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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

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Double Heart | Chapter Ten ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4422

Warnings: Canon-level violence

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Just so you know, I start playing a little fast and loose with ‘elf-lore’ right about here. Thanks so much for all your responses to the previous chapters! Happy reading <3

We retire early, each of us exhausted from our long journey. Elrond arranged rooms for us in his expansive home, which I found out is the heart of the city. I guess when you found a town, it makes sense that you get the largest estate. At Elrond’s instruction, a female attendant leads me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. She opens a door to my left to revel a large room with a four-poster bed, table, chaise lounge, couch, fireplace, and, through an archway to the side, a full bathroom. Pillows and blankets decorate every available surface and I notice a large selection of books and candles. After two weeks on the road, I want nothing more than to bury myself in this room’s amenities.

“Wow,” I breathe, unable to do much more in my state of awe and fatigue.

“Lord Elrond knows about your fear of heights and has placed you in one of the most innermost rooms of the estate. Your windows will offer you views of our waterfalls but you are nowhere near to the edge. I hope it is to your liking.”

I smile, my already present fondness for Elrond growing. Though, I do wonder which of my friends told him about my fear of heights. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

The attendant nods, leading me to a chest of drawers. “You will find clothing here and bathing provisions in the bathroom. Meals are three times a day and you may join the others in the common hall or request to dine in your chambers. If you require my assistance, I am in the room at the very end of the hall and to the right. I hope you sleep well.” She curtsies deeply and I wonder if I should do the same. Just to be on the safe side, I place one leg behind the other and squat, awkwardly attempting to mirror her movement. She puts great effort into suppressing a smile, but inclines her head in acknowledgment of my efforts before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What am I going to do?

This place is dangerous. It’s terrifying. And yes, I feel relatively safe within Elrond’s walls, but he said it himself—just last month, orcs attempted to infiltrate the city. What if they try again, only this time, they succeed? And with some evil being on the rise? Nope, no way. I don’t think I can deal with that.

I throw myself facedown on the large bed, groaning in frustration. This world that I’ve only just accepted to be real is showing me just how real it is. The honeymoon phase is over. The rose-colored glasses have been lifted from my eyes, and what I see paints a dark, fearful scene.

Yet, even still…I cannot ignore the part of me that so badly wants to stay.

The people I’ve met here—humans, elves—does it really matter? Whatever they are, whatever I am at this point, honestly, does it actually, in the grand scheme of things, matter? Because I like them. I care about them. More than anything, I don’t want to leave them, to go back to a world of people I don’t know.

But danger and my friends are a package deal.

And I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that.

I flip around into a seated position, letting my head flop into my hands.

I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m stressed. And I’m exhausted. Now, I need to sleep. Everything else can wait until morning.

I haul myself off the feathered mattress and drag my heavy feet to the chest of drawers. As far as sleep items go, I find only nightgowns, but they’ll have to do. It’s much better than sleeping in the muddied clothing I’ve traveled in for two weeks.

I change quickly and blow out the candles I rely on to light my room. I crawl into bed, pulling the thick duvet up to my ears. Before I know it, sleep calms my racing mind.

{***}

I wake in the mountains.

A roar, guttural and angry, comes from behind me and I throw myself into a sprint. I stumble over the uneven terrain, catching my foot on rocks and scraping my shins, but I keep going. Whatever I suffer running away is surely better than being at the mercy of the beast that pursues me.

Brown, gnashing teeth cut me off and I shriek, falling onto my back. An orc with its stinking, rotting breath descends on me, dagger cutting into my arm. I cry out not only in pain but in panic, for the blood that falls to the ground is not red — no, it is thick, dark sludge.

I’m underwater.

The sludge suffocates me. It fills my lungs and burns as it slides over my skin. I kick, desperate to get away.

Below me, a honeyed voice sings. It beckons to me, begs me to come deeper, to let myself sink. It promises safety, security.

It promises peace.

“Cosima.”

Haldir’s voice far above me sounds muffled as it travels through the murky waters. I snap my head up. I can’t see anything, only the darkness, but I know that if I can somehow get to him, if I can follow his voice, then I will reach the surface.

“Cosima!” Rumil shouts for me now.

My name, called in turn by each of my new friends, overlaps, drowning out the sweet sounds from below.

My vision darkens. I have gone too long without breath — I have to make a decision.

I kick my legs, propelling myself upwards.

{***}

I break through the surface, sputtering and gasping for air.

Light—harsh and bright orange—momentarily blinds me. As my eyes adjust, I recognize the puffy white duvet, the cool grey of the stone walls, the soft pink flowers cascading from the ceiling. I’m in my guest bed in Elrond’s house. I never left my room. I never lost to an attacker in the mountains. I never fell into the water.

It was just a dream.

Water—the roaring sound of the waterfalls—while muted, is still subtly audible in the background. And my dream—it was nearly exactly what I imagined before waking in Arda. The sound from the waterfalls must have triggered it.

Just a dream, I remind myself, trying to calm my racing heart.

A sharp knock disrupts the silence of the room and sends stabs of pain through my head — bad dreams and a headache, too, I guess. The knock sounds again and I groan, forcing myself to leave the coziness of my covers and pad on bare feet to the door.

It’s Haldir. He stands, hand still raised, in fresh clothes and even more armor than yesterday. His bow is slung over his back, a quiver and sword rest at his hips. I try not to let my thoughts get away from me with overreaction — surely this isn’t necessary for inside Elrond’s halls.

He lowers his hand, dipping his head briefly in greeting. “I—” he seems to notice my nightgown. “Did I wake you?”

I shrug and attempt to lean against the doorframe casually, still mildly disturbed from my nightmare. “I don’t think so.” Then, panic causes me to stiffen. “Have you been here long?” Did he hear anything? Oh, I hope not.

He shakes his head and I relax. “No, I only just arrived.” Whew. “I came to get you — Elrond wants to take a look at your arm. I also wanted to let you know, Glorfindel and I are going to visit a couple of the border stations and see if there are improvements to be made. I will be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” I blink. So he’s leaving. “But you only just got here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t you want a few days to relax?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I have been relaxing — I’ve been on leave from my duties for three weeks now.”

I roll my eyes, recalling his constant state of watchfulness on our journey. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t call the trip we just had ‘on leave from your duties.’”

He huffs, but the beginnings of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “Would you please get dressed so I can escort you to Elrond? Glorfindel and I wish to leave within the hour.”

I fight the urge to make some snarky comment about his impatience and instead shut the door in his face, hurrying to get ready. My arm does sting — perhaps Elrond can do something about that.

The chest of drawers doesn’t offer much in variety, mostly just a combination of long dresses and a few tunic and legging sets here and there. I’ve been traveling in the same clothes for two weeks though, and a change in habit doesn’t sound too bad, so I opt for a sleeveless pale blue gown with a gossamer cape at the shoulders. I don’t look as ethereal as Lavandil would, but I suppose it will do. Using my fingers, I brush down the frizz in my hair as much as I can—a lost cause, really—and throw on a pair of cream slippers that no one will see anyway because of the gown. After splashing some water over my eyes and brushing my teeth, I throw open the door to find Haldir standing to the side, back to the wall, watching the coming and going of everyone who passes down the hallway. Always on duty. He acknowledges me with a stiff nod and gestures down the hall, falling into step beside me. When we reach the bottom of the staircase, he leads me to the right and through another open-air hallway.

He breaks the silence. “Is your room to your liking?”

I think back to my plush bed, trying to separate it from the dread and fear of my nightmare. “Oh, yes. As much as I liked sleeping under the stars, it’s nice to have a proper bed and all the blankets I could want. And a door.”

He huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “That is the true indication of luxury.”

“And yours?”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “It is the height of visitor season here in Imladris, so I am sharing with Rumil. Aside from constantly putting up with my younger brother, it’s perfect.”

I freeze, turning to him. “Wait, you have to share? But you’re the one who’s supposed to be visiting, that’s not right. You or Rumil can have my room, I’ll stay with Alex—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he interjects quickly, jerking his head to indicate that I should continue walking. “I only meant to joke. I do not mind sharing a space with my brother.” Before I can respond, he changes the subject. “How is your arm?”

I raise it, feeling the skin stretch over the cut. “Stings, but it’s healing.”

“Elrond will be able to speed along the process.” He indicates that we should turn left down a new hallway. He leads me through a nondescript archway on our right and we enter a moderately sized semicircular room.

Elrond sits at a mahogany desk near one of the walls, writing furiously on a piece of graying parchment. Upon our entry, he looks up, and the lines of stress on his brow melt into an expression of warm welcome. “Good to see you again, Cosima, Haldir.” He nods to each of us in turn and motions for us to join him at his desk. When we approach, Haldir bows his head respectfully, so I do the same. It’s strange to be in Elrond’s presence. He carries such authority that I feel small in comparison, yet he also leads with such kindness that it is impossible to not want to be around him. Based on all the visitors Haldir mentioned, I surmise that I am not alone in this assessment.

Elrond vacates his chair and gestures for me to sit. He comes to stand at my left and gently takes my arm in his hands. “I am sorry for the injury you suffered during the attack. That must have been quite jarring.”

Haldir rests a hand absently on the hilt of his sword, watching us from the other side of the desk. Likely, he too is remembering the ferocity of the attack — the lives he had to take. It must be hard, even if they were the lives of those trying to kill us.

“It was,” I agree, wincing slightly when Elrond unwraps the bandage encasing my upper arm. “As far as I know, my home doesn’t have anything like that.”

He smiles almost indulgently, crouching to more closely examine the gash. “But you would not remember if it did, no?”

I swallow. I hadn’t considered that. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks into my eyes then, and I feel so very young. “Every world has its perils. And every world has its joys. You cannot have one without the other—such is the way of life.”

I exhale shakily, turning my eyes to the ceiling. That’s sobering.

Elrond lays his fingers over my torn skin and mutters something in that language I so often hear.

I try to concentrate on the sounds, but can’t make out any specific words. “What is that?”

Since Elrond is still chanting, Haldir answers for him. “An Elvish healing incantation. Combined with the power in Elrond’s spirit, it should close up the wound.”

Tingles race through my upper arm and converge on my cut. I crane my neck, trying to see around Elrond’s hands. A second later, he pulls away. I gasp. All that is left of the cut is a thin, raised scar.

“What,” I murmur, prodding at the skin. Not painful, not even tender. What was just a two-day old wound now seems as if it happened and healed ages ago. “That’s impossible.”

Elrond nearly smirks, straightening to full height. “Open your mind, young one, and you will see that what is impossible to you is commonplace here.”

“I—” but I have nothing to say to that. Though I cannot possibly wrap my head around what just happened, the fact remains that it did. I’m not sure if I’m ready to confront what that means. So I push it away for later. “Thank you.”

Elrond inclines his head. Everyone around here is so dang respectful. “You are welcome.” With a twinkle in his eye, he turns his focus to Haldir. “Do not give my guards too hard a time. I imagine they are wary of your arrival.”

Haldir gestures for me to follow him to the exit. “I only plan on pointing out strategies for improvement. Suggestions, really.”

With a noise that clearly communicates his disbelief in Haldir’s statement, Elrond returns to his desk, smiling softly and shaking his head. “Be safe, Marchwarden. And Cosima?” I stop and turn, one hand on the pillar leading into his study. He gives me a level look and I have the distinct impression that he is acutely aware of the conflict raging within my head. “My door is always open.”

Mutely, I nod, a little stunned by the gravity in his gaze. I must have been staring, because it takes Haldir gently tapping my elbow to remind me to follow him from the room. Once in the hallway, I feel a little more clear-headed. “So was that magic?”

Haldir shrugs, striding down the long corridor. “Humans would think of it that way I suppose. Magic implies something special and ‘more than,’ though, and it’s not like that for elves. It is to be respected, yes, but it is simply the power in our spirits doing the work that calls to them. For Elrond, his spirit urges him to heal, so when he acts on it, he is more powerful than others who aren’t called to healing. I should mention that we say ‘spirit’ for your benefit. Elves use the term ‘fæ’. Simplified, it serves the same purpose as a spirit, but for elves, it plays more of an active role in our lives.”

I mull that over. It sounds reasonable enough. “So then what’s yours? What does your spirit—fæ want you to do?”

“Keep people safe. And if that means fighting, so be it.”

That seems consistent with what I know about him. Every action he takes seems driven by the desire to protect those around him. “What would happen if you ignored it? Say you wanted to be a healer like Baranor or Elrond.”

Haldir chuckles, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walks. “I have tried before and I was not near as successful. I can perform the basics of healing—anyone can—but there’s no power within me to speed up the process or heal especially severe injuries like Elrond can. If I tried to attend to your arm in the same way he did, maybe it would have healed slightly faster? But as you saw with Elrond, he is capable of doing it in minutes.”

I begin to catch on. “Okay, so you can all learn whatever skills you want but the power to perform above and beyond at those skills lies in your fæ.”

He nods once. “Exactly.”

We turn a corner. “But what if you wanted to be a healer but you were born with the fæ of a fighter? Could you change it?”

Haldir takes a deep breath, his steps slowing slightly. I realize we are nearing the staircase that will take me to my room. “Short answer—no. An elf’s fæ is incredibly personal and incredibly fragile. Really, only two things can change an elf’s fæ: marriage and death. Long answer—you can ignore the desires of your fæ and nothing bad will happen to you so, technically, if I wanted, I could shun the need to keep my people safe and heal them instead. But I wouldn’t be any better at it than anyone else and I would feel unfulfilled because I wouldn’t be giving my fæ what it needs. Does that make sense?”

I nod, but something he glossed over jumps out at me. He said marriage can change an elf’s fæ, but from what I know, marriage isn’t always forever. People can separate, people can die, people can cheat. What then? “Marriage and death change a fæ how?”

A faraway look comes into his eye. “The two are basically interconnected. When elves get married, their fæs bond together in a way that cannot be undone. When it is—through death—the half of the fæ belonging to the dead elf essentially wilts and leaves the remaining fæ damaged.”

That sounds awful. “But what about divorce? Is that kinder to a fæ?”

Haldir smiles ruefully. “Divorce is something unique to humans. Elves live forever and we love only once. When we do decide to love another, the two fæs are literally entwined forever. So divorce is a physical possibility — the two can be separated, yes. But it would cause their fæs so much grief that it almost never happens. Spiritually though, the two are entwined until death, some argue even beyond then.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “So, if one dies and the fæ is damaged…”

“The other fades. It is not just a physical death, but a spiritual one. They lose the will to live and eventually pass into nothing.”

I look at the ground. Haldir carries a pain in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s seen this happen before. With over three thousand years behind him, it’s likely that he has.

I attempt to veer to a safer subject. He said elves only love once and, as far as I know, Haldir isn’t married. I try to tease him a little to lighten the mood. “So you’ve never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, jerking his chin in my direction. “Have you?”

I shrug, climbing the staircase. “I wouldn’t remember.”

“I think you would.” We’re at the top now and I turn to see him looking not at me, but out one of the gaping archways showcasing the falls.

I let out a slow breath, thinking on his words. Would I, though? I mean, what if I’m here gallivanting with my new friends and I have someone at home mourning my loss, missing me? Do I owe it to him to make it back?

Feeling a weight settle on my shoulders, I take small, hesitant steps towards the archway, bringing me closer and closer to the fortified stone railing. I don’t look down—that would be too much—but I do rest my hands lightly against the wood, staring straight ahead at the curtain of frothy white and blue. Guilt as well as fear from being so close to the edge churn in my stomach. Am I a bad person for not remembering my love? Do I even have one?

I let out a shuddering breath, knowing I need something — reassurance or condemnation, I don’t know. I choose to give voice to my fears and trust Haldir to decide.

When I speak, my voice is not as solid as I would like, sounding instead shaky and fragile. “But what if I didn’t?” I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “What if there’s someone in my world waiting for me and I can’t remember him?”

The sounds of boots clicking against stone echoes. A few seconds later, Haldir appears next to me, resting his hands on the railing, mirroring my viewing of the waterfall.

“An elf’s fæ gives them a measure of awareness. If you are really attuned to someone—love them, have a strong bond with them—your fæs will have a consciousness of each other, almost like they’re in communication. For example, I can see Rumil’s light and I know that he is content. I can feel Orophin’s joy practically bursting and I know how happy it makes him to be here with his love. And, while a human’s fæ isn’t as strong as an elf’s, you do have one. If I concentrate, I can see it. It’s faint, but it is there. All this to say,” he shakes his head slowly, turning his gaze to me. “If you had a love back home, your fæ would know.”

I slump in relief, leaning against the railing and closing my eyes so I cannot further frighten myself. If I had someone that I was bonded to, I would remember him — more than that, I would feel it in my soul. So, staying here…if it weren’t so dangerous…maybe it wouldn’t be bad.

“Haldir, Lady Cosima.” A confident voice at the end of the hall catches our attention.

Glorfindel, golden and gorgeous as ever, strides up to us, bowing deeply. He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to its back, then straightens and winks—at me or Haldir, I can’t tell. “A human custom I thought I’d try. Not my cup of tea, but I do say I’ll try anything once.”

I bark out a shocked laugh, having not expected Glorfindel’s bold entrance. “Am I one of your experiments, then?”

“If you’d like to be.” He pumps his eyebrows suggestively, though, if what Haldir just explained to me is true for all elves, Glorfindel is only playing around.

Haldir rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

With a flair, Glorfindel gestures to his armored form. “So it seems. Is the Lady going to accompany us?”

I huff, not liking being cut out of the conversation. “No, ‘the Lady’ hopes to stay here and find breakfast.”

“Ah, it is on the path to the stables! Allow us to show you the way.” With that, Glorfindel strides down the hallway as quickly as he arrived.

Haldir shakes his head—whether in amusement or annoyance, I don’t know—but follows.

The three of us wind up in a large outdoor pavilion sheltered only by a wooden lattice rooftop woven with blue and white flowers. This must be the common dining hall Elrond mentioned last night. It’s relatively late in the morning but too early for the midday meal, so the pavilion is empty. I’m grateful—I’m not sure I could handle meeting a whole city’s worth of elves before I’ve gotten some food in me.

The use of the word causes a brief spark of shock to jolt through my chest. I just referred to them as ‘elves’.

But I cannot deny it any longer—somehow, it clicked. I am in a different world, and the people of this world are not all human. My friends are elves.

This decision to believe—though it is only one of many I must make—releases a weight from my chest. I suddenly feel much lighter, nearly giddy with freedom. I push forward and turn around to face the two ellyn who led me here, nodding with a measure of finality.

“You are elves.”

Glorfindel looks perplexed, but Haldir, for the first time since I’ve met him, looks surprised. His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his lips part from each other. I grin, very much enjoying the feeling of catching him off guard. He narrows his eyes slightly, seeming to inspect me for signs of teasing or a joke. I smile up at him, confident in my decision.

Glorfindel looks back and forth between what probably looks like an impromptu staring contest. “Yes…it must be time for you to eat. How often do humans need to eat, anyways?” He chatters on, leading us through the pavilion and into an auxiliary room — the kitchens. “I’ve heard horror stories of new humans needing to eat upwards of six times per day. How do its caretakers get anything done?”

As Glorfindel darts through the kitchen collecting what I assume to be leftovers and provisions for the trip, Haldir comes up beside me, looking almost unsure.

“You have accepted it, then?”

I nod, exhaling quickly. “I have. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Somehow I lived in my world and now I live in yours. And, though there’s no way for me to wrap my head around it, my new friends are elves.”

He smiles softly, hesitantly, and dips his head in acknowledgment of my statement. “I am glad.”

But, despite my momentary feeling of freedom, unease settles in my gut. Many more decisions lie ahead.

A/n Ooo so what do you think??? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me happy! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Also, if you’re bored, pop into my ask box and tell me something that makes you happy -- I’d love to know!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years ago

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The Witch and The Wolf Pt.29

Word Count: 2,139

Characters: Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent, Cora Hale, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: fluff at first, angst, cliffhanger

A/N: the writers actually said some stuff about Jennifer’s character and Derek... interesting

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Okay, no. There was like two cents in it,” you crossed your arms as you sat across from Cora, the two of you sat on the table in the kitchen.

“There was like a good 20 dollars in it, c’mon,” she raised her eyebrow, giving you a look.

The two of you were currently arguing about a mini time capsule that the two of you made. Except, instead of burying it in a backyard, you left it in the old Hale house, both of you forgot to bury it somewhere.

Ever since Cora had come back, the two of you were inseparable, spending every second you could with each other. It felt amazing to have your best friend back and to temporarily forget about all the problems going on.

“There were two pennies in it. We found it on the sidewalk and put it in there!” you exclaimed.

“No, I stole Derek’s allowance and put it in there. I wouldn't forget that,” Cora shook her head as you rolled your eyes.

“Morning,” you called as Isaac walked into the kitchen, giving a more angered expression to you and Cora.

“I would like to thank the two of you for keeping everyone up all night,” he said sarcastically as he sat next to you.

“You don’t need sleep, Isaac,” you sighed.

“But I need me time. I need peace and quiet time,” he continued to glare as you scoffed.

“Okay then, sourwolf. I have to get to school anyway,” you said, turning your focus back to Cora.

“And I need to go train,” she said.

“Train? You should rest,” you raised an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” she replied.

You shook your head, grabbing your bag before hesitating.

“Have you seen Derek?” you asked.

“He left in the morning,” Isaac shrugged.

“Oh,” you replied, a bit shocked at not knowing.

Was Cora coming back making this weird between you and Derek? Most definitely.

“So, what’s the deal between you and Derek anyway?” Cora asked.

“Uhm, well,” you paused, unsure of what to say.

“Dude, you don't have to act weird. You two were dating before I came back, and honestly, I’m happy for the two of you. I mean, it's not like you would end up with anyone else,” your mouth dropped as you looked at Cora.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you exclaimed.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? (Y/N), guys are scared of you,” Cora said.

“I’m not scary,” you gasped.

“Yeah, you are,” Isaac interrupted.

“Shut up, Isaac,” you rolled your eyes.

“So, wait, you’re okay with us being together?” you asked Cora hesitantly.

“Yeah, just do me a favor and don’t tell me about the sex or anything sex-related. Deal?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, sure, 100 percent,” you shook your head, smiling at her.

“Okay, well, I’m going to change, see you later,” Cora waved as she walked away.

“I bet you’re happy,” Isaac leaned against the counter, looking up at you.

“No shit, Sherlock. I’m just happy to have her back,” you ran your fingers through your hair.

“Do you know where Derek is? Or when he left?” you asked.

“I don’t know where he went, I think he left around 6 or 7,” Isaac shrugged.

“Oh,” you nodded your head.

“And I probably shouldn't have told you that. Don’t worry,” Isaac put his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m not,” you shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, well I have to get to school. And we have cross country today,” Isaac complained.

“Oh, stop your whining and get in the car. Let’s go,” you pat his back as the two of you left.

---

“Is there somewhere you have to be?” you looked up from your phone, looking at Chris.

“No, sorry. Sorry,” you exhaled as you put your phone in your pocket.

“You know we don’t have to do this right now,” you stood in front of Chris’ desk, looking at the map.

“Three people died the same way. Probably more to come. We need to do this now,” you felt slightly bad for lying to Derek and everyone else, but you had to do something.

“The problem is, we don’t know what this could be for, honestly,” Chris circled six points on the map, showing where the bodies were taken, and where they were left.

“Well, what do you mean?” you asked.

“Read this,” he handed you an old book, talking about ritualistic sacrifices.

You skimmed the page, before raising your eyebrows.

“So, basically every sacrifice begins with virgins, and it’s impossible to tell what’s gonna happen,” you sighed.

“We don’t know what the sacrifices are for, and how to stop them, or who is doing it,” Chris explained.

“Well then, let’s focus more on where the bodies were taken from, and where they’re left. Maybe it has something to do with this whole thing,” you suggested.

“Well, time for research,” you pulled out your laptop, as you started researching.

“Hey, kid,” you looked up at Chris.

“Yeah?” you asked, looking away from your laptop.

“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry,” he began as you interrupted him.

“I’m not… you have nothing to apologize for,” you shook your head.

“Well, shooting you is one thing, and also,” he kept talking as you stopped him.

“Chris, really. It’s old news. We’re past that. I mean, you’re still a better father to me than my father was,” you let out a laugh, feeling a slight pang in your chest.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Chris said softly.

“I just wish he could face me once, and just tell me why. Instead, he just keeps running away,” you looked down, closing your eyes as you let out a few soft breaths.

“Well, I won’t run away from you,” he pat your back as he sat next to you.

You smiled softly, continuing to go back to your research.

---

“They go to your school?” you exclaimed, talking to Isaac.

“That’s not the worst part. They got me in trouble! I have detention!” he yelled.

“How did they get you detention? You know what, it doesn't matter. Just don’t let them get to you, and keep away from them, okay?” you said to Isaac in a warning voice.

“I know, I know. Hey, by the way, your college sounds really… quiet. I can normally hear people yelling in the background,” Isaac pointed out. You could imagine his face as you rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I didn't go to school today. Me and Argent are trying to figure out these deaths,” you explained.

“Well? Did you find anything yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet. Research was a dead end, but we’re still looking,” you rubbed your head as you looked at a pile of papers, all from different lore books.

“Well, good luck to you,” he said.

“Yeah, good luck to you too. Hey, have you heard from Derek today?” you asked.

“No, why?” he asked.

“He just hasn't texted me back,” you sighed.

“He probably just got busy. He’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Isaac tried to comfort you.

“You know, when you tell people to stop worrying about something, it tends to make them worry more,” you replied.

“(Y/N),” he said in an annoyed tone.

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk to you later. Bye, kid,” you hung up the phone, running your fingers through your hair before you looked back at your laptop.

---

“That’s what I call a day wasted,” you placed your laptop on the desk next to you, while you rubbed your head, sighing again.

“We’ll get there,” Chris replied, trying to comfort you.

“I just don’t want anyone else to die,” you leaned back in the chair as you looked at Chris.

You pulled out your phone, looking at a few missed calls from Cora.

Your face became alert as you dialed her number, calling her back.

“(Y/N),” she answered.

“What happened? Is something wrong?” you said, standing up from your chair.

“The alpha pack… get here fast,” she said quickly, out of breath.

“Y-Yeah, I’m on my way. Are you okay?” you asked.

Before she could answer, the call dropped.

You grabbed your bag.

“Is everything okay?” Chris asked you.

“I gotta run,” you waved goodbye as you ran out.

---

You ran into the loft, pausing as you saw a group of people walking out of the loft.

The man from the elevator was there, and the alpha who attacked you and Scott, along with another lady.

The alpha pack

“(Y/N),” you felt coldness through your body as the man said your name.

“What are you doing here?” you clenched your fist.

“Not here for you, not yet,” he walked past you, as the other lady gave you a wink.

You paused in fear of his words, before shrugging it off, running inside.

“Derek?” he was laying on the ground, as blood dripped from his chest. You made out a stab sound, from a blunt object.

“What the fuck happened?” you ran to him, lifting his head in your lap.

“Nothing… I’m fine,” his breath was heavy as you put pressure on his wound, looking at Cora.

“I’ll heal,” he pushed away from you as he stood up.

You clenched your jaw before you stood up next to him.

“You’re still bleeding,” you pointed out.

“I said I’ll heal,” he said, clenching his jaw.

You paused, as you turned to Cora, watching her back away. She gave you a look before running upstairs.

“What did they want?” you asked, standing in front of him as he leaned on the desk.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head, looking away from you, to the ground.

“Derek…” you started.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, anger evident in his voice. He had a small glare on his face.

The anger began to bubble in your chest, you were annoyed with Derek.

“Why are you getting mad? God,” you sighed.

“I’m not getting mad at you,” he scoffed.

“Yes, you are. That’s all you’ve been doing for this past week. You keep getting mad at me for trying to fucking help you. I’m tired of it,” you clenched your jaw.

“I’m not… I’m not getting mad at you,” he exhaled sharply, turning his head away from you.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” you said softly.

“Nothing’s going on, (Y/N), just leave it alone.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, frustrated.

“What did they want?” you asked softly.

“Nothing.”

“So what? It was just a courtesy visit or something?” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

He remained silent, looking into your eyes.

“I’m sick of you always isolating yourself. No one’s problems magically go away because they don’t talk about them. You’re supposed to talk to me, that’s why I’m here,” you said.

“I don’t need a fucking therapist, (Y/N)!” you were taken aback as he yelled, you saw his grip on the table tighten, before he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I’m going home,” you lowered your voice, turning your back to him.

“You’re going home? Really?” you could imagine him rolling his eyes before your face fell into a glare, turning back to him

“Yeah, really. I’m so sick of the way you've been acting, I can’t deal with you and your bullshit right now. I’m going home,” you weren't expecting yourself to yell back.

“You're just gonna walk away? You can’t deal with me? Really fucking mature, (Y/N),” you dug your nails into your palm.

you walked away from him, hearing him yelling before you slammed the loft door shut behind you.

---

You entered your apartment, a place you hadn’t seen in a long time. You froze at the door, looking around the room. It was empty. It was lonely. No one else was there, just you. No Derek, no Isaac.

You ignored your thoughts, walking into the apartment, sighing softly, as you froze, hearing the thunder from outside.

Someone’s here

Your heart rate quickened as you tensed up, becoming alert as you walked around your apartment slowly.

You walked to the doorway, hearing the floorboard creak. Someone was right behind you.

You quickly turned around, your eyes glowing purple before you gasped, seeing Isaac behind you.

“Isaac?” you asked, walking to him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you…” his eyes were red, filled with tears.

“What happened?” you took his arm, pulling him inside.

“C-Can I stay with you?” he asked softly.

“Of course you can. What the hell happened? Are you okay?” you sat him on the couch next to you.

Tears immediately fell from his eyes, as he leaned his head onto your chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly, his body visibly shaking.

“Isaac, it’s okay, I got you,” you cooed softly, holding onto him tightly.

“I got you.”

119 notes · View notes

imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

Nerdflirt

Henry Cavill x reader twoshot (1/2)

Word count: 2.768

Disclaimer: tiny, tiny hint of fluff

Summary: There’s apparently a bit more involved than just paint and innocent flirting, when you meet a stranger on Instagram with a shared hobby.

Find the second part here.

This story is based on a prompt I received from @aestheticqueenb

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Maybe, you can like…I don’t know…find some new hobby or something?’

Your friend had said it more as an after thought during your Zoom chat, but here you were. Thinking yet again if she was perhaps right. A new hobby. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to find some diversion in these strange times. Like. You had ordered some of these picture paint books for adults since they were all the rage, but you had grown bored of them again.

Heck. You had even asked your boss if you could help him out while stuck at home. But apparently the restaurant business was really on its ass and you’d just have to wait for things to settle down and regulations to become less restricting.

This whole COVID-19 thing had initially seemed like a bit of a fad. Like some sick joke that nobody stopped at the right time. It was just a fever, right? Well, apparently…it wasn’t. You could still remember the moment all too well when you were sent home, told to wait for news. Hours passed. Days passed. Weeks passed. But there was no sign of things soon to improve.

And thus you resorted to adult colouring books and sulking away on your desk chair.

Stretching out you pushed the chair away from your desk, the tiny wheels immediately halting as you bumped against your bed. Oh yes, it was also good to mention you were slowly losing your mind because your studio apartment was SOO friggin’ small you couldn’t stretch as much as a foot without bumping into a piece of furniture.

Not a problem when you have a social life. But very much a problem when you hadn’t. Usually you worked a lot, went out with friends, enjoyed to go for a run. And home? Home was just a conveniently placed bed in the middle of London.

Now, however, it was a constricting prison that seemed to strip away your sanity piece by piece.

As had become second nature by now you opened your phone, fingers automatically refreshing the front news page. Scroll, scroll, scroll. No new news. Then your e-mail. No new e-mails. Then perhaps look for some “inspiration” - whatever you needed that for - on Pinterest? Scroll, scroll, scroll. Okay, no, this is dumb. Going back to the mainscreen your thumb hovered over the Instagram button.

You honestly didn’t like the app much. Fake people. Fake fun lives. It just wasn’t your cuppa tea. And yet you never got so far as deleting it since you did enjoy seeing baby pictures of your baby niece.

Okay, fine, maybe there were some new pictures or something. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do and so you opened the app, only to be confronted with a somewhat confusing image. What’s this? A large pair of hands painting an absolutely tiny polystyrene figurine. Why is this on your timeline? Your eyes gazed up, even more confused when you read the name “Henry Cavill” above it. Pfft. Probably some attention whoring from another bored superstar. You shook your head and scrolled on, eventually giving up again.

You groaned, feeling the abyss of utter boredom suck you in once more, your eyes wandering to the world outside. It was sunny, a spotless blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Hilarious, ain’t it? It’s nice weather out in the UK and guess what? You’re stuck inside because the whole world is in lockdown.

So…now what? You just had lunch, your apartment was pristinely clean and you already went for a run this morning. You sighed and turned your chair back so you could awaken your trusty old friend again. Your laptop. Perhaps Google something random? See what you find? The internet’s your friend, right?

Open. Google.

You bit your lip, thinking of something. Anything. But your mind was a blank.

Hmm. Oh. You know what. Maybe it’d be fun to know what kind of fake nerd Henry Cavill actually was.

You opened Instagram again and, of course, his post was back on the top of the timeline. It was almost too easy. #GamesWorkshop #ProperGeek #Custodes. Hmm, probably one of those three tags were the secret. You decided to enter “custodes”, since it sounded the least familiar and hit enter.

Before long you had dived head first into the miraculous world of Warhammer miniature strategy boardgaming and the most ludicrous, but fascinating lore. There was a medieval variant, a sci-fi variant and some ancient Rome and English civil war stuff. All including a well-thought out background story and even more figurines then you could count. Pretty cool figures too, you thought, haphazardly clicking on “order” while scrolling through one of the webshops.

Like it contained some kind of bomb, the mailman sprinted off, leaving the small package behind while you opened your door. Fuck this corona crisis. You couldn’t even..greet the fucking mailman.

Picking up the package you carefully moved it to your desk. Would they be fragile? How tiny could tiny really be? There was only one way to find out, you decided, picking up a pair of scissors and cutting open the small brown box.

Well. Okay. That’s tiny. Tiny tiny tiny. Perhaps you had been a bit too over enthusiastic about just randomly picking up a new hobby. Like..did you even need like special paint for this? Carefully you placed the kit sheets with the hundreds of tiny pieces in them on your desk and bit your lip, deciding what you’d do next. Tiny heads, guns, wings, all stuck in a meticulously thought out grid. Where to start? Perhaps look for some inspiration? Tips and tricks?

The internet is your friend.

Silly as it was you ended up scrolling through Instagram again, this time on the profile of some “SirEltharin” who posted daily updates on his miniature painting. And just like you, he had bought the Retributor Squad from the Adepta Sororitas, the all-female fighter division that were also known as “The Sisters of Battle”. Just thinking how ridiculous that sounded made you chuckle. Were you a nerd too now? Perhaps.

He just posted something new you noticed.

‘These ladies are hard to tame! Oops, painting accident..’ He posted, along with a picture of some smudged paint on one of the figurines. You chuckled, commenting without much of a second thought.

LadyGrim - ‘Well at least you started..I just can’t get myself to paint :X’ - 1 minute ago SirEltharin - ‘No need to be Grim, good Lady. What’s keeping you from starting?’ - 2 seconds ago

Hmm. He responded immediately. A smile reached the corners of your lips as you shrugged and typed again.

LadyGrim - ‘Painters limbo? No honestly it’s my first set and I’m out of my depth here.’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Well if large male hands can do it. Surely a Lady can do it too? ;)’ - 30 seconds ago

LadyGrim - ‘Size can be deceiving.’ - 2 seconds ago

Your eyes rested on the screen for a bit, hoping he’d respond, but eventually giving up. Your eyes turned towards the sheets with the figurine parts on the other side of your desk.

Welp, it’s not like anyone could judge you for trying, right?

You painted that whole day, finding it nerve wrecking and meditative all at the same time. You hadn’t even noticed that it was past dinner time, until your stomach really started to growl with hunger.

After cooking yourself a simple pasta dish you sat back on your desk chair, forking the pasta into your mouth while opening your phone to check on any news updates. No news. Mail. No mail. Pinterest? Skip. Instagram. Heck, why not.

*New message from SirEltharin* Hmm. A private message. You didn’t even know that you could send private messages in Instagram, but alas, perhaps you were just a failed millennial.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey :) Guess what? I totally screwed up that figurine and have to do it all over again. Started any painting yet?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Perhaps you gave me all your good luck? Just started and..maybe..it actually starts to look pretty cool?’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Which one did you start with?’ - 2 seconds ago

Damn, guess it wasn’t just you who was bored to bits. This guy was one fast responder.

LadyGrim - ‘The one with the book? At least, I think…. So many parts..’

SirEltharin - ‘Yea. Requires a bit of strategising hehe. Besides..holy fervour and good faith!’

LadyGrim - ‘So why did you chose the sisters? You’re a guy right?’

SirEltharin - ‘And that’s a problem? ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘No..’

SirEltharin - ‘Honestly though. They’re cool. Strong women.’

LadyGrim - ‘Who got betrayed by the man they promised to serve.’

SirEltharin - ‘Ah you read the lore? Yea..men are dicks haha ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Can’t agree more.’

You back and forthed throughout the evening. Starting off with some Warhammer 40k related banter, but soon drifting off to talking about the Corona lockdown and the boredom that came with it. SirEltharin didn’t let off a whole lot about himself, which made your imagination run a little wild.

Perhaps it was this “milady” type of guy, that’d tip his hat at you, then grow annoyed as soon as you didn’t immediately fall in love with him. Or, maybe it was this skinny pimple-faced guy who only ever played female characters in games. Or a really, really fat guy. He did say large male hands. Large…could be fat? Or at least chubby? Ugh. What did it matter anyways. Men, you had decided, were always going to disappoint.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey, just curious by the way. Why did YOU decide to start painting?’

LadyGrim - ‘Are you asking just because I’m a girl? ;)’

SirEltharin - ‘Hardly. What do you even think of me?! ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Okay. Don’t call me an idiot. But this movie star, Henry Cavill? He posted an image and though I absolutely think he’s one of those fake nerd celebrities who are in it for the attention, it did get me interested in the figurines..so..I just ordered and..here I am!’

He stopped responding after that. For the rest of the night. Did you say something wrong or did he just not see your message? Ah..whatever. It didn’t really matter. He was just some stranger on the internet. You started Netflix and crawled onto your bed, wasting away another evening bingewatching How I Met Your Mother.

The next morning he had responded again. Around 5 am. Damn. Nerds ARE night owls, you thought, sipping your freshly brewn cup of french pressed coffee while leaning against your tiny kitchen block.

SirEltharin - ‘Can’t really say that without knowing him, right?’ - 3 hours ago

SirEltharin - ‘Anything in particular wrong with Henry Cavill?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Woa woa. No harm meant. Sorry. Guess I just don’t trust ‘em pretty boys?’ - 3 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘How’s that so? And good morning, Lady ;)’ - 2 seconds ago

You bit your lip and let out a deep sigh. Oh this man didn’t know what hellfire could come his way, opening THAT topic.

LadyGrim - ‘Good morning ..and..I doubt you’d be interested.’

SirEltharin - ‘You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.’

LadyGrim - ‘Fine. Let’s just keep it plain and simple. Lied to, cheated on and continuously disappointed. Guess I’ll just have to become a lesbian?’

SirEltharin - ‘Don’t let a few bad ones ruin it for the rest of us. Has it been long?’

LadyGrim - ‘Long?’

SirEltharin - ‘Apologies. I mean. Since you last dated?’

LadyGrim - ‘A year or so.’

SirEltharin - ‘And how old are you? Or am I being too bold asking such a thing?’

LadyGrim - ‘It’s fine. Thirty. Had my birthday two weeks ago. So yea..becoming a bit of an old spinster hehe.’

SirEltharin - ‘Belated happy birthday and..hardly a spinster, right? I mean. I’m 37 and haven’t found anyone yet. Heck. I guess I’m the old spinster here haha.’

LadyGrim - ‘I doubt the same rules apply for men.’

SirEltharin - ‘Trust me. We are all judged.’

Weeks passed and you and Sir kinda started to really get to know each other. You both lived in London - how practical -, were pretty enthused about sports, liked dogs (he had one, you wished you had one) and were close knit with your family. You with your sister, who already had a few kids. And he with his brothers. All with kids. Teasingly you donned each other the nicknames ‘Uncle and Aunty Spinster’.

You knew he had looked on your account. Seen some pictures of you. Even made a few comments on them and liked everything new you posted. But he, SirEltharin, remained mostly a mystery. You tried to talk yourself out of your curiosity, but couldn’t help but lay in bed fantasising about him. The only body part you had seen of him to this point were his hands, and they were actually quite pretty hands. Well manicured nails, strong fingers. It meant he probably wasn’t SUPER fat. So. That’s something.

Eventually the COVID-19 related regulations were becoming less restrictive and for the first time in months you could go back to work. The very news had made you both reluctant - you liked this new rhythm of painting and chatting with SirEltharin -, but also happy. Finally getting out of your tiny apartment, finally getting back to work. It may require some getting used to again, but this was just what you really needed.

In your enthusiasm you posted a picture on Instagram of your work outfit as it lay neatly spread out on your bed sheets. Your boss had made some quirky shirts to celebrate the reopening of the restaurant: “Brunello’s back” was written in fancy white lettering on the back of the shirt. You giggled as SirEltharin liked it within a split second.

SirEltharin - ‘Back to work hmm?’

LadyGrim - ‘Yep. Its all fun and games until the rat race starts again.’

SirEltharin - ‘Sounds Grim ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘You know me too well Sir. Anyways gotta go. Bye!’

SirEltharin - ‘See ya.’

See ya. You always thought it weird when strangers said that at the end of an online chat. Clients sometimes said it at the end of a phone reservation. That was understandable though; they were to come to the restaurant. But complete strangers? There was no such thing as “seeing you around”. However in the case of SirEltharin you were willing to let it slip. He probably didn’t think anything of it.

For a first night it was already quite hectic at Brunello’s. The room, although still far less bustling than usual, was filled. People were obviously eager to pick up their social lives again, the animated chatter of guests zooming around the room while you paced past the neatly spaced white clothed tables. Brunello’s was a rather luxurious restaurant and mostly businessmen and well-to-do families and friends came here to wine and dine. Tonight was special though, as a few celebrities were sitting in the far corner. Including a familiar face: Mr. Cavill, your eyes immediately falling on him as he seemingly was giving you a questioning look.

Perhaps he just wanted to order some drinks, you thought, halting next to the table and offering them your most kind, professional smile - ignoring the curious pair of blue eyes that tracked your every move.

‘Good evening and welcome to Brunello’s. Is there anything I can help you with?’ You spoke, the sentence fluently tipping of your tongue, your eyes wandering slowly over the guests. Most of them were unfamiliar to you. And Mr. Cavill..you tried to just not give him any attention as he was still burning his eyes into you.

‘We actually could use some advice on the wine. We’d like to start white, slightly fruity, perhaps French? Though the Italian one also sounds quite nice.’ A small blonde woman spoke, peering over her menu card.

As this was not your expertise, you called for the sommelier, stepping back to make room for him. And all the while you felt those eyes, gazing at you, almost brazenly. What was up with this Mr. Cavill? Or did you maybe have something funny on your face and did nobody dare to tell you? Shyly you excused yourself, leaving the guests in the capable hands of the sommelier, and quickly made for the women’s bathroom to check your face.

There was nothing out of sort when you looked into the mirror. Strange.

Peeking quickly on your phone, a habit when you were alone, you noticed a new message popping up on your Insta-chat.

SirEltharin - ‘I think we need to talk.’ - 30 seconds ago

Go to part 2

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #warhammer 40k #figurine #miniature #painting #henry cavill x reader #secretcelebrity #undercover #nerdflirt #instagram #retributors #adepta sororitas

217 notes · View notes

lovely-van · 5 years ago

Text

beige - van mccann

You know you're beautiful But that ain't half the gold treasure in your soul that you got 'Cause I want it all With your fingers in my mouth, I fail to see your faults So please don't let me fall So please don't let me fall...

- Beige by Yoke Lore

word count: 12k+ (yes i know but i’m not sorry)

notes: oh my god okay i love this story so much. based on a request where you and van are friends that fall in love but both don’t think the other feels the same way. not based technically on the song beige by yoke lore but i really love the song and it’s very cute and the meaning behind it is fucking amazing (definitely look it up on genius.com). anyway i really hope you like it and lmk what you think! enjoy :))

• • •

You met Van when you were nine.

Of course, back then, he still went by Ryan.

He was kicking a football around in his front lawn, right across the street from your own house. You were on the sidewalk in front of your house, scribbling designs on the concrete with chalk when you noticed him.

You’d only moved in a few weeks earlier and hadn’t realized that you had a neighbor your own age. You giggled as he nearly tripped over the ball, trying to do some fancy trick. He huffed, trying to do the trick again and failing. “You’re not very good at that, y’know.”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, looking around in confusion. His eyes locked on you and he shrugged. “I’m trying to learn!” he shouted from across the street.

You stood up, wiping some chalk dust from your overalls and skipped across the street. “Here, it’s not that hard. I’ll help you.” He watched, his young face concentrated, as you showed him how to bounce the ball back and forth on your knees.

After a few minutes of trying it himself, he did it successfully. A grin spread across his face, cheeks flushed and dimples showing. “Wow, thanks,” he said. “My name’s Ryan. What’s yours?”

That was how it all started.

You and Van soon became best friends. You spent everyday together, exploring your neighborhood, climbing trees, coming up with all kinds of games that stretched every part of your imagination. He attended a different school, public versus your private school that your mother insisted you go to. But you didn’t mind because as soon as he got home, he’d come running to your front door and knock on it, waiting there with the same cheesy grin every time.

You made other friends throughout the years, some girls from school and he had friends from his own class but you were always each other’s closest friends. In the summer, you’d grab sleeping bags and flashlights and lay under the stars in his backyard. You’d talk for hours about what you wanted to be when you were older, how you couldn’t wait until you were big enough to drive a car or have your own house.

•

You were eleven when you realized how special Van was.

It was a sunny afternoon on a Saturday and you and Van were climbing trees in his backyard. It was late autumn, so the air was crisp and all the leaves had fully changed colors, ready to shrivel up and float down to the grass below at any moment.

“Alright, just grab that branch right there,” he said, pointing to a tree branch a few inches above you. He was already much higher than you and guiding you to get to where he was. You dug your feet into the branch you were standing on to make sure it was sturdy, and you reached up, fingers just grasping the bark-

And then you were falling, falling and before you could even comprehend it, you hit the ground. You landed directly on your right leg and you screamed, the pain overwhelming you immediately.

Van flew down the tree, jumping the last few feet. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip as hard as you could to try and hold back the tears that were stinging your eyes.

“Okay, don’t worry I’m gonna go get someone. It’s gonna be okay,” he said quickly, rubbing your back and then sprinting toward his house.

Turns out you’d broken your leg in two places. You had to wear a cast for at least six weeks and you were extremely bummed that you couldn’t play the rest of your fall football season. You and Van were even on the same team, always carpooling to games together and messing around during tournaments.

The day after you got your cast, you heard a knock on your bedroom door. You were lying in bed reading a book, feeling sorry for yourself when you saw Van peep his head in. “Hi,” he said with a small smile.

“Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice?” you asked as he sat down on the bed next to you.

He shrugged. “I quit.”

“You quit? Why?”

“I didn’t want to play without you.”

•

You were thirteen when you shared your first kiss.

You were both in your old treehouse, watching the sunset through the window.

“Van?” you repeated, pondering it. He nodded, leaning his head back on the wood, a dreamy smile on his face. “How come?”

“Ryan’s so boring. I wanna be like Van Morrison, a rockstar and all that. So, Van, which is short for Evan - it totally works.”

You nodded, your lips curling up into a smile. The sky was turning a purple-orange hazy color, your absolute favorite. You loved sunsets more than just about anything. If you were doing homework or watching TV or something, Van would toss rocks at your window, just like in the movies, to make sure you didn’t miss it. You’d always go outside and watch the sunset with him, usually from your backyard or even his roof if you were feeling brave enough.

“Yeah, I like it. Very cool.” It fit the aesthetic that Van had been shaping for himself recently. Since becoming an official teenager, Van had taken it upon himself to descend fully into his ‘angsty’ phase. Well, as angsty as someone with the happy go-lucky demeanor that he held could be.

He started wearing all black and jumpers with rips in them and buying only vinyls. He’d drag you to the local record store, sifting through them for hours and buying whatever he could with the money he’d earned from cutting lawns. You didn’t mind, though You loved the relaxed aura of the store, the faint noise of whatever Mr. Brown, the owner, was currently listening to in the background. You’d flip through records, listening to Van babble on about whatever new band he’d taken a liking to, fingers running over the worn cases. It was therapeutic, almost.

“D’you think it’s weird that neither of us has had our first kiss yet?” He asked, turning and looking at you, eyebrows furrowed.

You leaned forward, resting your crossed arms on your knees. “Um, I dunno. I hadn’t really thought about it. Do you think it’s weird?”

Van shrugged, carving something into the wood floor with the pocketknife his father had given him for his last birthday. “Well, Joey and Simon both had theirs last year. And Henry Williams has kissed like, three girls. I feel like we’re the only ones who haven’t done it.”

His gaze was trained on whatever design he was making, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You scanned over his face, the freckles dusting his cheeks, the scar in his eyebrow he’d gotten from a football match last year that was finally healing. He glanced up after a moment and locked eyes with you, waiting for your response.

“I mean, I guess,” you replied. “A few of my friends have had theirs too, but they all had boyfriends. I don’t like any boys at my school,” you said, shaking your head, cringing at the thought.

“Yeah, me either.”

“You don’t like any boys at your school?” you teased.

Van laughed, kicking your foot lightly with his. “C’mon, you know what I mean. I don’t really like any girls right now and I feel lame without kissing anyone.” You paused, waiting to see what he was getting at it. “Sooo,” he said dramatically, dropping his pocket knife on the wood floor and mirroring your position, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his forearms on them. “Why don’t we just kiss?”

You wrinkled your nose. “What? Gross.”

He rolled his eyes, scooting closer to you so your knees were touching. “C’mon, let’s just do it to get it over with. We’re best friends so it doesn’t really matter.” His lips were curled up at the ends, hair wild as usual and you actually debated it. He was your best friend after all, and you figured it would be better than kissing some random boy during a game of spin the bottle or something. You were going to be in year nine soon, for God’s sake.

“Okay, fine. But promise not to let things get weird between us after?” He nodded quickly, reaching his pinkie finger out.

“Promise,” he said, curling your finger around his.

“Alright, then. What do we do?”

He shifted so he was cross legged and you did the same, both of your bare knees pressed up against each other. The sun was just barely above the horizon, only visible to you in the reflection of his eyes. “Uh... I think we just do it,” he said, not sounding too convincing.

You swallowed as he wet his lips and leaned in, only a few inches away from you. You could see every detail of his face, every little scratch and imperfection of teenage skin. For the first time, you realized maybe he was kind of cute, like your mother always said. “It’s those little dimples he has,” she always said with a wide smile. This was coming from the woman who was convinced that you two would fall in love and get married someday. Yeah, right.

He stared back at you, blinking slowly and licked his lips again. You would’ve felt uncomfortable normally, if it had been anyone else this close to you but, well, it was Van.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your lips.

You took one last look at him and shut your eyes, your stomach doing jumps like you were about to board a roller coaster. He cleared his throat and you felt him shift and then his lips were on yours. He just kind of kept them there, neither of you moving, unsure of what to do. It felt weird and different and you were a little surprised at how soft his lips were. Did everyone’s feel like this? This is what people in movies feel like when they have their big first kiss, right as the music swells? It didn’t seem right.

After a few seconds, you both pulled away and opened your eyes, blinking the blurriness away. You looked at the sharpness of his nose and the curl of his eyelashes and realized he still looked like the same old Van to you.

“Huh,” he said after a moment, scooching back to his original spot against the wall of the treehouse. By now, his face was bathed in deep red shadows that were sure to turn to blue any moment once the stubborn sun descended past the tree line.

“Huh,” you repeated, bringing your fingers to your mouth, running them over your bottom lip. “That was...”

“Weird?” he finished.

You shrugged. “No, just like, kind of boring, I guess. I don’t really get the big deal.”

Van scratched the back of his neck, eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe we did it wrong?”

You laughed softly at first and then started laughed even harder, stuck in a fit of giggles. “What?” he asked with a grin, which just made you laugh harder. He started laughing with you, warm and loud, just like always. You howled with laughter, both nearly rolling around on the floor of the treehouse. You laughed for so long that by the time you were done, you forgot why you started in the first place.

•

Age fourteen came with the band.

You weren’t really sure how it started or why even, but suddenly Van was playing with one of his friend’s older brothers in their basement. He invited you to come along most times, rambling on about how excited he was about a new song they were learning or how good he was getting with guitar.

You’d taught him to play originally, lending him the few notes your dad had taught you when you were small. He was entranced immediately, making you guide his fingers to every note you knew on the guitar that he’d saved up for for a year. And then he ran with it, learning every variation of every chord possible and spending nearly every waking minute playing in the basement of the B&B - much to his parents dismay. They scolded him and told him it was driving customers away which is probably how he ended up jamming with Billy, slowly learning a few of The Strokes’ easier songs.

You loved tagging along to watch him play, even though all he and Billy did was strum on their guitars and sing in the basement that had really, really shitty acoustics. You knew Van was a good singer - he always had been, even though he was in the midst of puberty and was experiencing the dreaded voice cracks and hormones that came along with it. And he absolutely loved music. Listening to him sing was your favorite part of the day. You’d lean back on the couch, listening to the way his accent slipped away a little as he sang, stumbling over words and combining bits and pieces of various songs together. You knew music and you knew that he was good.

“You’ve got quite beautiful eyes, y’know,” Van said one night, hours after his voice had given out from singing the same song over and over again in Billy’s basement.

You elbowed Van in the ribs, nearly knocking him over. “Shut up, would ya? Brown eyes are ugly and you know it.”

You stared up at the sky, entranced by the constellations and bright stars that were out. You were both sitting cross-legged on the grass in a field a few minutes outside of your neighborhood, far enough that the lights from the houses couldn’t reach it.

“No, ‘m telling you, yours are all big and soft and… warm, like honey.” You turned to look at him slowly, at the crooked grin on his face. You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back on the stars. You wondered how they all fit up there in that big sky. It didn’t even seem possible, like they could fall out of it at any second and come crashing down to Earth.

“Says the one with blue eyes. I’ve always wanted blue eyes,” you said with a dreamy sigh.

Van shook his head and laughed softly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

You looked at him, blinking, and joined in laughing with him. “What?” you asked in between giggles.

Van shrugged, only laughing harder, which made you laugh harder, too.

“I think… I think I’m just high,” Van said with a wide smile on his face. You nodded, tilting your head back and laughing again, the air visible from your mouth in the cold.

“Me too,” You said after a moment with a giggle. “Guess it worked?”

You and Van started smoking fairly regularly after that, usually leeching off of Billy or trading him with stolen cigarettes that your father rolled himself. You’d usually settle for Billy’s basement, passing around a joint or a bowl and listening as they played the songs that Van had slowly started writing, your brain fuzzy and soaking in every bit of it.

•

Age sixteen came with first loves.

“Mate, you know Abby Newman?” Billy asked one night, smacking Van on the chest lightly. He blinked, eyes half shut and red around the edges.

“Hm, she’s a year ‘bove me, I think, so year younger than you, yeah?”

Billy smirked, taking a long hit of the joint in his hands. “Heard that she fancies you.”

You snorted and Van shot you a dirty look, shoving you lightly. “Fuck off, would ya?” he said with a laugh, then turned back to Billy. “Abby Newman, huh?”

This is what kickstarted Van’s girl crazed phase. Through his delightful charm (or so he said), he managed to score a date with Abby. Within a few weeks, they were real-life boyfriend and girlfriend, holding hands at the diner you always went to, Abby finding a spot on Billy’s couch to listen to them practice, Van telling you about how they’d gone to second base - gross.

At first, you were a little annoyed with Abby, her extra fragrant floral perfume and thick eyeliner being just a bit much but you learned to like her. Just as you were starting to consider her one of your own close friends, she and Van broke up. He wrote a sad song about her of course, actually probably 20 songs, but within a few weeks, he had a new girl in his lyrics.

He never dated girls for longer than a month, if that, and you were never really sure why they broke up but it made for good song content, Van pouring his emotions out into his at first cheesy but then actually decent songs.

While Van was experiencing the whirlwind that was adolescent females, you were finding your own first love in Matt.

Matt was a year above you, seventeen and had this smile that dove you nuts. You’d go to his football games, cheering him on from the stands, Van usually by your side scribbling in his notebook or underneath the bleachers smoking a cigarette.

You adored Matt. He was just so cool, always working on this old car that he already knew how to drive even though he didn’t even have his license yet, and giving you mix CDs with sappy love songs that you’d fall asleep listening to every night.

Van wasn’t a huge fan of him but you figured he was just being his usual over protective self. You forced him to put on a smile and play nice, which he did for the most part.

Matt bought you popcorn and paid for your movie tickets, held your hand tightly during the scary parts, took you to the beach when it got a little warmer, gave you goodnight kisses at your door that left you dizzy.

You were sixteen and in love. Or you thought you were, at least.

“Van,” you whispered into the phone, hand covering your mouth as you walked down the street on shaky legs.

“Hey, what is it, love? You okay?” he answered quickly, voice thick from smoking or drinking. It was the night of your school’s formal and although he didn’t attend it, Van was probably winding down from the afterparty that one of your classmates had thrown - the party you should’ve just gone to after the dance.

Instead, you were walking down a road you didn’t even recognize, in the dress you’d been dreaming about wearing for months, tears streaming down your face.

“Yeah, I-” your voice cracked and you let out a sob. You crouched down in the street, head on your knees and cried, snot dripping from your nose.

“Love,” Van whispered, his heart breaking for you. “Where are you?”

You ended up in Van’s bed, curled up under his covers, wearing a pair of his joggers and your favorite sweatshirt that you always tried to steal from him. He placed a cup of tea down for you on his bedside table with just a bit of milk, exactly how you liked it, and sat on the edge of the bed. “You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

You wiped some tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and took a shaky breath. “Um... I guess.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, the familiar feeling of his calloused fingers against yours relaxing you a little. “So basically... Matt and I had been planning on, um, having sex for the first time tonight, after the dance. Cliche, I know,” you sniffled, glancing you at Van. You’d expected him to shake his head or at least give you a disappointed look but his soft expression hadn’t changed. “And well, his parents were gone for the weekend... so we went to his house after the dance. And we were, like kissing and stuff and I realized that I just wasn’t ready, y’know? Like I just didn’t wanna do it then. So I told him that and he got really mad, telling me that he’d been waiting for this for months and how could I just decide all of the sudden I didn’t want to?”

Van’s hand tightened around yours and you glanced up to see his jaw clenched. You took another shaky breath. “So... then I felt really bad and ended up just doing it.” Vans eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You dropped your chin to your chest, closing your eyes. “There’s more,” you whispered. “After we were done, he, um, broke up with me and basically said he was just waiting for this so he could finally dump me.” Van pulled his hand away from you and you glanced up to see him pacing around his room.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled to himself. “Oh my fucking God. What a piece of shit. Who the fuck does he think he is, doing that to you? To you of all people?” he voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he paused, running a hand down his face. “I’m gonna fucking murder him,” he said, reaching for his boots by the door.

“Van, stop. Please,” you whispered, pulling your knees tighter to your chest. He paused immediately and looked down at you, face softening slightly.

“But he can’t fucking do that. Do you know how messed up that is? I literally wanna go rip his fucking head off,” he hissed. You shook your head and when he saw your lip tremble, he dropped his boot and sat down on the bed next to you carefully. “Oh, Y/N,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

You bit your lip and leaned on his chest, a sob escaping your mouth when he pulled you close to him. You cried, full on, a waterfall of tears into his chest as he stroked your hair and rubbed your back gently, keeping you tucked into him. He shushed you softly, almost rocking you like a baby as you cried and cried on him.

After you had no tears left in you, you sniffled and cleared your throat. You were both lying down now, both of Vans arms around your waist and your head in his chest, arm across his stomach. “Uh, sorry about that,” you said with a soft laugh.

He stroked his thumb across your arm. “Don’t ever apologize for that, yeah? I’m here for you, always. If you need to cry on me, I’ll gladly wipe your tears away,” he murmured in your ear. “But I still wanna fuckin’ kill him.”

You chuckled, burying your head into his chest. “I know. But please don’t, I don’t want you going to jail on my behalf.”

“I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you,” he whispered. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. He smelled a little different than usual, his cologne and cigarette smoke mixed with alcohol and weed from the party. But it comforted you nonetheless, because it was Van. “I love you,” he said, dropping a kiss on your forehead.

“Love you too,” you replied softly, falling asleep as you thanked God for giving you Van as a best friend.

•

You were seventeen when you started to get jealous.

It was well known by you and your friends that Van was, well, a ladies man. He dated a lot of girls. He was always loyal to them of course, he’d never cheat, but his relationships were always short-lived and dramatic. He still paid more attention to you than any of his girlfriends, but one night when you texted him to come watch a movie, you were disappointed by his response.

To: vannn

heyyy come watch 500 days of summer w me plz i need a rom com and snuggles

To: my bestest friend

sorry love i got a date w sophie tonight her parents are gone for the weekend ;) tomorrow? xx

You looked at your phone for a moment, color rushing to your cheeks as you snapped it shut. It’s not like this was anything new - Van hadn’t done anything wrong, he was just spending time with his girlfriend. But it bothered you for some reason.

The next day, when Van did actually come over to watch a movie as promised, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he started talking about Sophie.

“Yeah, I dunno she’s nice and dead cute, honestly, but she is a little insane,” he said, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

Your skin was probably green with envy when he mentioned something about her being good in bed. “Van, I don’t wanna hear that,” you replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at him.

He turned his head and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Aw, someone a little jealous that I’m spending time with another girl?” he teased, eating the popcorn that had landed in his lap.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No.”

Van chuckled and leaned toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “It’s okay, babe, you’ll always be my number one.”

•

You were eighteen when you realized you were in love with him.

It was your birthday and you were at a small pub watching him perform. You were leaning against the back wall, a beer in your hand as you watched. Van and Billy had found a bassist a while back and recently had even found a decent drummer. And they were good.

You smiled as he thrashed around on stage, nearly knocking his microphone over and putting on a hell of a good show for the small crowd of people. They’d grown a bit of a following over the years and you could tell something big was coming for them soon.

“I just wanna give a shout to someone very special to me.” You looked up at Van who was staring right back at you, a huge grin spread across his face as he spoke into the microphone at the finality of their last song. “This girl’s been there for me since the beginning, through all my shit. She’s the best friend I could ever ask for and I dunno what I did to deserve her. So happy birthday, Y/N. And thanks for everything.”

Color sprung to your cheeks as everyone turned and looked at you, clapping and shouting happy birthday wishes. One of Van’s guy friends who you’d gotten to know pretty well, elbowed you in the side and shot you a wide smile. “Didn’t know it was your birthday. How old are you, then?”

But you didn’t respond because you hadn’t even picked up on what he was saying. You were still staring at Van, watching as he started packing things up on stage.

Everything around you went quiet. You watched as he tilted his head back and laughed loudly at something Bob said and it sounded like goddamn angels singing to you.

Holy shit. I’m in love with him, you thought. I’m fucking in love with him. How did I not realize this earlier?

It was like everything else in the background faded to black and white but he was in color, his blue eyes shining brightly as he approached you, brown hair darkened with sweat. He said something to you and you had to blink a few times, bringing your focus back.

“Sorry, what?”

He laughed, shaking his head at you. “I asked if you wanted to get out of here, go for a drive, or somethin’. I gotta give you your birthday present,” he said with a mischievous smile.

So there you were in the passenger seat of his dad’s car, windows rolled down, arm hanging out and cutting through the wind as you drove over a bridge, music blaring, and fuck, you were in love with Van.

The lights from the city were bright and shining in the rear view mirror as the two of you sped away, leaving everything behind you. You stuck your head out of the window, feeling the wind on your face, a little buzzed from the beer you had been drinking earlier and a little high from the joint you’d smoked a few minutes prior and you threw your head back and whooped, unable to hold in your joy.

Van was looking over at you, one hand on the steering wheel and a wide smile on his face. “What?” he questioned you with a laugh.

You shook your head, unable to explain how you were feeling at that moment. You felt so full and warm and just downright fucking happy. Happier than you’d felt in a while. “I’m just… happy,” you said back, sticking your arm back out the window and letting your hair whip around in the wind.

Van laughed, rolling his own window down and screaming along to the music with you.

He pulled over eventually, onto a side road in the middle of nowhere but left the car running. He turned the music down a little and cleared his throat. You watched as he rubbed his hands down his jeans, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “What’s up?” you asked, rolling the window up and tilting your head towards him. “Ooh, do I get my present now?”

A laugh escaped him as he nodded. “Yeah, guess so. Or I could make you wait even longer.”

You frowned, crossing your arms dramatically. “But Vaaan,” you whined, “it’s almost midnight. Then my birthday’s gonna be over.”

His eyes shone in the darkness of the car, the moonlight washing over his features gently. “Alright, alright, quit your whining. Give me a second.” Van slipped out of the car and went around to the trunk and came back with a small box wrapped in newspaper. He held it in his hands for a moment as he sat in the driver’s seat, the windows around you fogging up just a bit from your breath.

You waited patiently, heart beating a little faster. He licked his lips before he spoke, turning his head to look at you. “So I’ve been, uh… pretty bummed lately because you’re leaving soon. I was trying to think of a way to convince you to stay here with me and just become a roadie or something but I realized that there was no way I’d let you do that,” he said with a soft laugh. “You’re so fucking smart and I just… I know you’re gonna do big things at Oxford and after, too. It sucks that we’re gonna be apart but I’m hoping I can come visit.” He looked at you expectantly, eyes wide as if you were going to object to this.

You nodded quickly. “Of course, yeah.”

He smiled and looked out the window for a second, turning the present around in his hands. “Good, yeah. God, this is fucking awful,” he said after a moment, eyes going to his lap. “‘M gonna miss you so much. I mean… my best friend isn’t gonna be 10 steps from my front door anymore.” You bit your lip hard, blinking fast. You weren’t one to cry over just anything but you could feel tears stinging your eyes. And you weren’t ready to leave Van in a few days at all.

You’d applied to Oxford on a whim, fully expecting to end up at one of the smaller universities near your hometown that would be within driving distance so you could still live at home.

When you got your acceptance letter, you were shocked. Van hadn’t been surprised at all, saying he knew all along that you’d get in. It took you up until the last day possible to make the decision. Ultimately, you knew you’d hate yourself if you didn’t pick Oxford. And Van would probably resent you for life if you stayed living at home. Plus, he’d dropped out of school a while ago anyway and who knew what he’d be doing once Catfish got signed.

He laughed softly, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I’m so happy for ya. I’m not happy about us being three and a half hours away from each other... but I’ll live. And I guess I should finally give this to you, yeah?”

He handed the present over across the console, your fingers brushing as you took it from him. “I can see you wrapped it yourself,” you said with a chuckle, inspecting the newspaper.

Van rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, shut up and open it.”

You tore the paper carefully, holding your breath as you pulled the paper back to reveal a small box. You lifted the top off and peered inside to see a CD case. You pulled it out and examined the front to see a handwritten tracklist - Van’s messy script, specifically, but there were no artists listed. “Oh, you made me a mix?” you asked softly, beaming at him.

He shook his head slightly. “Well, not exactly. Um, they’re all my songs.” You gasped, looking back at the tracks.

“That’s amazing,” you murmured.

“And uh, well, they’re all songs about you.” You paused, making sure you heard him correctly, and turned back to look at him. He was staring right back at you, bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

“Songs about me?” you whispered. “I didn’t know you wrote about me.”

He laughed softly, pointing at the top of the list of songs. “Of course I do. How could I not? They’re kind of… in chronological order too, like from when I first met you to now.” You pulled the CD case to your chest, leaning over and wrapping your free arm around Van’s neck.

“Oh my God, thank you,” you mumbled as he tucked his arm around your waist, his chin on top of your head.

“There’s more, y’know,” he said as you pulled away, pointing at the box. You lifted some tissue paper to reveal a thick stack of notebook paper that was folded together carefully in a square. When you pulled it out, something fell out of the paper.

“Shit,” you muttered as you lifted your legs off the seat, trying to find it. You switched a light on inside the car and spread your fingers across the fabric of the seat until you felt something cold. You grabbed it carefully, placing it in your palm and you gasped upon realization. “Van,” you whispered.

It was his father’s necklace, the one he’d worn ever since you were both small. He’d started wearing it when he was only about seven or eight, he told you. You’d never seen him without it.

You looked over at him and sure enough, the small chain that usually adorned his neck was gone. He licked his lips, eyes scanning your face. “I… I can’t take this from you,” you said, reaching for his hand to give the necklace back to him.

He held his hands up in defense and shook his head. “I want you to have it. So you don’t forget about me,” he said quietly.

Your chest tightened. Forget about Van? That would be impossible. You’d spent your life watching him grow up, been there for each other through every heartbreak, every family problem, every low moment. You were in love with him, for God’s sake. How could you not be? He was the funniest, most thoughtful, kindest person you’d ever met. And he thought you’d forget about him?

“I could never forget about you,” you whispered, voice cracking. Your eyes started watering again and you looked at your lap, turning over the delicate gold chain in your hands.

“Let me put it on you.” You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you handed it to him carefully and turned to face your window. He leaned over the console and brushed your hair to the side, his hands against your neck eliciting goosebumps from your skin. He unclasped it and wrapped it around your neck slowly, his fingertips nearly leaving burn marks wherever they touched. He ran a hand down your hair, smoothing it carefully and hovering there for a moment before leaning back in his seat. “Looks better on you,” he said with a small smile.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach had not dissipated. You felt incredibly nervous but also still at ease and you were trying to figure out how that was even possible. But it was because you were alone in a car in the middle of nowhere with Van, your best friend of almost a decade who you were also utterly in love with, staring at him with only the soft hum of The Shins in the background. “Also, that’s um, a letter I wrote you,” he said softly, looking at the folded up paper in your hands. You started to unfold the paper until he interrupted you. “No, no, could you just wait to read it? Like, until you get to Oxford?”

You felt dizzy at this point, only moments away from having to press your forehead against the car window and catch your breath. What was in the letter?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you whispered, tucking the note into the pocket of your jacket. “Van, I… thank you so much. You don’t know how much all of this means to me,” you said. He was pleased by your reaction, a small smile stuck on his lips as he stared at you.

“Of course. You deserve it,” Van responded softly. “Come ‘ere.”

You leaned forward again and wrapped both of your arms around his middle tightly, tucking your head into his chest. He slid both his arms around your neck, one going to the back of your head and holding you tightly. You sat there like that for a while, feeling how warm he was against you, breathing in his scent that never seemed to change, the cologne he’d stolen from his father when he was younger with the addition of cigarette smoke in the last couple of years. He felt so solid and safe and at that moment, you realized that leaving for Oxford was probably going to be the hardest thing you’d done so far in your life. Van stroked your hair gently, holding you so tight to him, not caring about the awkward position you were in over the center console or that The Shins CD was starting over for the third time.

You pulled away after a few minutes, forehead pressed to his. It was so dark you couldn’t see anything but the lightness of his eyes. I’m in love with you, you wanted to say. I’m so fucking in love with you it hurts. I want to wake up to you in my bed every morning and I want to dance around the kitchen with you in the middle of the night and I want to have babies with you and grow old together.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any of these things. You were leaving in less than a week and then you’d be across the country from him. You didn’t want to risk losing him or fucking things up before you left. You’d just realized how you felt about him and you were pretty sure that he didn’t feel the same way about you but you’d rather just live not knowing for sure - it was less painful that way. You wanted to remember him exactly this way - warm and happy and just Van.

“I love you,” you whispered, “and I’m gonna miss you so fucking much. But you’ll always be my best friend, y’know?”

•

It was near the end of your first term when Van finally came to visit you.

It was a Friday afternoon and you had your nose in a book, studying for an exam you had coming up when your phone rang.

You flipped it open and grinned. “Van!” you yelled excitedly, slamming your book shut and jumping out of your desk chair.

He chuckled through the phone at your excitement. “Hi, love. I think I’m here but ‘m not quite sure where to go, honestly. Can ya come find me?”

There he was, a backpack slung over one shoulder, sunglasses on his face, wearing a huge smile. You sprinted toward him and nearly knocked him over with a hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“Hi,” you said when you pulled away, beaming.

“Hi,” he replied, giving you that infamous crooked grin.

“So this is my friend Hallie’s room and my other friend Olivia’s room is right there and, oh that’s Charlie’s at the end of the hall,” you said, speeding down the hallway, Van trailing behind you. He seemed to be in awe of everything, mouth hung open and staring at every room you passed. “And this is my room.” You shut the door behind you and leaned against the wall, watching as he inspected the small room. “Like it?” you asked nervously.

He turned and looked at you, a smile spread across his face. “This is amazing,” he said. “This whole place is so fuckin’ cool and all of your pictures in here and your records, wow,” he murmured, scanning over the hundreds of pictures you’d taped to your walls. Of course, he was in most of them. You beamed at him, plopping down on your bed as he looked out your window, admiring the view of the city outside.

“So did ya miss me?” he asked, sitting down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his.

“No, I’ve been just great without you,” you said with a laugh. “Yes, of course I missed you! It’s been, like…”

“Three months?” he finished for you.

You sighed, scanning over his face. It had been only three months but it felt like so much longer. He looked older to you, his hair a little longer and some stubble growing in. His eyes still had the same twinkle and you couldn’t help but lean forward and hug him again tightly.

“Three months too long,” you mumbled into his chest as he chuckled, hugging you back and rubbing his hand down your back.

“I know, darlin’. But what do you have planned for me this weekend? Gotta get the whole university experience, yeah?”

Naturally, you took him to a party later that night. It wasn’t overly huge or anything, just a casual thing that your friend Hallie’s older sister was throwing at her house a few blocks away from where you lived.

Van was thriving in the party atmosphere, of course. Girls were eyeing him up left and right, offering him drinks and touching his shoulder. He was eating it up, not used to so much attention. He was telling a group of people about the band and how they’d recently won a music competition and they were all close to drooling.

“Your boyfriend’s so cool,” someone next to you said. You turned and looked, seeing it was a girl who lived down the hall from you but whose name you could never remember. Van looked at you through the crowd of people, shooting you a wink as you shook your head and laughed at him.

“I know right?” you replied, not even bothering to correct her.

“I love college. I love it!” Van shouted to no one in particular a few hours later as the two of you stumbled down the street, his arm slung around your shoulder and yours around his waist.

You giggled, holding him tightly to make sure you didn’t trip over anything. “Van, be quiet,” you shushed as you guided him up the stairs and down the hall to your room. You rolled your eyes, laughing as he said ‘hello’ to a few people in your hall and pushed him into your room. He collapsed on your bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “I’m serious. I love this place. I could never leave,” he said, eyes wide.

You sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, patting his chest. “I know. I love it, too.”

Soon you were curled up in your tiny bed, limbs tangled together and fighting over blankets like you were sixteen again. His arm was around you, thumb stroking over your shoulder. “So you got a boyfriend?” he asked teasingly.

“Ha no, no time for that yet. I’ve been so busy with school I can’t even think about finding a boyfriend,” you replied with a laugh. “What about you? How’s the girl situation?”

Van shrugged gently. “Eh, dunno. I’ve been seeing this girl Lily for a bit but I don’t really think it’ll go anywhere. She’s a bit full on.”

You’d become pretty good at hiding your jealousy, pushing it down inside of you and putting on a smile. You knew that his relationships never lasted and you really had no right to be jealous anyway but the thought of him doing anything with another girl made you sick to your stomach.

You chatted for a while, voices hushed and words getting more drawn out until you could tell he was asleep. You laid there, head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and listening to him breathe and you were just so fucking thankful that he was real and he was alive and here in your room.

As you laid pressed up against him, not ready to fall asleep just yet, you thought of the letter he’d written you before you left for school.

It took you until your third night at Oxford to read it, as you’d been so busy with unpacking and making new friends you didn’t have time.

You’d flipped the lamp on next to your bed and unfolded the paper carefully. You read it slowly, taking in every word, every metaphor, every long description and then read it again. He really did have a way with words. You cried, of course, because it was fucking beautiful. He wrote about what your friendship meant to him and how he was so thankful he’d gotten to watch you grow over the years into the person you were now. He mentioned little details about you that you’d never even noticed and wrote about some of the bigger things you’d experienced together and what it was like from his perspective.

The final paragraph is what really sent you over the edge.

And now, you’re going off to do such fucking wonderful things. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to know you. Just the other day I was talking to Larry about you, and how I was going to miss you and everything and he said to me “Mate, she’s special. People like that don’t come around in life twice.” And he was right. I might end up traveling around the world with the band, visiting different countries and meeting thousands of people. But none of them will compare to you. To your heart, your kindness, your passion to change the world. So I guess, I just want to thank you for being you and thank God for putting you in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

You’re the best friend I ever could’ve asked for. I love you and I always will.

Love, Van xx

•

You were twenty when you met Ethan.

It was the beginning of your third year at Oxford and he was in your Calculus class. He introduced himself on the first day and whispered jokes to you about the lecturer throughout the whole class, making you burst out laughing at one point and get scolded by the girl sitting next to you.

He followed you out of the lecture hall, asking you to coffee right away. While you were drinking coffee, he asked you to come to a party with him later that night. At the party, he asked you to dinner the next night.

Within weeks you were inseparable. Ethan was witty and bright and kept you on your toes at all times. You studied together almost every night and it especially helped that he was a genius when it came to math.

“So you’re just using Green’s Theorem to set up a double integral to find the area of this region,” he’d say.

“I have to use whose what to find where?”

He’d roll his eyes and laugh, then explain the whole thing to you again.

You went to parties together and out to clubs sometimes, spending all night laughing and dancing together. You called your mother, giddy about your new romance and you could tell she was uncertain about Ethan. “Sweetie, are you sure about him? I mean he sounds nice and all, but… what about a certain someone back home?”

You’d never officially told your mother about your secret love for Van but of course she knew. Ever since you were little, she constantly told you that you and Van would be perfect together and would end up married with kids someday. And when she started to pick up on your real feelings for him, that maybe you did want to be more than friends, you could tell your mother really, really wanted something to finally happen between you and Van. “Mum,” you’d scolded her over the phone, “you need to drop that, okay? I like Ethan. He’s gonna be good for me.”

When first term was over, Ethan invited you to come to his family’s house for the holidays and spend Christmas with him. You declined politely, as you hadn’t seen your parents in ages and desperately wanted to go home for a bit, enjoy the cold weather from the comfort of your childhood home. In the last few weeks, Ethan had become a little full on, as well, so you were glad to get some space from him. And maybe there were other reasons, too.

As you rode the train home, looking out at the snow falling through the frozen window, you thought about Van.

You hadn’t seen him in months. Catfish had recently gotten signed and they were busy recording their first EP so you rarely saw him last summer before you had to return to Oxford. You talked on the phone occasionally, but you were both so busy that you had little time to call each other.

And fuck, did you miss him.

Your heart ached for him when you arrived home, his house looking the exact same. You pictured him running across the street to beg you to come play hide and seek in the woods nearby or to convince you to go swimming in the lake a few blocks away. When your parents took you out to dinner, all you could see was him. Him sitting at the booth you always used to share when you had late night munchies, him waiting for the bus down the road before school, him knocking over that stop sign when he was first learning to drive.

You thought about calling him but every time you clicked on his contact name, you couldn’t bring yourself to go through with it. What if things had changed between you? What if he was too busy with the band?

You’d been home for three days when you heard a noise at your window. You paused, trying to figure out if you imagined it and shrugged, turning back to the book you were reading. After a moment, you heard the noise again. You folded over the corner of the page you were on and set the book down on your bedside table. You shuffled over to your window and jumped when you heard the tap again, then pulled your shades back. Through the frost, you could make out the figure of a person on the ground below. You carefully slid the window open and stuck your head out, rubbing your arms from the cold.

“Hey!”

It was Van, throwing rocks at your window, a smile on his face, just like when you were young.

Your heart swelled. “You wanna let me in? It’s cold as fuck out here!”

Van rubbed his hands together and blew on them, trying to warm himself up as you set a cup of tea next to him on your nightstand. “Thanks, love,” he said with a warm smile.

“So how’ve you been? Can’t believe you guys finally have a record deal and everything. I mean you’ve been working for this for so long,” you said, pulling a blanket over both of you.

“Fuck, I know right? It’s been insane, just absolutely mad. I mean to hear my own songs actually recorded, not just on the shitty mic I have in my room? It’s fucking amazing,” Van replied, shaking his head in amazement.

He shot into stories about their manager and the stress over which songs would go on the B side and you could tell he fucking loved it. His eyes were shining so bright, hands waving around as he spoke, a wide smile never leaving his face. Van was absolutely in love - in love with music and his band, and you realized you were in love, too.

But not with music - you were in love with him still.

“You glad to be home? It’s not quite as exciting as Oxford, eh?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

You laughed softly, shrugging. “Maybe not as exciting but I like coming back here, especially since it’s almost Christmas. I love seeing mum and dad and it makes me… nostalgic you know. Reminds me of being little and running around with you,” you said, bumping his shoulder with yours.

He nodded in agreement, lips curling up in a smile. “Can you believe we’re twenty now? Christ, I feel so fucking old,” he said with a laugh.

“Oh, I know right. I feel like school is just flying by and I dunno, I have no fucking clue what I want to do when it’s over,” you replied, sighing.

“You’ll figure it out. You always do. You’re dead smart and so passionate about so many things that I can’t imagine you’ll have any trouble finding a job after you graduate,” Van said softly.

You looked over at him, biting your lip and wanting to cry a little. He always knew what to say. You’d been so stressed over the last year about your grades and about potentially going to medical school but you weren’t even sure if you wanted to, that Van saying this made you feel infinitely better.

“Thanks, Van. I’ve missed you so much, y’know.”

He wrapped an arm around you, bringing you close to him and dropping a kiss on your forehead. “I missed you, too, love. It’s been hard without you.”

You took a little satisfaction in knowing that he missed you as much as you missed him. You had your doubts of course, him being a big rock star now and you feared that maybe things had changed since you’d last seen him.

“I was worried you’d forget about me,” you said softly, looking up at him. He blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowed.

He shook his head and whispered, “I could never forget about you.” His flickered down to your neck and the gold chain you hadn’t taken off in years.

You bit your lip, unable to contain the smile on your face.

“You wanna go for a walk?” he asked after a moment.

So though it was freezing and flurries were coming down, you found yourself walking the same streets you’d biked around on when you were young.

You had your face buried in a scarf, hands shoved in your pockets because of course you’d forgotten your mittens, as you walked down the street with Van.

It was dark out now, so the sky was hazy and everything was quiet from the snow. You were shivering and looked over at Van to see if he was the same, but he looked fine, no scarf, no mittens, no hat and just a light jacket on. “Aren’t you cold?” you asked, teeth chattering.

He turned and looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “Not really. You?” You turned off the road you’d been walking on and wordlessly entered a park that you’d played at countless times. Visions of young Van sliding down the slide or swinging as high as he could flashed through your head.

You nodded quickly, pulling your hands out of your pockets to rub them together. Van led you to a bench and sat. “Here,” he said, reaching out for your hands. You sat next to him, pressed up against each other, and he took your hands in his much larger ones, rubbing some warmth into them. He brought your hands to his mouth, blowing hot air on them. Your heart started to race and you felt like a teenager again.

“Better?” he asked, pulling your hands away from his mouth but not letting go, resting them on his lap.

You nodded, lips curled up in a smile. The tip of his nose was a little red and he looked adorable.

“So your mum told me the other day that you’ve got a new boyfriend.” Oh, fuck. Since being home and especially being with Van, you’d kind of forgotten about Ethan.

“Oh, yeah, Ethan. We’ve been together for just a couple months,” you said with a small smile. Van nodded but didn’t return your smile, turning and looking across the park, snowflakes falling and nestling onto his hair. He looked older, circles visible under his eyes probably from long nights spent perfecting songs and early mornings at the recording studio. You were positive he’d grown since you last saw him - he’d seemed like a giant when you’d been walking together. “But I dunno, I don’t really know if he’s the one, y’know?”

When Van turned back to you, he looked nine years old again. Small and vulnerable and clueless about the world.

He looked down at his lap, at your intertwined fingers, and licked his lips before his eyes flicked back up to yours. “Y/N… Can I tell you something?”

Your breath hitched in your throat before you nodded slowly. Van cleared his throat and turned your hand over, running his thumb along all the lines. He scratched your palm gently, just like he knew you liked, before intertwining your fingers again. “Uh, wow, I have no idea where to even start. I’ve had this planned in my head for fucking years and now it’s real and I… I don’t even know what to say,” he muttered, eyes wide as they stared into yours.

“What do you mean?”

He laughed softly, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand. He brought your hand up to his mouth again and kissed your knuckles gently.

“I’m in love with you.” Your ears were ringing and you blinked slowly, wanting to pinch yourself in the leg to make sure you weren’t dreaming. “I’m so fucking in love with you. And I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to say it because God, I’ve known it since I was fifteen and you fell asleep on my shoulder in Bobby’s basement one time but I was always too scared to tell you. Scared because I knew you didn’t feel the same way and I was worried you’d get weird around me which is fucking dumb because, well, you’re you and you’re the best person I know so it would’ve been fine,” he said with a soft laugh. “I wanted to tell you before you went off to Oxford, too, but I knew it was a bad idea because we were gonna be so far apart and I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship or anything, y’know? But now I hear that you have a boyfriend and I probably shouldn’t even be telling you because that’s kind of a shitty thing to do, but I dunno. I couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he finished, shrugging like he’d just said something completely minuscule to you.

He reached up and rubbed his thumb under your eye and you didn’t even realize you’d started crying.

Van was in love with you. He was in love with you and had been for years. All those years that you thought he didn’t feel the same, that he was just a really good friend. After you’d read his letter when you first started at Oxford, feeling a little crushed that he hadn’t confessed his love for you, you were positive that you’d never be more than friends.

Van, your best friend of eleven years, the boy who’d grown into a man in front of your very eyes, was in love with you too.

You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my God,” you mumbled. “Oh my God. This is real?” He nodded, his face full of confusion.

You’d spent years dreaming of this. Lying on your bed at Oxford, staring at the ceiling, willing there to be some way the universe could work its magic and make Van love you back. Apparently, the universe listens.

“Van... I’m in love with you, too.” He sighed gently, eyes locked on yours. “I have been forever. And I didn’t wanna tell you either because I thought you didn’t feel the same way,” you said with a small laugh of disbelief. “Fuck, I can’t believe this is actually happening. I spent so much time wishing you’d feel the same way as me but I honestly thought you never would. And God, I wanted to tell you so bad but I was just so scared. You’re really in love with me?” you whispered, biting your lip.

He nodded, bringing his finger to your chin and tilting your face to look up at him. You could see every detail of his face in the soft lighting, the freckles that dusted across his nose, the ever so faint scar from that football match so long ago, the curl of his eyelashes. You thought of when you were thirteen and you had stared at him before having your first ever kiss, how much he looked like that young boy right now.

“Of course I’m in love with you. It’s always been you,” he whispered, his thumb stroking across your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast you were worried it would pop out of your chest.

You sighed softly, scanning over Van’s face, the snowflakes that had accumulated on his hair, the sparkle in his eyes, the redness of his cheeks. He was in love with you.

“Think we can try that whole kissing thing again?” he asked after a moment, with a small smile. “Might be better now than it was when we were kids.”

You laughed, nodding as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on yours. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you to make sure he was real and that this was actually happening.

“I love you,” Van whispered, his breath ghosting across your lips, the edges of his eyes crinkled because of how hard he was smiling.

And yeah, it was safe to say this kiss was better than the one you’d shared at age thirteen.

•

You were twenty four when you got married.

It was a nice autumn day, a slight chill in the air but the sun was still shining bright.

As you waited for your cue to walk down the aisle, your heart beating faster than you knew possible, you thought of the last time you’d seen Van. It was yesterday morning, when you woke up to him pressing soft kisses on your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

“Van, what are you doing?” you’d groaned, not wanting to wake up.

He scattered a few more kisses down your face and then giggled - giggled - against your neck as he brought his fingers to your sides, tickling you gently. “Van!” you squealed, opening your eyes to see him hovering above you with that crooked grin.

“I needed to wake you up,” he said.

You looked up at him, blinking the blurriness away, at his messy hair and sleepy eyes. It had to have been early still, dawn lighting streaming in through your window onto his face. “Why?” you asked with another groan.

“Because I looove you and we have so much shit going on today and then we don’t get to be together tonight so I wanna enjoy the time we have this morning,” he replied softly.

You brought your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across a dimple and pulled his mouth to yours. He smiled even wider into the kiss, morning breath and teeth clinking together and all.

You loved Van a little extra in the mornings. He was even more affectionate than usual, running his hands over every part of your body, wanting to be the little spoon, begging you to stay in bed for just a little longer.

He snuggled on top of you, arms around your waist and head nuzzled into your neck as you scratched his scalp gently. “We’re getting married tomorrow,” he mumbled.

You sighed softly, lips curling up in a smile. “I know. God, I’m so excited.”

He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on yours. You couldn’t see anything but the lightness of his eyes. “Me too,” he whispered. “Been waiting for this for a long fuckin’ time.” He kissed you gently, then rested his head on your chest, your hands going back up to tangle through his hair.

“I love you.”

“I love you, so fucking much.”

As you rounded the corner, you took one last deep breath and looked up. Everyone was standing, staring at you with wide smiles and hands pressed to their hearts. The music was playing softly in the background, white twinkling lights everywhere, the flowers absolutely perfect. You were thankful your father was leading you, his arm tightly around yours because otherwise, you probably would have stopped dead in your tracks while walking down the aisle when you saw Van.

He was waiting at the altar, looking fucking amazing in his black suit, and he was crying. Tears were streaming down his face and his hand was covering his mouth as he shook his head in awe.

Your dad kissed your cheek and whispered that he loved you and took his seat next to your mum in the crowd.

When you reached Van, you grabbed his hands tightly, grinning at him as his eyes looked you up and down and then straight into your own eyes. His face was wet with tears and his lip was nearly bleeding from biting it so hard.

“Hi,” you whispered, tears stinging at your own eyes.

He laughed softly, shaking his head again in disbelief. “Hi. God, you look fucking beautiful.”

•

You were twenty seven when you had your first child.

You’d woken up in the middle of the night, eyes widening immediately as you shook Van awake. He had just gotten back from a short tour the night before, and he’d been absolutely exhausted. But he knew you were due soon and there was no way he was missing the birth of his first kid.

“Hm?” he mumbled, not waking up.

“Van,” you hissed, shaking his shoulder again. “It’s happening.”

He opened his eyes and blinked, looking up at you. You nodded quickly, trying hard not to freak out too much. “Oh my God,” he said, shooting up and stumbling out of bed to find the bag you’d packed a while ago. “Oh my God, fuck, oh my God.”

The whole drive to the hospital, Van checked in on you constantly, making sure you weren’t in too much pain, driving as fast as possible, squeezing your hand tight. He had a playlist on his phone for this very moment - because honestly, he had a playlist for everything - and he put it on, trying to keep you relaxed as it played softly in the background. “We’re gonna have a fucking baby,” he muttered, glancing over at you in the passenger seat and laughing softly. “Christ.” You laughed too and then started to cry of course, because your hormones were a fucking disaster. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, love. You can do this, yeah? Never been anything you can’t do.”

“She’s fucking beautiful,” Van whispered, tears running down his face as you laid in the hospital bed together later, both of you holding your new baby girl. You were exhausted and in a lot of pain, your face sticky with sweat but you didn’t care. You nodded, resting your head on Van’s shoulder as you started crying with him. “Looks just like you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’re parents, Van,” you said after a moment. “Holy fuck, are we ready for this?”

Van snorted, shrugging gently. “Probably not but we’ll figure it out, yeah? We always figure it out.” You sighed happily, leaning up and pressing a kiss on his lips.

“God, I love you,” you whispered, dropping your head back to his shoulder. “Now, what are we gonna name her?”

•

You were thirty-three when you realized your mother had been right all along.

It was a cold, snowy day in the middle of December. You were cozy in bed, still half asleep, Van’s arm tight around you as you laid on his chest, blankets pulled up over you.

You were about to fall fully back asleep when you heard your door swing open. You heard some whispering and soft giggles and suddenly, you and Van were being attacked.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Van groaned loudly as you opened your eyes, seeing your two children jumping up and down on your bed. They giggled, launching themselves on top of you and hugging you. “Wake up, please!” they begged, Mary sitting on Van’s chest and Leo bouncing up and down on top of you.

You rubbed your eyes, laughing softly at them. “What are you two doing?” you groaned, pulling Leo down into a hug.

Leo laughed as he hugged you back, burying his face in your neck. “We wanna go play in the snow, please, please?” he begged in his small voice.

Van mumbled something incoherent as Mary poked his cheek. “Daddy, wake up,” she said with a giggle. You glanced over to see Van with his arms covering his face, clearly not ready to be awake.

“I don’t think Daddy is ready to wake up,” you said with a laugh, reaching up to press a kiss to Leo’s nose. Leo squirmed off of you and joined in the assault on Van, pulling his hands off his face and pressing his forehead to Van’s.

“Daddy, pleeease,” he whined, giggling. Van groaned loudly again, before opening his eyes and immediately wrapping his arms around Mary and Leo, pulling them both onto his chest.

“You’re killing me,” he mumbled, voice scratchy. “Daddy needs to sleep.”

You laughed, squeezing up tight to your family and resting your head on Van’s shoulder. “Daddy does need his sleep. Especially after last night,” you said with a smirk. Van chuckled as Mary started tugging on his hair and Leo wiggled to get out of his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Van started to tickle both of them, making them scream with laughter as they squirmed around your bed, limbs flying everywhere as they tried to escape him.

“Okay, okay, we’ll have breakfast and then we can go outside. You can go watch some TV while I get your Daddy up,” you said with a laugh as Mary and Leo jumped off the bed, racing into the living room.

Van chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his chest. “They’re mad,” he said, shaking his head.

“They are, yeah,” you replied with a soft laugh. “But I love ‘em.”

“Love ‘em to pieces.” Van ran his hand down your arm slowly, before reaching his hand down to your jaw and tilting your face up to look at him. His eyes were sleepy still, his hair a mess. “And I love you, Mrs. McCann,” he whispered.

You smiled back up at him, feeling giddy as ever as he leaned down and kissed you slowly, smiling against your lips. You pulled away after a moment and stared into his eyes, wondering how the hell you got this lucky. “I love you more.”

Turns out your mother was right all along about the whole marrying Van and having babies with him.

You never would’ve imagined this at nine when you met him for the first time or at thirteen when you had your first kiss or even when you were eighteen and you realized you were in love with him. It seemed too good to be true.

But it was real. Van was real and you loved him more and more every day, still asking yourself how someone as perfect as him could exist. Van, who had become the best father in the world, crying to you at night sometimes because he loved his children so much and was worried about what the world would do to them. Van, who dedicated every album to you and had to call you every night while he was on tour because he couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice. Van, who made sure to send you flowers at work once a month, who you got to spend the rest of your life with, who left a note on your bedside table with a different reason why he loved you every single morning.

And God, did you love him too.

• • •

#vanfic #van mccann #catb fanfic #van mccann fanfic #catb fanfiction #my fic #van x reader #catb #fanfic #!!!!#i love this story omg #it's 2 am but it's fine

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dontcare77ghj · 5 years ago

Text

Heaven & Hell

Natasha x reader x Steve

Demon Steve x human reader x Angel Natasha

Masterlist Sleep Series Masterlist Halloween/Spernatural Masterlist

What originally was one of America’s most well-kept secrets, became public knowledge with the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. You were in a polyamorous relationship with Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers, or the Black Widow and Captain America. But it wasn’t the polyamorous aspect that took people aback it was the fact Steve Rogers was a genuine demon and Natasha Romanoff was an actual angel.

Natasha was the daughter of an archangel and a human. She’d grown up with her mother, with the knowledge of who her real father was, until she’d passed away and Natasha joined the red room. In an oddly similar situation, Steve was the son of a demon and his mortal mother. Steve knew from a young age what his father was and what he was and didn’t use his abilities until he met Howard Stark.

You yourself were just an ordinary mortal, well not really and certainly not to Steve or Natasha. You were born as a normal mortal but had gained your ability at the same time as your siblings Wanda and Pietro. While your siblings gained their powers, you’d gained a manipulation of the elements in all their forms.

Natasha and Steve had been together for six months by the time they met you and it was only a few months later when you’d happily joined the relationship. The three of you valued your privacy and for years it was only the team and Fury who knew you were all together, but even when it was revealed to the world none of you cared too much.

You were happy together, despite all being very different compared to each other.

Due to Natasha’s heavenly background it shocked many people at how she lived. She was the former best assassin in the world, she ran on secrets, sex and hard liquor and even though she was trying to clear the red out of her ledger, she did what she had to do when no-one else would. Even if that meant taking someone out.

Natasha hated the angel jokes Tony seemed to have a never-ending supply of and the stereotypes people assumed she would follow. While she may have a large amount of angel abilities, she was still human.

While her abilities were useful, there were a few downsides to having them.

The large, dark navy, wings that you and Steve loved caused a lot of issues in Natasha’s daily life. Though she kept them folded into her back most of the time, they were very trigger sensitive. The lightest of touches to the middle of her back caused them to shoot out at full attention. It wasn’t uncommon for a lamp to be broken from this or for you or Steve to be hit by them.

It never hurt you or Steve because her wings were incredibly soft. About three times a month Natasha took time to wash, brush and keep her wings looking neat and clean. Before she met you Steve, she did it all on her own even though the task could take a couple hours, now that she had the two of you, she always asked for your help.

Not because she needed it, but because the two of you enjoyed helping her and it was bonding time between the three of you.

“Tash, what are you doing?” You asked, watching as Natasha uncomfortably shifted again on the bed.

“Trying to get comfortable.” She grunted, rolling her shoulders and rearranging the pillows behind you. “When did this bed get so god damn uncomfortable?” She questioned, glaring down at the mattress.

“Tash, when was the last time your feathers molted?” You asked, sitting on the bed next to the red head.

Natasha paused in her attempts to get comfortable and tried to remember. “I’m not sure.” She said, pursing her lips and furrowing her eyebrows.

“You did it almost two weeks ago.” Steve reminded her, coming into the bedroom with a tray of coffees. “It says on the calendar.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I guess it was about time for me to shed again.” She sighed, shifting so she was no longer laying on her back.

“Come on, shirt off.” You said, tapping her thigh and moving over to the kit you and Steve had set up for this.

“Are you trying to start something, Y/N?” Natasha asked, giving you a suggestive smirk as Steve helped her with her shirt. “Oh shit.” Natasha groaned as Steve pressed the middle of her back, wings bursting from her back almost hitting him.

“With noises like that you’d think so.” Steve smirked, taking a brush from you and kissing you gently in thanks.

You and Steve both sat behind Natasha and took one wing each. You gently brushed her wings, old feathers falling out for the new plumage. Natasha let out a content sigh as the two of you fixed her ruffled feathers and made room for the new ones.

“That feel good?” You asked, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder. Natasha let out a hum and flashed you a quick smile.

“The best.” She replied. “Thank you.” She said, leaning back to kiss you and then Steve. After a few more minutes you and Steve had managed to straighten her wings and pluck out all the dead feathers. When you finished Natasha turned around and kissed you both again this time more passionately.

“How does this always turn into sex?” Steve asked as Natasha straddled you and he alternated with kissing you both.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked, pulling away from his neck.

“Never.” He said attacking Natasha’s neck as she kissed you again. Hours later, you and Steve had to fix Natasha’s ruffled wings again.

Steve Rogers, America personified himself, being a demon was not something anyone would have guessed. He was a righteous man, a man who believed in the safety of others over his own, a man who tried to save everyone he could. The fact he was a demon with black eyes just was not something people would’ve believed had it not been true.

He’d told the team relatively early in his days of joining apparently. And apparently it had gone over well once he proved he wasn’t joking.

To this day none of the team had an issue with Steve’s other side, though they did find it funny to attempt to see where the lore became reality.

Since Steve did need to eat and drink, Tony would always add too much salt to his meals and switch Steve’s water with holy water. While the salt did nothing, the holy water did cause Steve to start coughing uncontrollably.

Tony, with Clint’s help, found what he believed to be anti-possession charms and images of what he called a demon trap. The charm’s made pretty jewelry but since Steve’s body was his and he didn’t need to posses anyone, they remained nothing more than pretty charms. The demon trap on the other hand, well, unfortunately was real and did leave Steve trapped inside for an hour until you rubbed part of it away.

Though the team did enjoy playing small pranks and leaving demon traps randomly around the tower, or sometimes switching out Steve’s water for holy water, everyone mostly forgot about Steve’s demon heritage until it came to a mission or when he would walk around the tower with black eyes.

You and Natasha were sat in the common kitchen while Steve was stood at the stove. No matter the skills you possessed you could not cook for the life of you and no number of heavenly gifts could help Natasha in the kitchen.

“Morning Tony.” Steve said without looking away from the stove. A second later Tony trudged into the room, yawning slightly.

“Morning Hell Spawn, Castiel, Avatar.” Tony greeted, giving you and Natasha a nod. “Also, that was still creepy, Rogers.” He commented, sitting next to you.

“You know I don’t mean it.” Steve said, shaking his head. “I just sensed you before you came in.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Demon powers and all.” Tony shrugged, pouring himself another coffee. Steve turned to the three of you with a plate of bacon and Tony jumped.

“Shit Tony.” You cursed as he spilled his coffee on your leg. Natasha leaned over placed two fingers on the wound instantly healing it. “Thank you darling.”

“No problem angel.” She said, giving you a peck and taking a plate.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Tony apologized, giving you an embarrassed face. “Steve just gave me a heart attack.”

“How?” Natasha asked, giving Tony an incredulous look. You turned to Steve and looked him over head to toe. He looked normal to you. Blonde, tall, friendly smile, just normal Stevie.

“He has black eyes.” Tony exclaimed, giving the two of you a look. You and Natasha looked at Steve again and this time did realize his eyes were in fact jet black. “How the hell did you two not notice that?”

“It’s a normal sight for us.” Natasha shrugged, taking an offered cup of coffee out of Steve’s hands. Steve than passed another to you and you leaned over the table to kiss him in thanks.

“Sorry Tony I didn’t even realize they were black.” Steve said, flicking them back to his normal baby blue. “I get they can look a bit creepy.”

“Steve don’t say things like that.” Natasha scolded, narrowing her eyes at the man.

“I like your eyes. Both of them.” You said, giving him a smile. “It’s nice to know your comfortable enough you forget which set you’re showing.”

“Thank you, doll.” Steve said, giving you a kiss and then one to Natasha.

“You three are sickeningly sweet, you know that right?” Tony asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“We know Tony, we know.” Steve assured, eyes flicking back to black.

You had one issue with dating Natasha and Steve. To the rest of the team, they found this incredibly entertaining to watch and enjoyed teasing you when it happened.

The one thing that really irked you about being with Steve and Natasha, was their penchant for sneaky up on you and scaring you. And when you say they snuck up on you, you didn’t mean they would just walk behind you quietly and scare you.

No, they both enjoyed using their powers to teleport from one room to another and purposely appear behind you.

For the most part, Steve didn’t mean to. He had terrible navigation and somehow always ended up behind you. Natasha though, well she enjoyed watching you jump, she thought it was adorable.

Sometimes you could tell they were behind you and you would be able to turn around calmly and smirk in victory as you caught them. Other times they were either too quiet or you would be lost in your own world and not notice their presence until it was too late.

Sometimes you would get your revenge on the pair. Sometimes they would startle you so badly you would accidently let out a blast of your powers. Generally it was just the air element and you would end up pinning the two to the wall, but there has been one occasion when you let out a burst of flames.

Now luckily Natasha has the best reflexes in the world and you were able to quickly get rid of the fire, but it still happened.

You thought after this close call, the two would back off and stop scaring the shit out of you, you shouldn’t have expected so much.

Natasha and Steve had gone out with Bucky a couple hours ago and you were sitting in the common living room with Wanda and Clint.

“I love it.” Wanda commented, running her fingers over the skin of your shoulder. “It suits you very well, surioara.”

“I wonder who you got it for?” Clint asked sarcastically, giving you a cheeky grin as he looked over the ink on your shoulder. It was actually Tony who encouraged you to get your first tattoo and you didn’t regret the decision at all.

You chosen to get an angels wing and a devils wing next to it, though you knew better than most that demons don’t have wings, with a halo and a devils tail. You loved it.

“Don’t be an ass.” You said, shaking your head at the man and pulling your shirt back to it’s normal position. “But you can’t tell Nat or Steve, I want it to be a surprise.”

“You mean they don’t know?” Clint asked staring at you incredulously. “You got it done three days ago.”

“I know that. I’ve just very good at hiding things when I need to.” You commented, feeling very good about yourself.

“Like what?” Natasha suddenly asked in your ear. You jumped in fright and snapped your head behind you to see Natasha and Steve standing behind you.

“Nothing. Like nothing.” You said, giving Natasha an innocent smile as Wanda and Clint laughed at you.

“Did you get that impression, Stevie?” Natasha asked, turning to face the blonde with a smirk.

“No I did not.” Steve said, moving to stand next to Natasha.

“See you two later.” Natasha said, looking at Wanda and Clint as she grabbed your hand and suddenly you were in your bedroom.

“I hate when you do that.” You groaned, feeling slightly disoriented.

“You’ll get used to it.” Natasha told you, waving her hand. “Now what were you saying about secrets?”

Looking at Natasha and Steve you saw they weren’t going to let this go and let out a sigh. Turning around you raised your shirt and allowed them to see the new mark to your skin.

“Oh doll.” Steve murmured and was suddenly right behind you, running his fingers over your skin. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Did you do this for us?” Natasha asked, now standing in front of you. You smiled and gave her a nod. Natasha surged forward and smashed her lips to yours.

“I take it this means you like it?” You said, letting out a breathless laugh as your shirt was pulled off your head.

“Let us show you how much we like it.” Steve said and the three of you were suddenly on the bed.

Maybe the appearing and disappearing didn’t make you jump all the time.

Show your support. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/Message me any comments, ideas, pairings or if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement @hopingforbarnes

Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Clint x Bucky

Steve x reader x Bucky

Bucky x reader x Sam

Natasha x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Sam x Bucky

Steve x reader x Sam

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starstaiined · 5 years ago

Text

Would You Lie With Me & Just Forget The World?

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: The world is a dangerous place. It can be big, scary, and almost overwhelmingly dark. But despite all the negative aspects, despite all the pain and turmoil, Katherine Howard has always found a brief reprieve in the other queens. Particularly, in her older cousin. (And as loathe as they are to admit it, the other queens have to agree with her.) Anne Boleyn can be chaotic, wild, and reckless … but she’s also passionate, kind, and effervescent. Her boundless energy acts as a barrier against the bad in the world. But when that barrier breaks and the world turns on its head, can Kat manage to navigate the turbulent waters without her cousin by her side?

CHAPTER ONE //

TW: Implied abuse/neglect, Implied sexual abuse, Panic Attack, Car crash

A/N: sorry this chapter took so long! I ended up having to trim parts out and it isn’t as smooth as I was hoping for, but this is one of the rougher chapters to set up because of all the background. (I’m setting this in my own AU verse/idea that I’m still writing up the lore for, if anyone wants to hmu for that feel free!)

TAGGING: @the10amongstthese3s @radcowboyalmondtree @tonight-we-are-live @the-queen-bee-is-here @everything-insanity @whoufflewhovian200311 (if you want to be added, just reply to this post, send me an ask, or hit up my ims! these are the people I know who were interested!)

“Annie, I’m scared.”

Anne froze, the almost inaudible admission tugging at her heart. She climbed down from the garage roof as easily as she’d climbed up. “You don’t need to be scared, Kit. I’ve got you, okay? Just trust me.” Anne smiled mischievously, shooting her brightest gap toothed grin at her cousin.

Kitty visibly relaxed, and Anne showed Kitty how to use the materials lining the side of the building to get to the top. (After it, it wasn’t more than a few feet in the air.) But as ordinary as the view may have been, it was extraordinary because they were there together.

Anne dropped to book bag she’d brought with her, unrolling the blanket and wrapping it around Kat’s shoulders. “Can’t let the birthday girl get too cold now, can I?” She asked with a teasing grin. She reached into the bookbag, unaware of the surprise on her cousin’s face. She handed Kat some silly plushie she picked up at the store, and a (terribly smashed) attempt at a cupcake.

“You...you remembered?” Kat asked, looking down at the presents her cousin gave her as if they were the greatest thing in the world. The genuine shock in her voice startled Anne.

“Of course I did Kit...why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday your favorite cousin turns seven, after all.”

“Dad and the boys sometimes forget...” Kitty attempted to appear nonchalant, although it was obvious she was upset.

“They do what?” Anne growled, and Kitty flinched away at the change in her voice. Not now, Anne chided herself, using every ounce of teenage self restraint she had in order to plaster on the cheesiest grin she could muster. “I’m sure they’re just...planning a surprise or something.”

“Maybe.” Kat mumbled, but it was clear she didn’t believe it.

They sat in silence, before Anne’s lips curved back into their usual grin. She nudged her younger cousin. “Why don’t you spend the night? We can play board games and watch movies. I’ll even let you-oh.”

She’d been cut off mid sentence by a hug, and found Katherine peering up at her. “You’re the bestest, Annie! I love you.” The younger girl’s face shone with excitement that hadn’t been there moments earlier.

Anne couldn’t help but mirror that joy. She ruffled Kit’s hair, laughing at the expression it produced. “I love you too, Kit. And I’m here for you. Always.”

But their short moment was cut short as her father’s voice echoed up from the ground down below. “ANNE BOLEYN, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! THE LAST THING WE NEED IS YOUR POOR HABITS RUBBING OFF ON LITTLE KATHER-”

And with that, Anne woke with a start. She damn near fell off her bed with a yell, catching herself last minute and blinking sleep out of her eyes. The other side of the bed was empty. Thank god. It meant Kat had slept with Jane instead, and she hadn’t accidently interrupted what little sleep the girl managed to get. Anne flopped back down on her bed with a sigh. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, energy buzzing in her exhausted muscles demanding that she get moving. She glanced at the alarm clock. 6:03 A.M.

Well, that was as good a time as any to start the day, wasn’t it? She rolled out of bed, quietly, and made her way to the bathroom. She ran through her usual morning routines : brushing her teeth, throwing her hair up in a tight bun, changing out of her pajamas and into running gear. By six thirty, she was ready to run. With her headphones fixed firmly in her ears and music blasting, she let her muscles guide her. The song playing pulled up another memory, a little fuzzy around the edges but still soft enough to pull a smile from her.

Family Christmas parties, everybody’s favorite time. Except not really. Anne dealt with it as best she could, which was ignoring damn near everyone and doing her own thing. She was choreographing a dance routine to a song that had just come out, earbuds in and focus completely on the movement of each muscle in time with the beat. Which is why she didn’t notice George until it was too late. He slammed into her side roughly, knocking her off her feet and sending her sliding across the floor. Anne stared slack jawed for a moment, recovering her breath, before yelling “What the fuck George!”

“Careful Ninon, don’t let dear old dad hear you using that language.” George answered with a smirk, towering over her. The gleam in his eyes made it clear he was in one of his moods, which meant Anne was in for it. If there was one thing George excelled at, it was pushing her buttons.

“Why don’t you go bother Mary for once?”

“Because Mary’s actually socializing with the family, unlike you.”

“Sorry, not sorry, but I’m trying to have fun. I’m not interested in being judged for stupid reasons, okay? I just want to be left alone.”

“Don’t want to be judged, don’t give them reasons to judge you. It’s simple, really.” George answered with a shrug. “Besides, considering your …. reputation I don’t think they’re stupid reas-”

“I don’t really care about your opinion, George.” Anne snapped, face immediately heating up. She pushed herself to her feet, taking a couple steps away from him. “Maybe you should shut up.”

“Maybe you should stop being such a sl-” He didn’t get to finish that thought as a pink blur knocked into his legs. It caught him off guard; he flailed his arms wildly to no avail and ended up tripping over his own feet and landing on his ass. Anne blinked in surprise. George pushed himself to his feet quickly, visibly seething. “What the fuck!”

Ten year old Katherine Howard, about two feet shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter, didn’t break eye contact with George from where she’d positioned herself; she stood directly in front of Anne as if she were a human shield. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” She deadpanned.

“Brat.” George hissed, pointing a finger at the young girl menacingly.

Kat just shrugged, but she could feel her hands trembling. “Takes one to know one, right?”

Anne laughed, making her brother’s face flush six different shades of red. George, thoroughly humiliated and beyond angry, stormed off. Almost immediately Kat’s shoulders deflated. Anne pulled her younger cousin into a side hug. “KitKat, you are my hero.”

“We’re family.” Kat answered back, her voice muffled by Anne’s shoulder. “We always protect each other, don’t we?”

Anne smiled. “We do.”

The memory faded. The burning in her muscles, and the unfamiliarity in her surroundings, made it clear she’d gotten lost in her head longer than she’d meant to. Crap. It took her nearly an hour to find her way back. She made a beeline straight for the fridge once she did. She gave the calendar a quick glance as she opened the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice, before doing a double take.

November 4th. Kitty’s birthday was less than a week away! How in the hell had that happened? Anne was usually on top of these things, but between the interviews and the show and her work on choreo...she could feel guilt flooding her system. Shit. She wracked her brain, trying to remember whether or not Kitty had been acting strange recently. She’d seemed a little lethargic but Anne had chalked that up to being overworked with the show…

She didn’t think twice. She rushed up to Cleves room, flinging the door open in a panic as she shook the other girl. “Anna!” She hissed, voice low but pressing. “Anna, wake up!”

“Anne…?” Anna asked groggily. “What time is it…”

“It’s eight.”

“What are you doing up? We didn’t go to bed until almost tw-”

“Shh, that doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to the store. Do you want to come?”

Anne’s voice brimmed with urgency, but Anna was too tired to register it. She buried herself deeper into her blankets. “With your driving? No thank you, Miss Boleyn, I choose life.” She waved a hand dismissively, eyes never so much as cracking open. The warmth of her bed was too enticing.

Anne heaved a sigh, but accepted Anna’s answer. She ran to the kitchen, scribbled a quick note on a post it, and attached it to the fridge.

Need to run some errands. Urgent. Be back later. XO, Anne.

And with that she disappeared through the door, the orange juice still sitting forgotten on the counter.

The shopping went quickly. Or well, as quickly as it could go when Anne Boleyn was involved. She spent hours loading her cart with Kitty’s favorite snacks and movies, picked up random little knick knacks that she thought Kitty might like. (Hell, she even managed to find some cute presents for the rest of the queens.) Brimming with excitement about her haul, and eager to show it to the others, Anne was in a phenomenal mood when she hopped back in the car. She was jamming along to every song coming over the radio, grinning from ear to ear.

The buzzing of her phone on the seat next to her snapped Anne out of her private karaoke concert. It was probably just Kat calling to check up on her. She could feel warmth spreading through her chest as she let out a breathless giggle, turning down the music and running a quick hand through her hair. She found Kitty’s worry endearing, although she half wished Kitty would realize that Anne would be fine. After all, she always was.

She half debated it letting it ring to voicemail, just until she could answer without taking her hands off the wheel. That was….until the name on the caller ID caught her attention.

THOMAS HOWARD.

Suddenly, all the mirth she’d felt drained out of her like air out of a popped balloon. She hadn’t spoken to her uncle in YEARS. The last time she’d seen him was the day that she had left, Kitty tucked under one arm and spare clothes under the other. He made good on his promise to ostracize both of them.

Kitty’s head is buried in the crook of her neck, tears staining the collar of her shirt. “I’m sorry,” Kitty chokes out between sobs, barely comprehensible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Anne, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

Anne could feel a storm building beneath her skin, aching to break free and wreck every single person that had driven her cousin to this. SHE WAS A CHILD! But over the last few years, Anne had watched the light drain from her eyes. She was just kicking herself for not realizing what was going on earlier… But she can’t focus on that. Not right now. Instead she rubs soothing circles on Katherine’s back, rocking the girl back and forth. “It isn’t your fault, Kit.” Emotion rubbed her voice raw, and it takes everything in her not to cry. “None of it is. Not a damn thing. Do you hear me? Not a single damn thing.”

If anything, that just seems to make Kat cry harder. “It is, it is Annie. I know it, and he knew it, and, and, and everyone knows it.” She’s cut off by a sob that shakes her frail shoulders. “He knew it, he said it, he-”

“He’s a piece of shit, Kit! I’m sorry, but it’s true. Your dad sucks. I wish it weren’t true, I wish you could’ve had the life you deserve. Somewhere far away from this bullshit.” Anne croaked out, a few silent tears falling as she fought to maintain a steady voice. “But you didn’t get that, instead life gave you a crappy hand and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. But I can promise you one thing.” Anne tucked Kitty’s head under her chin. “I know it isn’t much, but I’m here for you. Always. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m right here. And I’m always going to be right here, okay?”

With a few sniffling breaths, Kitty nodded. Slowly, hesitantly, she held out a hand with her pinkie extended. In a small voice, she asked, “Pinkie promise?”

Anne was all too happy to link their fingers. “Pinkie promise.”

They made themselves more comfortable in the living room, still a tangle of limbs but this time a tangle of limbs under a blanket. Before drifting off to sleep, Kitty squeezed Anne’s hand. “Annie?” She asked, drowsily.

“Hm?”

“Earlier...earlier you said that you weren’t much...but you are. Okay? You’re the best. And I love you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Anne squeezed her hand gently three times. I love you. “Don’t worry KitKat, you’ll never have to find out.”

Anne’s thoughts flashed to every time since then that Kitty’s tears staining the collar of her shirt, to the way the poor girl had trembled from nightmares that stole her breath. She remembered rushing out on errands like this, doing anything and everything to pull a smile out of her cousin, who spent the week leading up to her birthday WISHING for that call from the rest of the family. Thomas Howard failed as a father consistently over the past two years, and there’s almost no one Anne hates more. (When she thinks of him, all she can see is Kat trembling, crying out my fault, my fault, my fault. Just thinking about it makes her jaw clench.) Even now, in what she assumes is an attempt to make amends, he was calling her and not Kitty!

She reached over, answering it swiftly and bringing it to her ear. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, I need you to shut the hell up for two seconds and listen to me, Thomas.” Anger boiled in her veins and sharpened her tongue, but blurred everything else. In the haze of her own hatred, her focus on the phone pressed to her ear, she missed the truck that was swerving on a path directly towards her.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #beheaded cousins #anne boleyn #katherine howard #Would You Just Lay Here?#<-- it has a tag now!#THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE honestly its what keeps me writing sometimes #i'm already working on the next few chapters #don't worry #BUT YEAH LOTS OF PAIN IN STORE but what can you expect from a grey's anatomy inspired fic?#okay im done rambling im gonna go to sleep

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theliteraryvampire · 5 years ago

Text

Take Your Heart In Your Teeth (4/?)

Warnings: None!

Fandom: BBC Dracula (Dracula x Reader)

Author’s Note: I don’t really add that many descriptive details about the reader, because I’d like whoever’s reading this to be able to picture themselves. Also, in this chapter, I’ve essentially tried writing Dracula getting an erection as poetically as I could lol. Enjoy! As always, comments/criticisms/feedback/reblogs/likes are appreciated!

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

6:57 am

Dracula: RENFIELD WILL PICK YOU UP AT 8:15. CONSIDER HIM YOUR PERSONAL DRIVER NOW.

7:14 AM

Me: I appreciate it, but that’s really not necessary. It’s only been a week, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to wait on me as well.

7:16 am

Dracula: DON’T BE SO STUBBORN. THIS WAY YOU’LL ALWAYS BE ON TIME, AND I DON’T WANT TO MISS A SECOND OF MY TIME WITH YOU.

I found myself rereading his last text over and over, and each time it gave my stomach butterflies. Realistically I knew that Dracula meant he wanted his memoirs finished as soon as possible, but I let myself fantasize a little, let myself imagine that he was attracted to me as well.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. It’s been a week, and you’re no closer to (Y/N) divulging anything useful than you were when she first started.”

“I know, Renfield,” Dracula admitted, fighting the overwhelmingly human urge to roll his eyes. “I’m trying a new tactic today. If I don’t get what I need, her blood will offer up anything she doesn’t.”

“Which is why I thought she would have been dead already.”

“You’re going to be late, Renfield,” Dracula answered, ignoring the statement. “And you know how much I hate it when she’s late.”

~~~

At 8:15 on the dot, Renfield pulled up, and I got in the back.

“Morning, (Y/N),” he said, looking at me through the rear view mirror. For an instant, he looked accusatory, like I had done something wrong, but he quickly looked to the road and pulled out.

~~~

I hung up my coat and started walking to the office, figuring today would be very much like all of last week, writing down everything Dracula said, joking with him and his endlessly vague questions, but instead, Dracula surprised me.

“I want to talk about you today, if that’s ok with you,” he said, leading me into his living room, which was equally as beautiful as every other room I had been in so far. Black wood furniture, an oriental rug, and a gold chandelier decorated this room, and I was met with the strangest feeling, like I had accidentally tripped my way into being royalty.

He sat down on the red velvet couch, crossing one leg over the other, and he looked expectantly at me, waiting for me to do the same. He somehow looked even better than he did all of last week, with a button up shirt tucked into dress pants, and though he wore the shirt casually again, with open buttons and the sleeves rolled up, he was also wearing suspenders. I thought that if I opened my mouth too wide, I would salivate all over his very expensive floor.

I sat down without saying a word, and he tilted his head and smiled, like he was trying to come off as innocent, as non threatening.

“So, uh, before we begin, let me get this straight. You want me to talk about myself? Trust me, I am more than happy to make money by indulging in my narcissistic tendencies, but how does this help you, exactly?”

He laughed in a way that told me I was behind on the joke. “It actually helps me a great deal.”

“Ok, sure.” I took a steady breath. “Well, um, to start off I guess, I’m a Leo, if that matters at all. Um, I was born upstate but I moved to—”

“No,” he interrupted right away, and then catching himself, he added softly, “what I mean is, I want to know your work background. How you came to study what you do, myths, legends, lore, fables...where you’ve traveled to, what you’ve seen, for example.”

“Oh!” I said, a little too loudly, trying to cover my embarrassment. “Sorry. Yeah, I can do that. So, growing up, I was a voracious reader, but I also excelled in history. When I got to college, I knew that I wanted to write, I knew that I loved research, and I knew that I loved history, and how different civilizations reacted to things they didn’t understand. From the unknown came lore, myths, and gods, and stories of the paranormal. I double majored in writing and history, and senior year, one of my professors was doing research in Norway, and he invited me along, thinking I could build a senior thesis from it. We went looking for the sunstone, thought to be a myth from the Viking age. As the story went, they would use a piece of Icelandic spar to navigate, and turns out, it wasn’t just a story at all. One of our colleagues found a piece of calcite in Alderney, in a sunken 16th century ship, and long story short, it actually works. It’s so cool. You hold up a chunk of Icelandic spar to the sky when it’s cloudy, and it helps locate the sun. I was one of the first to try it on that expedition and I thought I’d cry tears of joy! I...um,” but my voice died out when I looked at Dracula. I hadn’t realized I had been rambling.

“Um, anyways...yeah. Sorry. I don’t want to put you to sleep.” I looked down at my shoes, embarrassed yet again, but Dracula laughed. He actually laughed.

“Trust me, (Y/N),” he said, and he leaned forward and gently grabbed a hold of my chin, forcing me to look at him. His fingers were again ice cold, but I never wanted him to move his hand away. He stared me in the eyes, like he was imploring me to believe him. “Absolutely nothing you say could ever put me to sleep. Please continue.” With that, he laughed and let me go.

~~~

We talked and drank throughout the day, and I was surprised to find that he was quite easy to talk to. He was amiable, flirtatious, at points, and witty. He was also well traveled, a point we had in common, but I still wanted to know exactly what I had been hired for.

“Tell me the truth, Dracula,” I slightly slurred. “Why am I here? I haven’t done any writing for you at all today, and all we’ve talked about is me. I can’t be that exciting.”

“I suppose you could call me something of a...story collector.” He smiled to himself and leaned closer to me, trailing a finger across the back of my hand, giving me chills. It was almost embarrassing how much he had an effect on me. “I’ve spent time in Europe myself, as you well know. Perhaps I’m biased, but Romania, particularly, I found to have the best stories, and I too devoured the locals.”

“...the locals’ what?” I asked, after a second.

“Pardon?”

“You never finished your sentence. You said you devoured the locals’, and then you drifted off. Their legends, you mean?”

Dracula laughed and sat back, away from me, and I immediately missed the closeness. “Perhaps,” he answered, with a hint of a smile. “You’ve been to Romania?”

“I have.”

“And what did you find? Strigoi and Solomonar aside, of course,” he added with a smirk.

“Uh,” I said, trying to think back. It had been so long, and the vodka and flirtations I drank in all afternoon were going to my head. “I don’t quite remember...except that I fell at one point. Ask me tomorrow when I’m sober,” I smiled. Dracula’s eyes drifted from my face to my neck.

“Quite unfortunate.” He wasn’t smiling.

~~~

It was easy, though tedious, for Dracula to pretend being drunk. He had done it countless times to keep up appearances. This, though, had been his Plan C. The more he talked to (Y/N), the less he wanted to take the chance of drinking her blood, mostly because he wanted more than anything to keep her alive. Plan A had spectacularly failed though. (Y/N) had thought the whole psychological angle was a joke and she never took his questions seriously. Plan B didn’t work either. He had taken too long to bring up Romania today, fully content on just listening to her speak, and she had imbibed too much vodka to recall anything with clarity. So, Plan C it was. He just hoped he had the strength to pull away.

Slowly, he leaned closer to her, and with her beautiful eyes wide, he pushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her exquisite neck. Her pulse was racing, and he smiled to himself. Her blood was so close, she was so close, her scent, so intoxicating, so potent… Dracula felt himself drawn in, more so by (Y/N) than his bloodlust, he vaguely thought, but he pushed that out his mind. Instead he leaned in, and pressing a kiss to her skin first to satisfy the need in his stomach, he bit down, right below her ear, and was immediately met with her scorching hot blood.

Euphoric, Dracula thought, and he couldn’t help but let out a moan. He gripped her neck tighter, wanting to bring her even closer, wanting to wrap himself around her, drown himself in her blood, drown himself in her. He wanted her in that moment, every piece, everything she was willing to give him, and he felt a stir in his lower abdomen, a feeling he hadn’t felt in centuries, a feeling he blissfully wanted to prolong, to be selfish with, but something was off. She was fighting against him. He could feel her muscles pull beneath him, trying to break free, but he wasn’t done, he greedily wasn’t done and he hated himself and the instantaneous guilt that was now tightly bounding his bones, but he tried calming her as best he could. He made her dream.

#bbc dracula #dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula #netflix dracula x reader #vampire #vampire x human #dracula is a boomer texter

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captainsuke · 5 years ago

Text

had to make a choice that was not mine (had to say goodbye for the last time)

The first thing he finds, when he’s finally stopped, no more flights no more buses, taxis or any sort of movement, just him and an empty cheap hotel room, what he finds is two hundred grand packed into the bottom of his backpack and he is so mad.

That’s so illegal, he thinks wildly before laughing himself sick. Like he’s not in a foreign country traveling under a passport that’s definitely not bearing his name, like he’s not on the run from the law, like what is one more law broken?

Still. Jesus Christ Deran.

He finds the phone eventually, underneath it all. Stares at it for a long time after. Has to stop himself from hurling it against a wall.

The first time Deran calls, the first time the phone rings, he almost doesn’t answer it.

But he does. Presses the little green button, puts it to his ear and hangs up at the sound of Deran’s voice.

Then immediately regrets it. Then doesn’t. Then does again. Adrian doesn’t know.

The phone sits quiet for an hour, for two. It’s just past lunch time which makes it late in the night yesterday back in Oceanside, Adrian can picture the scene vividly. Deran keeping his insomnia company, smoking and holding his phone tight. Then it rings again.

This time he picks up.

Adrian doesn’t give him time to talk, says some things he doesn’t mean, a lot of things, says all the words that have been brewing in his chest, and Deran stays silent through out his entire tirade.

When he’s done, angrily heaving breaths, Deran just asks are you okay?

“Can you do anything if I’m not?”

Deran’s silent for a long time, long enough that Adrian thinks maybe he’s going to hang up. That he’s finally said the thing that makes him hang up.

But he does answer. Eventually. A quiet broken no.

The truth doesn’t make him feel any better. But it does make him feel something.

He doesn’t hang up next time Deran calls.

The third, fourth, fifth calls go like that, Deran listening to Adrian’s words, Adrian listening to the sound of Deran’s breathing,

The change of breath when something he says lands particularly hard.

The next call, he’s tired, he misses home and his sister and Deran, their house on the beach, their main surfboards leaning up next to each other, Deran’s pile of stupidly expensive skate shoes that they would both trip over at the door.

He’s lonely and tired and he just doesn’t have any stories to tell, can’t think of anything to say, doesn’t want to be the one talking today.

“What’s up with you?”

He swears he can hear Deran shrug even as he says nothing.

“No, come on man, this doesn’t work if it’s just me. It’s not just me, right?”

Deran makes a noise that Adrian hopes is him agreeing, then, finally, he speaks.

“Right, okay, okay, uhh, Pope and J are getting along? I think?”

“That’s… good?” Adrian never had much to do with Julia’s kid; doesn’t have many memories of him from when they were kids and J was toddling around the Cody house, has just the handful of times he’s been around since he came back, since Adrian and Deran got together.

(and fell apart, fuck, they’d never had any time, Adrian thinks, like star crossed lovers if he’s feeling melodramatic, cursed if he’s feeling worse. Their timing sucked from day one but sometimes it seemed like the entire universe was conspiring to make everything turn to shit, to make little mistakes and minor problems into fleeing the country and losing everything. It’s not fair.)

“Man, I don’t even know.” Deran says, but he kind of chuckles afterwards. Like maybe it wasn’t all that bad. Or maybe he’s just laughing because it doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, everything just keeps happening and they’re just trying to keep above water now.

After that it’s easier. Or something like easy. Some days Adrian talks about shit he sees, the tourists he’s overcharging to learn how to surf, the little kids that he borrows boards to when the weather gone bad and business is slow. The grandmother a couple of houses down that is always pushing food on him. She calls him Silly Boy with a fond voice, but Adrian doesn’t tell Deran that.

Other days Deran talks around stuff at home. Meanders around topics like he can’t keep his attention on any one thing. Like maybe he’s avoiding topics he thinks Adrian doesn’t want to hear about. Or things he doesn’t know how to talk about.

He says Craig’s gotta dad now, then talks about Renn introducing Nic to the ocean for an hour.

Smurf’s shrine keeps coming back he says, and Adrian remembers the pile of flowers and candles that Deran had stared long and hard at with red rimmed eyes, sitting uninvited on the side walk outside The Drop. Then he spends the rest of the phone call talking about two of his bartenders trying to pretend they’re not dating, when everyone knows they totally are.

“What do people think happened?” He asks one time, what do his friends think, his sister? The guys they’d surf with, Adrian’s regular customers, the random people who’d come up to him sometimes, who liked having a pro surfer give them advice on surfboards. What do they think happened to him?

“Ah. Ha,” It’s a weird laugh, amused, but not in a good way. “Most people think I killed you.”

Oh.

“Wow,” is what he ends up saying. Very carefully doesn’t say you did.

Which.

He doesn’t know how he feels about that. Maybe a week ago he would have said it. When he first got here he definitely would have, would have yelled it, and maybe would have found other words to throw, to hurt.

He’s not sure how he feels about the change. It’s not bad, he thinks. Maybe it’s not bad that he’s not so angry anymore. Even if it leaves only sadness behind.

He misses Deran.

Misses the quiet shyness that only he got to see. Misses the way he’d hold his head, mouth twisting into a cocky grin, eyes searching for Adrian’s because Deran always wanted Adrian to be watching. Fuck, he misses his quiet frustrated sighs. God, how can Adrian miss the look on Deran’s face when things got too much? The careful blank expression and forced stillness, fuck, he misses the bad as much as the good.

“Today is the worst.” Deran announces at the start of one call, sounding funny, like he’s speaking face down on a bed, but there’s the sound of him shifting constantly, his breath making small noises of hurt.

“You okay?”

“Some asshole prepper named Thor broke like half my ribs, so congratulations I hate those movies now too.”

“I don’t know, I kind of liked those movies,” Adrian retorts just to hear Deran make an offended noise. “All that long blond hair.”

“Yeah, well this guy was a cueball, plus he’s my cousin, well, Pope’s cousin, so there’s that.”

“Wow, okay, what?” The Cody’s don’t have family. It’s one of the weirdest thing about their fucked up family lore. Old lady Smurf just appearing out of no where, all of her sons without fathers, just another way to keep them stuck to her. (She’s dead, he tells himself, like crossing himself, sometimes he just has to say it out loud. Smurf is dead. It still doesn’t feel real.)

“Yeah they’re fitting right in, they might actually have shittier genes than us.”

“What happened?”

“Hit me with his fucking car.”

“Are you okay?” Adrian worries and Deran laughs with a hitching breath.

“Hey, you know me, I hood surfed that bitch easy.”

“Yeah? How’d you break the ribs then?”

Silence

“Didn’t stick the landing?” Adrian teases.

“Not even a good attempt man.” There’s humor in Deran’s voice at least.

“Gotta work on that.”

Deran laughs his wounded laugh and Adrian’s hands ache where they’re wrapped around the phone.

Adrian can hear a baby crying in the background, making it hard to hear the words Deran’s mumbling in his ear.

“Deran where are you?”

He doesn’t answer but there’s the sound of a door sliding open, then closed, and Adrian can hear the ocean in the background instead of a baby’s cry.

Deran doesn’t say anything.

“You should go home.”

Deran clears his throat with a swallow that sounds wet and Adrian hates that he made that happen. He’s not an idiot. Adrian didn’t look back when he walked away from Deran leaving him at the pier. But he did when he was in the car, when they drove away and all that was in the rear view was a man curled in on himself on the ground with shaking shoulders. He knows he’s not the only one that died a little that last night in Oceanside. No matter how angry he is at Deran at any time Adrian hates when he cries. Probably hates it more than Deran himself hates it. And fuck he hated crying. When he’d been a kid he’d hold his breath til he was red in the face just trying to stop hiccuping breaths from exposing him. Not that it mattered, Deran’s face is the type that all but shouted from the rooftops if he was even adjacent to tears.

“I’m making Craig pay for all the big brother bullshit I’ve had to do for the last ten years.” Deran says instead.

Adrian lets him have his deflection. Tries not to think about their house sitting empty and abandoned, while Deran couch surfs or – god forbid – moves back into his bar’s crawl space.

Not often, but sometimes it’s a lot of silence and very few words. But those words carry a lot more weight.

Adrian watches the waves rolling in, brightly colored swimsuits bobbing in the blue, phone to his ear as he listens to that familiar breathing, the wind and the crashing of waves half a world away.

“I miss you.” It’s said now, out loud with no chance of taking it back. “Even when I hate you, I miss you.”

Adrian can hear the slosh of liquid, Deran swallowing, the clink of glass against glass.

“I know I tried to say it, but I never said it.” Adrian says, even now skirting around the real words. (I love you)

Deran doesn’t say anything for a very long time, just the two of them listening to each other’s wet breathing, pretending that they’re both holding it together. When Deran does speak his voice cracks.

“I want you here, I don’t, I can’t -” Deran cuts off like he’s choking. “I keep forgetting you’re not coming back.”

Adrian doesn’t think that’s what he was going to originally say, but he lets it go. There’s things he’s tried to say, words that circle around in his head but catch in his throat. They’ve never been much good at talking, these past months is probably the most they’ve spoken since they were idiot kids wanting to spill every thought and secret to the other. As though if nothing was between them, nothing could tear them apart.

Their style of comfort - their type of communications - has nearly always been in presence and touch; Adrian with his never ending patience, his ready comfort that tied no strings, and Deran always in Adrian’s corner, always standing behind him, ready with words and fists.. They really had made a great pair, even if time had torn them apart, turned those kids into something almost unrecognizable.

Adrian leans back in his deck chair, bites into brightly colored fruit that’s even sweeter than it’s bright skin would suggest. Juice runs down his fingers and in the background kids scream and squeal as waves break against them. He’ll have to go back to work soon, feeling drained and washed out, conversations like this don’t belong in a bright day, with the heavy air and warm sun. Adrian would kill to be back on his shitty couch, Deran’s head in his lap, but the thought just makes him ache.

He has to go back to work.

There’s still questions he tries to ask.

When-? Will-? Can I ever come home?

But not everything is easier to say like this. So, yet again, things go unsaid.

He rings Deran one night – his night – when the walls are closing in, when the noises of tourists get drunk in the streets makes him want to curl up and die, or go out there and get drunker and do something real fucking stupid.

“I’m sorry, you know? I know, I, I fucked up this time.”

“Don’t, you know, just don’t with that shit.” Deran’s voice starts sharp then goes thin and small. “If anything, you know it was me, I fucked up. “

It’s easier, which is fucked up Adrian knows – he knows – but it’s easier to talk like this, where the only hard part is the days when things have gone wrong, when Deran’s voice is strained and hurt, Adrian aches with loneliness so hard that he feels physically destroyed, and Adrian has to curl around the phone in his hand to stop himself from buying a plane ticket and forcing Deran to come be with him.

“You’re not the only one that fucked up this time.”

He wonders where Deran is, the nights Deran rings he can hear the bar, or a brother, or something that he can recognize. All he can hear now is the generic sound of traffic, Deran’s shoe scuffing against the ground in a continuous rhythmic noise, maybe the murmur of voices in the distance.

“I think you’ve got some credit in the fucking up department.” Deran’s tone goes dry, like he thinks the idea that Adrian should take any of the blame is hilarious.

“That’s not how it works, Deran.”

Adrian hears the distinct bark of Pope’s voice, the words lost though the angry tone remains. Deran sighs but doesn’t answer his brother.

“Try and get some sleep Adrian,” he says.

As Deran hangs up, Adrian can hear the snarl of words not meant for him, the maybe sound of a scuffle. He doesn’t sleep for a long time, but he doesn’t go out. Doesn’t do anything stupid. That’s got to count for something.

Sometimes it’s just Deran talking shit, half formed sentences and thoughts and all Adrian needs to do is make the occasional hum and Deran will keep talking, and for awhile Adrian gets to feel like maybe it’s not all bad. But sometimes he says something important in the constant stream of words.

“Wait, did you, are you saying I could come home?”

Deran’s silent for a very long time. Like maybe he didn’t mean to say anything.

“Deran. Talk to me. Tell me.” Adrian takes a deep breath, tries not to feel anything. “Even if it sucks, you gotta tell me.”

Deran stays silent for a little while longer, but Adrian knows Deran needs time; he doesn’t know how to say things sometimes, it’s half their problems, their inability to say the things they think.

“Okay,” Deran finally says with a shuddering breath. “You’re right. It’s weird, Oceansides weird now, man. A whole lotta Smurf’s old contacts have been coming out. Since she, you know, since she’s been gone.”

Adrian makes a noise to let him know he’s still listening, hating the way Deran’s voice hesitates unsure talking about his mother. He doesn’t know what exactly went down when Smurf died. Not exactly. Knows just enough to know it was bad. Really bad. That Smurf had gone out of her way to fuck up her kids just that little bit more on her way out. Part of him wants Deran to feel like he can talk about anything with him. The rest of him wants to never hear her mentioned again, unless its a plan to dig her up and set her on fire for all the shit she’s put all them all through. For the shit that’s still tearing them apart even now she’s gone.

“People we never even knew existed. And they want, you know, the usual bullshit, money, favors, chance to say they screwed over the Cody’s.” He sounds bitter as he says it, like he’s continuously disappointed by the criminals he deals with.

“Deran.” Adrian says, trying to pull him back to focus, Deran will bitch about assholes for hours if he got started.

“There’s this fed.” Deran blurts out. “Crooked as fuck, dirty, you know? But he says. He says your deal should have stuck, like you held your end, feds should have held up theirs.”

“What’s he want?” Adrian asks, because they always want something, and he might not be able stop Deran from doing something stupid, but he can at least know what the cost was.

“Same shit, I guess.” Deran answers.

“Deran…”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I don’t know what he wants. How long it’ll take.” Deran says it like he doesn’t care, like it doesn’t matter what the crooked fed asks for, like it was a done deal as soon as he knew what sort of currency was required.

It reminds Adrian of a conversation weeks ago, a short one where Deran’s voice had been half slurred with alcohol or lack of sleep (or both)

You don’t know what I’ve done, I’ve done things. Way I am now, you don’t want me anywhere near you.

And he didn’t have anything to say to it back then, doesn’t know what to say now. He doesn’t know how he feels about the fact that part of him screams I don’t care! that whatever Deran’s done doesn’t matter to him.

He’s fucked, he’s known that since he was fifteen and the two of them had nursed bloody noses and black eyes behind the bleachers at school, fucked since Deran had leaned over his bar and said you made it clear you didn’t want to hear from me with a smile on his face, like it was okay if the past was all they ever got to have.

It’s been half a year and Deran left him to fend for himself in a foreign country and Adrian still wants to know how he’s doing, still wants nothing bad for the idiot, wants to go back to those nights when Deran was relaxed enough to let Adrian wrap his arms around him, to curl around him til there wasn’t any space between the two of them.

Something that feels like it could be hope starts growing, like the unfurling petals of a flower slowly blossoming in his chest.

Adrian’s so fucking gone on this idiot that the only thing that makes all of this remotely okay, is that maybe – just maybe – Deran’s just as lost on him.

#animal kingdom #ak fic #adrian dolan #deran cody #my fic #mine #teamsuke #This is something of a fix it #I just wanted them to talk #i forgot to mention #because I AM THE WORST #@theninjazebra is a champion #for dealing with my half formed ideas and helping me fond a drection to take them

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smilesthroughfandoms · 5 years ago

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Every Single Star vs. the Forces of Evil episode in one sentence or less

I’ll probably post a more in depth-review later this week, as I have opinions literally no one wants to hear but I will proclaim anyway, and then I’ll probably also due a revision of my ‘Past Queens Connection to Star’ post from way back in season 2. Cause that needs an update.

Anyway, enjoy!

Star Comes to Earth: Princess Cinnamon Roll that Could Kill you comes to earth and meets Misunderstood Safe Kid.

Party With a Pony: Spoopy Wardens hunt for the glitter pony while Star gets ice for Marco’s sweaty back.

Matchmaker: In which we learn it was probably a bad idea to give Star the wand in the first place.

School Spirit: Star misunderstands football and Marco tries to get Ferguson to blow his whistle not in that way.

Monster Arm: “Not my bowels! I love my bowels!”

The Other Exchange Student: Star is jealous of the meatball man from Bakersfieldville.

Cheer Up Star: “It’s supposed to be ironic!”

Quest Buy: Very accurate depiction of what it is like to work in retail.

Diaz Family Vacation: Both Marco and Star see new sides of their dads but that’s not necessarily a good thing

Brittney’s Party: Star and Marco party on a bus that Ludo hijacks

Mewberty: Star gets horny and snares boys in her web but not in that way

Pixtopia: Marco messed up and Alfonso marries Ferguson’s rebound

Lobster Claws: “… You can’t eat children.” “Really? Not even the annoying ones?”

Sleep Spell: “Camera Phooone!”

Blood Moon Ball: We’re suppose to ship them now, right?

Fortune Cookies: Love is never the answer kids

Freeze Day: Father Time offers Star and Marco some mud before riding away on his wheel-mobile pulled by giant time-hamsters I am not making this up.

Royal Pain: King Santa Claus destroy mini-golf

St. Olga’s Reform School for Wayward Princesses: Princess Prison sure is a nightma–OH MY GOD ARE THOSE CLUBS?!

Mewnipendence Day: No wonder monsters hate Mewmans so much.

The Banagic Wand: Star still doesn’t get Earth and like all of us, Marco is always hungry.

Interdemensional Field Trip: Miss Skullnick fears the “Big Change” while Marco sends Jackie cat memes

Marco Grows a Beard: Ludo is out, Toffee is in, and Marco will probbaly be terrified of beards forever

Storm the Castle: “SURPRISE!”

My New Wand!: DIP DOOOWN

Ludo in the Wild: Wait, since when did Ludo become badass?

Mr. Candle Cares: “Star and I have recently become smooch buddies… On the lips.”

Red Belt: Marco searches for a meaning in life and Star searches for hammer.

Star on Wheels: *epic remix of Marco saying Star is in trouble*

Fetch: Marco can’t open juice and Star runs away from her problems and sending thank you cards

Star vs. Echo Creek: Star gets high and destroys a police car

Wand to Wand: Both Ludo and Star are terrible at magic also major ship tease

Starstruck: Star and her idol Sailor Super Saiyan destroy a park and Marco is 100002% done with this shit

Camping Trip: King Butterfly has a mid-life crisis and tries to control an eagle

Starsitting: They’re gonna be great parents some day.

On the Job: Buff Dad is best dad and buff babies are adorable

Goblin Dogs: “You might think this line is long, but listen to my goblin song!~”

By the Book: Ludo and Star still suck at magic and Glossaryck is a bigger troll than Alex Hirsch

Game of Flags: And I thought my family was dysfunctional...

Girls’ Day Out: Janna is back and is still awesome btw

Sleepover: “TRUTH! STAR HAS A CRUSH ON MA–” *cue fandom freakout*

Gift of the Card: R.I.P. Rasticore Chaosus Disastorvayne… He couldn’ get his fucking chainsaw to work

Friendenemies: Star becomes one with Christmas tree while Tom and Marco go on a date and sing a romantic pop ballad.

Is Mystery: Meatfork is apparently a family name and Ludo is really starting to freak me out tbh

Hungry Larry: “He’s still hungry…”

Spider with a Top Hat: He tries and he is awesome and that’s all that matters

Into the Wand: SPAAAAADESS!!!

Pizza Thing: Marco is OCD about mushroom and Pony Head buys skinny jeans

Page Turner: Moon, how did you miss Toffee in the orb he was right there!

Naysaya: Marco is a mood in this episode

Bon Bon the Birthday Clown: Honestly my favorite episode overall

Raid the Cave: Glossaryck is the true neutral asshole.

Trickstar: Weird Al is a treasure and I’ll mes up anyone who makes Marco cry!

Baby: Aw, look at the little deadly baby, I love her!

Running With Scissors: Marco gets a new edition to his shipping harem and she is so cute!

Mathmagic: Why did the chicken cross the road?

The Bounce Lounge: Marco is definitely the mom friend.

Crystal Clear: The Chancellor guy is amazing and Rhombulus just needs a hug and wAS THAT ECLIPSA IN THE BACKGROUND?

The Hard Way: “SURPRISE!” 2.0

Heinous: Oh, so that’s how Marco got all that money.

All Belts Are Off: This is the negative side of “Pro-tag teen hangs out with older adult figure” trope done splendidly

Collateral Damage: Marco how do you not know what a possum is?

Just Friends: I’m fine! *blows up sign to prove just how fine I am*

Face the Music: This song is actually a banger

Star Crushed: Looking back, I’m starting to think the writing peaked at this episode....

BATTLE FOR MEWNI EDITION!!!!!

Return to Mewni: This is… just an exposition filler. Not much else to say….

Moon the Undaunted: B4! B4! B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4!

Book Be Gone: Seriously, did Glossy take trolling lessons from Alex Hirsch this is hilarious!

Marco and the King: This is the “Pro-tag teen hangs out with older adult figure” done slightly better

Puddle Defender: Aw, look at the little buff babies, they’re getting so big!

King Ludo: The mime stole the show.

Toffee: Yeah, I think the writing peaked somewhere around here...

Scent of Hoodie: Huh, so Ponyhead can be written as likeable, who would’ve thought?

Rest in Pudding: The colors are not doing the censors any favor here, huh?

Club Snubbed: I literally yelled “Phrasing!” whenever they dropped the title

Stranger Danger: Is she the new antagonist of the series? I can’t tell

Demoncism: Tom is a wonderful baby boy and Ponyhead is written as likeable, part 2!

Sophmore Slump: *sobbing* Jackie deserved better, dang it!

Lint Catcher: I’m starting to wonder if there is any competant authority figure in Mewni

Trial by Squire: I think the writers were all like” You think these guys will ship anyone with Marco?” and decided to test that theory.

Princess Turdina: I got more lore out of this episode than I thought I would.

Starfari: Welp, she makes me uncomfortable.

Sweet Dreams: *Sailor Moon-ing intensifies*

Lava Lake Beack: Proof that this fandom will ship anyone with Marco at the slightest inclanation

Death Peck: Rich Pigeon is my new favorite birb and Ponyhead is written as likeable for the third time

Ponymonium: Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Night Life: The writers made so many new ships they had to get rid of an old one!

Deep Dive: “Chicken butt”

Monster Bash: Well, that explains the cheekmarks.

Stump Day: I think they just made an episode based around a picture from that bookcover.

Holiday Special: *insert every cheesy Christmas/Holiday episode trope here*

The Bog Beast of Boggabah: The title is fun to say and the episode is average at best.

Total Eclipsa the Moon: Seriously, I’m supposed to think she’s an ultimate villain.

Butterfly Trap: In which we are all Sean, don’t lie we were all him at the end

Ludo, Where Art Thou?: Dennis is best brother, hands down.

Is Another Mystery: *sniff* I got more emotional over this episode than anyone else did and I’m not sure how I feel about that

Marco Jr.: I… I just… Why? What’s the point?

Skooled!: Epic advertisment fakeout combined with wonderful character development and lore with a shock ending makes a 8/10 episode.

Booth Buddies: Old Man McGucket ships Starco, proceed to react accordingly

Bam Ui Pati!: Ponyhead is kinda likeable in this episod–nevermind she’s back.

Tough Love: Oh man, it’s happening! It’s happening guys here we go!

Divide: We are going to war everybody–And they’re all dead. That was quick.

Conquer: They should have paid Alex HIrsch to voice Glossaryck at this point, it’d be more in character for him.

Butterfly Follies: Proof that someone will always complain about politics no matter what.

Escape from the Pie Folk: Is anyone else disturbed by the fact that he kinda resembles Eclipsa more than Festivia?

Moon Remembers: I was expecting a freakout but was pleasantly surprised

Swim Suit: I’m starting to get a bad feeling about Rhombulus

Ransomgram: Why is everyone in this dimesnion hot?!

Lake House Fever: She’s a good mom

Yada Yada Berries: They missed an opportunity to have a Seinfeld actor guest-star, just saying

Down by the River: I’m glad that she can relax

The Ponyhead Show!: And Ponyhead is offically no longer likeable, can someone toss her into an abyss please?

Surviving the Spiderbites: SpiderSlime is canon proceed to react accordingly

Out of Buisness: How did this place go out of buisness???

Kelly's World: Man, they’re really setting these non-Starco ships up to fail, huh?

Curse of the Blood Moon: Pfft, yeah, sure, Starco won’t be canon at all!

Princess Quasar Caterpillar and the Magic Bell: I think Ludo has the most consistent character arc out of the entire show’s history.

Ghost of Butterfly Castle: Moon, Star is your daughter and Star supports Eclipsa, why would you not tell her?

Cornball: This episode has a heartwarming lesson that I hope more people come to realize

Meteora's Lesson: I’ll take any Toffee scenes I can get

The Knight Shift: I honestly don’t remember what happened n this episode

Queen-Napped: Seriously, can someone please dropkick Ponyhead into an abyss?

Junkin' Janna: The JanTom interaction I’ve been waiting for

A Spell with No Name: These types of episodes stopped being charming awhile ago

A Boy and His DC-700XE: I think Tomco has more ground to stand-on then Starco at this point

The Monster and The Queen: Don Panchito voices Globgor! There’s hope for this show yet!

Cornonation: They’re the best couple/parents/anything around!

Doop-Doop: I honestly think Rick just put Morty through some flux-capacitor or something

Britta's Tacos: Hey, remember these people that we suddenly brought back? No? Me neither!

Beach Day: This feels like a Season 1 episode and it’s nice

Gone Baby Gone: I want a TV show aout them now! Disney, please!

Sad Teen Hotline: Mr. Diaz is way to invested in Star’s love life.

Jannanigans: Hello last minute Janna character development!

Mama Star: So that’s how Mewni came to be--and I don’t care anymore

Ready, Aim, Fire!: Let’s get that finale ball rolling people!

The Right Way: Ok, that spell is actually pretty badass.

Here to Help: There, Starco’s finally canon will you guys just shut up now!

Pizza Party: Moon you idiot you ruined everything!

The Tavern at the End of the Multiverse: Toffee was right all along... I think we all knew that in some way

Cleaved: I expect nothing substanial and that’s what I got

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #svtfoe2 #svtfoe3 #svtfoe4 #battle for mewni #smilesthroughfandoms #Don't repost without my permission #seriously don't #these are my opinions #scary i know

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sapphic-sppider · 5 years ago

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i mean if ever an ask prompt to get a load of asks on, this is the one. it’s also going under a cut because goddamn i do like to ramble about kirbo @carolofthedailydays @tsukuyomishirabes and @ them two anons i guess

1- Favorite character i got this three times, so i feel like three answers are warranted. top of the heap is marx of course, my bastard son and favorite boss, whose moveset has inspired at least one move in every final boss arsenal in every kirby game since his soul incarnation in kssu. and i’m still not over him being playable in star allies aaaaaaaaa speaking of, susie is an equally fun dream friend, but my reasons for liking her are completely different; where marx has a very basic story arc, susie’s is complex (for kirby anyway) and lore-laden. plus she’s gorl so like. i gotta. rounding out my top three would be sectonia, and by extension taranza. i won’t go into details, if you’ve played triple deluxe/dededetour, you know why, if not go play it, also it’s hip

2- Favorite final boss two answers for two asks; i already went over them in the previous answer, but marx and sectonia are two very different boss fights. marx i like mostly out of nostalgia, like, i played the everloving shit out of kssu, i know that bossfight front to back, and i still enjoy it. sectonia on the other hand is set over three different forms, and i hate to use the word but it feels “epic” in the same way that star dream does, but without the starfox battle style. plus the music... oo we’ll get to that later

3- Favorite animal friend chuchu! she’s adowabwe! and her combo abilities are unique and strong, in most cases

5- Favorite main game nostalgia wants me to say super star/ultra, but honestly star allies blew me away in terms of how much fun i had. recent kirby games have been very fun, but also maybe a bit too reliant on gimmicks? like stomping around in robobot armor was fun, don’t get me wrong, and the background/foreground stuff in td was cute, but the main game in sa is like... really good core kirby. like if you’re going for 100% yeah you gotta switch around powers and spawn ai if you don’t have a co-op partner, but the solid classic gameplay combined with the ability to play all these fuckin old characters and the absolute lore bombs that get dropped later on... it’s just about everything i wanted in a kirby game

6- Favorite spin-off game i’ve had a lot of good times with air ride over the years, and like a lot of fans i hope we see a remake at some point. until then i’m content to putz around in city trial with my best friend

8- Favorite copy ability i’ve always been a hammer girl at heart, i like big burst damage, but suplex is just somethin i can’t pass up. it’s just fun to YEET fuckers around, even if it is a subpar boss-fighting ability

9- Favorite song / 10- Favorite Final Boss Theme three asks for this one too, i won’t go into detail, but i will provide links Moonstruck Blossom Vagrant Counting Song of Retrospection/Soul 0 System VS. Marx okay i lied i will go into detail, why the fuck do most of the other dream friend morpho knight fights get these kickass titles like “The Maidens’ Battle with Darkness”, “Crowning of the Supreme King ~OVERLORD~”, “Deus Ex Machina at a Young Age” and yet marx is just left with “oh yeah it’s the star allies version homie we gotchu” like??????

15- A song you would like to be remixed zero. why the hell they were able to seamless mix both parts of kdl2 dark matter into the dm clone fight in robobot, but for gooey’s morpho knight fight it’s just kdl3 dark matter? the two pairs of fights are just as consecutive, dark matter blade bleeding right into true dark matter, and the hyperzone fights being just the same. and i’m not counting the celebration pic theme, i want an actual boss remix. hell i just want zero back in some canon form. void is close but like, it’s still ambiguous...

16- A character you would like to see back ZERO PLEASE CMON GUYS THERE’S SO MUCH DARK MATTER LORE TO BE EXPLORED AAAAAAAAA

17- A copy ability you would like to see back see that’s tough because star allies has representation of a helluva lot of abilities, even if they aren’t necessarily copy abilities kirby can use. even then, the other really unique abilities haven’t been gone for that long so like... animal would be fun to see back, with some new tricks of course. iunno i feel like i’m scraping the bottom of the barrel for this one, which is a good problem to have in this case

23- Any kirby-related memory you have i played a lot of return to dreamland with my best friend in college, and one of the bosses, mr. dooter, we’d just like... say his name in increasingly goofy and stupid ways. i dunno why that stuck with me but like... fuckin dooter... iunno i guess i just wanna get back to that. which i mean, i guess i’ll get the opportunity to, since he’s comin into town for a week pretty soon. so we’ll get to do all that again, only with star allies. and a lot of other games. ...fuck i didn’t think this’d turn into somethin this personal but like, kirby’s just that important to me. got a lotta good memories with the series

#sorry what kept me #kinda had to go at this in chunks so i wouldn't burn out on it and actually answer the questions

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proheromidoriyashouto · 6 years ago

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My Good Neighbor, an Inko x Rei Neo-Noir AU

After her divorce and once she’s solely an out-patient, Rei becomes a Private Investigator Jessica Jones-style out of her new apartment in Musutafu. Her reason for this is in part to reclaim her independence, but also to help save others as she wished she could have saved her children. A Shiketsu graduate, she was only a sidekick for a brief time before she was married off to Endeavor and begins the lengthy process to re-acquire a hero license to then function as an underground hero. She finds that she needs assistance and finds it in none other than her neighbor, Midoriya Inko, who is a crime lab technician.

Inko introduced herself once Rei moved in next door but didn’t reveal her occupation until she wound up outside Rei’s office/living room when a disgruntled client started a fight in the apartment. Inko initially hesitates before going out and witnesses a man crash through the glass window of the door with a yell. The man recovers quickly and moves threateningly toward her but Inko whips out a beanbag shotgun she was hiding behind her skirt and tells him to back down. Rei emerges, a katana in hand, and the situation is diffused by the man’s departure via police car.

Rei didn’t have her license to use her quirk in the beginnings, and makes use of a “decorative” katana that came with her dowry so long ago. Enji had it hung up on a wall in a locked, clear case that only he had the key to, preserving family heirlooms he’d told her parents the last time she saw them, is a duty the Todoroki take with utmost responsibility. A lie to ensure her family’s legacy remained apart from their children-- another familial obligation to burden her heroic spirit with. Free of him, she’s taken it up again sans quirk and it is her main means of protection. Shouto is fascinated and awed by the sight of her wielding the blade so elegantly even all these years out of practice, and they bond over developing her ancestral style into something new, better suited to the modern era, and just theirs.

Rei’s feelings toward her relatives are mixed as they essentially sold her off, but her lessons in kenjutsu were some of the fondest memories of her adolescence and were what she had built her short-lived heroic persona around. Older and out-of-practice, she treats physical violence as a last resort, all the while honing her skills in the event of a throw-down. She leans into vintage-styled dress reminiscent of the classic trench-coat-and-fedora detectives of old-- and not so old, in Naomasa’s case-- but casual enough in appearance that she isn’t written off as a PI at a glance. Once she gets her hero license, a company creates several armored variants of her outfits-- proper costumes for undercover/underground hero work.

She investigates villains sure, but also heroes who are accused or suspected of corruption. Her ex-husband, regrettably, is still the Number One in the wake of All Might’s retirement and it’s a constant source of consternation and turmoil. Rei cannot put her own abuser away as it would threaten the tenuous balance between law and anarchy in their shaken society, and as much as she wants justice for her children if not herself, she knows that now is not the time. Shouto reassures her that once his class has graduated, they’ll oust Endeavor and carry the system on their shoulders better than their predecessors. She’s waited over 20 years-- she can persevere a while longer.

Rei realizes she needs to get forensic assistance from a new lab after spotting members of the Endeavor Agency at the usual place and only just escapes unnoticed. Rather than risk her ex-husbands’ possible spies she’ll have to take matters into her own hands so to speak. She registers her apartment as the headquarters for her own underground agency so she can set up a connected crime lab, but she struggles with what to call it. She’s foregone a proper hero name for much the same reason as her old name isn’t indicative of who or what she is anymore or what her goals are now. Up until now she’s been introducing herself as Rei-san, Private Investigator, hiding her re-earned hero status by omission, but with an agency she’ll need a name.

Shouto often comes by to discuss his life and the current bit of youth culture he’s adapting to, which it so happens to be video games that week. He’s intrigued by interactive visual stories he can alter on a whim and loves to delve into rich background lore because of the mysteries he can spend hours solving. Her family wasn’t so traditional that she never had the opportunity to partake herself, but its an area of interest long forgotten to her at present. Nonetheless, she likes listening to Shouto as he describes the plots and make decisions he instantly regrets only to yelp and hopelessly try to salvage the situation due to misinterpreted dialogue options, spends hours on menial low-reward tasks for the accomplishment alone, takes out aggression on enemies with silly exaggerated weapons and giggle at the absurd physics while doing so-- as he acts like a typical teenage boy.

He especially enjoys playing heroic characters, doing good because it’s what you should do and not because you are forced into the profession. She hopes she can be a hero idol for him where she failed as a mother, even if she’s making up for it now. They’re both surprised upon finding out that there is a hero who looks like her in the game! Shouto spent quite a while designing his character to look like him- as always- with long white hair, and in the costume provided looks astonishingly like Rei in her Media Appearance outfit: The Silver Shroud, operating out of the Memory Den. When she makes a quick change into her own outfit and stands beside the television, her adorable son can’t keep his head still as he notes all the similarities with stars in his eyes, and the decision is made for her. She’s the Silver Shroud and this is their Memory Den.

The decal on the glass of her door is changed from “Rei’s Investigations” to “The Memory Den” and she’s on her way. It’s soon after this that a man who was displeased to find that his lover was not cheating so he could force them to break up with him over the resulting confrontation barges in and threatens her for “ruining everything.” She tries to talk him down, but he is incensed, and they struggle briefly before she sends him flying out the glass with a measured application of her quirk and a kick to the chest. She’s surprised by the arrival of her next-door neighbor- a kind, small woman whose name is familiar though she can’t quite place it- leveling a shotgun at the man like she knows what she’s doing. The former client is forced to wait as Rei calls for a patrol car to take him away, leaving the two women alone.

Inko was recognized by the officers which initially led Rei to believe she was a cop herself before she properly introduced herself as a crime lab technician.

***

“Oh, I’m sorry for interfering with your work. If I’d known you were a hero I wouldn’t have gotten in your way! I just heard what sounded like a fight and a man’s voice and I know you live alone and I’m not an officer or a hero, but I have weapons’ training, so I thought—"

“No, no. It’s perfectly understandable. Rei smiled assuredly. Most people wouldn’t have tried to help, whatever the case, so that you did is admirable. You shouldn’t apologize for it regardless of my position.”

Flustered, Inko replied. “O-oh, well, I am sorry, I know most heroes would feel disrupted… but, um, at least let me say I’m glad you’re alright, then.”

“Likewise.” Rei gestured toward the shotgun, concern tilting her mouth into a frown. “Are you used to handling yourself? I had thought this area was safe.”

“Yes, I am. It’s, ah, not live munition- it’s loaded with beanbag rounds. I’ve only fired it once, though!” Inko sighed. “Honestly? It was safer when I first moved in, but that isn’t why I have Clem, here.”

“Clem?”

Inko flushed and jostled the shotgun pointedly. “Clementine. See, erm, there were… killings a few years ago. The victims were crime scene lab techs. My colleagues.”

Rei’s eyes widened.

“The villain thought it would damage public opinion of the police more than targeting the officers themselves, especially since most murders occurred within precinct walls during the day shift. We were protected, but the attacks stopped before a suspect could be apprehended.” Inko’s shoulder’s tensed. “I… I live alone, lived alone with only my young son, my quirk is nothing flashy and without knowing for sure…” Her eyes took on a hard edge as she met Rei’s slate stare. “Given the circumstances a judge gave me approval for a weapon for strictly defensive purposes, and hero patrols were increased for a while. Since All Might’s retirement, though, I… I- I can’t take any chances. I’ve seen less of the heroes which makes sense with the rise in crime, not to mention my shift increases. I’ve been getting home when it’s dark out in a neighborhood with fewer hero patrols in a poorer part of the prefecture. I know the statistics, and after the talking-to I gave my son about safety- I’m taking her everywhere with me.”

“I… I understand.” Rei replied. “I can wait for you if you like and escort you to your door. I tend to work at night anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother! Its like I said, I can handle myself just fine.”

“You’re concerned for your safety and I am a hero.” Rei couldn’t let her go on like this after hearing her tale. “Please, I insist. …think of it as me returning the favor for your help today.”

“Well… alright. That’s fair. A relief knowing you’re right next door and everything.”

“Say…” Rei said pensively. “Would you happen to know if your facilities are partnered with the Endeavor Agency?”

Inko blinked once, twice. “I don’t believe we are. His office has their own lab and when they do cooperate with third-party investigators or the police its usually labs in Tokyo proper, nothing as far from the agency as Musutafu.”

Rei clapped her hands together before her, pleased. “Would you mind speaking more with me inside? I’m in need of a consultation- ah, if it isn’t an imposition, of course.”

“Sure.” Inko grinned. “We should probably get to know each other if we’re going to be seeing more of one another, too.”

“Can I offer you a coffee?” Rei said, stepping around the shattered glass to her apartment. “I, um, don’t have any tea.”

“I’m fine with anything, but a coffee would help my nerves right now.” Inko sighed shakily. She turned toward a source of noise in the living room. “Oh, is that Saving Face? I do enjoy a good love story.”

Rei carefully shut her door behind them and hurried to prepare her guest a drink with smile. The old film was a favorite from her time in the hospital. “As do I.”

***

Rei relies heavily on espionage, leveraging her good looks to coerce criminals into talking to her under the guise of flirting or gossiping with the out-of-place-bombshell at the dive bar. She wears her armored clothing, heels that contain data drives, and hides the katana inside her coats. She curls her hair and wears a hat to hide comms devices, and “smokes” from a cigarette holder that’s really a recording device. The cigarette is fake and shrinks to sell the image, as she would rather not associate with fire. When there’s a change in plans, she blows on it and the cigarette bursts like a smoke bomb for a quick getaway.

She meets with Naomasa in cafes while it’s raining, passes information disguised as a reporter during media blitzes, plants tracking devices on villains while playing the frazzled-and-late-for-carpool stay-at-home mom rushing by, etc. She tries not to rely too heavily on her quirk because it’s a distinct give away but isn’t afraid to overwhelm her opponents if pressed.

At home, most of the apartment has been converted into work space. Only the guest room where the children sleep when they visit is free of materials. Inko stops by every morning and afternoon to be briefed and transport evidence to or from her lab for processing. The two are fast friends, and Rei cherishes the closeness they’ve cultivated in the weeks since their encounter on her door step and they’re only growing closer-- which she's got butterflies about. The glass window is continuously destroyed by people sent flying through it to the point that they keep several replacements on hand.

Rei and Inko go out on day while their sons are waiting at the Memory Den and enter to find a quiet apartment. They find them in the guest room. Shouto is wearing Rei’s largest coat, her hat, and her blue ugg boots she got specifically for relief after long days in heels, standing over Izuku who is prone on the floor with ketchup over his body in several places, tongue out, clearly playing dead. The boys recreated one of her evidence boards and while Shouto reviews the clues out loud, Izuku intermittently offers his thoughts before ‘dying’ once more in dramatic fashion. Rei whips out her camera just in time to catch her son’s flustered waffling when Izuku calls him Shoushou- he has a nickname! - and Izuku hiding his face in his arms at being called ‘zukun’ in return. They watch for a few minutes and almost reveal themselves when Shouto chasing Izuku- now the criminal- around the room makes them laugh.

They finally do when Shouto proclaims, “Mama is the best hero this town has ever seen! She won’t let you hurt anyone else, villain.”

Rei pushes the door open, tears in her eyes. “You really think so?”

She hugs him so close and they have a good long cry about what could have been.

Rei’s most prominent case becomes the search for the serial killer burning their victims alive. It’s not a high-profile case, minimal media coverage to prevent inciting a panic, and the other investigators are a few underground heroes in coordination with the police. It comes to a head when a lead mentions a homeless man going simply by ‘Touya’ arriving in Musutafu around the time of Stain’s prominence and the continuation of the League of Villains’ recruitment schemes.

The investigation takes a darker note when they discover that quirkless people are disappearing in areas of suspected League of Villains activity likely to serve as the ‘base’ of new Noumu experiments.

Rei presses everyone for any information about a man named ‘Touya’ and when asked why she reveals, “My oldest son, it’s his name. He left home a long time ago and hasn’t spoken to me since. He fits the profile.”

“..the killer’s profile?” Naomasa nearly dropped his pen in shock.

“No.” Rei denied. “He couldn’t have burned those people. Not my boy.”

“Silver Shroud… Rei-san… if he has a fire quirk and matches the description—”

“That’s what I mean. It couldn’t have been him. Touya was born quirkless. He fits the profile for the Noumu experiments. That’s why I have to find him.”

Rei’s journey of self-actualization is embroiled in the search for her missing son, capturing villains, hunting a serial killer, confronting and abiding by the society which allowed her spirit to be broken, learning to forgive herself, and discover what it is to find love in the least expected places, and allow herself to be loved.

***

(Don’t make a new Inko x Rei AU when you haven’t published the first one. Don’t do it, bitch-

We’re here, I guess. I wrote this listening to My Love by Kovacs. This is super fun and occurred to me while playing Fallout 4 which is why she’s the Silver Shroud. Shouto having a grand old time being a hero in the wasteland in a Minuteman/Railroad run brings me joy to think about. It’s not like I also planned a Fallout AU or anyth-

Inksignia, Beyond Alteo is about half-done. I keep pushing it back to work on other things, but it’s coming along and will be published a thousand years before this one because I’m terrible.

Inko’s deal here is a subplot I haven’t fully thought through, I just really like tiny ladies with big guns and needed a suitable explanation. She recovers shells and beanbags with her quirk don’t tell no body. She doesn’t back up Rei on scene because Inko is not a hero and as someone who works with law enforcement, knows better than to interfere most of the time. Rei comes over to sleep at the Midoriya apartment because her own bed is usually a mess of paperwork and lordknowswhat that’ll take too long to organize. Rei shares Inko’s bed. snuggles

I spent an embarrassing amount of time looking into some of Rei’s outfits. She has several pairs of casual heels for spying under the guise of public outings and practical boots when she knows it’ll be a fight, or her patrols require them. She wears the kind of wool winter coats that are trench-coat-ish but ultimately fashionable, except in her Media Appearance outfit which is basically the Silver Shroud costume. Two hundred years later shit is up for free-use or whatever it doesn’t matter. The hat she favors is a black Bellady hat with a silver bow. I can provide links to anyone who wants a to see the stuff I picked. Keeping them out of the post so it doesn’t get flagged for links or whatever. Honestly, this should just be called the Aesthetic AU.

Quirkless Touya? From moi??? whatever do i mean hohohohohon

Slight todomido/izushou, mostly background. Inko x Rei endgame. Toshinori? Maybe??? Seriously can we create ship names for them. Inkrei. Reinko. Toshinkrei??? )

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years ago

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The Rebel Queen (viii)

Chapter Eight: Cicatrized

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: 6k | Warnings: Some medical jargon... A lot of use of the word rancor!

Taglist is open

Epilogue | About Thesmora

The smell of spice and hooch filled his senses as Banden left the lower quarters of his gambling establishment. The merry laughs and slurred words of his regulars were becoming too loud for his busy mind to sift through.

Emory, his tough-skinned head of security led the way back to his offices. It wasn’t a necessity for her to be by his side, but with Maligma loosening the ties around her militia, violence between thug and lawman had increased exponentially. Emory was there as a scare tactic and because she worried too much for a ruffian. Underneath that heavily tattooed face of hers was a woman who took pride in her job, even if it entailed handling the security detail of a highly detested mobster in the eyes of the law. She saw him the same way the people saw him and they sung a different tune. They all painted him up to be an everyman kind of man. That sort of praise had its benefits –for one, it kept his business running while the civil war marched on in the background.

There was a snippet of truth to that version of him, that everyman’s man. At least he tried to keep that version of himself alive for as long as possible.

Banden’s droid, Cory, shuffled into his office unannounced once Emory made her exit. The annoying grind of its joints pestered Banden’s ears.

“What is it, Cory?”

The droid went stiff and then retrieved a data chip from one of its hidden compartments, “The intel you requested on the new CIC of the Garrison, boss.”

Banden sighed and then waved the droid over, hand outstretched expectantly.

Cory dropped the data chip and shuffled back out of the stuffy office.

When he was alone again, Banden stared at the little chip for a long while, pondering whether he should poke this particular rancor. For some reason, the tattoo on his chest began to itch but he refrained from scratching. He knew it was psychosomatic. Just a ghost letting him know he wasn’t alone, even in the seclusion of his locked office.

A beeping noise disturbed his train of thought. Thankful for the interruption, he glanced over at the transmission call signal and grinned. He accepted the transmission with enthusiasm.

“Well, well. I must say, princess, being a fugitive becomes you,” he said.

Calista huffed, lacing her hands together in an attempt to keep her wits about her. Banden had gotten under her skin before she’d had the chance to speak. This was good. This meant there was a string attached to this call.

“Murray,” she said dryly, glaring with murderous intent.

The way her eyes narrowed and her cheeks were sucked in, Banden saw a bit of Maligma in her features.

He reached for his pipe and lit it, “What can I do for you?”

Koa was shocked to consciousness by a jolt travelling from her fingers to her brain. She couldn’t move or speak or open her eyes right away, but she could hear. By the animated sounds of a debate being had in her room, she wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse just yet.

“I’m telling you, Kashmyre Düne would be able to take on Boba Fett any day of the week. I’d be willing to bet my last credit on it,” a bright voice spoke in exasperation.

Is that Zeeke? She wondered.

Faster than a pod-racer, argumentative Jawaese shot off in reply.

That’s obviously Ton-Ton.

“Sure Boba Fett wasn’t a joke but he still wasn’t anything special. Düne was a member of the Death Watch! He lived on Ankhural, that place is no paradise. Trust me, he’s the better merc.” The words were spoken with admiration, as though Düne was some sort of childhood idol.

A mocking tone was mixed in with the next Jawaese-filled sentence as the scuffling sound of card shuffles licked at Koa’s ears.

“Of course I know my Mandalorian lore. You think I don’t have facts to back up my claims?” A scoff trickled out. “Düne had one of the most frightening ships in all the galaxy! You mention Soren’s Blade in any cantina worth its spice and I guarantee you at least half the bar will know of the ship and who it belonged to. And it was rumoured that Düne killed one of the Empire’s most feared Intelligence officers before his disappearance. That’s no easy task.”

The argument went on in the background. Koa was a little annoyed at the fact she only understood one side of the conversation. It didn’t matter to her much anyway, she had more internalised issues to worry over.

Her mouth tasted like metal. It wasn’t the same alkaline taste as blood, this one was closer to cobalt or titanium perhaps. As she ran her tongue across her teeth she felt a cold, hard substance fused into a tooth. The sensation was like running her tongue over a thin metal snake. It felt odd, but not as odd as her arm.

Her left arm was heavy, heavier than normal. Her nerves felt like they were frayed, sizzling with electricity. She thought to move her hand and at the simple idea it moved, barely, but with that perfectly normal action came an incredibly unnatural pain. Her brain jolted from misfiring neurons and a migraine settled on her temple as she croaked out a gasp.

Koa thanked the gods her eyes were still closed because had she been staring up into the light that she knew was shining over her face, the migraine assaulting her senses would have hit ten times harder.

She let out a raspy sound and realised her throat was dry.

“I think she’s waking up,” Zeeke said softly.

Ton-Ton whispered something as though they hadn’t already been causing quite the disturbance a few seconds ago.

“Water,” she whispered as she tried to pull her eyelids back.

Her facial muscles were numb, moving sluggishly from the cocktail of drugs being pumped into her system through a vein. She was surprised that the drugs were strong enough to numb her body but not strong enough to ease the small shocks of lightning travelling up her arm.

With one eye halfway pried open, Koa got a better picture of her surroundings. The med bay was spacious. Its walls were whiter than the tiny planet of Hoth she had seen from the station window they had docked at after leaving Thesmora.

“Easy there,” Zeeke laughed awkwardly as he helped Koa adjust her bed upright.

He handed her a plastic cup of ice. When she tried to move her left arm to accept the cup, more lightning shot through her and this time she winced. She looked over at her arm and had the air knocked out of her lungs.

Half flesh, half metal and all wrong. The artificial prosthetic was larger than her other arm, made of a versatile carbon material that emphasised durability over aesthetics and kept sending charges through her overstimulated sensory nerve endings. In short, it was ugly and alien to her body.

The flesh which joined her two halves was scarred and had purple trauma scars that resembled Lichtenberg marks travelling up to her shoulder and further. From the throb in the back of her neck and lower half of her cranium, Koa was certain those scars reached all the way from her triceps to the lymph nodes in her neck.

She felt raw. Raw and… different.

Zeeke didn’t try to help her bring the cup to her mouth, for which she was grateful, she didn’t need or want to be babied. Once she managed to bring the cup to her chapped lips, Koa decided to suck on the cubes instead of chewing them. The metal snake on her tooth made her paranoid that if it cracked apart so would she.

“Where…” she rasped and then swallowed a large cube of ice to ease the soreness. “Where are we?”

“Resistance base. On D’Qar.” Zeeke said as he pulled the makeshift sitting area he and Ton-Ton had rigged up closer to her bed.

A set of cards and dice littered the flat surface of the table. On the centre was a pathetic pile of credits barely enough to afford a day’s ration of food on a skeevy spaceport. By the looks of it, they had been gambling to pass the time.

How long have they been in my room?

Koa adjusted her spine until she felt more comfortable, “Calista… Is the princess—?”

Zeeke started shuffling the deck of unused cards and Ton-Ton waved his hands in the air with impatience.

“…Is she safe?” Koa finally finished.

Zeeke nodded as he dealt the cards, “Yeah, she’s with the General now, discussing terms. The scary guy who’s always with you is also alright. He’s in another room getting his shoulder and ankles examined. I think he actually asked the doc to dislocate them just so they could be set right.” He shuddered. “I watched them reset his shoulder. Didn’t flinch. He looked bored actually. Maybe tired. I can never tell what he’s thinking to be honest. Scary guy that.”

Koa failed to fully let out a laugh, it seemed whistling exhales was the best she could do right now. Her screaming must have damaged her vocal cords slightly.

Zeeke’s eyes glossed over for a moment, his presence stolen from the med bay to another place that neither Koa nor Ton-Ton could follow, “He kinda reminds me of my brother. Acting like he’s got the weight of the galaxy dangling over his head, just waiting for the rope to snap.”

There was a bleak silence in the room as Zeeke kept shuffling the cards like a robot. Ton-Ton tried to kick him with his short feet but they didn’t reach. Koa softly cleared her throat to bring Zeeke back to the present moment. It worked.

“Oh, hah, sorry. I… uh, zoned out there didn’t I?” Zeeke ducked his head away from the light so his features could be obscured.

“What are you guys playing?” Koa asked as she watched Zeeke and Ton-Ton lay out several cards.

“You’ve never played sabacc?” he asked.

Koa tried to shake her head, “No.”

“I’ll teach you,” Zeeke smiled like a kid and wiped all the progress of his current game by sweeping up all the cards and reshuffling them all over again.

Ton-Ton tried to hit him with his short arms but missed. Vexed, the little guy hopped off his chair, shouted some choice words and left the room.

Zeeke started delving into the logistics of the game and its rules. The calm enthusiasm of his voice distracted Koa from the lightning shocks in her arm and she felt thankful for the pleasant distraction.

“Manoloa,” she said gratefully in her native tongue once Zeeke had finished explaining everything.

Zeeke’s ocean coloured eyes lit up, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t think there is a word for it in Common. I suppose the closest thing would be ‘Much gratitude’.”

“Oh,” he said as he placed the deck of cards on the flat surface, ready to begin the first round. “In that case, you’re welcome.”

After his cold and dissatisfying shower in the cramped stalls on the Somnambulist, Odhen busied himself by continuing to work over the repairs Zeeke and Ton-Ton had abandoned him with after they heard Koa was out of surgery.

The day was hot and he sweat through his newly cleaned shirt faster than a blind man in a blaster duel.

An exposed wire came in contact with his screwdriver and he hissed and kicked the electrical panel in frustration.

“Hey trashcan, pass me some conductive tape will ya?” he held out a hand at Watts.

The droid did not take kindly to being called a trashcan, “If I had legs I know just where I’d shove them.”

“Remind me to tell Ton-Ton to inhibit your freewill functions,” Odhen bit back.

The droid slammed the tape into Odhen’s palm.

Odhen grumbled like a brooding old man, “Ow! Damn droid! Stupid Ship! Hot planet!”

Ton-Ton came waddling close to the open side panel Odhen was working under. The tiny Jawa kept complaining about how Zeeke had scrapped a game of sabacc and robbed Ton-Ton of his winning streak.

Odhen sighed and kept his head firmly stuck under the open hatch to keep the sun out of his eyes and the view of the base out of his sight. He didn’t want to be on this cursed planet let alone close enough to the damned base to see it. It held too many sour memories. Too many failures to count.

“Eh, shut it shorty, the kid’s just a better player. Don’ be a sore loser. It makes you look small,” Odhen said.

“I’m inclined to agree with the Captain, you are a terrible gambler!” Watts chimed in.

Ton-Ton grabbed a spanner for good measure in case one more person dared to say anything else he didn’t want to hear. Everyone grew silent and the Jawa huffed, feeling insulted and dismissed.

Odhen braced for the oncoming whack from Ton-Ton’s spanner, but it never came. After a beat, Ton-Ton said something that garnered his attention from the hole-riddled side panel.

“Who’s here?” he looked at Ton-Ton.

The Jawa and the droid pointed to someone in front of them.

“Captain Odhen Boro, it’s been a while,” the wet, gravelly sounds of Admiral Gial Ackbar’s voice called out from his flank.

Odhen swore low, “I’ll be the hide on a rancors backside.”

The Mon-Calamari laughed, “Is that any way to greet an old friend.”

Odhen turned and greeted him brazenly, “Admiral.”

“We’ve missed you around here. I have to admit, the Resistance feels a little emptier after your departure.”

“It felt plenty empty before I left.”

Gial sighed, looking up at the old ship and Odhen’s beat-up appearance. There was pity in his eyes when he glanced over at all the medals pinned to Odhen’s small jacket. Maybe there was guilt too, but Odhen didn’t care enough to try and decode Gial’s facial tics. He just wanted to be left alone.

Gial placed his webbed fingers on his waist, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, old pal. I should have done more.”

“It’s in the past,” Odhen’s eye twitched. “Leave it there.”

Gial took a step closer, trying to see if Odhen would retreat, when he didn’t, the Mon-Calamari closed the distance between them to put a moist hand on Odhen’s shoulder, “The past can still hurt us, Odhen.”

“I’ve done a pretty good job of forgettin’ so far. So, if you don’ mind, I’d like to get back to fixin’ my ship, Admiral.” Odhen shoved off Gial’s hand and went back to taping up the exposed wire.

“I’m sorry for not telling you in person back then.”

“Don’t,” Odhen warned.

“You need to hear this. I regret signing off on letting Hadlen go on that mission so soon after Una’s death. The boy had just lost his mother and I should have known better, but instead, I chose to let Leia send him into battle without telling her my worries. You lost a son because of me and I lost a friend in you because of that,” Gial sighed, his voice burdened by shame. “I won’t ask forgiveness, but I will ask that you forgive yourself… old pal. Come back from this… self-imposed exile. Una wouldn’t want this for you. I know I don’t.”

Odhen tried to ignore Gial’s words by putting razor-sharp focus on wrapping up the exposed wire. Ton-Ton waddled over to the towering Mon-Calamari and lifted his spanner high, intent on slamming it into Gial’s foot. Watts reacted quickly and ripped the spanner out of his master’s hands before it struck. Ton-Ton swore and kicked at his droid.

Gial was startled by the sound of a spanner knocking into the droids metallic hand and Watts covered for Ton-Ton’s foolhardy behaviour, “Terribly sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, he almost tripped.”

Gial sighed and waited for Odhen to give some sort of answer in reply –from the cold shoulder treatment, it didn’t seem likely that any more words would be exchanged.

Odhen had wrapped the same wire over ten times by the time Gial had left. It was the only thing he could think to do to keep his hands from shaking. His weight crushed down on him and Odhen found himself crumbling to the floor with watery eyes, a hand reaching into his small jacket’s pocket to pull out a photograph.

Odhen was younger in the image, cleaner, healthier. His wife Una was a vision in blue. She always looked good in blue. Their son Hadlen was squished between them, a fighter pilot’s helmet covering half his face as he smiled down at the first medal he ever pinned to his jacket –the jacket Odhen had passed on to him after he joined the Resistance. The jacket Odhen was forced to reclaim and wear in memory of his son.

Ton-Ton walked over to his side and placed his small hand on Odhen’s knee. Under the safety of a friendly touch, Odhen began to weep.

The transmission room held no odour or natural light. The hologram transmission died out and Murray’s smiling face disappeared from view. If Calista hadn’t walked off a ship and onto hard ground, she would have believed she was still in space, in a cold, hard compressed room on a dead ship, floating in deep space.

The demanding expectations were beginning to crush her from the inside out. Her spine was straight and her shoulders set, but on the inside, she felt like a centipede curling in on itself to stay protected. In her mind, she was staring down through weak glass tiles, looking at the centre of a lightless spiral that tunnelled into nothingness. This was her internal spiral and there was only one column keeping her floor from caving in.

“How did you do it?” she spoke to the vast emptiness surrounding her.

An imagined mirage of her mother stood where the hologram of Murray had been, her face blank and unresponsive to Calista’s demands.

Calista looked up at her hallucination, anger squeezing at her chest.

“How?” she shouted, voice ringing out.

When she didn’t get an answer back, Calista stormed out of the room.

The med bay was practically deserted save for a few maintenance droids sweeping up boot dust and sanitizing the floors. The smell of antiseptic pinched at her nose. As she made her way to Koa’s room, she recognised one of the medical specialists talking amongst a crowd. Curious and afraid, she walked over to the doctor and pulled him aside for an update.

“How is she... really?” Calista asked.

The doctor looked at his datapad for any updates he might have missed, “The surgery went as well as could be expected. We retrofitted her with an old model prosthetic. It’s a tricky bit of engineering. That particular model tends to put too much stress on motor nerve receptors. Your friend’s going to have a more difficult time adjusting to her new arm because of her brain physiology. Put simply, until we can get a better replacement limb, she won’t be in any fighting condition. The stress will be too much for her handle. It could risk neural overstimulation or worse. I recommend she stay out of high-stress situations or situations that require a lot of manual labour.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario?”

“If she puts too much strain on that arm… she could risk full paralysis. The neurological effects of the prosthetic could induce a stroke from overexertion. There’s no good alternative here. She should stay on bed rest until we find a better prosthetic.”

“Does she know?”

The doctor sighed, “I’ve had to tell many soldiers and fighters they can’t return to duty because of their injuries. Many don’t have family, and news like this… its best if a familiar face does it.”

Calista could feel the blood rush away from her face, that glass floor caving in slightly, dragging her closer to that spiral. It was her fault Koa was in this predicament, she was only thankful that an arm was all that was lost.

The doctor placed a comforting hand on her elbow, “It was quick thinking cauterizing that wound when you did. You kept her from bleeding out. Now she has a second chance. If you’ll excuse me, I have to see a Mon Calamari about his tonsillitis.”

Calista nodded at the doctor and continued on her way, feet barely moving.

Koa and Zeeke were smiling behind glass doors, a stark contrast to the sight of Koa screaming and bleeding and then shivering while unconscious. Calista looked down at her hands expecting them to still be slick with blood, they weren’t, but it didn’t stop them from feeling like they were.

Zeeke pulled a card trick and Koa’s eyes went wide with intrigue.

“How’d you learn to do that?” she asked as she tried to copy the same card trick with her right hand.

Zeeke shrugged, his lips tweaking uncomfortable, “Ran with a bad crowd as a kid.”

Calista took a deep breath, it was time to be brave. She walked passed the sliding door and stopped short of the medical bed Koa was laying on. Zeeke tilted his head in greeting, a welcoming smile chasing some of the stale atmospheres away.

“You look better,” Calista smiled at her friend, assessing the extent of the modifications made to her body. The purple lighting bruises traversing through Koa’s veins shook Calista to her core.

Koa laughed with some struggle, her robotic fingers failing to lift off the bed completely, “It’s barely a scratch.”

Zeeke’s eyebrows rose high as he tried to keep focus on his card shuffling.

“Can you give us a moment, Zeeke?” Calista asked softly.

Zeeke hummed and set the cards down, “Came by at the right time, she was about to rob me of my last credits. I should probably get back to the Somnambulist anyway, she’s in need of a hell of a patch job and I don’t want to leave Odhen and Ton-Ton hanging.”

Zeeke patted Koa’s leg and then jogged out of the room.

Calista sat at the edge of Koa’s bed, fingers too afraid to touch the metal casing of her new arm.

“I hear you met with the General,” Koa said with interest.

“Indeed.”

“And did she agree to help us?”

“Not without some difficulty on my part, but she agreed to certain terms.”

Koa frowned, her good hand tugging at the blanket draped over her in an effort to sit up more, “What does that mean?”

Calista sighed, “It means I’m going to Telos Four with Poe and a small Resistance company.”

“Something else is bothering you, I can sense it…” Koa tried to move her robotic arm out of habit, but the sound of live electricity caused her to lock her jaw and burrow her palm into the pressure point between the flesh and whole shoulder blade and the purple and scarred frayed skin.

Anger struck hot at the back of Calista’s eyes and she had to refrain from moving or breathing in fear she’d lose the last column of sanity she had left. She could practically picture the sturdy, chipped column toppling over, allowing the glass floor of her inner mind to sink from under her feet and send her even tumbling into that dark and endless spiral.

Calista cleared her throat and looked Koa in the eye, “I spoke with your doctor…”

Koa could tell what Calista was getting at, her flesh fingers closed in a fist as she spoke out confidently, “I’m fine.”

Calista glanced down at the purple markings on Koa’s skin, “You don’t look fine.”

“It looks worse than it is.”

“I know the arm is causing you pain. The doctor recommended you stay out of strenuous situations, something to do with the sensory implants not synchronising correctly with your brain. He recommended we wait until a new prosthetic is availa—“

“The arm works fine.”

“The doctor recommended bed rest. After everything you’ve been through, there’s no shame in taking time to heal.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to pretend for me. It’s me. I know you. I know your limits. These past few days have taken their toll. You lost an arm. The last thing you need right now is to be back in the thick of it. You need time. You need to rest.” Calista urged, her hand grabbing ahold of Koa’s closed fist in an effort to make her see reason.

Koa didn’t reciprocate, instead, her eyes narrowed, “Is that an order?”

Calista kept her voice soft, “A suggestion.”

“Then, respectfully, your highness,” Koa’s voice grew deeper, the rasp clearing slightly. “I decline the offer to stay behind.”

Calista closed her eyes for a moment before standing from the edge of the bed, “Fine, if that is your wish. We leave as soon as the repairs to the Somnambulist are complete… I should go and check on Mokk-Toh.”

Koa shifted awkwardly under the blanket until her legs were left to dangle on the edge and her body was slumped over, “My body may have changed but my duty has not. I go where you go. That’s all there is to it.”

Calista smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, “There’s more to it than that. Truthfully, if I lost you… I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You’d know exactly what to do. This war we’re fighting is bigger than any two people. Thesmora is counting on you to liberate her and it’s my duty to ensure you succeed… No matter what.”

Koa’s words were sharp. As unpleasant as it was for Calista to hear them, they needed to be heard. Suddenly, a new column was erected beneath her. Her glass floor becoming reinforced, the spiral descending away from her. Her heart, on the other hand, grew a degree colder.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Calista whispered out in a childishly frightened voice then she made her way down the hallway until she came upon Mokk-Toh’s room. He was having his shoulder examined by a physiotherapy droid. The sound of joints popping made her shiver. Mokk-Toh was stone-faced the entire time.

“Your highness,” Mokk-Toh motioned to get up off the examining table.

Calista held up a hand, “No need for formalities. I came to see how you are doing.”

“I’ll let the expert handle this,” Mokk-Toh pointed at the droid hovering over his shoulder.

The droid finished up the examination and then answered in a mechanical voice, “His contusions have healed nicely. His cuts have cicatrized. A few of his joints have suffered severe trauma, they may never heal as they were before, but all in all, he’s in good fighting shape… for someone his age.”

The droid gathered new garments from a drawer and handed them to Mokk-Toh before going to work over a bacta tank in the background.

“I assume everything is in motion then?” Mokk-Toh asked as he pulled a white shirt over his lean frame.

“It is.”

“You don’t look too thrilled,” he was fastening his arm guards now.

“There’s not much to be thrilled about,” Calista reached for fresh bandages out of Mokk-Toh’s reach and handed them to him.

He started wrapping his ankles for extra pressure, “We’re alive and now we have allies. That’s plenty more than we had yesterday.”

“Is that all there is to it now? Making sure we aren’t worse off now than we were the day before?”

Mokk-Toh stood on crooked ankles, “We endure.”

Calista unfolded a grey cloak that was folded on the table and spread it out so Mokk-Toh could slink his arms through the sleeves, “Koa worries me. I fear her stubbornness is clouding her judgement about her health.”

After tying the robe's belt around his small waist, Mokk-Toh placed his hands on Calista’s shoulders, “Would you like me to talk to her?”

Calista looked up, thinking on his offer. “Yes.”

Mokk-Toh looked over Calista’s face as though he were trying to conjure up someone else from under her skin. There was a fondness to his touch and a warmth to his dark eyes that she’d never often seen from him. His thin lips curled ever so slightly at the edges to form a reminiscent smile.

“I see a lot of your mother’s strength in you,” he said. “You share in her fortitude as well, it’s admirable, but no one is supposed to shoulder what you’re going through alone. That was her shortcoming. She thought she could be a symbol of strength and not lose a part of herself in the process. I watched your mother distance herself from everyone that mattered when things became too much. A lot of her relationships suffered for it. Including her bond with Maligma.”

Mokk-Toh took a pensive breath before continuing, “What I’m trying to say is… don’t be afraid to take a moment to yourself. Let people in. Trust them. Share your burdens. Sometimes a moment of peace can last a lifetime. And peace is a rare commodity these days.”

Calista nodded slowly, letting Mokk-Toh’s words sink in. He seemed sad. Most of the time Calista would see him as a soldier. Always alert and always on guard. But right now, he seemed like any other person on this base and that scared her a bit. It meant that even Mokk-Toh had his limits. His concealed cracks were beginning to surface, and as a result of his candour, Calista now had a third column she could lean on.

The spiral seemed even further away now.

Mokk-Toh found Koa riffling through compartments and discarded blood-stained clothing in search of something. Her robotic arm joined securely to her bicep was resting against a leather sling wrapped around Koa’s neck and chest area. He thought it looked incompatible.

Koa saw Mokk-Toh’s reflection through the plate glass window that overlooked an assembly line of docked ships gleaming like crystals from the intense sun rays, “I see you’re disarmed. I suppose that means both our swords got left behind on Takodana.”

Koa stopped her search and moved on to tidying up after the mess she had made. It was almost as though she was too afraid of being still.

“Unfortunately so. It does feel odd, being without my weapon,” Mokk-Toh tapped the place where his sword was usually strapped.

“Like losing a limb,” Koa said without thinking and then froze when her robotic fingers twitched, crease lines forming on her forehead as her nostrils grew larger in frustration. “She sent you to check up on me didn’t she?”

Through controlled breaths, Koa was trying to make a fist. The difficulty of such a simple task did not escape Mokk-Toh’s attention.

Koa was struggling to adjust.

Mokk-Toh folded his arms, “I offered to come and talk to you.”

Koa winced, her tongue running over the snaking line of titanium used to fuse her cracked tooth back together, “Like I keep telling everyone, I’m fine.”

“I don’t doubt that. After all, you of all people would never be so selfish as to endanger the princess’s life by going into the field with anything less than a hundred percent.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated herself like a broken record.

Mokk-Toh made sure his voice was monotonic, he didn’t want her to assume he was being condescending or argumentative, “You keep saying that.”

She side-eyed him, “Because it’s the truth.”

He looked away from her and out towards the gleaming ships, “Hmm.”

His impassiveness seemed to strike a nerve.

Koa opened up, “If the queen was still alive, can you honestly tell me you would be okay with leaving her side while her life was in danger?”

Mokk-Toh let the silence hover, he wanted her to stew in the uncertainty of whatever emotion caused her to ask that question in the first place.

He rubbed at an old scatter of irregularly spaced out scars that once held hundreds of shrapnel pieces on his thigh. With that old wound thrumming with intent, he knew just what to say, “When I was younger –about your age perhaps– I had passed up the opportunity to become the youngest admiral ever appointed to the Royal Guard because I was afraid that the greater responsibility would deter me from keeping the queen safe. As a Knight-Commander, I would always be by her side and that was all that mattered.”

Koa looked down at Mokk-Toh’s thigh where his nails were digging through his trousers, “I didn’t know this.”

Mokk-Toh’s back curved, an irregular slouch making him lose a few millimetres of height, “Not many do…” he cleared his throat. “Anyway, the promotion went to someone else, someone I trusted deeply and he was good at his job too.”

She placed her palm over the metal chassis of her arm, “But?”

“But I was stubborn and even though he was my superior, he let me keep my stubborn ways. During a diplomatic visit to an Outer-Rim planet, our convoy was ambushed. The admiral had asked me to head the scouting party responsible for spotting any potential threats ahead of time. I refused.”

The memory was so vivid in his mind that he could practically feel the rain and the stickiness of the humid air on his nape from that dreadful day. His heartbeat slow and sluggish like the intervals of the lazy thundering that had boomed across the bluish night sky. He remembered being bewildered by Lenora’s serious expression locked on the treaties laid out on her lap. The thought of her was bitter-sweet. Unconsciously, his nails unclenched from his thigh.

“In my mind, the only logical place for me to be was by Lenor- the queen’s side. The scouting party had been overcome by marauders and we lost more than half of our ground team. I would have died as well, if the admiral hadn’t sacrificed himself,” Mokk-Toh’s voice fluctuated towards the end. The flashing image of lightning striking and metal shards exploding into his skin was upsetting.

Koa took a step towards him, “You couldn’t have known—“

“I knew. I knew the man leading the scouting party wasn’t as skilled as I was. The admiral knew it too. So did Lenora. The point is… everyone knew and no one fought me on my decision. So when the next promotion came around, I took it, because there’s more to protecting the people you’ve sworn to keep safe than just being able to stand beside them,” He looked at Koa.

“This is different.”

“That may be, but if you go through with this knowing what you know now, you have to prepare yourself,” there was a dark edge to his warning.

Koa cocked her head to the side, a threat heard in his words. “For what?”

He turned his whole body to face her, “Whatever consequences may arise.”

Mokk-Toh had said all he came to say, maybe more, he was neither wanted nor needed anymore. With a stiff bow, he started on his way back to his quarters.

Koa stopped him in his tracks with an abrupt question, “What was his name?”

He half turned, “Who?”

“The admiral.”

His eye twitched on reflex, “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s a ghost of the past. The name died with him.”

Koa walked over to stand in front of him now, she looked to be in a confronting mood, “Is the bounty hunter we faced on Takodana also another ghost of the past?”

Mokk-Toh didn’t have an answer for her nor was he comfortable discussing any matters to do with Versengen, especially not to the woman who just lost her arm to his malice. He could tell she wasn’t satisfied with his silence.

She closed in on him like an interrogator trying to intimidate a thug, respect for her elders be damned. “You know him, don’t you?”

Mokk-Toh kept his answer straightforward and to the point, not wanting to play the game of a thousand questions with a woman running on a sparking fuse, “I know of him.”

Koa looked at the space around his face and then settled on the spot where a plasma bolt from a rifle had burned through his flesh less than a day ago, “No. The two of you share a bond, I sensed it. His technique is similar to yours, like you’re cut from the same cloth. You know who’s really beneath that helmet.”

Mokk-Toh turned stiff, “I don’t know who is really beneath that helmet –if there even is anything left beneath that helmet.”

She bit back a hiss as her robotic fingers moved, “What are you hiding?”

Mokk-Toh stepped around her, “Make sure you’re ready to go when by the time the ship is fixed.”

Hiding behind the darker side of a moon orbiting D’Qar, Versengen’s black ship purred in stasis. Inside, a trail of luminescent blue liquid led away from the healing chambers to an empty training room.

Versengen stared up at his weapons locker stocked with all manner of primitive weapons. With steady hands, he picked up a long, blunt-edged staff about his height.

His footing was soft and quiet. Like a boatman rowing against rushing waves, he twirled the staff from side to side, interchanging grips and moving with grace and precision. It was a kind of sacred dance, his partner was the rush of air that whined every time his staff moved swift and sure. His muscles uncoiled and relaxed only to clench a second later, his anger turned into an afterthought as the movements of his training technique took over his body with the intimacy of muscle memory.

For now, Versengen was dormant and he would remain dormant for as long as the beacon on the Somnambulist was immobile over D’Qar soil.

But as soon as the signal moved… the hunt would resume.

To be continued…

Tags: @carolinamalo53 @everything-intertwined

#star wars #poe dameron #star wars imagine #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x ofc #original characters #original worlds #pre swtlj #swtfa

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phantomskeep-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

In The Eye

<°°∆°°>

Chapter One: Ecce Omnes Ex Nobis

Gravity Falls was a town of diversity. Yes, it was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, but it was full of different groups of people. Part of the attraction, Dipper thought, was the fact that it was surrounded by wildlife and oddities. The center of the woods was a place where three Ley Lines met - this also could be a magnet to both gods and mortals (Dipper looked up the Ley Line thing last summer after a group of Kelpies tried to kidnap Mabel). But, no matter what the reason was, Dipper knew that Gravity Falls was his home. And as the Pines twins made their way up to Oregon, Dipper got that feeling that this summer would test that love he held for the small town.

“What’re you thinking, Dip-dots?” Mabel spoke, looking over at her twin from the passenger seat. She was knitting another sweater, this one with a galaxy background and a white triangle in the middle of it. From where Dipper was sitting, he could tell that the inside was made of a soft-looking yellow wool. It was an offering for the god that resided in Gravity Falls, the All-Seeing Eye. Much like the rest of the world, Gravity Falls had two gods living within the borders. The All-Seeing Eye and the Water Sign gods. As such, they were the two most worshipped beings in the county. Since the sweater had a triangle on it, Dipper could deduce that Mabel was working on it for the Eye god.

“Nothing,” Dipper said with a small smile. “I’m just ready to join the Shifters.”

“I know, right?” Mabel exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air with the biggest grin. “Pacifica won’t shut up about how cool it is! She’s been bragging about it for an entire year, Dipper!”

The brown-haired boy laughed. Most of the teens in Gravity Falls had already become a Shifter or Lacus - followers of the Eye and the Sign respectively. Each god granted their followers different powers so long as they received offerings and sacrifices. As such, this type of religion quickly dominated the world in the 18th century during the Enlightenment period. Gods from all corners of the Earth started popping up around the globe, easily gaining followings as humans developed machines, made moral codes, and branched out in science. The uptake with the religious cults just spurred that along - machines were easier to make when one had telekinesis, morals were hashed out by gods, and science was questioned when the beings made impossible feats possible. Recently, joining a following when a person turns 16 became a fad. It was put before getting a driver’s license - who needs to drive when you can fly? - and most of Mabel and Dipper’s friends had been 16 for a year, if not more.

“I can only guess what animal she turned out to be,” Dipper said with a laugh.

“I bet she’s a swan,” Mabel giggled, thinking of her best enemy-turned-friend.

“Nah,” Dipper grinned, “she’s totally a snake.”

Mabel gasped dramatically. “But Dipper, all of the Northwests have been aves since joining the Shifters! I will not be the one to break that!” She said in a mock-Pacifica voice. The twins shared a laugh, giggling and beyond excited to finally be back in Gravity Falls. Shifters, the cult dedicated to the All-Seeing Eye, were granted the ability to tap into their innermost being, their Spirit Animal. Ford, one of Mabel and Dipper’s great-uncles, tried to explain it to them one time.

-*-

“… A Spirit Animal is essentially a person based on popular folk lore centered around them,” he had said, standing in the Shack’s kitchen, “so an owl is wisdom, a lion loyalty and pride, a snake sneaky but meant to heal, and a fox sly and cunning.” He paused to take a bite of his Stan-cakes. “It’s also made of a person’s feelings - their hopes and dreams, if you will.” He looked over at his twin, Stan, “I’m an owl because I want to have knowledge and possess great amounts of wisdom. Stan’s a lion because-”

“Because I’m awesome, and family always comes first!”

“Actually, I was going to say because you’re hot-headed.”

“Hey!”

-*-

Dipper smiled a little at the thought of his Grunkles. They were a big part of the twins’ life. Ever since that first summer Mabel and Dipper spent with their Grunkle Stan (Ford joined them later, about mid-July), the two spent every holiday they could in Gravity Falls.

“I wonder what the induction is like?” Mabel commented, running one of her ink-covered hands through the thick brown locks she was proud to call her own.

Dipper hummed in thought. “Most likely something along the lines of drinking an innocent’s blood, knowing the Eye.” An induction was a special point in everyone’s lives - yet, it was a taboo to speak about them. If someone decided to spill the beans about their own induction, they were kicked out of the following and harshly branded. Most companies, schools, and social groups refused to accept a person who wore a Traitor Mark. Like regular Marks, Traitor Marks could not be healed or removed from the person unless the god who put it there willingly took it off the person. As such, no-one ever talked about their own inductions. People speculated that it was because the gods didn’t want their peers to learn how to grant their powers. Sadly, there was no evidence to back this theory up.

Mabel let out a loud laugh. “Or maybe we have to go into the woods and hunt down a magical creature?”

“Oh yes,” Dipper said sarcastically. “Because the great All-Seeing Eye needs a bunch of teenagers to tromp around his terf to catch a couple of gnomes.”

Continuing to giggle, Mabel reached across the center console to lightly hit Dipper’s arm. “Shut up! You know he could make us do that!”

The young man laughed with his sister, trying to feebly block and dodge her arms while staying focused on the road. “Suuuuure,” he drawled. He looked at his phone. They were about thirteen minutes away from the shack, the last stretch on their long drive. “Look alive, Mabel!” He yelled, rolling down the small truck’s windows. “HELLO, GRAVITY FALLS!” He hollered as he pulled into the small town.

Mabel stuck her head out the window. “IT’S GOOD TO BE BACK! HIYA, CANDY!” She yelled at the top of her lungs, waving frantically at her friend.

“Hi, Mabel!” The small girl yelled back.

Dipper couldn’t stop grinning as he steered his truck down the familiar roads of his little corner of paradise. He stole a quick glance at Mabel, and he could tell she was just as elated as he was.

And in no time at all, they rounded the final corner of forest, revealing the Mystery Shack to the Pines twins. They were home.

-*-

A/N: Okay, so this is the start! This is how it all begins… Thank you to my wonderful betas - Bri and Left_In_The_Wreckage!

Anyways, thank you all so much for reading the start of something that will (hopefully) evolve into a great story! I look forward to hearing from all of you! <3

NOTE: I will be updating every week on Thursday at the latest, or Wednesday if I’ve already started on the next chapter by then. My life is busy, so please don’t get mad if I don’t always update on schedule!!! The life of an equestrian, am I right? :’)

-*-

#gravityfalls #gravityfallsfanfic #Gravity Falls #gravityfallsau #gravityfallsfanfiction #InTheEye #AU #fanfiction #fanfictionau #chapter 1

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harlockauxillia30k-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Backstory I: Halcyon

[background lore for Harlock; feel free to ignore if you don’t care]

Centauri Prime, 38 years after Unification Day.

Harlock ran a hand through his wavy hair and smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling.

He walked at a steady pace down the grand halls of his extended family’s hive spire. As a member, even if loosely and from a minor sub-house, of the great house Gloriana, Harlock felt somewhat entitled to this place. In time he knew he could expect some form of position here; a manager perhaps, or tax-man, perhaps if his fencing classes payed off, a captaincy in the house guard. Not perhaps the loftiest of ambitions, but Harlock knew his place.

After some time, he arrived at the house of his father; in a lowe annex of the spire, still high over the other commoners of Centauri prime, and let himself in.

“Good day father” he announced, taking off his petticoat and hanging it, winking at a maid who offered to do it herself.

“You’re finally here. Hmpf. Good. Get over here.”

Harold Harlock Gloriana was an ancient beast by any account, somewhat fat and balding. Harlock supposed such things were hallmarks of age; during the war, apparently Harold was something to behold.

Harlock walked into his father’s study, and saw a beautiful maiden he did not recognize, bedecked in a violet and purple dress with a flowing pattern. He bowed somewhat. “My lady,”

The fossil of a man who was his father threw a walking stick at his son.

“That’s ‘your grace’ you ignorant fool!” he exclaimed. “This is the fair lady Myrene Artemesia Galm. You’re the elected tour guide and drink-fetcher for this fair lady as she tours our spire. If you touch her, I’ll touch you like the Emperor’s Astartes did to me!”

Harlocks father made a ‘bang’ motion with an artificial hand as the young lady giggled to herself. Naturally, the two Life-Guards of House Galm that stood with her merely quietly nodded at the old man, in affirmation.

Harlock offered a deep bow.

“I apologize, for both myself and father, who as you can see still fits what the terrans describe as their famed ‘techno-barbarians.’ I am Jan, and it would be my pleasure to fetch her highness-

“Her GRACE! She’s not a queen you inbred dolt!”

“Her grace, then, some of our finest water.”

Smiling, Myrene extended a hand “Myrene, then, would simplify things. I have been looking forward to getting out of our spire. Do show me where the fun things are around here, wont you?”

Jan took her hand, and motioned to kiss it, when he saw a life-guard casually reach for his sidearm, cupping the hand with his other instead.

“If that is what you wish Myrene, then so shall it be. Let it not be said Gloriana was not accommodating for such lovely guests.”

Harlocks father nodded. “Yes. Good then. She has a meeting with the current house lords in five hours. Take her to whatever pretty places we have in the spire. Be on your best behavior son, or I’ll send you away! Now off with you! And to you my GRACE I do bid a good day.”

Myrene curtsied at the elderly statesman, and the pair walked off, exchanging pleasantries as the sun set upon a momentous evening.

...

[two weeks later]

“Oh, Harlock...” Myrene swooned, wrapped in the fabrics of a private room Harlock had commissioned. Harlock glanced behind him with a smile. “You are by far the superlative lover, your grace.” Harlock said, stepping out of his bathroom into the dimly lit room. In the distance, red lights blared and searchlights were lit. Something going on at the Galm Spire.

“I say, Myrene?” Harlock inquired, his mind slowly realizing something.

“You did say you were stepping out for a moment, yes? To your handmaidens. Like the other days?”

Myrene groaned, clearly tired and on the eve of passing out. “I suppose.. ugh. What does it matter? I am the heiress of Galm. I can do whatever I like. Or.. whomever I like... come back to bed.”

Harlock scratched his chin and walked toward the window, peeking through the blinds.

“Then I do hope nothing has happened. House Galm is throwing quite the tizzy.”

The heiress huffed. “Aren’t we always! Not calm like you Gloriana folk are! Always imperium this and terra that. And don't get me started on Colonial rights and Imperial tithing. So boooring!”

Harlock shrugged and walked back to the bed. “You’re right, of course. Those silly imperials. Who needs them I say! Hah! Now, ready for round two?”

“Oh...” Myrene moaned, clearly enjoying the idea.

Precisely this was when Harlock heard and felt the window break as his back was cut by several tiny shards.

“BREACH BREACH BREACH!” a man in strange heavy armor screamed, ziplining into the room, followed by another one. Harlock also saw a similarly armored foot smash through the door, followed by a second team of soldiers.

Lady Myrene screamed, and covered her body immediately.

Harlock panicked, and made to reach for his sparring sword, when a gun was violently inserted below his jaw. A raspy, masked voice said.

“Try it, you traitor fether. Give me a reason.”

Harlock blinked. “I-I what is the meaning of this, I am no traitor!”

“Shut up! You’re under arrest and Imperial censure for the kidnapping-” the soldier glanced at Myrene “And rape, of her grace Lady Myrene of Galm. If I were you boy, I would save it for the courts.”

[Later, Imperial Court, Centauri Prime]

“After hearing the testimony, the court has decided to drop the rape charges. Her grace maintains such... contact, was consensual. It was, however, illicit and distasteful in the extreme. For the lady, we submit her to her family for whatever punishment they wish to mete out. Harlock, however, is a different concern...”

Count Vladimir Nossic Galm leered over his plinth, clearly incensed at the case before him.

“In the olden days, Mister Harlock, you would be already dead. Now however-” Vladimir glanced at a silent Imperial Censor watching the trial from the sidelines. “We must try to be more... civilized.”

The count turned to the censor. “Perhap you would spare impartial advice as to what to do with the man?”

The censor contemplated Harlock, a pasty white complexion marked with the clear signs of a life spent in space.

“Perchance, sir Harlock, I might extend to you a choice; for the emperor believes firmly in man choosing his own destiny.”

The censor stepped forward, gesturing to the court with perfectly trained theatrics.

“House Galm will be unsatisfied with anything but death. But this crime, such of passions and old house law- that no house may mingle with one another in such a manner as these- is not per se illegal in the imperial sense. But a pardon will not do, so I offer this: serve house galm as indentured servant until death, or serve the emperor upon the great crusade which liberated this world of yours. The crusade which your house, once upon a time sought to halt.”

The censor grinned, looking upon the surprised nobles. “Indeed! Tithing will soon be in more than materiel, but men also! Contemplate what glorious titles your sons will achieve in Imperial Service. Men like this hapless boy here are just what our new Auxillia Imperialis needs. Most recruits will serve until their alloted time is up but this... hmm This Harlock. He will serve until he dies!”

The censor clapped his hands with satisfaction, and looked upon the count-judge. “Does this ruling please the house of Galm?”

The count considered things for a moment, then smiled. “He will serve in a combat function, yes?”

“Definitely my lord.”

“Then yes. A lifetime of war on the frontier for mister Harlock.”

A round of quaint applause clapped out through the assembled persons, the Censor bowing deeply.

“Then! I decree that house Galm will provide this man Juvenat, so he may serve until his time is due. It is done! it is law! The emperor wills it!”

Harlock sat in his chair, uncertain as to what had just took place. Somehow, from the look of the censor, it was not a fate he would particularly look forward to.

#post #backstory

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stubzs87 · 7 years ago

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Commission Scammer

I’ll have to explain a lot of this in text since tumblr will only allow me ten images and I want those screen shots to be the important ones.

To start from the beginning, this girl (she never gave me her real name or anything) initially contacted me through youtube a few years back about my tarantula care videos because she claimed to be wanting one herself so I ended up adding her as a skype contact per her request and I made a video answering her questions in detail. After that we only talked on and off VERY briefly and during which times we talked she always seemed to have some sob story to talk about. Fast forward to April of this year she contacted me out of nowhere again with another sob story about her brother getting killed by a cop (though apparently he deserved it) and that a friend of hers had helped with the funeral expenses and in return she wanted to commission me for a portrait of said friend as thanks. I had JUST started working at my current job and the hours were crap at the time so I took it on. I had not taken an art commission (excluding my needlefelt commissions) in some time and I had changed my pricing and I had just gotten this nifty app on my tablet that calculates the price of commissions or art you sell based on time/materials spent. I wanted to give her the most accurate price so I (very stupidly looking back on it) asked her if I could see how many hours it took to complete her commission and then give her the price, and I did warn her that my prices could be pretty pricey. She assured me that money wasn’t an issue and sent me a screenshot of over $600 she (supposedly) spent on Amazon. Since she agreed, I told her I’d send over WIP images (but I made sure that they were vastly downsized and with my watermark over the face of the portrait. Everything was agreed upon through skype and I set to work. During that time we kept in regular contact every time I finished a section of her commission and she always seemed to be pleased with where I was going with it. When I finished in mid June, I took the hours I had painstakingly recorded (27+ hours) and calculated the price, sent her one more scaled down, watermarked image of the final product and gave her the price calculated. She agreed to the price ($314), but said she only had $280 and the rest would be have to be transferred (from when we talked before it sounded like she was on some government aid) and so again, being the nice and stupid person I was at the time I said I’d wait for the transfer which I assumed would be sometime in late June or at least sometime next month.

A few weeks passed and I sent her a friendly reminder since I had heard nothing back and I at least wanted to know when to expect payment. Heard nothing back. By then I started to suspect that she screwed me, but I gave her two more reminders a few weeks apart in July. Heard nothing back.

Started looking through her accounts and saving our skype conversations and even made screenshots of them in case I needed them and for the fact that I wanted to get the message around for other artists or anyone for that matter to stay away from this girl. All I’ve been able to find as far as accounts belonging to her were a Google+ account, her youtube account, and her skype account under the add name chicchee-na (she appeared to be a roleplayer of sorts and last I spoke to her she seemed to be roleplaying as Bertholdt Hoover from the anime Attack on Titan). Also noticed when digging deeper, her skype account, depending on whether I used the skype program or the skype extension program on my email, it showed her to be in two different locations.

Here’s also some snippets of conversations I had on skype with her about the commission.

That’s the gist of the conversation. Also she claimed to have tons of exotic pets, tarantulas, snakes, lizards, turtles, scorpions, etc.

If by chance she changes her skype name but starts talking about tragedy and lots of exotic pets, I would suggest staying away from this person. Don’t add her ANYWHERE. She also sent me pics of herself when I first met her, but who knows if those were her real pictures. The girl in the pics was tan, had long dark hair, fairly large boobs (kind of vague I know..but I never got screenshots of those pics because the convo was too old and skype didn’t save that back.

I know this was long winded, but since I fell victim to this as an artist, I felt it was my duty to spread the word in the most detailed way I could. I know I am partly to blame for falling prey to this, but the fact remains that she screwed me and probably intended to from the very beginning. All I can be thankful for is that she never got a hold of the full scale un-watermarked version of the commission. Karma or something will come back to her eventually and I learned a valuable lesson.

Anyways, please spread the word so that no one else falls victim. And ALWAYS accept full or partial payment before working on an art commission!

(Also it seems tumblr doesn’t want to show the full sized images of some of my screenshots, so I’Il post the full convsersation below the line. Some of it gets a little personal about my life, but I’m going to keep the entire convo intact for the integrity of the post and so everyone can see how deep she goes into her sob stories. Which are most likely just stories.)

[4/20/17, 12:06:25 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: HEY YOU. [4/20/17, 12:06:26 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: LK;SDFHD;KS [4/20/17, 12:06:29 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I have a question. <3 [4/20/17, 12:07:01 PM] Darcie: what is it? [4/20/17, 12:07:20 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I have a little lore to give first. [4/20/17, 12:08:25 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: My brother was just murdered on the 30th. I had his funeral service on the 8th. Things have been horrible around here and I'm not doing as well as I could be. I have a friend named Kim and she's been helping me out so much, even down to helping me pay for cremation and such. I want to show her I care for her and I want to do something nice for her. [4/20/17, 12:08:45 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: One thing she has always wanted was a drawing of herself, and I know that's something you do. I know you do art. [4/20/17, 12:08:57 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: If I pay you, and you can name your price, would you take up a commission? [4/20/17, 12:10:19 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: https://scontent.fyaw1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/26420_1274456899095_4774184_n.jpg?oh=f691be5c2d72a088ac2b0a747eaaf2a0&oe=5999D373 It would be something like this. o.o [4/20/17, 12:14:24 PM] Darcie: Wow that's really awful, I'm really sorry to hear that D: it's good that you've got someone to help you out like that though

I think I could do that. what sort of medium are you looking for and do you have anything in particular in mind for the background? [4/20/17, 12:14:55 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Shit. [4/20/17, 12:15:01 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I didn't think I would get this far. [4/20/17, 12:15:16 PM] Darcie: why not? [4/20/17, 12:15:33 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: As for my brother, well..it was justified homicide. He attacked a Police officer with a weapon. [4/20/17, 12:15:39 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: You know how that usually goes. [4/20/17, 12:15:49 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: As for the picture, the heck is a medium..;-;? [4/20/17, 12:18:03 PM] Darcie: yeah, but that still seems like it would be hard to deal with :S

well medium refers to what I would be working with to make the portrait. I can do some traditional art, but I feel my knowledge of it is more limited than when I work with digital art. but if you want something in water color or prisma color pencils I could try it. [4/20/17, 12:21:04 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Oh no no, if you want to work with digital, go for it.~ [4/20/17, 12:21:14 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: You do whatever is best for you. I'm not worried about it at all. [4/20/17, 12:21:32 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I have no preference, I just want to show her I cared enough to ask someone to do this for me. [4/20/17, 12:21:46 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Do this as you wish. <3 [4/20/17, 12:22:53 PM] Darcie: okay cool. I'm already getting some ideas about what I could do with this. [4/20/17, 12:23:05 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: It's alllllll yours. <3 [4/20/17, 12:23:39 PM] Darcie: also do you need me to set up a deadline for this? [4/20/17, 12:23:52 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: No no o.o! [4/20/17, 12:23:57 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Whenever is fine. <3 [4/20/17, 12:25:31 PM] Darcie: okay. I am working on another piece, but I will try to get this done for you as soon as possible. [4/20/17, 12:28:18 PM] Darcie: I've been working with this style lately https://cdn.theculturetrip.com/images/56-198302-3542488286-45386f2912-z.jpg [4/20/17, 12:28:29 PM] Darcie: I think it would be good for her protrait [4/20/17, 12:35:41 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Yeah! [4/20/17, 12:36:43 PM] Darcie: are there any elements that she likes that I could add? like certain plants or animals? [4/20/17, 12:37:57 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: OH [4/20/17, 12:38:00 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: SHE LIKES UM [4/20/17, 12:38:02 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: THOSE THINGS.. [4/20/17, 12:38:09 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Fish tanks and stuff o.o! [4/20/17, 12:38:12 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Like fishies. ouo [4/20/17, 12:38:44 PM] Darcie: okay, I might be able to fit something like that in :') [4/20/17, 12:44:41 PM] Darcie: I think I would like to work on it first, see how many hours gets put into it before I name my price. would you be okay with that? [4/20/17, 12:45:00 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Sure.~ [4/20/17, 12:45:10 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: On 4/20/17, at 12:44 PM, Kim, The Eternally Tired wrote: > anything water related really: ocean, beach, waves, octopuses, jellyfish, sea turtles, mermaids [4/20/17, 12:45:20 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: On 4/20/17, at 12:45 PM, Kim, The Eternally Tired wrote: > i like astronomical stuff too, space and planets and stars [4/20/17, 12:45:26 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Space ocean..@0@ [4/20/17, 12:45:50 PM] Darcie: ohh really cool~ I feel like that gives me a lot to work with [4/20/17, 12:46:47 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Oh my God, celestial fish, GALAXY FEESH. O-O [4/20/17, 12:51:08 PM] Darcie: yeah I might be able to do something like that [4/20/17, 12:51:16 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: @u@ [4/20/17, 12:58:56 PM] Darcie: :") [4/20/17, 1:35:33 PM] Darcie: so how are your tarantula and snake doing? [4/20/17, 1:35:45 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: So many pets. [4/20/17, 1:35:49 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: So many pets. [4/20/17, 1:36:02 PM] Darcie: ohh you have more now? [4/20/17, 1:36:16 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Two Tarantulas, Python, seven foot Boa, Tortoise, Parrot, Bearded Dragon. </3sakdfh [4/20/17, 1:36:32 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: And I'm getting two Scorpions in a few months. [4/20/17, 1:36:53 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Annnnd I'm trying to find a Anery Sand Boa. [4/20/17, 1:37:03 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: But they're all great. ^-^ [4/20/17, 1:37:08 PM] Darcie: sounds like fun :) [4/20/17, 1:37:24 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: IMG_2483.JPG [4/20/17, 1:37:28 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: 17523386_1343871472337192_5858621976495321661_n.jpg [4/20/17, 1:37:34 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: ^D0AE83B540A22B5B1B80E882DFA85417C3BCE3F1947BAA3EE4^pimgpsh_fullsize_distr.jpg [4/20/17, 1:37:54 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: One Tarantula is really mean. [4/20/17, 1:37:58 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: But I still like him.~ [4/20/17, 1:38:46 PM] Darcie: if I lived somewhere else I'd get some snakes and lizards, but I currently live with family who don't allow them... they [4/20/17, 1:38:54 PM] Darcie: *they're all really cute [4/20/17, 1:39:40 PM] Darcie: I only have three tarantulas now 'cause Rosy got old and died last week. the other big one I have is a bit of a butthole too [4/20/17, 1:39:46 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: IMG_0136.JPG [4/20/17, 1:40:02 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I can't even change his water. [4/20/17, 1:40:24 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I have to get a sucky thing to suck the water out and just refill it from the top of the enclosure. [4/20/17, 1:40:39 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: He's so mean, and so fast. e-e [4/20/17, 1:40:42 PM] Darcie: is that the zebra knee? [4/20/17, 1:40:55 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Yeah. o.o [4/20/17, 1:41:03 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Total asshole. [4/20/17, 1:41:23 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I've had him for over a year and he hasn't changed a bit. [4/20/17, 1:41:59 PM] Darcie: never had one of them before. Yeah same with my little shit. I won't hold him. [4/20/17, 1:42:16 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: His name is Claude, he wants me to die. ;-; [4/20/17, 1:43:32 PM] Darcie: sounds like he's just to look that then :p [4/20/17, 2:03:40 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: One thing I REALLY like is watching art coming alive. [4/20/17, 2:03:52 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Along the way, would you mind giving me screenshots of it o.o? [4/20/17, 2:04:02 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I like watching it develop.~ [4/20/17, 2:05:50 PM] Darcie: if you want I can record it into a video [4/20/17, 2:05:58 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: SURE O-O [4/20/17, 2:06:20 PM] Darcie: I'd love to do another timelapse art video [4/20/17, 2:06:42 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I watched the other ones, that's how I knew you did art. ^-^ [4/20/17, 2:07:41 PM] Darcie: I have a deviantart if you want to see more of my art, like more an idea of what I do [4/20/17, 2:07:51 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Sure o.o! [4/20/17, 2:10:01 PM] Darcie: http://badapple-art.deviantart.com/ [4/20/17, 2:12:37 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: @0@! [4/22/17, 11:05:04 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: I'm excited. @u@ [4/25/17, 3:40:17 PM] Darcie: I finished my other piece I was working on the other day, so I hope to start on this very soon. [4/25/17, 3:41:35 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: No problem.~ [4/30/17, 1:34:21 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I got a Scorpion today. o.o [5/1/17, 2:39:45 PM] Darcie: how is the scorpion doing? [5/1/17, 2:50:15 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Pretty good.~ [5/1/17, 2:50:21 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: He's a little nerd. [5/1/17, 2:56:21 PM] Darcie: that's good :') [5/1/17, 2:56:29 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: ^78717198D59719982FFEDFD5E2F5EB408E43C3252669CD871C^pimgpsh_fullsize_distr.jpg [5/1/17, 2:56:37 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: His name is Ling, he's an Emperor. <3 [5/1/17, 2:58:43 PM] Darcie: I have sketched your friend, still need to add the art nouveau elements. just wanted you to like confirm how it looks before I continue.

that's a good name :) [5/1/17, 2:59:02 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Sure! [5/1/17, 2:59:27 PM] Darcie: NouveauPortraitCommission - Sketch.png [5/1/17, 3:00:40 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: OOOOOH. OuO [5/1/17, 3:02:57 PM] Darcie: so I take it you like it so far? [5/1/17, 3:03:14 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Yeah! [5/1/17, 3:03:24 PM] Darcie: yay~ [5/1/17, 3:03:42 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: ^-^! [5/1/17, 3:04:57 PM] Darcie: I haven't drawn a portrait in a while (especially someone I've never drawn before) so I had a little performance anxiety [5/1/17, 3:06:45 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I don't think they're any good or bad art. We all have our own personal styles that are different from the next. [5/1/17, 3:06:55 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: They're like yard sales to me. o.o [5/1/17, 3:07:08 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Each one is different and I get excited to see what's on the table. <3 [5/1/17, 3:07:55 PM] Darcie: that's a good way of thinking about it C: [5/5/17, 11:56:07 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: HEY YOU. <3 [5/5/17, 11:59:20 AM] Darcie: hey [5/5/17, 12:02:52 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: How are you? [5/5/17, 12:03:41 PM] Darcie: I'm okay, could be better, but could be worse. [5/5/17, 12:03:50 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Something up? [5/5/17, 12:04:16 PM] Darcie: Just not getting along with some members of my family, one of which I live with. [5/5/17, 12:04:38 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Ahhh, yeah, that's kind of a crappy thing to deal with. [5/5/17, 12:11:23 PM] Darcie: yup...especially when they're verbally abusive and threaten you verbally. [5/5/17, 12:11:50 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Oh I know. [5/5/17, 12:11:57 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I got stabbed by one. [5/5/17, 12:12:12 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: And now he's dead because of it. [5/5/17, 12:12:18 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Bam was horrible to live with, so I know what it can be like. [5/5/17, 12:12:58 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: He broke my wrist three months ago because I asked him what he wanted for lunch. It was so bad around here that I had to piss in a cup and dump it out the window because I was so scared of him that I wouldn't leave the bedroom. [5/5/17, 12:13:08 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: It can be SUPER shitty. [5/5/17, 12:16:34 PM] Darcie: I've never had it that bad, but he's threatened to take a baseball bat to me, and he's put his hands on me once and we kind of "wrestled" around, but thankfully he's old, but he's still pretty strong for an old man. I pretty much stay in my room all the time too. If I ask him the wrong question or bring up the wrong thing he'll start yelling at me. He's a Korean War vet, and I don't know what problems it gave him, but I think he thinks that gives him the right to be an asshole. [5/5/17, 12:17:19 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: But be a little mentally ill. [5/5/17, 12:17:26 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I'm sure my brother was ill, by the way he acted. [5/5/17, 12:17:34 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Sometimes a mood disorder can cause all that shit. [5/5/17, 12:19:03 PM] Darcie: the only thing I can think of that he has is anger issues. he doesn't really show PTSD or anything like that. [5/5/17, 12:20:02 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Are you waiting for him to die? [5/5/17, 12:20:24 PM] Darcie: he pretty much thinks everyone in our generation are losers and looks down on them. he blames us for what's going on in the world. any time he gets upset he takes it out everyone else. [5/5/17, 12:20:31 PM] Darcie: what do you mean? [5/5/17, 12:20:59 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I wanted my brother to die, which is weird saying because now he just died less than a month ago. [5/5/17, 12:21:09 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: But I felt my only freedom was his death. [5/5/17, 12:21:25 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I was hoping he would suffer from a stroke or heartattack, or even choke or suicide. [5/5/17, 12:21:42 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I've always wanted him to die because that's the only way this would stop. [5/5/17, 12:21:53 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Do you feel the same or has it not gotten to that point yet? [5/5/17, 12:24:15 PM] Darcie: it's gotten to that point sometimes. I try not to think that way, but there have been times that I've felt close to the breaking point, of either killing myself or someone else, most likely him. but again I try not to think about that too much. Right now I'm trying to focus on working to get out of this hole. I've only got a temporary job now. [5/5/17, 12:24:55 PM] Darcie: so yeah sometimes I wish he would just die from old age or something, but he's a tough old bastard. so I'm trying to get away before that [5/5/17, 12:26:15 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I'm sorry that you have to put up with that. [5/5/17, 12:33:02 PM] Darcie: Me too... like I had to deal with stuff with my mom all while I was growing up pretty much up until she died a few years ago. but it wasn't her fault, she definitely had a mental illness, but as bad as she got and some of the things she said, I knew she still loved me. But with him, it's like all he cares about is himself. He doesn't give a shit about the fact that I have depression and PTSD related episodes and get stressed out easily because of all the stuff I've been through. All he's doing is adding to all the pressure I already have on myself. I'm also frustrated that my grandmother and my dad don't try to give me better support when he does that stuff to me. All they say is to ignore him or leave the room, and sometimes I do, but sometimes I feel like I have to stand up to him. [5/5/17, 12:34:55 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: ;-; [5/5/17, 12:35:34 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Is that why you draw o.o? [5/5/17, 12:38:01 PM] Darcie: no. I've always drawn, ever since I was little. used to draw on the walls and at school. [5/5/17, 12:39:15 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Drawing is neat ouo [5/5/17, 12:39:32 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I'm excited to see how this picture is going to turn out. ^-^ [5/5/17, 12:41:19 PM] Darcie: yeah. it's like one of the only things that gives me happiness. me too, I've got all sorts of ideas in my head. [5/5/17, 12:43:56 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Can't wait to see the next update. \^-^/ [5/5/17, 12:44:59 PM] Darcie: Thanks [5/8/17, 2:04:50 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: HEYOOOOOO. o 0o [5/8/17, 2:05:36 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: So my friend is going away for a month, she's leaving in less than a week. Think I could set a deadline now for an extra $35 o.o? [5/8/17, 2:06:08 PM] Darcie: I don [5/8/17, 2:06:24 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Don is a neat guy. o.o [5/8/17, 2:07:49 PM] Darcie: I don't think I could get i finished in a week if that is the deadline [5/8/17, 2:08:46 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: That's okay. ^-^ [5/8/17, 2:09:38 PM] Darcie: 'cause I'm still on the sketching phase and I've got work now every night. I feel if I rushed things that much it wouldn't be a very good result [5/8/17, 2:10:38 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I understand! That's okay. ^-^ [5/8/17, 2:10:47 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Have you done more that I could get a sneak peek on o.o?! [5/8/17, 2:11:01 PM] Darcie: yes I have, hold on [5/8/17, 2:12:37 PM] Darcie: and just a heads up, but this could get a bit pricey [5/8/17, 2:12:59 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Pfft. [5/8/17, 2:13:43 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: IMG_08052017_161338_0.png [5/8/17, 2:14:02 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I just spent $666 on Amazon, in random junk. [5/8/17, 2:14:17 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Material items and spending money is all I care about in life. [5/8/17, 2:14:39 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: So it's okay. <3 [5/8/17, 2:15:19 PM] Darcie: okay, but I just wanted to be sure you knew. [5/8/17, 2:16:37 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Oh yeah.~ [5/8/17, 2:18:41 PM] Darcie: NouveauPortraitCommission - Sketch.png [5/8/17, 2:19:13 PM] Darcie: I'm going to be drawing different kinds of fish in the circles around her head. [5/8/17, 2:20:06 PM] Darcie: and the full size of the image will be about 20 inches wide and 20 inches long when I get done with it. [5/8/17, 2:24:36 PM] Darcie: any thoughts? [5/8/17, 2:27:04 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: OOOOOH I LIKE THAT. O-O [5/8/17, 2:28:03 PM] Darcie: I'm glad you like the idea :') also need to add a lot more details on the octopus. [5/8/17, 2:31:45 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: I'm so excited to keep seeing this amazing work. @u@ [5/8/17, 2:33:05 PM] Darcie: me too :') I'm going to at least try and work on it a little bit each day, might get more time if my work schedule changes after the 11th. [5/8/17, 2:36:42 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Sure.~ [5/8/17, 2:42:34 PM] Darcie: I'm still a temp worker there, but I'm hoping they will hire me onto the team. they're also moving the store around a lot so I'm probably going to be working a lot of days until that calms down. [5/8/17, 2:47:44 PM] Darcie: well I gotta go get ready for work now, talk to you later. [5/8/17, 2:50:25 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Bye ouo! [5/8/17, 2:52:19 PM] Darcie: bye~ [5/15/17, 1:51:25 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: OH HERRO.~ [5/15/17, 2:09:19 PM] Darcie: Hello [5/20/17, 1:52:59 PM] Darcie: Hello~ [5/20/17, 1:53:23 PM] Darcie: I've finished the sketch [5/20/17, 1:53:39 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Hello~ [5/20/17, 1:53:40 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: YAYAAJKSDBFS [5/20/17, 1:53:49 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: LEMME SEE. OuO [5/20/17, 1:53:53 PM] Darcie: NouveauPortraitCommission - Sketch.png [5/20/17, 1:54:25 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: It's perfect. ;-; [5/20/17, 1:54:36 PM] Darcie: awesome :') [5/20/17, 1:55:08 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: When do you think it will be done o.o?! [5/20/17, 1:57:10 PM] Darcie: I don't know for sure, it's hard to predict right now. but I hope to have it finished by the middle of next month at the latest. the lineart won't take as long as the coloring will. the coloring will take the longest. [5/20/17, 2:05:38 PM] Darcie: So far I have just over 7 hours of work into it. [5/20/17, 2:33:35 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: That..might be perfect.. [5/20/17, 2:33:40 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Her birthday is June 20th. [5/27/17, 1:10:36 PM] Darcie: I've finished the line art and so all that's left is coloring. Again that's going to be the longest, most difficult part, but I'll try to get it done before the 20th of next month. But that could be delayed if I end up getting a 2nd job. [5/27/17, 1:10:44 PM] Darcie: but here is the line art [5/27/17, 1:11:06 PM] Darcie: NouveauPortraitCommission - lines.png [5/27/17, 1:21:57 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: It's so good. ;-; [5/27/17, 2:37:03 PM] Darcie: glad you like it :') I've never colored sea life before so I suspect it might be a challenge for me. [5/27/17, 3:16:44 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: It will be fine either way. <3 [6/3/17, 3:08:51 PM] Darcie: I have the base colors finished. before I continue, please tell me if there are any colors you want me to change. Also the blue background behind the octopus will be transparent when I'm finished, unless you tell me to color it otherwise. [6/3/17, 3:09:17 PM] Darcie: NouveauPortraitCommission - BaseColors.png [6/3/17, 3:10:03 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: No changes on my side. <3 [6/3/17, 3:10:31 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: Uggggggggh you're doing so good. ;-; [6/3/17, 3:41:02 PM] Darcie: kay, awesome :') [6/13/17, 6:07:35 PM] Darcie: I have the second to last work in progress picture for you. all the big work is done, so I figured I'd show you now and have you let me know if there are any changes before I continue towards the finish. [6/13/17, 6:08:04 PM] Darcie: NouveauPortraitCommission - Shading.png [6/13/17, 6:08:48 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: It's literally perfect, as always. [6/13/17, 6:20:16 PM] Darcie: awsome~ I'll try to have it finished by the end of the week. [6/13/17, 6:21:48 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: <#!!! [6/13/17, 6:21:50 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: .. [6/13/17, 6:21:52 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: FAIL HEART [6/13/17, 6:21:52 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: DX [6/16/17, 7:27:51 AM] Darcie: Okay I've finished the commission and I'm going to send you the preview image. If everything appears satisfactory to you then I ask that you first send me payment of $314 USD to my paypal account: [email protected]. Once I have received payment I will email you the commission package. The commission package will contain: the full sized 5000x5000 pixel PMG file with a transparent background and a copy with a white background (without the watermark( for printing and personal use, two smaller copies of those with my water mark for sharing to social media, and an avatar sized image cropped from the commission for personal use. Since you and your friend own the commissioned image you may use it pretty much how you like. My only rule I'd appreciate you to follow is if you post the image publicly to post the the ones with the my watermarks that way others know who made it and can find me. [6/16/17, 7:28:59 AM] Darcie: imgpsh_fullsize.png [6/16/17, 8:35:30 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: I got $290 [6/16/17, 8:35:58 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: I'll have to toss you the right when it transfer. That alright? [6/16/17, 9:20:15 AM] Darcie: No worries, I can wait for the transfer. [6/16/17, 9:20:25 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: <3 [6/16/17, 9:20:50 AM] Darcie: Ohh and I forgot to mention, I'll be posting the video to youtube too :') [6/16/17, 9:21:00 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: OH SWEET. OuO [6/16/17, 9:21:10 AM] Darcie: I'll give you a link when I've got it up [6/16/17, 9:21:20 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: Perfect.~ [6/16/17, 9:23:18 AM] Darcie: heh, I guess I was so tired after finishing it last night that I first sent all that information to my best friend's skype instead of yours [6/16/17, 9:23:55 AM] Bertholdt Hoover: Oh shoot. @-@ [6/16/17, 9:24:53 AM] Darcie: I think was working on it up until 2 [6/19/17, 11:09:07 PM] Darcie: Well there won't be a video because while working on it it was giving me a lot of issues (my computer needs more RAM) so there was a lot of lagging and I was trying to get the video to run smoothly. Then somehow the file I was using to edit the video together got deleted or something because when I exported the final video it was just blank. I tried looking for the project and reopening it but the video editor opened an empty file [6/19/17, 11:09:18 PM] Darcie: so it's pretty much gone sighs [6/19/17, 11:09:44 PM] Darcie: sorry about that. [6/21/17, 10:59:29 PM] Darcie: Hope the thing with the video won't be an issue. [6/21/17, 10:59:56 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: No! Not at all! [6/21/17, 10:59:59 PM] Bertholdt Hoover: ^-^ [6/21/17, 11:09:39 PM] Darcie: Okay, that's good. I was just wondering since I hadn't heard anything back. [6/21/17, 11:10:08 PM] Darcie: I'm really upset that it got lost because I was looking forward to uploading it. [6/21/17, 11:11:53 PM] Darcie: my computer's been screwing a lot of things up lately...while I had been working on the commission the graphic programs started freezing and I'd lose progress and have to start over sometimes. [7/5/17, 11:37:12 AM] Darcie: hey, don't want you to feel rushed, but I was wondering if there was a specific date you would be able to pay me? [7/18/17, 3:08:44 PM] Darcie: Would feel better if I got some sort of communication back. [7/25/17, 1:34:37 PM] Darcie: Please contact me as soon as possible regarding commission payment. If you cannot pay the amount given, I would like to negotiate a new price. [8/2/17, 1:29:01 PM] Darcie: Well it's obvious that you're not going to pay me and probably never intended to, but being the nice person I am, I gave you the benefit of the doubt (too many benefits if you ask me) You know what...that's fine...when you screw people, that shit always comes back to you eventually. [8/2/17, 1:29:59 PM] Darcie: Blocked Bertholdt Hoover

#signal boost #attention artists #commission scammer #scammer #fraud #look out for this person #look out for yourself #not sure how else to tag this

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