, Kit.” It was Niamh. “And you’re not doing it.”

I didn’t bother turning around. “You can’t stop me, Niamh. I have to do this. We need answers.”

“I’m not going to let you get hurt, Kit! We don’t need answers, we just need to help Jamie.”

“How can we if we don’t know what happened to him?”

“We let him tell us, Kit! You’re not doing this, Kallisto’s dangerous.”

I finally turned around. “So are we, Niamh.”

She scoffed. “It’s different! They’re a Fae, they’re untrustworthy. Even if they’re Seelie, this would never be a good idea. You’re not going, I won’t let you!”

I hated what I said to her, even then I did. “You can’t stop me, Niamh—” I pulled my dagger— “you’re too scared to lose.” She backed away, hands clenched into fists. Then she ran and I swallowed my guilt. I did what I had to do, didn’t I?

The illusion had been put back up when I got to Kallisto’s house. The parking lot was empty again, though the sun had started to rise, golden light bleeding out from the ground.

I stepped to what I thought was the illusion and moved the plants at the bottom, just as Luis had. There was a slight shimmer at the ground. I pulled the knife from my bracelet and it cut through the illusion like wet tissue paper. Kallisto’s house looked the same, though the vulture was gone. I tucked the knife back into my bracelet and walked to Kallisto’s door.

They opened it before I could even raise my hand to knock. My confidence wavered. They had known I was coming. Not even hindsights made it clear as to why they let me get this far, but with my memory what it is, my hindsight can’t be worth too much.

Kallisto stepped aside.

“Come in, Kit, I’m making tea.” I took a step forward. “Leave your dagger on the porch.” I dropped it and followed them in. Right past the living room—the chair Jamie had been tied to was still there, ropes and all—and into a small kitchen and dining room. The cabinets were a burnt orange and plants were littered all around the counters. In the middle, there was a black metal table.

A kettle was on the stove. Their house full of antiques that must’ve been priceless, but Kallisto had no interest in selling them. They reached for two mugs that sat in a red dish drainer, one blue and the other yellow. Then they grabbed a box of tea from a cabinet just above the stove.

“What did you do to Jamie?” I asked. Kallisto dropped a tea bag in each cup and sighed, turning around to face me.

“Nothing, Kit. Do you want sugar or lemon?”

It only occured to me then that the second cup was for me. I didn’t want anything Kallisto gave me, let alone anything I would have to drink. But I’d already pushed it by coming here in the first place. If I wanted answers, I would have to play nice.

“Tying him up doesn’t seem like nothing. He had blood on his face, Kallisto. That’s not nothing.”

“Blood gets many places it’s not supposed to be. Do you want lemon or sugar? I’ve found it greatly improves the taste.”

“No, thank you.”

The tea kettle began to scream. Kallisto grabbed it and poured the boiling water into the cups. A spoonful of brown sugar in both, lemon in theirs. They set the cups at the table, took a seat one one side, and motioned to the other. I sat down, facing Kallisto. They set the yellow cup in front of me.

“I did what I had to, Kit. If I hadn’t needed to restrain James, I wouldn’t have.” Kallisto rubs their neck where Mariana’s knife passed. It was already halfway healed, but a Fae can’t be as used to it as we are. “I don’t want attention, Kit. It comes with danger in my line of work.”

“And what line of work is that?”

Kallisto smiles and takes a long drink of their tea. How they did that, I didn’t know. Mine was still losing half its weight in steam.

“Come to me with your wallet, and maybe you’ll know.” They take another drink. “Try the tea, Kit. It’s very good.”

I brung the cup to my lips but didn’t drink any of it. The steam coming off of it filled my lungs. It felt grainy, like it was being dragged along my throat. The water collected in my lungs, my head got lighter and lighter.

I stood up quickly, reaching for my dagger before remembering it wasn’t there. I lunged for the dish rack, seeing a small paring knife. My knees gave out before I could. I hit the ground hard, my head hitting the ground with a loud smack. The pain shot up my arm, but I wasn’t awake long enough to really feel it.

I woke up with a pounding headache and something wet running down my neck. The room I was in had baby blue walls and smelled like blood. Thick mustard yellow curtains kept almost all light from coming through the windows.

The only thing in the room was me and the chair I was tied to. My hands were tied back, pushed behind the back of the chair so I couldn’t move them without dislocating my shoulders. I knew how to do it, but with my left shoulder still injured, I wasn’t privy to doing so.

There was rope tied tight around my waist and my ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. The rope was thick, made for fishing if I remember correctly. Niamh dragged me out to do it a few times. her family had a boat before they died.

My bracelet was digging into my wrist so much I’m surprised it wasn’t bleeding. When I breathed, I could feel the remains of the steam. I rubbed my wrist where the bracelet was best I could. The leather pocket was still in my reach, my heart speed up as I reached in, praying to anything that would listen Kallisto hadn’t thought to check.

Luis’ knife was still there.

The door creaked open behind me. My chances of making it out dropped. They made the rules now, not my ability to cut a rope. Kallisto closed the door and walked in front of me. I slowly pulled the knife from the pocket of my bracelet and tried to get it inside the ropes.

Kallisto was wearing a white sundress that fell to her ankles with bishop sleeves. A thick belt the color of the sunset was around their waist, a silver dagger tucked into it. By the way they stood, I knew they weren’t versed in using it. They had the posture of someone who didn’t use a weapon.

“Why did you come back? I have no answers for you, nothing to offer. So why did you come?”

“I needed to find out what you did to Jamie.”

Kallisto sighed. “The same thing I’ve done to you, deal with a threat. I cannot lie to you. Whatever I say is the truth, so believe me. I did nothing but defend myself against James.”

Who did they think they were talking to? Jamie wouldn’t go after anyone without reason, and as far as I knew, he had no reason to hurt Kallisto.

But saying that would get me nowhere.

“Jamie wouldn’t drink anything you gave him.”

“Neither did you.” They smiled. I kept sawing at the ropes with Luis’ knife. I wasn’t used to this type of burn. His must’ve used less hinc metal, because it felt like a cup of warm coffee compared to my dagger.

The steam. It was the steam. But then how did Kallisto end up alright? If it was in the steam, it had to have been in the tea. And even then, what had they used? Chloroform made the most sense, but Tenebris have immunity to that. Along with most man made poisons.

“How? How’d you end up okay, was my tea the only one spiked? That doesn’t even make sense, you grabbed them from the same box.”

“It’s best to save your questions for the devil. He’ll answer before I will.”

I laughed. “Who am I gonna tell, Kallisto? It’s not like you’re letting me out of here.” It was true. I was going to die in that room. Even if I got out of the ropes, how would I get out with Kallisto right there?

Maybe I would make it out. But my chances were lower than low. Eighteen and I would already be gone. How long, I wondered, would it take them to find my body? A week? A month? Would there even be a body to find?

As I found out, my death itself didn’t scare me. What brought me real fear, was who would protect everyone if I was gone? Niamh certainly wouldn’t.

“Valerian root. The tea neutralizes the effects.”

Kallisto sat on the floor in front of me. The dagger started to slide more out of their belt. If I could get my hands on that, I would be set.

“So all I had to do was drink the tea?” I asked. Kallisto nodded.

“Yes. And I would’ve let you go.”

“Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t have come back.”

Suddenly, something screamed outside the window. I had no idea what it was, an

Auru’s scream never sounded that human. Kallisto stood up quickly, fast enough to see the window shatter. In the empty frame, there stood something I hardly know how to describe.

Its limbs were long and its skin paper white. Eyes pure black. It was human and it wasn’t. It was a demon, the same kind Tenebris had been born from. It screamed again and climbed through the window. It walked on all fours.

Luis’ knife cut through the ropes on my wrists. The demon rushed Kallisto, pusheng them to the ground. They tried to fight it off, drawing the dagger and trying to stab it. It knocked the dagger out of their hand, sending it clattering right in front of me. I got my hands free and made quick work of the ropes on my waist.

Kallisto was the next thing the demon threw at me, knocking the chair onto its side, my head hitting the ground hard. White stars burst in my vision, Kallisto laying on top of me. Their body had my arms pinned, one to the ground, one to my chest. Luis' knife had fallen out of my hand. The demon was crawling towards us fast.

I reached desperately for the knife. My fingers pushed it further away. The demon reached us, doing me a favor and pulling Kallisto off. I had to work faster. That thing would tear Kallisto apart piece by piece if I let it, and I wasn't keen on letting it. I was able to grab the knife and get past the ropes on my ankles.

The demon was focused on Kallisto. I could’ve just run away, I should’ve ran away. Every part of me wanted to run, get safe and then maybe come back and bury Kallisto right. If there would even be a body to bury.

I grabbed the dagger Kallisto had lost. When Kallisto died, it wouldn’t be like this. Nobody deserved that kind of death. Alone. Afraid. Stripped of all dignity except for that in the fight given before. Max didn’t deserve it. Aine didn’t. Kallisto didn’t either. I could save them, for once, I could save someone.

So I did.

"Hey!" The demon turned, its mouth covered in Kallisto's blood. Both too dark and too shiny to be human. It screamed and ran towards me. It slashed at my chest, the claws hit and put a deep gash in my chest. But so did Kallisto’s dagger. Its hand dangled by a single flap of skin. It slashed again, going for my neck.

I lurched back, tripping over the chair. It tried to jump on top of me, but I kicked it and flipped back onto my feet with the momentum. It hit the wall with a sickening thud and ran at me with another scream. I waited until it was right in front of me to move.

I stabbed up, landing a hit to its chest. In turn, it bit my forearm. I pushed it off and tried to stab its neck. It caught my wrist and flipped me over onto my back, knocking the dagger out of my hand. I gasped for breath as the demon got on top of me.

It moved to bite my neck, I jerked my head to the left and its teeth sunk into my shoulder. It tore a chunk out. I wrapped my legs around the demon and flipped us so I was on top. I slammed its head against the floor, over and over again.

Its brains splattered all over the floor and my hands. I didn’t stop until its skull was shattered.

I collapsed on top of it, rolling onto the floor and feeling the blood leave my body. I was going to die there. On the floor next to a demon and Kallisto. I looked over to Kallisto, still conscious but barely. Bunches of small yellow flowers grew out of their wounds, slowing their bleeding.

I pushed myself off the floor, crawling over to Kallisto. They could spare some of whatever was keeping them intact. Kallisto’s eyes opened when I picked the flowers.

“Put them in the wounds and press,” they said. Their voice was weak and breathy. I did as they said and felt the blood get slower, though it never stopped. I stood up. Kallisto was in no condition to stand up so I pulled them up. They groaned as I dragged us both through the house.

I had to get us in clear sight of people before my legs gave out. They were so close to giving out, muscles weak and shaking. My head was getting lighter and lighter with each step, but even when we got to the parking lot, I refused to fall.

If I fell, there wouldn’t be any getting up. The world blurred around me. I kept walking, my feet dragging on the pavement. Kallisto had gone limp and quiet, dead weight. I should’ve dropped them and kept going. Leave them in the empty parking lot and keep on. I couldn’t bring myself to leave Kallisto. Not like that.

We reached the road, just as empty as the parking lot. It was littered with potholes I could barely avoid stepping in. I couldn’t fall. The world blurred even more, watercolors mixed together so bad it was almost gray. My foot landed in something much softer than asphalt and my ankle fell sideways, cracking painfully and sending both me and Kallisto tumbling down a ditch.

Kallisto fell out of my arms and I could barely find them again. When I did, I pulled them close to my chest. I dug my hand into the soft dirt and pulled us up to what I thought was the road. The wet dirt clung to my hand, caking underneath my fingernails and slowly crawled up my arm.

My whole body felt like lead but I kept pulling us up towards the road. I wanted to cry and maybe I was. We were going to die. Both of us. I couldn’t save Kallisto, just like I hadn’t been able to Max. Our bodies would be found, but that gave me no comfort. What did burying a body have to do with anything?

All my body would do was let everyone know that I died slowly, begging for my life. What comfort was that? I was going to die. Kallisto was going to die. That was clear to me.

My arm gave out. No matter how hard I tried to keep pulling us to the road, it did nothing. We might as well have been dead already. For all I knew, Kallisto was gone. Maybe if I dropped them, I could get to the road. Get safe. But that wasn’t an option, not really. I had taken them this far. I couldn’t leave them, not then.

“Hy’s over here! I got hym!”

I knew that voice, or at least I thought I did. Hands pulled Kallisto away from me, I screamed and tried to fight. I was going to get them safe, nobody deserved to die like that. They had to get safe. The hands went to the sides of my face, I found they belonged to the voice.

“Hey, calm down. We’re taking Kallisto too, but you’ve got to let me help you. Stay still.”

The hands went to my chest, fingers scraping over the wound. Pain burst through my whole body, the blurred world finally fading to black. I was dead. At eighteen, I was dead.

And I thought Max died early.

I woke up, eventually. I knew where I was, but couldn’t place it. An IV flowed into my arm. I could see Kallisto in the bed to my right, green hair spread out over a pillow like it was a fan. Whatever they put in the IV made me feel like I was floating.

I hated it. I needed control over myself.

What really caught my attention was the figures to my left. One was sitting up on the bed, a thin blanket covering his legs. The other was sitting on the foot. They were holding hands, I think. If they were, it was tentative, as if they were ready to pull apart at a moment's notice.

“Don’t make this a hobby, Hari,” Luis said. He didn’t look at Hari. “I don’t care what you think you owe, I won’t have you running yourself into the ground to pay it.”

“Then tell your friends not to go missing so often.”

Luis laughed quietly. “I’ll try.” He curls the fingers of his free hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Hari shakes his head. “No, just rest, my dear. I’ll be fine by the morning.”

“I’ll let you sleep then,” Luis said. He stood up, but Hari didn’t let go of his hand. Luis didn’t walk away, ripping his hand out of Hari’s grasp.

“Stay,” Hari said softly. “Just till I fall asleep. I’m not safe here, Hernandez-Garcia.”

Luis sat back down, closer to Hari.

“You are, I promise.” But he didn’t leave, not until an hour later when Hari had fallen asleep long before.

#ichor #kit rivera and katrina my beloveds <3

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windcarvedlyre · 2 months ago

Text

This got out of hand and turned into a writing experiment lol. Also fleshed out the AU a little in the process. Enjoy. No on-screen explicit content.

---

"Why are you like this?"

Komaeda said nothing, expression blank as he stared at the bridge in front of them. Sauntering forwards as if he hadn't just ruined everything. Again.

His shitty coat was even more tattered than usual. He sighed as he pulled a still-smouldering leaf from his hair and flicked it into the abyss below them. Hinata's fists tightened at his sides.

"We got through the door, didn't we? I don't understand why you're still upset about this, Hinata-"

"You set fire to a government building!"

Komaeda turned back to face him, tilting his head. "And?"

"With people inside!"

Komaeda smirked. "People?"

This again. Hinata inhaled and exhaled through gritted teeth. "Look, I know they had staplers for heads and their fiscal policies made zero sense, but-"

"But what, Hinata-kun? They were shallow characters in a weak story. How could budget debates be an adequate stepping stone for your hope to shine? How could they get you off this train?"

Something tight in him snapped. "How do we know they wouldn't?"

He stormed in front of Komaeda, stopping just before the bridge, whipping his hand into the other's view. The number was unreadable as always. It reshuffled from static into a random assortment of kanji. "It keeps changing, right? But I have no idea if that's good or bad, or if there's something so wrong with me that I'll be here forever!"

Komaeda winced, so subtly that Hinata almost missed it, but quickly plastered over it with his trademark infuriating smile. The one that said he was about to-

"Don't worry, Hinata-kun! If we persevere I'm sure we'll find a challenge great enough to solve this!"

God damn it.

He giggled wheezily, eyes wide, gripping his sleeves now, knuckles of his non-prosthetic hand white as if he'd crumble without holding onto himself. "The length of time it's taken to overcome this only means the payoff will be spectacular!"

"You've said that for the last 50 cars. But nothing. Has. Changed. We've even lost our guide- which you're also at fault for, by the way. Do you actually want to help me or are you trying to keep me here!?"

"That's not-"

Bang. The ground lurched beneath them as the train suddenly halted. Hinata's foot slipped, his limbs flailing for purchase they couldn't find- oh god, why didn't the train have guard rails-

But his fall was halted. He choked, something tightly gripping his shirt collar from behind, before he was yanked backwards and away from the edge. His back collided with Komaeda's chest.

Both of them stood there, breathing heavily. Hinata stared into the abyss he nearly met his end in, barely registering as the bridge retracted and a new car crashed into place in front of them. When did Komaeda's hands start gripping his upper arms? Was he shaking?

Suddenly they remembered themselves, jolting apart from each other.

Hinata stood there awkwardly, fidgeting with his tie. "Uh... thanks."

Komaeda was avoiding eye contact. He opened and closed his mouth as if hesitating to say something. "Sorry, I-"

"Let's just go."

Hinata was so tired. Maybe the next car would give him a break.

He hated this fucking train.

The new car was a hotel room, soft carpets trailing towards a large, plush bed against one wall, exit door embedded in the opposite end of the room. That was fine. The problem was the decor. Everything was either black or neon magenta, obnoxious heart patterns smeared across every surface that could carry them. Soft saxophone music played from a similarly garish speaker in one corner. Komaeda cracked open a chest at the bed's foot, winced, let it fall shut again, and stared at a particularly tacky carpet as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Glancing inside himself, Hinata only got a glimpse of some bottles and straps before he quickly concluded the same.

The exit door was locked. Of course it was.

The two of them sat on the bed for a while, feet apart, neither saying anything, until Komaeda awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Surely the train wouldn't... want us to... uh..."

He should have let him fall.

"Stop talking. Please."

Komaeda clammed up again, tightly folding his arms around himself. Hinata glanced around for the twentieth time, hoping that maybe this time it would reveal something else, but the room had no mercy. The wall patterns taunted him.

He looked at Komaeda again.

Hinata was not going to do that. He had not been thinking about that alone at night. He was not staring for too long at that prick, picturing himself shoving him against the bed, pinning him down by his wrists, leaning in and wiping his insufferable smirk off his face by-

Okay, maybe he was picturing that. But nobody had to know, and nobody ever would, because he was not going to act on it.

He wasn't.

Komaeda stared back at him. He glanced down at Hinata's lips. He swallowed, larynx bobbing in his pale throat.

He wasn't.

Two hours later, the door of the car's opposite end closed behind them. Its locking mechanism's click echoed in the cavernous silence between them.

Komaeda shuffled awkwardly where they stood. Hinata couldn't look at his face. A scuff on the floor seemed much more interesting.

"Komaeda-kun! Hinata-kun! There you are!"

Their heads whipped upwards in unison. Usami stood on the bridge ahead, waving enthusiastically and beaming as if they were the best thing she'd seen all day.

She paused, staring at the door behind them. "Oh! Is that the love car?"

Hinata paled. Did she- did she know that they-

"Did you talk out your differences after all?"

Both of them spluttered.

Hinata composed himself first.

"What... do you mean, exactly?"

"The train sometimes sends that car to people who can't get along! You just have to let out the feelings you've been keeping from each other to leave! I'm sure you worked that out, though... I'm so proud..."

She wiped a cartoonishly round tear from one eye. A choked, almost hysterical laugh escaped Komaeda.

"Right! We did that! Talk!"

Hinata barely restrained himself from throwing himself off the car as Komaeda leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"Let's never speak of this again."

Hinata tried to ignore the way his breath tickled his neck. "Agreed."

I was talking about infinity train with a friend last night and... god, komahina infinity train AU.

Hinata starting off with amnesia and a pretty average number. He runs into Komaeda- who has a number large enough to trail up his forearm, but covers most of it with his jacket sleeve- and they normally work pretty well as a team but can't deal with disagreements or more social challenges for shit. Maybe dealing with a ghom attack would make them realise how much they truly care for each other.

Usami is the mandatory NPC sidekick. She's really going through it.

#kept procrastinating finishing this even though it's still a shitpost GHDJGKSHDSFG #first attempt at writing these idiots wooooo #if/when i do a longer fic for this this wouldn't be in it probably #but the concept is hilarious so i had to #lyre writes #danganronpa #infinity train au #komahina #komaeda #hinata

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