#once again I am rendered unwell

[rovermcfly]

serving as usual

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟓

Summary: Aemond has reunited with his dragon, but he now has only one thing in mind: you, his very pregnant wife far way from everything, and especially from him at the moment.

Warning: Fire & Blood spoilers (still not canon partly), angst

Masterlist (Part 24 - Part 26)

Mist was filling the valley, lightly cleared by the powerful flaps of wings of Vhagar as she steadily landed on the hill across from Deep Den, where the towers of the castle rose from the rocky mountain. Anxiety grew in Aemond’s heart at the thought that you might be in one of these towers, within reach, after all these months of being apart. Had he been right to send you away? What would've happened if he had not?

As he walked down the hill to the castle gate, he put aside these questions.

He cast a determined look to the guards that were eyeing him suspiciously, showing them their Lord’s sigil as he ordered to be taken to you at once, and soon he was climbing the inside stairs and was led to an adjacent antechamber. There, he was brought before two menacing looking guards at each side of a Lady he did not recognise that prevented him from advancing further.

Momentarily annoyed that you were not there, he nonetheless took the time to examine the face of the woman standing before him with her feet rooted to the ground and a hard expression on her face. As he narrowed his eyes at her, he noticed that she had some of your features, rendering her identity clear.

“Lady Melara I presume,” he said with a wry smile.

Mouth pouting, your mother bowed her head slightly in a polite greeting.

“Indeed your Grace. It is an honour,” she announced without warmth. “Your visit is quite unexpected, I must say I am surprised.”

“Why?” he replied shamelessly, glancing at the two guards that stared at him with displaced interest. “I am entitled to see my wife whenever I please. I made vows and I take them very seriously, my visit was only a matter of time.”

Melara quite failed at hiding her annoyance, and Aemond could only express dislike toward her behaviour despite her evident resemblance with you. His patience would not hold.

“My daughter had suffered a very difficult labour,” she announced, tone accusing as if it was his fault. “She is still recovering, she needs rest, quiet. She should not be disturbed, under any circumstances.”

Mixed feelings instantly took hold of him as he processed the information, instantly overwhelmed by the implication of your state as he forgot all about his irritation toward Lady Melara.

“When?” he blurted out.

“A week ago,” your mother said reluctantly, clasping her hands together in front of her. “She still has not recovered yet, thus I am afraid your visit will have to wait,” she firmly concluded, eyeing him as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

He felt his blood boil at her words, and his annoyance instantly reappeared as his patience escaped him. The news of you being unwell a whole week after labour had him so riled up that he pitied anyone who would find themselves on his path right now. Face hardening, he felt his body move slowly forward as he abandoned all decorum, tone menacing.

“If you believe that two guards will prevent me from going to her, I am afraid you greatly underestimate me, my Lady," he stated, eye boring into hers as he took care in showing that her attempt to intimidate him failed. “Either you take me to her chambers now, or I will force my way in, and I believe that we would both find that regrettable,” he slowly said, eye burning with determination.

He saw your mother shiver but quickly took hold of herself again, finding her usual scowl. The guards next to her had grabbed the hilt of their swords but Aemond did not even take notice, awaiting for the woman before him to speak.

But she said nothing, only briefly closing her eyes in resignation and taking a reluctant step aside before waving to a near servant as a silent command.

Aemond could not help the smirk that made its way to his lips, satisfied at her compliance.

“I almost forgot,” he said cockily as he passed her. “Your husband sends his regards.”

And with that he followed the servant outside of the room, leaving your mother behind.

You were sleeping. He recognised your slow breathing he had grown used to by your time in his arms, and as the servant closed the door behind him, rendering the room silent, he finally found the courage to move and he carefully made his way to the bed, taking care not to disturb you.

Maybe it was fear that prevented him from rushing to your side and taking you in his arms this instant, but here in the curtain-drawn room, every breath he heard you took felt precious, and having you in front of him seemed like a dream he did not wish to wake from.

He quietly discarded his weapons and sat on the bed, watching your face as you rested, noticing some pained features and sweat on your forehead confirming your mother’s sayings. You were still beautiful, even in pain, he thought. How much he wanted to take it away, to not have rushed to the Red Keep to kill for revenge but instead ensured that you were safe. It would forever remain one of his regrets. 

He gently reached to swipe some away, the sensation of your skin sending electricity through his fingers, but the feeling of your fever made him bite his lips in worry. He almost missed the way your eyes fluttered open slowly, your hooded gaze landing upon him.

He saw your body react to his, and he braced himself to the sound of your voice, finally.

“...Aemond?”

You blinked again as you raised yourself on your elbow.

“Shhh my love, you need to lie down,” he ordered, hand still caressing your face.

But you were already sitting, narrowing your eyes as the sheets once covering you slid off your form, making you shiver from the cold.

“Tell me I am not dreaming,” you pleaded, reaching for the hand that rested on your face, eyes fully wide now, hooded but still burning.

A lump got stuck in his throat, Aemond could only look at you dearly as your face shifted from pain to utter relief, unable to say a word as he could finally admire you.

“Oh Gods Aemond!” you weakly cried out, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. He held you close as he stroked your hair fondly, feeling every fibre of his body jolt in satisfaction. “How…?”

“No matter now, just… let me hold you,” he said against you before placing kisses over the side of your head.

Nothing had prepared you for the feeling of being reunited with Aemond in this moment, and even though your fever had lowered since the last few days, you still felt your body overwhelmed by the sensation his body gave yours, as if the missing part of your soul was slowly sewed back together. As you held him tightly, you could not help but notice how thinner he seemed to be, and you instantly grew concerned, remembering that he had been a prisoner for months and had certainly just been freed somehow.

“Aemond, what did they do to you?” you said, breaking the embrace to examine him and reaching to cup his jaw.

“Shh, I am fine, do not worry. I am a dragon, I am not easily broken, even by the likes of me,” he answered, taking hold of your other hand to press it against his heart. “This is you I am worrying about.”

Your head ached a bit, but the softness of his voice was soothing, like medicine as he set aside a strand of your hair away from your face.

“There is nothing to worry about, now that you are here I…” you swallowed, wishing to appear stronger than you were at the moment. “I always knew. I never stopped believing that we would find each other again.”

He pulled you against his chest again, holding you tightly as he rested his chin on your head. He recalled the constant dread that filled his mind when he was stuck in his damn cell, about how he blamed himself for failing you, failing his family. His breath grew heavier.

"We are together now, and I will not let anyone use you again, it is a promise. You are the Prince’s spouse, you belong to the Targaryen’s dynasty, and I would rather die than let anyone touch you again.”

You squeezed his forearm, the closeness of his body not enough.

“I do not want you to die…” you whispered, afraid of his words.

“Then I shall not.”

You felt your headache vanish as he held you in his arms.

“Is my father…?”

“I saw him. He is fine,” he reassured. “I would have brought him to you, but he stubbornly refused to mount Vhagar… A Lydden trait I fear.”

His witty tone made you scoff in his chest, feeling the smile he bore as he rested his chin on your head.

“You should know that she has been of great help to me… Vhagar. Living up to your fierceness, she had.”

“So I have heard,” he replied, the sound of his voice vibrating in your body. “Though I assure you that she has been more reasonable than I would have been if I had been there.”

You did not doubt him for a second, but you wanted nothing more than to avoid the subject of Ulf the White right now, rather enjoying this precious moment. Instead you pulled yourself from his chest in order to look at him, taking in his always glorious features despite his late suffering and your eyes darted to his lips where a faint smile still lingered, and you could not resist. You leaned to meet with it in a shy manner, making his breath sharpen in his chest as he held you gently in return, taking your chin in his fingers, as if afraid that you would break.

Nothing else mattered in this silent moment, rejoicing in the presence of one another until a faint noise erupted from somewhere in the room, making Aemond stiffen and break the kiss. You only smiled as more coos were heard from behind him.

“I think someone wants to meet you,” you smiled.

Aemond’s expression was of shock, but it made your heart fill with warmth as you watched his eye slowly coming to the realisation of what laid only metres away from him.

His head turned toward the noise, absent-mindedly sliding his hand from your body and stood up, carefully approaching the crib next to the bed. You could only watch from your position as his face shifted from anxiousness to complete awe, making your heart melt as he laid his eyes upon his daughter for the first time.

“This is Naerys.”

Aemond briefly glanced at you, dazed looking before reporting his gaze on the baby in the crib, hand itching to touch her.

“She is so small…” he whispered, eye fixed on her, his silver hair falling on the sides of his face.

You let a moment pass for Aemond to admire her. “Bring her here.”

He glanced back at you, unsure.

“I don’t-”

“You will do just fine. You only have to mind her head,” you assured, repositioning yourself on the bed encouragingly.

He watched her for a few more seconds before delicately scooping her in his arms, careful in holding her head like she was porcelain. Although he seemed anxious, he was the very image of the father you had envisioned in your mind for your daughter, careful and loving, and you were glad the Mother had blessed you with both their existence as your husband came back to sit at your side.

Naerys stretched her tiny arms in the air aimlessly, briefly brushing Aemond’s hair as she rested one of her hands against his chest. You made sure that Aemond kept holding her as you both watched your child chortle weakly between the two of you, entranced at her very sight.

“Naerys…” he breathed out as his thumb grazed her cheek softly.

“I only guessed that you would like such a name. When we were young, you often spoke of this book in which Valeryian’s women would…”

“It’s perfect,” he interrupted, taking one of his hands from under your daughter, flushing her against his chest more tightly in order to reach for your chin and kiss you softly again, his agreement felt like the world to you.

After a while you felt your eyes itch a little, the excitement of your reunion with Aemond tiring your already weak state and you faltered a bit, the motion immediately noticed by Aemond. With a worried look, he made you lean against the pillows carefully before taking his place next to you, pressing Naerys to rest comfortably on his chest as he laid down, your head on his shoulder and wrapping his free hand around you.

“Do not send me away again,” you spoke under your breath. “Ever.”

“I won’t.” he answered, placing a kiss on top of your head.

You fell into a happier slumber.

You had made an unexpected recovery, the rapid lowering of your fever stunning the maester as he congratulated himself on the efficiency of his potions, but you knew otherwise.

You knew it to be far-fetched, but you had the firm belief that it was Aemond’s presence that had hastened your healing, since you had been feeling better the days after his return, his touch and the familiar glow in his eye that you had missed acting like a remedy on you. Your appetite had returned and even if you still felt weak, walking was not as tiresome as before.

Aemond had stayed for a few days upon his return, settling in your quarters, mostly resting with you and taking care of his newborn daughter. You knew him to be affected by his recent confinement, but he showed renewed vigour when it came to Naerys.

Indeed, when the midwives would come and take care of her, Aemond was never far, gaze always fixed on their doings as they changed her or helped you nurse her, as afraid that they would take her away from him. You had found it endearing at first, until one day he had snapped at them so violently for being not gentle enough with his daughter that the midwives would now come much less, afraid of suffering the wrath of the Kinslayer. You had taken his arm in a soothing attempt and told him that everything was fine, meanwhile pitying the poor boy that would be the first to lay his eye on your daughter in the future if Aemond Targaryen was there to witness it.

Your husband had also become a master in avoiding your mother, disappearing to Vhagar whenever she visited you, and reappearing hours later with a foul mood. Your brother’s visits kept on, bearing gifts to his niece and asking about your health, but they became scarcer, each time ending with him glancing anxiously at Aemond when he was in the room with you and departing hastily.

“I think your brother is scared of me.” Aemond had said one time when Armory had glanced at him with fleeing eyes as he entered, excused himself to you and left, passing by Aemond in the process.

You laughed softly, adjusting Naerys in your arms that had just let go of your breast, enough fed. “No, I don’t think so. He just… might be a little sad that he is not spending as much time with me than before, now that you are here.”

“Jealous mh?” he said, advancing into the room and discarding his sword onto the table and coming to kiss you. “I sense that I should feel guilty about it, but oddly enough, I don’t.”

“Be nice,” you scolded as he took Naerys from your arms carefully. “He is one of the only people inside of this castle that does not resent you completely.”

He hummed again, laying the babe into the crib with a fond smile before returning to you, digging his elbow onto the mattress as he laid at your side.

“I guess ordering a siege and robbing them of their armies tend to have that effect.”

“It just might,” you concluded, absent-mindedly massaging your breast in an attempt to ease the pain. “But I think Vhagar is what makes them think twice before stabbing you in a dark corridor. And their love for me, of course,” you said with an arrogant grin.

You saw his eye briefly lower to your movement over your chest before looking up to you again, amused at your words.

“How could one not," he stated before his expression became serious. “How is your head?”

“Fine. I believe that all of these herbal teas have finally taken effect,” you lied, both of you perfectly aware that your state had improved as soon as he had arrived, but not wanting to admit it out loud.

“Good.” he concluded, still watching you as you put on a drape over your shoulder to shield you from the cold as he reached for the fabric of your gown, playing with it. You felt him fall into that uneasiness he had since he had come back, something was amiss again.

“You are leaving…” you said, afraid to know the answer.

He sighed, not daring to raise his gaze to you.

“I have no choice. I have stayed away from my duties for too long.”

Naerys squeaked as you said nothing.

“What will happen, Aemond?”

The grip on your gown seemed to tighten as you heard him take a deep breath.

“I will annihilate every remaining Blacks, starting with my bastard of a nephew, and the death of Helaena and my brother will be avenged.”

You refrained tears from coming into your eyes at the thought of Helaena. It was the first time Aemond had assessed her death before you, and still you could not find the strength to speak of it, or even console him with words, only with your touch for now.

“This is unwise… If Jacaerys dies then-”

“What would you know of it?” he snapped at you, suddenly irritated, eye burning as he met yours. “He is a threat, as is my uncle and all of his off-springs. They will be next.”

“Aemond you must think about it. You cannot stand up against all of them, only a deal or an agreement would-”

“Killing them is the only way to ensure that my family is safe. That you are safe.”

“You are losing!”

You had talked louder than you meant to, overwhelmed by your emotions, the cold truth coming out of  your mouth hit both of you hard. Aemond stood up abruptly and began pacing into the room, an icy fury as he gripped the back of a chair in an attempt to steel himself, expression dark. You tried to soften your voice for what you were about to say.

“You are losing and you know it. Your great-cousin knows it, Cole knows it… Your brother knows it. Otherwise, why would he have gone to such lengths at capturing Jacaerys instead of simply kill him? Because he knows that a deal is the only thing that-”

“Rhaenyra is dead !” his voice yelled, voice slightly shaking in hatred.

“And she had allies! Still very much breathing,” you tried. “The Lannisters are already struggling with the northern armies, and the Hightower’s forces are greatly diminished. The twins are missing and-.”

“The twins are alive and well.” he said coldly.

“What?” you blurted out, appalled.

“Larys Strong had them smuggled into Oldtown, weeks ago. They are to remain there for safety.”

“This is... I am glad,” you said, taking a moment to relieve in the good news. “This is good, it means that they would do anything to have Jacaerys back.”

“It does not matter what they want. I will not consider anything other than blood until Daemon Targaryen is reduced to a pile of ashes. And you know him to be in the same state of mind. There is nothing either of us can do about it.”

You knew it to be true, Daemon Targaryen was too erratic to envision peace. But so was Aemond, and you would not back down, you would not lose him if you had a say in the matter.

“I won’t let you do this. We have spent too much time apart from each other, and now that I found you again I-”

“I have no choice!” he shouted, pushing the back of the chair violently forward, making it bump into the table next to it. “Not everything is settled by treaties and agreements Y/N, and I am Prince Regent! What I say goes.”

“So why are you here?” you asked in an accusing tone as Naerys, disturbed in her slumber by her parents’ shouts, started to cry. Aemond paused, furrowing his brow.

“What?”

“Why are you here, instead of executing Jacaerys? Why are you here, instead of chasing your uncle this instant, with his dragon so deadly that both of you would surely end up dead?” you said, not letting him talk as you saw his mouth open to retort over Naerys’s cries. “I will tell you why Aemond. You say that you have no choice, but you have not yet realised that you already made up your mind. You are here because you have waited too long and sacrificed too much in order to have what your heart desired, only to throw it away in the name of vengeance. To have us. That is why you did not depart already.”

Aemond’s expression was blank, staring straight at you, unmoving. Your watery eyes fled his gaze as you firmly made your way to the crib in which your daughter cried, ignoring him as you passed inches from him.

You had already quarrelled with him in the past, but never like this. You wondered how his silence would bode for you as you picked up Naerys to rock her into your arms, expecting his harsh voice to argue again with you at any moment. But you heard shuffling and the next instant, Aemond’s arms were wrapped around you, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Why must you be so… insightful,” he said quietly, breath against your ear as he sighed. You said nothing, voice too ready to crack.

“I do not wish to fight with you. I am sorry I yelled,” he continued as he was met with your silence.

You inhaled sharply as Naerys finally settled down, her cries turning into gurgles.

“I do not like it either. I only wish for you to remain alive. To be breathing, to be with us.”

He let go of your waist in order to face you, cupping your face as you held Naerys tightly.

“I promise you that I will do anything in my power to return to you. But you must understand that Daemon must die.”

“Aemond please-”

He silenced you with a kiss, tender and longing as his nose brushed against your cheek.

“I do not want to speak of it any more,” he said, final. “I will return soon.”

You could say nothing as you watched him stroke your daughter’s cheek before kissing your forehead and go to retrieve his belongings. Your eyes followed him as he left the room, leaving an aching emptiness in it, and in your heart.

You knew you had reached to him somehow, but your greatest fear was the mutual hatred that your husband and his uncle shared toward each other. History would surely remember this.

-0- Part 26

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed @xceafh @bubbletae7 @omgkatherine97 @tzipora-art @signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs @bietchz @samnblack @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal @polireader @zillahvathek @moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749 @claudie-080102 @ebaylee422 @hydrationqueensworld @crumblychunksofheaven @officiallyunofficialperson @grungegrrrl @stargaryenx

[apexart-journal]

Caitlin Hespe in NYC - Day 7

Waking late.

Trouble sleeping again, had so many stories on the brain, talked to emilie last night. Decided a was not able to write the stories down last night, but definitely should have because i didnt sleep for hours.

Watched some of the radiant child basquiat documentary.

Went to St. Thomas. Sat inside for half an hour, looked at the huge wall of carved stone in front of me, filled with figures, probably symbolically arranged with some sort of heirarchy.

Noticed some beautiful mosaic stone panels at the front of the altar space, representing i’m not sure what, seemed to be a range of biblical imagery, and american buildings and the flag.

The style of rendering, cut pieces of coloured stone, was so incredibly beautiful and understated.

Saw a man walking along the street backwards. Seemed like some sort of personal dare or challenge. He was contorted a bit to be able to look behind him. He seemed unphased by the irregularity of it.

Saw a man flossing his teeth whilst walking in the park

Walked to bryant park for juggling. Could not find jugglers anywhere, perhaps because the lawn was closed. Walked around the park, which was packed with people having their lunches, and playing various types of games - bocce, bowls, table tennis, connect four, chess, cards. I sat and read for a little while, then walked back up to 51st looking at all of the buildings, and found a waterfall - greenwich place. Constructed calm.

Feeling the weight of all the buildings around me, and the cost of everything around me.

Caught subway back home to go to a bookstore that was closed so back in the apartment to sit for a while and read. I feel a bit queezy/unwell and am bleeding a lot, so think the private rest is needed.

Remember from Mike yesterday that there is a name for the columns that are shaped like women - caryatids. I didn’t know this. An Atlas or telamon is the male version. People holding buildings.

Back home

Overwhelmed. ‘this is for me’ and ‘it is not about me’

I affect nobody.

bit dark, and aimless: the subject of my consciousness right now.

Trying to fill out an application for a caretaker position, and struggling to find any way to describe myself genuinely. Key word - genuinely- is striking me, and triggers the concept of authenticity, and the performativity of authenticity (something I perceived a lot of in the church). I am struggling to discern ‘myself’ right now, as I float around in these strange settings.

I feel very pushed and prodded and pulled by all of the messaging around me - telling me to be concerned about all of the company’s great outreach projects, to know about what is on, to download this app, to buy everything online, to check if your rent is standard (according to this app), to get this insurance, to secure your data, to sign up to become a member, to rest, to exercise, to lose weight with monthly injections (???)

Feel like sleeping, but will resist.

I need to leave in an hour.

Meditated for 20 minutes. Then left.

Made my way with wander stops to 106th st to the Jewish home to play casino games.

I was actually very nervous. Mostly because of feeling like an imposter.

I didn’t want to seem ingenuine, but the nature of only volunteering once in a place you are unfamiliar with, to me, comes across as insincere, or not able to care in a real way. But, I knew even if difficult (personally), this couple of hours means not much at all to any of the people there. To me, I saw some sweet people and played some games with them, which they seemed to enjoy.  

I was the card shuffler for the dealer of blackjack. There were two blackjack tables, (apparently, according to Lori and Tony, our table was the fun table), and one roulette table.

Our table had some characters, whose interactions with each other made the ‘action’ of blackjack quite amusing. Ms. Carol always referring to herself as “me”, as in, “me want a hit” or “me stay”, or “me unhappy with that deal, dealer”, and always spoke to the cards coming her way with instructions, either “downtown” or “uptown”. Ms. Lynette and Lori would be looking over Ms. Carole’s shoulder and be gobsmacked by her decisions. Ms. Carole began by sitting still on a 6 and 4, and progressed to a six card hand adding up to 38. Although, she did get a surprising number of 21’s.

Lori wanted everyone to “say it from the chest!” whenever they announced a number over 21. Pam was apparently a demon at another card game (cant remember name, something beginning with P) - when played with her rules - but seemed to have a mock-traumatic response to playing Uno, which made everyone laugh a lot, I can assume they have had some tough Uno games together…

Anyway, it was overall enjoyable, and I feel sad that I cannot (or can I?) go again whilst I am here for some more games.

Thinking about what it was about the volunteering session that had me so nervous, and what my real issues are with it. Whether my feelings of discomfort were ultimately fear around spending time with these people and a way to avoid, or, are these feelings relevant to listen to, that volunteering in places that serve people should not really be done flippantly, that there should be the capacity for consistency when participating, for the sake of the people being served. I guess I worry that the concept of volunteering is used to inflate oneself  and dehumanise the recipients of care, causing problems in the types of relationships that form, or types of care given.

But, I guess I wasn’t trying to do that, and I dont think I did that. But, I am and was worried that I would (inflate myself and dehumanise the recipients of care).

I think i’m thinking too much.

But, there is something in the particular discomfort I am feeling whilst here. It is about getting to ‘taste’ and experience so many different types of communities and connections through activities, without the possibility of continuation. It leaves these experiences with a certain shallowness, or even sadness, because of the ephemerality,

But I mean, this is technically true all the time,

But it is more pronounced in this situation. It makes me think of people who only go to places for free samples, never investing in the full thing. Like, I feel a certain guilt at not being able to say I am genuinely interested in this type of experience when I go to things, because I feel like not being it (interested) implies a negative or critical judgement.

As i think this, I realise I hadnt really been accounting for the possibility that I am just curious, not aiming to criticise, just to see. I guess I wasn’t built to be a documentary maker, or researcher?  

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Twisted Love

(Loki x Reader)

-Part 1-

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Language, forced marriage, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks. if I forgot anything please let me know!

Prologue Part 2

************************************

"Are you adusting alright my dear"?

You smiled at the queen mother's genuine kindness. So far she had been the most welcoming of them all and you felt great comfort in her presence.

"Yes I am thank you.." you hoped you were being convincing enough, there were only so many times you could attempt to hide your sadness behind sips of tea.

It had been a week since the wedding, two weeks since your arrival in Asgard. So much had happened in such a short time that you felt a literal weight placed on your being.

The journey to Asgard was awful. Alone in the carriage you had no choice but to let your thoughts run wild, rendering you an anxious mess. Some moments you cried, others you felt as if you couldn't breathe and panicked. It was a condition youd always had that people labeled as dramatic and attention grabbing but you couldn't help it.

Before your actual arrival the Queen slipped into your carriage and began to lecture you about various things. Mostly threats about how if you didn't please the prince she would find ways to punish you.

You were a fool to think that serving the royal family dutifully all these years would result in anything good.

The moment you stepped onto Asgardian soil you felt the panic rise in your chest once more.

You were thankful that the queen had foreseen this and made you wear a fashionable crown veil thingy that hid your face and in turn your distraughtness.

A long bridge filled with brilliant colors stretched out before you. Had you not been so panicked you would've taken more time to admire it.

The party began to move on foot, the King and Queen at the helm while you fell behind, legs feeling as If you were moving through molasses.

What the hell were you doing? How could you ever be a princess? What if they caught you?!Would they have you executed?!? How were you ever going to convi-

"Are you alright your highness" It took you a moment to realize that it was you being addressed, obviously not used to the title.

You turned your head slowly to the right, a man clad in gold armor. His honey colored eyes regarded you with concern. You vaguely remembering him from when you first arrived, he opened the gate you think. Gods everything was getting so blurry and confusing.

"Y-yes I am, t-thank you sir" you winced at how shakey your voice came out. Gods you only just arrived and you were already drawing unnecessary attention.

He stared at you for a moment before continuing to walk by your side, an escort of sorts you assumed. He had said so earlier you think...something about the royal family awaits them eagerly and such. And he would lead them there, along with some other Asguardian guards.

You peeked at the whole crowd, you in the center, the monarchs in the front and guards surrounding you all marching you towards a world of unknown.

You felt an uncomfortable heat begin to creep up your body and suddenly your head felt like a balloon. Oh gods please don't faint, by all that is good and pure please don't let me faint... deep breaths, it's alright, it's going to be alright...it's-

You didn't even realize you had swayed until the man clad in gold firmly held your arm.

"You're unwell your highness, allow me to call-" immediately you jumped and cut him off, "N-no that's not necessary, I'm just a little weary from travel...I'll be alright.." The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene.

The man seemed unconvinced but nodded anyway. You were slightly surprised when he discreetly threaded your arm through his, giving you enough support lest you begin to sway again.

You met his eyes and found them to be understanding, "Thank you.." you whispered so only he could hear.

"May I know your name?" After a bit of supported walking you felt your nerves calm slightly and decided to distract yourself a bit.

He smiled and bowed his head slightly, "I am Heimdall, gatekeeper of Asgard, your highness"

"Heimdall..." you repeated the name. Maybe one day you could repay his kindness. No one in all your years as a lowly servant had shown you anything akin to kindness and now you were a princess and suddenly someone actually cared about your wellbeing. What a strange feeling...

The clanking of a kettle brought you back. The queen mother, Frigga smiled as she poured you another steaming cup of tea.

Never in your life did you think someone would be pouring your tea. Especially with a golden tea pot.

"Forgive me for prying but as a mother I am curious..." you nodded letting her know it was ok to continue.

"How are things going between you and Loki?"

"As soon as he says more than 5 words to me I'll let you know" was what you wanted to say but you opted for, "Things are well, he has been nothing but kind to me" you smiled brightly in an attempt to quell the wetness forming at the corner of your eyes.

There was no need to mention how things truly were, in fact if you told her she would probably find him and give him a beating with a broom. She often made jokes that if he did anything to make you feel sad she would throw him over her knee.

You were glad that amidst the sadness you had a comforting presence.

A week had felt like years... You barely said two words when you first arrived in the palace. The royal family was there and very welcoming. You caught sight of your future husband beside Odin. Had you not been riddled with worry you would've taken time to appreciate him.

When prompted he introduced himself and respectfully bent down to lay a soft kiss on your hand. His bright eyes met yours for a brief moment before retreating to his spot by his Father.

That was all the time you got with him before the wedding unfortunately. Your Queen told Odin and Frigga that Royal Valheim custom dictates the bride cannot see the groom for a set amount of days before the nuptials. Of course this was bullshit but the monarchs wanted to ensure there were no incidents before the actual wedding took place.

They also used this time to have impromptu lessons in etiquette and other things. It was terribly dull and you seriously considered taking the pencil and stabbing her with it.

Although you always accompanied the princess during her lessons, you didn't really learn with her. Why they thought you made a good fit was beyond you. Although you were beginning to understand the princess's bitchyness, these lessons were torture. And the overlooking threats didn't exactly help...

***************************

The day of the wedding you felt like a puppet. A team of valheiman women had taken hours to prepare you while you were lost in a fog.

Frigga entered the chambers when it was almost time for the ceremony and asked everybody to leave. You were nervous at first, thinking she had somehow found out the ruse but you calmed when she smiled brightly and gathered you in a tight hug.

"You look absolutely radiant my dear"

Radiant? Me?

"Thank you my queen" you forced a smile.

"Please call me Frigga" she smoothed a hand gently over your dress. "Or better yet, when your comfortable, mother" she giggled "I've always wanted a daughter after all!" You couldn't help but mirror her smile. What a wonderful woman. If only you didn't have to lie to her...

"That reminds me, I have something for you" she gently nudged you to face the floor length mirror. The reflection someone you didn't know.

"For generations the women in my family have passed this down to their daughters.." she reached a hand around your neck.

A shimmering silver pendant hung delicately down your neck. "And today I give it to you, welcome to the family my dear" she kissed your cheek and you couldn't speak. A single tear rolled down your cheek and you thanked her earnestly. You wondered if your mother would have been this loving. The guilt for lying suffocated you. You hoped she would never find out. The betrayal she'd feel would break you.

The actual wedding was probably the grandest event youd ever witnessed. The Valheim king, walked you down a glimmering red and gold aisle. At the end, the prince dressed in elegant wedding attire waited for you. He was polite but you could tell by his stiffness he didn't want this marriage, he was probably forced just like you had been. Albeit under very different circumstances...

Rings and quick vows were exchanged and after drinking from the same wine goblet you were officially married to Loki the prince of Asgard..

You didn't exchange any words during the wedding feast but that was alright with you. Your thoughts wandered to what he would expect of you tonight but luckily his brother, Prince Thor distracted you with his tales of his time on Midgard. He was truly sweet and expressed how happy he was to have a sister.

Many people approached you and welcomed you, many of the guards swearing their loyalty to you. Each declaration like a knife in your gut.

Guilt guilt guilt

After a long evening of partying and feasting, the dreaded moment had come when you were left alone with the Prince in your new chambers.

You didn't know what to say so you simply stayed quiet. You walked over and sat by the vanity and began to remove the many pins in your hair. You'd miss the days when you could just tie up your hair in a messy bun and no one would bat an eye.

After a few uncomfortable moments of quiet the Prince broke the silence. His first words setting the tone of the rest of your marriage.

"I did not ask for this marriage..."

You sucked in a breathe and stared at him through the mirror.

"However for the sake of my people I have chosen to go through with it. You are my wife in name and name only. As long as you do your duties as princess by my side in the court and in public, I see no reason we can't be...civil..."

Civil...how romantic...

"But as for anything more..." he trailed off, voice laced with tension.

"I understand.." you finally spoke, proud at how you didnt falter for once.

"Then I'll take my leave..."

Leave? Was he not going to stay the night, even if for appearances sake?

There was so much you wanted to say, so much you didnt know how to say, but in the end all you could manage was a weak nod. He exited the chambers and never in your life had you been so alone..

"Give it time y/n.." your head shot up at the queens sudden change in tone. You found her expression knowing and realized the queen was more perceptive than you initially realized.

You nodded sadly, thanked her for lunch and left.

Your days so far had been rather uneventful, which gave you some time to gather your wits. You'd spent your days pouring over asgardian books trying to learn everything you could. It was true that you often attended the princesses lessons, but it's not like you were sitting at the desk practicing and asking questions.

If you were going to continue this charade you were going to have to educate yourself.

Other than that and occasional tea with Frigga, you didn't really speak to anyone. This was technically supposed to be the honeymoon period, however you guessed asgard didn't partake in that particular custom. Not that you minded, time alone with Loki was the last thing you needed. Since your wedding night, you hardly saw him. To your surprise he did sleep in your shared chambers, he'd always come late into the night and leave early before you woke. Sharing a bed was a strange feeling, luckily the bed was adequate to lay an elephant on so it's not like you had to really be near each other.

You thought that finally getting to sleep on a soft bed was going to be a dream, that you'd never want to leave. In fact it was pure torture, years of sleeping on hard wooden beds with thin mattresses made it impossible to sleep on anything else. Often you would lay awake for hours, thinking about your new life. The tears had stopped coming some time ago. Or more like you forced yourself to hold it lest Loki see you and get angry.

You knew nothing about the prince and his temperament. And the queen made it quite clear that if you displeased him, she would know. You're not sure how since they departed soon after the wedding but you could tell she wasnt one for empty threats...

By the gods this was all so exhausting. Who knew being a princess was going to be worse than being a servant?

An abrupt knock shook you out of your thoughts.

"Yes?"

"My Lady, there is a letter for you"

A letter?

"You may enter" the maid bowed swiftly before handing you a cream scroll wrapped in a navy ribbon.

Must be from Valheim...

You dismissed the maid with a thank you and braced yourself in a chair.

Shaky hands pulled the silky material until it unfurled. With a deep breathe you began to scan the words.

Dearest daughter,

It has not been a week but we miss you dreadfully. We hope that things between you and the prince are going well, however we cannot help but be concerned. We are told you have not spent much time together, hopefully this changes, we only want you both to be happy. I'm sure by the next time we speak, your relationship will have grown even more. Oh we almost forgot! We have a little surprise for you. We hope you like it. You'll know it when you see it. Take care dear, until next we speak.

King Sivn ○ Queen Aderi

By the end your breathing was uneven and you felt the anger as well as fear begin to course through you.

Loving words laced with threats... wasn't it enough you went through with this charade? What were you supposed to do? Loki had wanted nothing to do with you outside of court obligations. They're the ones who forced you to do this, it was their stupid child who ran away why were you the one punished?!?!

"Aghhhhhhh!"

You couldn't help the surge of frustration and balled up the letter before throwing it into the fire.

Why was this happening to you?! All your life you kept to yourself and did what you were supposed to. You worked hard without respite for the royals years and this is what you get in return?! If you ever saw the princess again youd-

"My lady is everything alright??"

Shit. "Y-Yes everythings fine" you shouted through the door.

"I have some news my lady, may I enter?"

Oh gods what now?

"Yes come in.." a different maid, one you've actually never seen before entered.

She had a round face, bright smile and a head full of bouncy curls. Your curiosity was peaked when you realized she was dressed differently than the other maids that usually entered your chambers.

She gave a quick bow and practically ran up to you catching you slightly off guard.

"My name is Adessa! It's a pleasure to meet you your highness!" You smiled unsurely but she didnt seem to notice.

"As of today, I'm your personal attendant! Sorry if I'm being too excited" she laughed rubbing a hand behind her head, "but I can't help it, the queen picked me especially for this role and well um I-I! Sorry I'm rambling aren't I?! Haha well anyway" she took a step back and gathered her hands onto her lap before bowing once more. "I promise to serve you the best to my abilities"

Shes.....like a bunny....

You somehow felt a little lighter and relaxed, "Thank you...I um, I look forward to...uh...spending time together..." ugh why the hell did you say it like that?! So awkward.

Luckily she didnt seem fazed, only more excited, "You're so nice! And really pretty too! I cant wait to make you even more beautiful for tonight!"

That caught your attention, "Tonight?"

A look of realization crossed her face, "Oh right! I was supposed to tell you some warriors are returning to Asgard tonight so Odin is throwing a feast" she clapped her hands together, "And I am going to make sure you look absolutely stunning"

You felt your palms begin to tingle,  "H-how many people will be there...."

"Oh um well the usual, the royal family of course, the knights will all be there as well, some nobles who are guests right now, all the guests who still havent left from the wedding, theres the ...."

Her words began to sound far away and quieter and you couldn't help but stumble back.

"My lady!" She rushed forward and steadied you, before urging you to sit down. "I'll go call for the healer!"

You shook your head, not quite able to form the words.

Adessa looked distressed but listened, a few minutes later you're senses came back and Adessa handed you a glass filled with water.

The cool liquid calming you slightly.

"My lady..."

Gods how embarrassing...she probably thought you were such a spoiled dramatic princess.

"I'm alright..s-sorry"

Adessa seemed even more distressed at this.

"I should be the one apologizing my lady! I should've spoken with more care... all of this must be alot, you're still adjusting after all.."

She surprised you by joining you on the bed, she looked to be in deep thought but the a look of determination crossed her face. "There is nothing to fear my lady. The attention will be on the returning warriors and Odin will do most of the entertaining..also if you start feeling uncomfortable just give me a signal and I'll cause a big distraction! I'll throw a chicken leg at a drunk warrior and point to some other drunk, they'll be brawling in no time and that's when you can sneak away!"

"Pfft" you couldn't hold back the laugh at her ridiculousness.

"Thank you Adessa, if I need you I'll bark twice" she giggled and nodded in satisfaction, "That's better, now then let's get you ready, I'm going to make sure you're the prettiest one!" She stood up with fiery determination. "No way am I gonna let some other attendant out do me hehe"

Ok now I'm actually afraid....

"Alright!" She clapped her hands, "First you need a dress!"

***********************

That's chapter 1! This is my first ever planned long series so I know there will be plenty of mistakes but please be patient with me💕 also just a note about the reader, obviously she is full of anxiety and self deprecation but I want her to be like that for awhile before she learns how to fend for herself. She has many strong emotions on the inside but has no confidence...yet.

Please let me know what you think! Comments are my fuel🥰 till next time! Taglist here!

@oceanmermaidwitch

@sophiaedits

@anda-the-valkyrie

@daddylokisqueen

@anemois-hiraeth

@movielover2002

@ibuki-as-president

@someonesleftshoe

@sin-bin-kin

@sara--ravenclaw

@fuzzyphantomsandwich-blog

@the-professor-of-gallifrey

@xmischief-ladyx

[blzzrdstryr]

Darling escaping - Mondstadt girls edition

Inspired by a request I got, will do edition for other characters in the future.

Starring: Amber, Eula, Jean, Lisa, Rosaria

Reader is gender neutral

CW: Yandere themes, confinement, drugging

Amber

It’s highly unlikely that Amber will confine you, but if it reaches that point, then she will try to be as understanding as possible. Being kidnapped is hard and stressful, it’s OK if you hit and yell at her, she gets you, you’re scared and anxious, she will let it slide.

The same goes for any failed escape attempts, Amber will maintain that sweet-saccharine-I-am-not-mad-at-you-please-stop-crying-and-screaming persona very well. She will be very mad of course, partially at you, mostly at herself.

She keeps you confined in the cottage in the middle of the forest - Amber, unlike you, has a vast experience of navigating among the wilderness, so she can almost always recapture you with ease, years spent tracking and hunting lending well in her search.

You will have to be quick and clever if you want to escape - you can’t dwell in one place for too long, nor can you leave any mark in hurry - Amber will use them to deduce your path and location.

You will also have to avoid major cities and settlements - Knights of Favonius have a good reputation and Amber is known for her upstanding nature, she can lie to locals that you’re dangerous escaped criminal or confused and troubled victim who wandered to far for their own good, and have you presented on the platter.

Once she drags you back, she will start to think about escape-proofing the cottage. She might also buy a chain, long enough to let you wander in most of the room. Don’t worry she’ll let you out, she just needs to install new sets of locks on every door in your house.

Eula

The day when she finally loses an internal battle and kidnaps you is the day when both you and Eula start to hate her intensely. Just like Amber, she also tries to be understanding, yet it’s hard. She can sometimes snap back or glare at you with that cold look, which will sink your already drowning sympathies even further.

Escape attempts will be met quite poorly, Eula understands that you’re terrified and stressed and don’t want to be anywhere near her, yet it hurts so badly she loses control. She will say a couple of very insidious and bitter things, as she drags you back, her hold on you a tad too forceful not to be painful.

You will most likely be confined in her mansion - Lawrences might be universally despised by all of Mondstadtians, yet they’re also filthy rich and people have a hard time saying no to shiny mora. You will be allowed to wander in a couple of rooms with all the necessities in your reach.

She won’t allow you to have any maids or servants though - her reputation is already low, and letting a third person in on this dangerous secret will definitely be her downfall.

That’s why she wastes no time when she sees rooms she kept you in empty. Eula will bolt out of the house, uncaring how she might look to others as her mind races, searching for your possible routes.

Your best bet is staying inside or close to major settlements. As it was said before, Mondstadtian despise Lawrences, and Eula isn’t an exception to that. She might be a respected Knight of Favonius, but if you act distressed enough others will question her motives and deter her from grabbing you back.

If you somehow happen to be in the wilderness it’s already over for you. Eula spends most of her time outside the city gates, she is very familiar with the terrains and forests, so she navigates them pretty well. No matter how fast or long you run, she will get you back.

Eula will act extra callous and cold after your failed escape, her heart aching at the fact that you were that desperate to be anywhere but with her.

Jean

Jean is far from being an intense yandere, she will confine you only if she believes that you can’t live comfortably by yourself.

One of the perks of being a highly respected acting grandmaster is that no one really questions her decisions. Even Diluc, who left and now despises the knights, acknowledges how responsible and hardworking she is.

She will convince others that you’re mentally unwell, that you need care and patient guidance to even function, and so she will pressure you into becoming her protege.

None of your words about Jean’s true nature will be taken seriously - acting grandmaster is a kind, hardworking and responsible leader, she does everything in the name of others’ well-being. How can you accuse Jean of something like this?

Moreover, your words will be used against you, as she will present them as a proof of your fragile mental state - you must be deeply delusional to think of your caretaker so badly and poorly, blaming her for things she had no hand in.

You will be “gently” reminded to stay with Jean in her own house,a knight always patrolling near the building when she has work to do. Unlike most yanderes, Jean will allow you to freely wander in the house and courtyard, yet nothing more.

If you escape, you should probably head to the next nation, without stopping in any of the Mondstadt settlements - Jean’s reach is far and wide.

She will dispatch the group of knights, ordering them to safely retrieve you back into her arms - “[First] is scared and confused”, she’ll tiredly sigh and ask them to be gentle with you upon your recapture.

She won’t punish you once you’re back, no she will be calm and collected, despite the inner storm - she has to keep the mask up, both for you and others. You will find two knights on the daily patrol though.

Lisa

Lisa can appear very lazy and careless at first glance, but she is far from that. The witch is the best graduate of Sumeru academy in two centuries and an expert at potion making. She’s also very good at her time management and has a spark of ingenuity, which makes your escape highly unlikely.

First of all, you will be pumped full of sedative drugs, if you aren’t compliant and broken enough - Lisa would like to think that you’re all nice and obedient, but she can’t.

She will slip drugs in your food and water, sometimes she will force the syringe needle under your skin, if you realize what she’s doing and start being difficult.

With the substances muddling your mind you will be as helpless and weak as a newborn kitten, unable to make three steps in a straight line.

With you being constantly high Lisa doesn’t have to stress over your escape - she just needs to lock all windows and doors and add a bit of silencing charms so no one can hear your angered screams.

It would be an incredibly simple, yet perfect plan if it wasn’t for drug resistance. Over time your body will start to adapt to the influence of her “potions”, and you will need a higher dose to be rendered helpless and incoherent again.

You will realize this once the terrible mix of withdrawal and clarity of mind hits you. Half-bent and squirming you will slip from your cell and start to run.

It’s highly unlikely you will go far, especially during withdrawal, but your best chance of escaping lies into contacting any human settlement - you will appear very sick and distressed and they’ll have no choice but take you in and let you endure the incoming torture under the safety of the house.

Once your body is clean, you should run, as far as possible, you should also change your clothes - Lisa marked the ones she kept you in with her electro energy, making you easier to detect.

If she gets you back, she’ll start switching between different kinds of sedatives, so you don’t develop resistance. Lisa will also add a couple of locks and a long chain to her purchases.

Rosaria

Rosaria, to her own dismay, doesn’t own any fancy mansion to keep you in, the house that she lives in is small and cramped as she uses the place to just sleep and keep the little of what she owns here.

This house, despite its small size, has a cellar - it’s empty and unused, with cobwebs decorating the corners. It’s perfect for keeping you in, when you’re difficult.

Don’t worry the cellar is the last resort - Rosaria will confide you here, if you act extra defiant and disobedient. On most days, you’re free to wander in that small house, and if you act extra nice, the nun will let you out under her strict supervision.

She will however, install a long chain and cuff it around your leg when she has to leave for a job.

You can run away from her in two instances, when she decides to go for a short walk with you, and when she is away, if you are able to unscrew or loosen the chain enough for your feet to slip.

If you escape during your walk, you better be an excellent runner, because Rosaria is fast. You will have to compete not only in speed, but also endurance and stamina with her, because Rosaria can run for a very long time, especially when she’s chasing you.

If you escape when she’s away your task gets infinitely easier, you’ll just need to make your way to Mondstadt and make your accusations - Rosaria isn’t very popular here, nor does she have a great image, so your words will hold some weight.

Whether she is found guilty or innocent, it will provide enough time for you to leave the city and head for the neighbouring nation.

If Rosaria gets you back, then you can forget about seeing a sunlight for a very long time, she will keep you chained in the cellar for at least two weeks as a punishment.

[nafeary]

Cheating!MC Headcanon with Leonardo Da Vinci

⚬ Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci/Reader

⚬ Characters: Leonardo, Comte; mentions of Arthur and Theo

⚬ Warnings: Intoxication

✧✎ A/N: First and foremost, I DO NOT condone infidelity. It’s vile, revolting, and can absolutely destroy a person’s entire life.

I chose to focus on the prospect of cultural differences they could have, especially considering our very casual dating standards nowadays (a lot of people don’t see sex as a very serious thing, do they?). Thus, MC isn’t cheating per se, but someone from the 16th century (aka Leo) might just perceive it as that.

I got the idea from our lovely @teatimemols, and she allowed me to use it for a headcanon. Thank you sweets (and make sure to drink water, everyone)!

You had kissed him... which wasn’t unexpected, considering the hungry glances you’d often exchange with him

You had embraced him, just as he had enbosomed you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he mumbled how absolutely adorable you were.

And you had smiled at him. That smile, acting as the final culprit in the heist to capture his heart

Unaware of the courting standards you were used to, he determined it would be for the best to simply go with the flow

From what he had picked up from both you and Sebastian, women in your time had finally been allowed the rights they were entitled to (feminism they had called it)

He could only assume that his confident cara mia would sort things out

Which might have been a mistake... as he watched you accompany Arthur and Theodorus on their late night bar trips, only to return late at night with obvious signs of intimate activity, the Renaissance man felt his entire demenour shift

Were kisses in your time meaningless, the amalgamation of breaths unimportant to the heart?

Distance grew between the two of you, and his heart yearned in painful pleas; on the other hand, his muscles contracted at the thought of strangers’ hands working themselves under your skirt, unwrapping your layers

The last straw for him was the golden hair he noticed adorning your garments, the familiar scent of musk he knew ‘Comte’ to favour assaulting his nose when he stood close to you

Unbeknownst to him, you had initially thought of your... engagement with the polymath as nothing more than a fling. And yet, you couldn’t help your heart from falling for his charms, but you were reluctant to open your heart to him. After all, you had your own time to return to. Nothing good could result were you to act on your fantasies.

You were aware of him having discovered you multiple times on your late night escapees with Arthur and Theo, deciding to assay the author’s method of forgetting troubles

Aka, indulging in brothels as a distraction from your heart’s desire to be close to the Italian

And one evening, you committed a rather grave mistake— no, you couldn’t call it that under the booze’s influence. You had, after all, enjoyed the illusion the alcohol has painted

After a particularly busy night, you had returned to the manor alone, drunken stupor rendering you almost incapable of proper action

Le Comte, ever the gentleman, discovered your situation and chose to carry you to your room, assisting you with changing your grimy clothes (and closing his eyes when it required, we stan a respectful man)

Just as he was about to leave, you had caught him by surprise as he conceived Leonardo’s name leaving your lips in a tired mumble, pulling his arm rather roughly to crash your mouth atop his own

He had left after wishing the girl bonne nuit (as she had passed out the moment she had kissed him), smiling at the prospect of... supporting a relationship including two of his favourite friends

Alas, le Comte has an idea that might just aid the coping methods his guest had chosen... and his old friend’s worsening mood

“Cara mia,” the deep voice of your dream’s protagonist resonated outside your door the next morning. “Are you awake? ‘Comte’ told me you you were feeling unwell and asked me to bring you breakfast.”

At the mention of le Comte, your brain had to do a double take; you suddenly remembered the events of the previous night. The host of the mansion had found you in a probably more than likely disgusting state— and you had the nerve to kiss him

In your defense, you thought it was Leonardo; but considering the fact that they’ve been hinting at having been lifelong friends, you weren’t confident that you could bare to face any of them ever again

Nonetheless, you invited him inside

After you were done with your breakfast, you gazed at Leonardo dozing away on your carpet, just about to voice your confusion as to why he was still in your room, when he stood up and said, “I should be honest with you. The main reason I came was because ‘Comte’ told me something rather interesting.”

You could only gulp as he came to stand in front of your bed, kicking of his shoes. “You kissed him, in quite the rowdy manner from what he told me.”

You were remembered of you slip up once again, and you could only mutter in defeat, “I was drunk and confused, Leonardo.”

By now, ants were crawling up your legs as he lay down beside you, tickling your ear as he nuzzled it. “Am I not good enough for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You kiss me, yet you indulge in other mans’ arms.” All tranquility strained from the scientist’s orbs, and you could only lift your eyebrows in annoyance. “You make it sound like I cheated on you. Whoever I spent the night with is none of your concern.”

“So you are allowed to be a constant resident of my mind.” He trapped you with his arms, appearing to me ignorant to your growing exasperation. “Don’t you consider that to be—“

Enough was enough

You strongly pushed at his shoulders, rushing to stand up as you glared at him lying on your bed like a goddamn male Venus

“Leonardo. Please listen to me for a moment.” Seeing him nod, you proceeded. “Yes, I did kiss le Comte. Yes, I was spending the night with strangers. And yes, I did kiss you. However, you have absolutely no right to lecture me on these actions. We aren’t together, you didn’t ask me out, and I can kiss whoever I want to.”

You exuded calm anger with your crossed arms and stern gaze, but his utterly confounded face wavered your resolve... he almost looked like he had no inkling as to why you were so upset with him

Well, at least until realisation fell across his expression the way it was wonted to whenever he figured something out.

“I’m sorry, cara mia,” he said, sitting up in a more dignified position, “I was unaware that these are the type of courting standards you have grown up with.”

Courting... standards...

God are you stupid. You hastily replied with an apology from your own side, embarrassment blazing across your cheeks at the prospect of almost forgetting the fact that you were indeed in the 19th century and talking to Leonardo fucking da Vinci, when courting standards were so much more self explanatory and determined by matchmakers

You sat beside him as you elaborated the procedures you were used to, fiddling your thumbs at the scene: a world renowned artist, your... crush, perched on your bed and listening to you discussing 21st Century Dating for Dummies

The hushed breathing of the man was the only thing occupying the room, and you couldn’t help but hyper focus on the disparity of your own erratic puffs

Perhaps, despite your flakiness, you still had this wish, hidden deep within your mind, that you could still have a chance with Leonardo. And— you couldn’t help but sigh as the reality of it crashed upon you

You two were way too different, after all. Different time, different manners, different everything

“I have another question,” the smoky voice of the polymath whispered, the pleasant scent of cigarillos dancing beneath your nostrils, “How you do you conduct this... asking out, cara mia?”

You whirled around to meet his chiseled face, speechless at his inquiry. Surely, he couldn’t still want to? “Well, you... you ask the person whether they’d like to go on a date with you... and then, if the date went well, you could ask if I’d— that person would like to start a relationship with you.”

“I?” He smirked at your blunder, mirth pulling at his cheeks. “If you wanted to ask me out, you could have just done so earlier.”

Heat waltzed across your cheeks as you tried to stay composed, but you only managed to hang your head in defeat.

“Are you free after your chores today? I’d love to show you an invention I’ve been working on.”

Lifting your head ever so slightly, you muttered, aware if he were to deny your question that you wouldn’t lose any more dignity, “It’s a date?”

“It’s a date.” And the most beguiling smile encountered your own

I hope this was kind of what you imagined? They were going to be shorter (and including more characters), but I’ve wanted to explain the situation properly, ya know?

Anyway, have a nice day everyone!

[ibijau]

How would nhs react to a deage teenager!lxc after canon or lxc knew nhs as a student and next time he see nhs is a aldult.

this... kinda got out of hand wow. Thanks for the prompt!! it was a lot of fun!

Of course Nie Huaisang, like everyone else, knows that Lan Xichen has entered seclusion and won’t see anyone. After what happened, the shock of being lied to and manipulated for years culminating in nearly killing the person he thought was his last true friend left... If he’s honest, Nie Huaisang too finds isolation tempting, but sadly it isn’t part of Qinghe Nie’s culture the way it is in Gusu Lan, and so he must power through.

Still, Lan Xichen’s seclusion feels like a technicality that doesn’t concern him. After everything, when Nie Huaisang comes to the Cloud Recesses for business, he decides to take the chance to visit the man who tried to be his friend, in spite of everything Nie Huaisang is, everything he pretended to be. They have much to talk about. It is selfish of Nie Huaisang, but he misses Lan Xichen. Besides, the jade token that Lan Xichen gave him years ago is still active, so surely it must mean that a visit from him isn't entirely unexpected. Nie Huaisang heard that Jin Guangyao's token was rendered inert after the slight scandal in Carp Tower. Apparently, he's still a step higher than that. It's a comforting feeling.

And so, once his business with Lan Qiren is dealt with, Nie Huaisang doesn't go to the room prepared for him and his retinue. Instead he heads for the Hanshi. The path is familiar, Nie Huaisang doesn't have to pay attention as his feet carry him to his brother's sworn brother's house. A mix of fear and anticipation make him walk slower and faster in turn. In front of the Hanshi's door, Nie Huaisang pauses for a moment. It might be presomptuous of him to be here, after the way things went at the temple. Lan Xichen seemed broken then, in a way even the horrors of the Sunshot campaign hadn't managed. To come here like this, unnanounced... but they both need this, Nie Huaisang decides. He owes Lan Xichen an explanation, and hopefully Lan Xichen will apologise as well for his own failures. They both could have done better, but this might be a chance for a clean start.

It would be nice if they could be friends, for real this time. No pretences, no Jin Guangyao, just the two of them getting along, openly and honestly.

Nie Huaisang knocks on the door.

Unexpectedly fast, he can hear footsteps on the other side, and the door opens before he fully has time to steel himself for the confrontation.

“Oh, you're not Uncle,” the young man who opened says. (but is he a man? He can't be more than sixteen or seventeen). “I did think it was still early.”

Nie Huaisang stares, and refuses to believe what he's seeing. The boy in front of him isn't much taller than him, though he will certainly continue growing in the coming years. He is elegant and calm, but still youthful, still with a touch of uncertainty that grows more pronounced the longer Nie Huaisang gapes at him.

“Do I know you?” the boy asks at last. “You seem familiar but... ah! Did uncle send you?”

“Not exactly. I'm Nie Huaisang. I'm... you are...”

The boy presses a hand against his mouth as he laughs.

“Nie Huaisang? You mean, Mingjue's little brother? Oh, you've grown quite a bit!”

That's not exactly true. In fact, coming from anyone else, Nie Huaisang would take that as a lie at best, a mocking attack at worst. But this boy... if this boy is who he seems to be, if his mind fits his appearance, he would remember Nie Huaisang a good deal shorter.

“Er-ge... I mean, Lan Xichen? Is that you?”

The boy drops his hand and nods with an apologetic smile.

“I'm not really supposed to talk about it,” he explains. “I'm not even supposed to let anyone see me until we find a solution, but... oh, if it's Nie er-gongzi, it's fine. But please, come in. I'm really not supposed to have visitors.”

Entranced, Nie Huaisang can only obey and follows this too young Lan Xichen into the Hanshi. The house hasn't changed much since his last visit, many months before. The only difference is its inhabitant, smiling brightly, as if he doesn't have a care in the world. Nie Huaisang doesn't think he had seen such a sincere smile on Lan Xichen's face since the Sunshot Campaign.

“Would you like some tea?” Lan Xichen asks, ever the perfect host. “I was going to make some for myself, so it's really no bother.”

“I... yes, certainly.”

“Please, sit down, Nie er-gongzi. Nie-xiong? What should I call you? I can remember calling you Huaisang, but I wouldn't want to disrespect you, so...”

“You still call me by my name,” Nie Huaisang assures him, which isn't a lie. It was still true last time they met. He isn't sure if it would still be true, had he faced a full grown man instead of a boy, but there's little point in debating this now. “I don't mind if you continue doing so. It would be very awkward for me if you tried to treat me as an elder.”

Lan Xichen smiles again, and puts some water to boil. Without waiting to be invited, Nie Huaisang sits at the table. It could almost feel like nothing has changed, as long as he doesn't look too closely at the person preparing their tea.

“Dare I ask what happen to you, Lan Xichen?”

“Please, just... just Xichen? Or are you this formal with me now?” Lan Xichen asks, shooting him a worried look.

“I've never been one for formality,” Nie Huaisang replies. “Are you avoiding my question, Xichen?”

Again, the boy laughs. Nie Huaisang suddenly realises that just like his smiles, Lan Xichen's laughters hadn't been so free in years. He had never thought to miss that, but he does now.

Once the water is hot, Lan Xichen pours it in a teapot which he brings to the table, sitting down at last while the leaves infuse.

“I wish I could tell you what happened, Huaisang,” he confesses with mild embarrassment. “But I simply do not know. Uncle think it is an accident of some sort. He told me that certain regrettable events had made me unwell. He won't tell me more than that.”

There are dozens of unspoken questions in Lan Xichen's eyes, all of which Nie Huaisang pretends he cannot notice. Instead he checks the teapot and serves tea for both of them.

“It must be quite upsetting to you,” Nie Huaisang says. “What's the most recent thing you remember?”

“Some new guest disciples had just arrived a few days ago. Very prestigious ones this year, since there were the sons of Sect Leader Jin and Sect Leader Jiang... and you were returning as well, of course. It was promising to be an interesting year. One of the guests had already gotten in trouble and duelled my brother. I tried asking, but Uncle wouldn't tell me what became of that boy. His name was Wei Wuxian, do you perhaps remember him?”

Nie Huaisang snorts, most inelegantly, and hesitates how much he can tell on that matter. In the end, he decides the latest piece of gossip that reached him can be shared safely.

“Lan Wangji recently married him.”

He hopes, perhaps a little cruelly, to shock Lan Xichen, or at least to surprise him. Instead, the boy beams.

“I knew that Wangji liked him!” he exclaims, before pressing a hand to his mouth as he realises how loud he was. “Sorry for this. Oh, but I'm so glad! It's so rare for Wangji to take a shine to someone... I'm so happy for him!”

Nie Huaisang tries to smile, and fails. He remembers how upset Lan Xichen was over his brother's choice in the years that followed Wei Wuxian's death, his resentment that he still couldn't shake in that temple after Wei Wuxian finally opened his eyes to Lan Wangji's feelings.

He had never realised how bitter Lan Xichen had become. He did not let him consume him, not the way Nie Huaisang had, but... it's odd to think they might have been similar in that respect.

“Huaisang, if I may ask... since you seem well informed on my family, would you tell me what happened to me?” Lan Xichen asks, fidgeting with his cup of tea. “As I've told you, Uncle won't say a thing but... you say we still call each other by name, after this long, and you came to see me uninvited. Am I right to assume we must be friends?”

There's something so hopeful to that boy's voice, as if it would really make him happy to hear they are close. They weren't back then, not especially. Nie Huaisang admired his brother's friend, but found Lan Xichen too serious to really pay him attention, especially when there were people like Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to play with instead. He had no idea how Lan Xichen saw him at that time, but apparently he had a better opinion of Nie Huaisang than expected.

It should be flattering.

It is not.

Nie Huaisang looks at that hopeful boy, one whose father is in seclusion but still alive, whose brother has poor taste in men but no scars on his back yet, who is too serious for his age but doesn't bear the burden of running a sect before his time, who hasn't yet felt the horrors of wars, of watching both of his friends die before his eyes, viciously killing each other. Most of what happened to Lan Xichen isn't his fault, but Nie Huaisang still feels guilty.

It is unbearable to see Lan Xichen so innocent.

“I'm not sure I'm the right person to tell you,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, avoiding Lan Xichen's eyes. “It was... a lot happened. It might be best to leave it at that.”

“But you do know,” Lan Xichen insists. “Uncle says he doesn't know the details anyway, that he cannot tell me something he's not certain of. But you know.”

“And I'm glad you don't. What happened... if you can live without remembering, without being told about it, perhaps it's for the best.”

This, at last, bring a crack into Lan Xichen's warmth. Nie Huaisang hates himself for it when he sees the slight frown on the boy's face, hates that this is an expression that he's far more used to seeing on Lan Xichen's face.

“Is it really that bad, Huaisang?”

“I don't know what you're imagining but... it's at least as bad as that, and possibly worse.”

Lan Xichen's frown deepen.

“I see. Then... at least it confirms something I've suspected.”

“Which is?”

“This was not an accident,” Lan Xichen states, gesturing at himself. “I think I did this on purpose. I... The man I become, is he a coward then?”

Something squeezes in Nie Huaisang's chest, so tight and painful that it nearly makes him sick. He quickly shakes his head and, without thinking, reaches for Lan Xichen's hands.

“You are a brave man,” he promises. “You made mistakes, but only because you are kind and certain people took advantage. You are a good man, you tried your best to be fair, even when we all lied to you, and...”

“We?” Lan Xichen notes, pulling his hands away. “Did you lie to me as well, Huaisang?”

The pain in his voice is... they've gone through that once already at the temple. Nie Huaisang cannot do it again. The first time was hard when Lan Xichen knew already how cruel the world can be, but to do this again, to bear with this again and explain to this kind, innocent boy that he consistently put his trust in all the worst people is...

It was a mistake to come here.

“I have to go,” Nie Huaisang mutters, rising on unsteady feet.

“So you did lie,” Lan Xichen whispers, looking up at him, disappointment clear in his eyes. “Are... are we even friends, then?”

Nie Huaisang turns away.

“I had come to ask you the same question,” he confesses. “I wanted to know if it was too much to ask, after what I did to you. I'll never get my answer now, but perhaps it's for the best. You... you really grew into a good man, Lan Xichen. Out of all of us, I think you're the one who turned out best. But sometimes, being good isn't enough. Not when there are men like me around.”

“But you used to be good as well,” Lan Xichen retorts, his tone nearly whiny, like a child's. And why not? He's not so far from childhood still, no matter how much he tries to act like an adult. “You always were so nice, Huaisang. You always made me smile when we talked, you were always so honest! Why would you have started lying to me?”

The idea that he ever was honest is hilarious, so Nie Huaisang starts crying.

“There's no real reason,” he says, and that's a lie too, but at this point what's a little more? “People are never as good as you think they are, Xichen, especially when life get a little tough. I'm sorry I wasn't the friend you deserved. I really wanted to be, but sometimes... sometimes it's not enough to want it.”

Having said his piece, Nie Huaisang walks to the door, cursing himself for coming to the Hanshi, for giving in to curiosity when he saw this boy, for not leaving him to his fate. He is almost out when Lan Xichen speaks again.

“Do you really think we can't be friends then?” he asks, so young and eager and lost. It is awful to remember there was a time when Lan Xichen had the freedom of not needed to appear confident at all times, when he could hesitate, when he could be unsure.

“I think you can find better friends than me,” Nie Huaisang sighs, pretending it doesn't come as a sob. “Goodbye, Xichen, or farewell maybe. I don't think I'll be coming here again, not unless you get back to normal someday and invite me yourself.”

“I see. I'll hold you to that, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang laughs, or sobs, or both. If Lan Xichen ever gets back to the man he was before this incident, it's unlikely he will want anything to do with the traitor who tried to turn him into a murderer. It was stupid, really, to think that they might get a second chance.

Without another word, Nie Huaisang leaves the Hanshi and heads for the guest quarters, desperately trying to calm his tears.

It was a mistake to come here.

But of course, Nie Huaisang has always been good at making mistakes.

[tikoy]

Kinktober Day 17

Day 17:

Series: FGO

Diarmuid ua Duibne x unnamed female master

First person POV

Warnings: Sex

Rating: Explicit

On a Rayshift, Diarmuid gets injured so he reluctantly asks you for a mana transfer.

--

Rain poured heavily all through the night. Winds howled against the walls, sending occasional groans and rattles all through the dilapidated building. I twisted and turned, trying in vain to fall asleep. My body was exhausted, but my mind kept racing. It had been hours since I’d turned in, but I’d just lain awake, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Thoughts of the earlier battle kept running through my head. Flashes of brightly emblazoned fur, enormous tusks, and glowing eyes seemed burned on the backs of my eyelids. I could still smell the fetid breath of the demon boar as it charged. We’d managed to scrape by, but my servants paid the price. I bit my lip.

Injuries were expected. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen blood spilled, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But it had been months since my servants had gotten more than bruises or scrapes. We’d been doing so well. Guilt still sat heavy in my gut even after I’d patched them up as best I could. I’d hesitated for a second, and that was all it took. A second of indecision and paralysis that everyone else had been punished for. I turned and pressed my face into the pillow. It was pointless and counter-productive, but I’d wished that I’d gotten injured as well, to help lessen the guilt.

After a few more minutes of wallowing in guilt, I gave up and got out of bed. I made my way to the makeshift kitchen, hoping that a drink of water would help. The wooden floorboards creaked and groaned, but the storm outside was much louder. I felt my way through the dimly-lit halls and stairs, hoping that I wouldn’t fall through the holes in the woodwork. I arrived unscathed, but I wasn’t alone. A familiar dark-tressed knight stood vigil, staring out towards the barred wooden doors. At the sound of my approach, he turned.

“Master, is something the matter?”

Even in the low light, he was beautiful. His cheekbones were sharp, and his jaw strongly defined. His amber eyes sparkled in what little light it caught. For a moment, I stood transfixed, my purpose forgotten. A flash of lightning snapped me back to my senses. I cleared my throat and gave a sheepish smile.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was hoping that a drink of water would help.”

“Ah, then let me-“

“No! It’s fine, it’s fine. You’re still standing guard. I can do it myself,” I insisted, walking towards the sink before he could move.

As I held a relatively clean glass under the faucet, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He’d turned back towards the door, his two spears at the ready. There was a certain stiffness to his shoulders, and his grip seemed too harsh. A tension had hung between us ever since I’d given him chocolates earlier this year. It wasn’t as if it affected his ability or the dynamics between us during battle, but outside of combat we could hardly speak to one another. I always got tongue-tied whenever I addressed him, blundering through even the most mundane of small talk. He’d reply politely and calmly, making my awkwardness even more glaringly obvious. No matter how politely he replied however, I always got the sense that he was trying to pull away. It hurt, and I didn’t even have the right to be hurt.

Regret and guilt were a horrible combination in my gut. The valentine chocolates had seemed a great idea at the time. But all I got from that momentary glee was self-inflicted disappointment. I’d found myself turning towards him more frequently, and a flutter in my chest whenever I heard his voice. It was embarrassing. I was a grown woman. A crush shouldn’t affect me to this degree! Especially considering what I’d been tasked with doing. To be distracted by such trite matters was unthinkable. Unforgivable.

“Master, your cup overflows.”

I flinched, jerked back to reality by the sound of his voice. Water had been running over my skin now, the cold rendering it numb. Hastily, I turned off the tap and brought the glass to my lips. I drank, doing my best not to choke under his scrutiny. He’d left his post by the door and stood next to me, staring silently. His spears had vanished. While I had no doubt that he’d still be able to effectively deal with threats anywhere within the room, it was highly uncharacteristic for him to approach. When I’d finished drinking, I turned to him, an apology already upon my lips-

“It seems you have plenty of things on your mind, Master” he stated. “May I know what troubles you?”

-only to be tongue-tied once more.

“I-I… uh… the battle earlier.” I caught his split-second flinch. “I’m so sorry I hesitated and got you all injured…”

“It is a small matter. Nobody died and we managed a win. I remains a success,” he replied, waving the matter off easily as if he hadn’t gotten gored at the side earlier.

I frowned at him and stepped closer to prod at his chest. “You really shouldn’t be letting me get away with these things so easily, you know! Even if I’m the master, you’re still need to point out my mistakes so I learn from them.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “But it seems as if you’ve already learned your lesson however. Calling attention to your mistake again would be akin to tearing open a freshly lanced wound. It serves no purpose.”

“Don’t tell me that you don’t harbor even the least amount of resentment over it. I mean, even Cu and Hans flicked me on the forehead for it earlier.”

“You wish to be flicked on the forehead?”

“Argh! No I mean- uhh don’t you want even the teensiest bit of revenge for it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand…”

“Well, what I’m saying is that you get a free pass to do anything to me. Just this once because I messed up… I mean anything outside of outright killing or significantly injuring me!” I rambled

“Hm.”

Something flickered across his expression. He stepped closer, close enough that I felt his breath fan my face. His eyes seemed strangely intent. His hand clasped mine gently. My knees felt weak. I could hardly breathe.

A soft thud sounded in the hall, followed by a series of curses. We jumped apart, panicked. As I tried to calm my beating heart, Hans stepped out of the shadows of the hall, rubbing his head, his eyes clenched shut.

“Hans, are you okay?” I asked, doing my best to not seem flustered.

“Eh? Master, you’re awake?” he called out, squinting into the dimly-lit room. “Just had a bit of a stumble in the dark. I’m fine.”

“If you are unwell, I can keep watch for this next shift as well,” Diarmuid offered.

“Bah! Do not coddle me. I am not the type of writer that pries apart two lovers engaged in a late night tryst!”

My cheeks flared as I stammered out my denial. Diarmuid was equally as adamant, though significantly less flustered. Yet the author paid no heed to our words, merely ushering us out into the hallway. Resigned, we walked through the hall silently. Gone was the friendly air we’d managed to wrangle earlier. All we had left was our usual tense silence, now heavier with questions regarding what happened before Hans interrupted. I bit my lip. I didn’t dare hope.

We reached my door, but he didn’t depart immediately. He lingered, frowning at the ground. After a few more moments, he sighed and gave a low bow.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier. It was unbecoming of a knight.”

“I-It’s fine!” I stammered out. “I was the one who put you on the spot. It’s my fault.”

He firmly shook his head. “No. I am at fault. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of a lady’s offer t-to-“  He cleared his throat. “The fault is completely mine, I assure you, my lady.”

The title sent my heart fluttering once more. I bit my lip, doing my best to stamp down the glee of him addressing me as his. “Diarmuid,” I called out, “what were you planning to do earlier?”

He glanced to the side. “I wanted to ask for a bit of mana.”

“Ah! Um! Yes! Okay! N-no need to be ashamed of that!” I assured him. “I-I mean that’s normal!”

My hands trembled in a mix of nervousness and giddiness. It wasn’t an unusual request, but he’d never asked anything like that before. He seemed content enough with the supply that Chaldea gave. I tried to open the door, but my hands shook too much to turn the knob. As I struggled, his hands drifted towards mine and engulfed them.

“It’s not,” he muttered, keeping his gaze averted. “May we speak further of these matters inside your room?”

He held fast to my hand as we went inside my room. When the door shut, he closed his eyes and squeezed my hand.

“I… have affections for you, Master. It is unbecoming, especially since I had intended to ask mana from you.”

Glee shot through me like a firework, setting everything ablaze. My skin tingled. My chest seemed too tight, too filled with joy. I was quickly losing the battle to keep a smile from my face. It was getting difficult to form coherent thought.

“I don’t follow…” I wheezed. “W-why would that be a bad thing?”

He frowned. “My wish had only been to serve loyally and fight for a Master who wouldn’t betray me. And so far in my stay in Chaldea, I’d managed to get that. I greatly respect you, Master, and still wholeheartedly pledge my being to your cause. But-“ he broke off, biting his lip, “these feelings ruin matters.”

He let go and buried his face in his hands. “I had done my best to keep away from such matters, yet now my ruin comes by my own hand… Perhaps this is revenge for all the suffering I’d caused before.”

“Diarmuid, it’s fine. This… this doesn’t have to change things-“

He growled. His hands fell to the sides, clenched in tight fists. “It has already changed everything! I cannot stand to be alone with you. When we speak, I struggle to keep myself distant, to keep myself from pursuing the conversation further. Even now as I loathe these feelings, my arms still long to hold you.”

He sighed and leaned against a wall. Anguish colored his expression. His breathing was ragged. His eyes bore into mine, pleading for answers that I could not give. Everything was bittersweet. I slowly made my way over, careful not to startle. Ever so gently, I wrapped my arms around his frame and pulled him to a hug. I kept my hold on him until his breathing relaxed, until the tension eased from his body. I knew not how long we stayed holding each other, only that it settled a comforting warmth over my chest.

He pulled away just enough for me to see his expression. He looked much calmer now, though his mouth still dipped downward. “I apologize for my earlier behavior, Master. I am… unused to these types of feelings.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it too much. I… actually have something to tell you as well.” I bit my lip. “I uh… have affections for you too…”

Panic seeped into his expression. “I’m sorry. I can’t control the love spo-“

“What?! No! No! I mean, if this was entirely because of that geas, don’t you think I’d be more aggressive? And that I would have pursued you much earlier?”

He furrowed his brows, still unconvinced. Nevertheless, he dropped the matter and just continued to hold me close. He played with the ends of my hair. I traced patterns onto his back. Even through the fabric, I could feel where the bandages bunched up on his torso. Idly, I pressed a kiss against his chest in apology. He shuddered and lightly tugged at my hair.

“Do you still want that mana transfer?”

He hesitated only for a moment. “A small amount would be sufficient…”

I reached up to press a kiss against his lips. I trembled as I kissed him, leaving touches as delicate as spun sugar. There were no fireworks this time, just tiny little pinpricks of glee as our lips moved. I pulled away, breathless. His amber eyes were half-lidded. He leaned  closer and whispered a desperate “more” against my lips. I left a hundred butterfly kisses on his cheeks. When I’d run out, he cradled my chin. “More,” came the breathless plea. He slanted his mouth over mine, licking at my bottom lip until I opened my mouth. His tongue dove in, exploring every nook and cranny as if committing it to memory. When my chest burned for oxygen, he pressed his lips against my neck. “More.”

I led him to my bed as we kissed. He sat down and pulled me to his lap. I left tiny rosebuds on his collarbones. I tugged my shirt up half-way before I prompted, “More?” “More.” He helped ease off my shirt, and ran his fingers down the newly-exposed flesh. He grasped my breasts almost reverently, rubbing and squeezing as if afraid of breaking me. I sighed and arced my back, enjoying the gentle affection. Desire built up inside me. As he continued, he started to buck his hips. His arousal stood at full mast. I reached down and stroked, squeezing a drawn out groan from him. He pressed his face on my shoulder and hissed. “More?” “…More.”

I got out of his lap. I pulled at his tights until they dissolved under my touch. His arousal was flushed and curved. I knelt in between his legs and pressed a kiss against the base.

“More?” I asked, gazing up at him imploringly.

“More,” he choked.

I took as much as I could of him into my mouth. What I couldn’t fit, I stroked with my hands. I hummed around him as I sucked, drinking in his shudders and twitches. I bobbed my head faster and faster, doing my best to keep my gag reflex suppressed. He groaned out my name and grabbed my head. I glanced up to see him biting his lip fiercely, eyes grown dark with lust. His face and neck were flushed. I pulled away for a moment. “More?” “M-more…”

I pressed my breasts around his arousal and started stroking. He hissed, threw his head back, and swore. His entire body trembled. From time to time, I’d take the tip into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it. It left him keening and crying out my name. It was addicting to see him come nearly undone at my mercy. As the pace increased, so too did the volume of his cries. His hips started bucking faster. His body trembled and tensed. He gripped my hair tighter. He came in bursts, coating my face and breasts with his cum. He leaned down as he recovered, as if watching for my reaction. He wiped away as much he could from my face, doing his best even as he trembled.

“Are you alright, Master? Do you require assistance?”

“I’m fine. Just give me a minute,” I wheezed.

I climbed back onto the bed and lay down beside him. Our hands  were clasped as we both tried to recover our breath. I closed my eyes. Exhaustion hit and it was slowly dragging me down to sleep. I twitched and struggled, fighting back to stay awake. I felt Diarmuid shift beside me. Soft lips pressed against mine in a chaste kiss.

“Going to sleep?” he asked.

I shook my head. “N-no. I’m… I’m just resting my eyes…”

“More?”

“M-more…”

I felt him tug my shorts and underwear off. My legs were nudged apart. A few kisses and nips were planted along my inner thighs. A warm mouth descended on my core. I jerked and opened my eyes. He watched me as he ate me out. His tongue lapped at me eagerly, occasionally brushing against my clit. I hissed and bucked, but his hands kept me firmly in place. He pulled his mouth away soon after, and replaced it with his fingers. He slowly eased one finger in, eagerly drinking in my reactions as I squirmed.

“You look so beautiful, Master,” he crooned. “It’s just one finger but you’re reacting so much.”

I bit my lip to keep my voice back but he started thrusting the finger in even faster. I hissed and kicked at his shoulder as he increased the pace. After a few minutes, he added in a second finger. He began to spread them apart and rub more firmly against my walls. After he stroked a particular spot, I tensed and bucked into the air. A big spark of pleasure ran through me, leaving me breathless. He started rubbing more insistently at that spot. I shuddered as the sparks slowly built a raging flame.

“My lovely debauched Master! Moaning out my name while I pleasure you…  making such delightful little noises with that pretty voice of yours…”

I clenched tighter around his fingers. To hear the usually polite knight flatter me in such a bawdy way gave me a heady rush. I whimpered as he took his fingers out and gave a cursory lick, tasting my essence. As he continued to pleasure me, his other hand stroked his growing arousal. At regular intervals, he kept increasing the fingers until we were all the way to five. I was near delirious at this point, desperate for release. I reached my arms towards him, beckoning him closer.

“Diarmuid,” I begged, “fuck me…”

He smiled sweetly, as if I’d merely asked him to hold my hand. He lined his arousal up with my entrance and gently pushed it in. I squeaked and shuddered, holding close to him as he reached the hilt. Diarmuid was a gentle lover, letting me feel every glorious centimeter of his length as he ran it through me. He kissed my cheeks as I cried out. He kept at a slow gentle pace until I begged him to fuck me faster. He put my legs over his shoulders and set a faster pace. The angle made sure that he kept on hitting that spot consistently. He kept cooing and praising me whenever I clenched tightly around him. He peppered kisses down my neck as he whispered words of adoration. I scratched his back with my nails and hissed out his name. The fire inside me was now a conflagration, ready to burst out my skin. I clenched tighter around him, begging for release.

We came one after another, each crying out one another’s name. He kept moving even as he came, stuffing me full of his seed. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, holding on until morning light came. I knew not what we were to one another. It was no longer just a bond of a Master and her Servant. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t that brilliant or completed yet. It wasn’t friendship nor simple infatuation. Whatever it was, it felt warm and comforting, a refuge.

--

Thank you for the suggestion nonny! I’m sorry I went with female for this prompt because it was t*tfucking. 

I have many thoughts about Diarmuid. 

He’d probably have a LOT of reservation and hesitation before getting into any sort of romantic entanglements willingly. While I don’t doubt that he could probably still be attracted to people, I feel like he’d be the type to ignore it as much as he could. He’d even be more wary of people claiming they like him because a) the love spot geas, b) how people being attracted to him led to his downfall. 

Initially when I began this fic, I went in with the idea that well as far as falling in love goes he’d probably be the least hesitant if it was with the lord/lady he was serving, right? NAH. That love and adoration is going to color his loyalty and service. He’s not used to that so it probably really makes him nervous. Add to that the complication that is mana transfer. It is a physical thing, sure, and if you’re really determined it’s just going to remain that way. But if attraction is added to the mix, it introduces a whole host of problems. The question of “am I asking for a mana transfer because I do need mana or is because I want physical affection?” comes up a lot and is probably the one Diarmuid is primarily concerned with. (Tried to squeeze this into the fic but it was getting long and I was getting tired sorry)

I did my best to do justice to his character, tweaking and prodding at circumstances to make it still feel like this is still him willingly entering into something sexual with his master. Let me know which parts you thought needed more improvement! Thank you!!

Accepting suggestions!

[artificialqueens]

Not A Ghost, You're In My Head (Your Move 3/3) (Branjie) - Ortega

a/n: this has had about fifty billion potential titles, but rest assured that finally this is Your Move 3, only a year and a bit late. i really hope u all enjoy the end of the saga, and sorry and thank u to those who have been so patient! i’ll shut up now bc quite frankly uv all waited long enough for this. (title’s from Forever by Charli XCX pls listen to it it’s such a Branjie song)

fic summary: “Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.”

***

The smell of coffee and the warmth of the cafe inside hits Brooke like a ton of bricks as she walks in, blinks a little, and scans the room to find a seat. Eventually her eyes settle on a small booth through the back, away from the clatter and hiss of the coffee machines and probably the closest thing to quiet that they’ll get in a public setting like this. Sliding into it, Brooke shrugs her jacket off, lifts up a menu, puts it down again, drums her nails against the tabletop and takes her phone out. She checks the time, then checks her reflection in her phone’s camera. Briefly she finds it crossing her mind that she’s probably put more effort into her outfit, hair and makeup today than she had for their first date. What had she worn for their first date again? She can’t remember. She supposes it doesn’t matter now.

Putting her phone down, Brooke digs her toes into the soles of her shoes and takes one deep breath that she intends to be calming. Instead it leaves her feeling as if she is trapped under a sheet of ice with a millimetre of air to work with before she sinks underwater. Part of her feels as if she is already sinking. The other part of her feels as if she sank a month-and-a-bit ago and here she is, sitting waiting in a cafe, a living shipwreck. Sometimes her ribs feel like huge, cracked planks of wood, an empty vessel where something once lived. Sometimes it feels as if her heart is a sail, a huge mast broken in two with two long, ragged dagger marks scarring the sheet and rendering it useless. Other times she feels like a huge, heavy propellor is cutting into her stomach and churning it up, though that’s mainly when she makes the mistake of scanning social media (and isn’t madness doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?)

Today, Brooke just feels hollow.

Suddenly her phone buzzes harshly against the table and Brooke’s heart involuntarily leaps as she picks it up, an aftershock of the past seven months that will eventually dissipate with time. At least, she hopes so.

V: i can’t do this today

V: i’m sorry

Brooke feels as if an elastic band inside her has suddenly snapped. She doesn’t know if she feels relieved or if she wants to cry. Feeling a blush prickle against her cheeks and a lump form in her throat, her body seems to make the decision for her.

B: It’s okay don’t worry. Another time x

What does she expect? Brooke isn’t supposed to be the heartbroken one, Brooke isn’t meant to be the one that is sitting crying at a coffee shop table as if she’s the one that’s been broken up with. She wipes below her eyes and dabs lightly at her lashes with her fingers before pulling her jacket back on and walking quickly back through the door of the cafe she’d stepped through not even five minutes ago.

They’ll try again when she’s ready.

***

Brooke sinks on top of her bed, letting out a huge, deep breath of air until her stomach feels as if it is concave. It had been Vanessa that was the cautious one, it had always been Brooke making the big decisions about their relationship- a fact that, she cruelly reminds herself, remained true til its very end. She blinks very slowly. Her eyelids are so fucking heavy and tired. She took the morning off work to accommodate her plans and now she has nothing to do. Sitting and staring at the ceiling until her eyes burn is a nice impromptu plan.  

Her phone suddenly hums in the silence of the room. As if she’s been shocked by jump leads, Brooke spins over on her bed and grabs her phone from her bedside table, her heart hammering at an unhealthy rate. She feels the disappointment sink through her whole body when she sees the name on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, boo. Calling to see how you were, but your tone kind of says it all for me.”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. Vanessa never showed.”

“I know. She phoned me.”

The cardiac arrest is back, alive and unwell in Brooke’s ribcage. “What did she say?”

“That she felt like an ass. I asked her what donkeys had to do with anything.”

Brooke shakes her head and laughs in spite of herself. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“I know. How are you doing?”

Brooke frowns deeply. “What, that’s all you said? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

A sigh comes from the end of the line. “Brooke, maybe you have to let her go.”

“No, come on, Yves, that’s not fair. Don’t talk to me like I’m obsessed and still clinging on because that’s not…it’s more complicated than that.”

“I mean. It was you that ended things.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Brooke sighs, her heart feeling sick and empty.

“Look, just give her some time. You can’t just expect everything to go back to the way things were. Because…” her friend pauses on the end of the line, as if she’s about to deliver something Brooke won’t want to hear. “…well. Things might not.”

“I thought you were phoning to cheer me up,” Brooke says, deadpan. Yvie has the audacity to laugh.

“No, sorry, sorry. I just…you know. Best friends tell you shit you don’t want to hear sometimes. That’s part of the contract I signed back in high school,” Yvie’s affectionate warm laugh comes down the phone and Brooke finds herself smiling. It’s impossible to stay mad at Yvie; she may look fierce on the outside but Brooke knows she’s secretly a Care Bear brought to life via magic spell. Brooke is sincerely happy they’ve been friends for so long. They’ve helped each other and been there for each other through a lot, of course, through situations that are arguably worse than this, but Brooke is glad she has Yvie during this absolutely shit time. Vanessa had loved Yvie too when she’d met all of Brooke’s friends. Sure, she’d got along with Plastique and Nina and had eventually warmed to Bianca (although that had been a struggle after some of Bianca’s snide comments), but Yvie had welcomed her into Brooke’s life with open arms and had treated her as if they had been friends all their lives too. Brooke knows Yvie still speaks to Vanessa just to check in on her. She doesn’t mind.

“Do you wanna go for drinks tonight? Or food, if you feel like drinks will descend into stuff you’ll regret,” Yvie continues down the phone. Brooke exhales slowly.

“…Honestly Yves, it’s fine.”

“I’ll come to the apartment then. I just don’t want you wallowing. Wallowing’s for hippos. You’re not a hippo. You’re a…graceful crane.”

“You’re drunk already.”

“Maybe I am, and what the fuck of it? Right, I’m coming over tonight with lasagne in a tinfoil tray. Preheat your oven now. I’ll be round at 7. Love you, bye.”

“Bye. Love you too,” Brooke raises her eyebrows as she hangs up the phone. She remembers when she used to sign off like that all the time.

***

Brooke remembers those days of being in love with Vanessa, when the sex was passionate and gentle and full of fire and tenderness all at once. She remembers how it felt to look at her for as long as she wanted, taking in each glossy thread of hair, each small speckle of colour in her eyes, each individual and perfectly curled eyelash. Vanessa would always laugh at Brooke when she did that, telling her she was a creep, to stop staring at her. Now Brooke wishes she’d looked just a second longer, because she’s clearly not committed it all to memory.

She decides to go into the office. What else can she do? Yvie is annoying, but she’s right, Brooke can’t just sit and wallow. Or she could, but there’s case files that need updating and Brooke can either be sad at home lying in bed or sad at work doing something productive. Sad is the wrong emotion, she supposes. Empty is maybe more accurate. She is past the point of sad. Sad had happened when they’d had that argument and Brooke had played her trump card, best card in the pack at the time. Now she knows it had been a tarot card in disguise, the fool, and Brooke hadn’t at all known what her future would hold. She still doesn’t.

She walks into her office, past people that used to fear her, respect her. Perhaps they still do, but Brooke can still see the glint of sympathy in their eyes, hear the note of pity their voices hold. Brooke says good morning to Nicky, her new secretary. She hasn’t fired her yet, probably won’t ever fire a secretary again no matter how horrendous they are. Vanessa never came back after that day and Brooke doesn’t blame her, but she hopes she’s found another job. Nicky, she supposes, isn’t horrendous. She’s efficient and calm and obedient. Brooke knows she’s attractive too, and for a moment she allows herself to wonder if there is a parallel universe where she’s sought out a relationship with Nicky instead. Maybe a bit of random fucking with a pretty girl could take her mind off everything. Brooke laughs to herself in her office. She’s clearly losing it.

Detox comes in around half an hour later. Brooke’s done no work, simply staring at an excel spreadsheet and feeling her eyes glaze over but being unable to work up the motivation needed to blink. Detox puts a cup of coffee down on her desk and Brooke lets out a laugh.

“Jesus Christ, D. I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Seen happier faces at a fucking wake,” Detox jibes softly, pushes the cup closer to Brooke. “How are you today?”

Brooke leans back in her chair, swears she catches the scent of Vanessa’s perfume. It is gone almost as quickly as it had appeared and all Brooke is left with is approximately 45,000 memories, none of which she wants. “I’m shit. But I think that might be my new normal, I’ve felt like shit for so long. So I guess shit is the new fine. Therefore I’m fine.”  

Detox exhales through her nose, the hint of a humoured smile playing on her lips. “The old you would be beating you up and taking your lunch money if she heard you talking like that.”

“Believe me, I’ve already beaten myself up enough.”

Detox gives a heavy sigh of frustration, shifts from one foot to the other. “You need to sort your shit out, Brooke.”

“What are you, my Mom?” Brooke snaps back, now as frustrated as her friend. She wants to be left alone to stew in her own lack of emotions. Detox doesn’t relent.

“Look, I’m gonna give you two choices. Number one, you accept that everything’s over with Vanessa, that you fucked it, that you’ve made your bed and now you need to lie in it. But from what I can see of how you’re acting just now, you don’t want to do that.”

“No, I’m not fucking doing that,” Brooke sighs, tearing her hands down her face and wishing Detox would leave.

“Second option is, you start a constant campaign of non-stop attempts to win V back. Flowers, texts, cards, we’re talking borderline Joe from You.”

“Of course you watch that trash.”

“But you get the point?” Detox persists, annoying incarnate. “Brooke, you can’t…you can’t go on living like this. It’s been over a month, it feels like I’ve lost this bitch that used to be my friend.”

Brooke supposes she has lost her sense of self. She goes through her days without showing a single emotion, instead preferring to let them all out in the courtroom, raining down upon witnesses relentlessly as if every case has been a personal experience. She’s won her past six in a row and she puts it down to the fact that she now focuses every single fibre of being that she possesses into her career and job and work and anything that doesn’t have to involve emotions whatsoever.

“Look, I’ll..I’ll think about it, alright?” Brooke waves her away, rubs her forehead long-sufferingly. The whole thing is annoying her, becoming less of a heartbreak and more of a headache.

Detox smiles and punches the air. “That’s my girl. Have a think. Right, I’ll leave you alone. See you later.”

Have a think. Brooke wants to laugh. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking since the day Vanessa left.

***

Brooke misses her.

She misses the way Vanessa just got her humour like no-one else did. When she’d have a client waiting for her and Vanessa would send her her first impression or opinion of them in advance, and then Brooke would have to hold in her laughter for the duration of her meeting because holy fuck yes, the woman’s hat did make her look like a bat and combined with her cloak it did make her look like the villain in a superhero movie.

She misses the way that Vanessa had sort-of-not-quite-not-officially moved in with her. Some of her clothes are still strewn around the apartment: a pair of black heels left by the door that she’d worn out to dinner with her, an emerald green lace underwear set that had fallen underneath the bed and Brooke had stuck in her washer-dryer, the cosy pyjamas that lived under one of Brooke’s pillows folded not-quite-neatly and covered in creases, and a white silk shirt that Vanessa had worn to work and Brooke had peeled off her when they’d arrived home, pressing kisses to her bare collarbones, chest and stomach. Vanessa used to crash her way through the apartment and often Brooke wondered if it was her mission to make as much noise as possible as she loaded the dishwasher, hoovered the living room, sang off-key in the shower. Brooke’s apartment has been so deathly quiet since she left, a funeral sort of quiet. Mournful and still and ghostly and cold.

Sometimes Brooke is sure she sees in black and white.

She remembers the day when they told each other they loved each other for the first time. There had been no ceremony, no grand gestures. In fact the pair of them were watching a film on Brooke’s couch- The Little Mermaid 2, Vanessa eager to force her love of Disney sequels onto her girlfriend. Brooke had looked away from the TV just for a moment, just to see Vanessa’s reaction to whatever was happening on screen, and when she lay her eyes on her she felt that familiar feeling of falling hit her like a wave all over again. It had happened quite a few times that fortnight or so, and the urge to tell her grew with every moment they shared together. Brooke watched her smile like a dork at the TV, the light in her eyes shining and the good in her heart visible just by looking at her. Brooke had laced their hands together, Vanessa taken by surprise and meeting her gaze with a funny sort of smile on her face. Her nose had crinkled up as she’d laughed at her.

“What?”

Brooke had pulled her close and kissed her without saying a word, trying to tell Vanessa without actually telling her anything. She was scared to say it first. She was scared to say it at all.

When Vanessa broke away, she gave Brooke a look that seemed to reach into her soul. Then she looked down at the blanket they’d thrown over them and gave a shy laugh.

“I wanna say something but I’m scared.”

Brooke still remembers the way her heart had beaten right out of her chest. If she tries she can still feel it.

“Say it. Say it, because I want to say it too.”

Vanessa had made eye contact again, her face nervous and hesitant, and Brooke wanted to kiss her fears away but that would have stopped her from saying what she wanted so desperately to hear.

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Almost as quickly as they’d said it they were pulling each other in, their lips meeting desperately as they melted into each other. And Brooke hadn’t taken her to bed and they hadn’t had passionate, lovestruck sex on the couch. They had sat and kissed on the sofa with the film playing in the background like teenagers, the feeling of being in love communicated without even having to say anything else.    

Brooke had finally understood why people in musicals randomly burst into song.

She wishes she had known the last time she’d said it to her would be the final time. She wishes she could say it to Vanessa again. It’s still true. She’s still in love with her. She had fallen so hard.

The trouble with falling is that she had to hit the concrete eventually.

***

Another day goes by and a new one begins. Nicky comes in at half past nine with Brooke’s coffee. Vanessa always used to have it sitting out for her when Brooke arrived, a little heart drawn in the foam with caramel syrup making the coffee too sweet, just like her. Brooke can forgive Nicky, though. She suffered through another sleepless night and she needs the coffee more than she needs a lot of things. Doing her makeup this morning had been like painting a corpse, and Brooke tries not to feel embarrassed as she takes in Nicky’s perfectly painted face in contrast to her own. She thanks her, takes the cup and assumes Nicky will leave.

“Ms. Hytes,” Nicky says, surprising her. She stands in front of her desk, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re hurting.”

Brooke almost drops her coffee cup in surprise. In days of old she would’ve fired a secretary on the spot for having the audacity to address her in such a way, make such an assumption, but Brooke is tired. She can’t be bothered to deny it, it would take more energy than to simply admit it. She deals in facts, and it is a fact after all. “Yes, Nicky, I am.”

Nicky pouts a little sympathetically. There is a pause in which Brooke assumes she’ll leave. She doesn’t. Instead she speaks again. “Who was the girl that broke your heart?”

Brooke can only blink back at her, her eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. She could tell Nicky to go back to her desk, she supposes, to get on with her work. But she’s in a rare mood to talk about things, so Brooke cracks a small, indulgent smile. “And how do you know it was a girl?”

“Men can’t break hearts like women can,” Nicky says softly, philosophically. Brooke isn’t sure she’s right but she supposes she’s never had any experience with men to disprove the theory. She sighs, nodding.

“Yeah, it was a girl. Her name was Vanessa,” Brooke says, the name feeling too clunky and odd in her mouth where once it had felt like a prayer. “I guess she didn’t break my heart. I broke hers and then by proxy I broke my own. It was a stupid mistake, we had a fight and…things were said that I regret but she still won’t talk to me. And fair enough, why the fuck would she?”

Nicky nods slowly, wraps her arms around herself to give herself a hug. “I have the same. Uh, I am escaping a girl who broke my heart. But even though she hurt me, I still love her. How does that work?”

“Because emotions are stupid and they don’t work in a logical way,” Brooke shrugs instantly. She’s had a lot of time to think about the subject. Looking at Nicky, she can see the pain behind her eyes, the hurt behind the calm facade of her perfect makeup. “Who was your girl?”

Nicky smiles sadly, nostalgia getting the better of her. “She was named Jaida. She was a model, like I used to be. I don’t wish to talk about her much. It’s still sore."

"Yeah. It’s still sore for me too.”

“You say you broke Vanessa’s heart?” Nicky asks shyly. The words are like a stab through Brooke’s chest, confirming the whole thing, validating it. Brooke nods wordlessly. Nicky gives a small laugh. “Then probably she still loves you too. Like me for Jaida.”

Brooke laughs, disbelieving even though she’d be lying if she said Nicky’s words don’t strike even the tiniest bit of hope into her heart. “No, I think that ship has sailed, Nicky.”

Nicky raises her eyebrows, shrugs. “You should call her.”

“Tried that.”

“Well, call her again,” Nicky persists, her voice calm and relaxed despite her insisting. “I wait for my call from Jaida every day."

Brooke feels sad for the young girl. She’s clearly lived so much of her life already at such a young age- she’s from France, but her CV stated that she moved to America to work in the modelling industry, which clearly didn’t work out if she’s making coffee for Brooke. "You should go back into modelling. You’re wasted here.”

Nicky frowns. “I am a waste…of space?”

Brooke laughs at the misunderstanding, waving her hands and shaking her head in protest. It’s the first genuine laugh she’s had in a long time. “No, no, no, no, God no! Wrong expression. Um…you’re too good at modelling to be working as a secretary. You have too nice a face.”

Nicky blushes, making Brooke’s face hot too. She hopes her compliment didn’t come out wrong. Nicky is smiling again, the regret plain on her face. “I would love to, but I would risk meeting her again and I am not ready for that.”

Brooke’s face contorted. “But you want her to call you?”

Nicky sighs, scuffs her foot. “It’s different when you have her in front of you and she’s beautiful."

Brooke shrugs in agreement. "That’s fair enough.”

Nicky lingers, tilts her head thoughtfully. “Can I do anything to help, Ms. Hytes?”

The Parisian lilt to Nicky’s voice makes everything sound like a proposition, even though Brooke doesn’t think she means it. She knows that she could probably have Nicky in her bed by the end of the day if she wanted to- they’re both hurting and broken hearted and yearning to be needed and wanted again, and Nicky is gorgeous but it’s not Nicky she wants. Her porcelain skin just reminds Brooke of Vanessa’s in contrast, her neat blonde hair brushed carefully into its bun reminds her of how wild and loose Vanessa’s used to be, her blue eyes remind her of Vanessa’s dark ones. Brooke shakes her head, gives a tight smile of gratitude. “No, Nicky. Thank you for this, but I think we’d both better get back to work.”

Nicky smiles in agreement, giving a little nod as she exits Brooke’s office and takes a seat back at her desk. Brooke looks at her phone in its place on her desk, reaches out to take it. She scrolls to Vanessa’s name in her contacts and hovers her finger over it, millimetres separating her from potentially hearing her voice again.

She discards her phone onto her desk and opens an email.

***

They had been the best months of Brooke’s life. She couldn’t stop telling Vanessa how much she loved her once she’d started and Vanessa couldn’t seem to either. They were the worst kind of honeymoon phase couple, or perhaps the best. Detox had cooed over them like a mother hen and Brooke had let her guard down a bit at work. Well, a lot. She’d loved being able to show Vanessa off as her girlfriend, she’d loved being able to kiss her throughout the day, squeeze her hand as she showed a new client into her office. They would exchange ridiculously soppy emails during meetings. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Brooke has spent so long blaming the business trip, blaming Priyanka, blaming Vanessa, blaming her work, blaming the distance. It was none of them. It was her fault. She did all of it.

Brooke had flown out to Florida for the weekend. There was a conference that her law firm had to attend there, Detox was speaking. Brooke had been looking forward to it as she knew one of her old friends from her Law degree would be there. She hadn’t seen Priyanka in ages; she was still based in Canada and practising there, but they still texted and when they’d found out they were both going Brooke had been excited. Priyanka is one of those rare exes that’s still a friend, their breakup back in their early twenties being a mutual decision, and Brooke knows there’s no attraction there anymore.

But of course, Vanessa didn’t.

Brooke should’ve done more to reassure her, she knows this. If she looks back she can see how agitated Vanessa had been during the leadup to the conference for a full week- biting her perfectly manicured nails, a small frown on her face without her knowing, moments where she’d stare off into space. Vanessa knew about Priyanka (they’d both talked about their exes) but Brooke had told her it had been amicable and mutual. Besides, she told Vanessa how much she loved her every single day. It wasn’t as if Brooke had hidden the fact that Priyanka was going to be there that weekend, or shielded her phone when they’d been texting each other. She’d had nothing to hide.

Brooke almost wishes she had been more secretive now. Maybe it would’ve changed things.

The conference had been fun, even though Brooke now holds it in the same regard as the beginning of a horror movie, the calm before the cyclone. She’d phoned Vanessa when she had arrived, eager to reassure her but she could still hear the worry in her tone, the anxiety. Still, it hadn’t stopped her meeting up for drinks with Priyanka that evening in the hotel bar, laughing and chatting like they’d always used to and doing silly Boomerangs with the cocktails they’d ordered. Brooke told her all about Vanessa and Priyanka was thrilled for her, saying how excited she was to one day meet her. Brooke had got her phone out to show her some photos when Priyanka had looked at her own and gave a little exclamation of surprise.

“Oh! Is her nickname Vanjie?”

Brooke had narrowed her eyes, watching as Priyanka scrolled. “Yeah, why?”

“She’s watched my Insta story already. Doesn’t follow me though. Probably just doesn’t want to be weird,” Priyanka had shrugged. Brooke had shrugged back, offhandedly agreeing but internally embarrassed. She’d known why Vanessa had watched her story- she’d been checking up on her. Brooke hadn’t liked that.

When she’d arrived home, everything gradually came crumbling down, the pair of them slowly removing the Jenga blocks of their relationship one at a time. Their hug had been off when they’d seen each other again, their conversation had been the small talk of strangers. And then it had happened. Vanessa had brought up Priyanka, Brooke had brought up the Instagram stalking. Vanessa had brought up how weird she found it that she still wanted to hang out with an ex, Brooke had defended herself and told her they were only friends. Vanessa had expressed how worried she’d been, Brooke had been hurt.

“When have I ever given you reason to be worried?”

“Well shit, when you met up with your ex for drinks?”

Brooke had hit out, called Vanessa out on her jealousy.

“Well maybe I do get jealous! But it’s only ‘cuz I don’t ever want to lose you, fuck, I just don’t want to think about you with anybody else, that’s all!”

“But you don’t have to! Priyanka is my friend, that’s it, that’s all there is to it!” Brooke remembers how irritated she’d been, how exasperated. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you! Of course I trust you. I just don’t trust her,” Vanessa had sighed frustratedly, pulled another block out.

“Well I’m not going to just not see one of my friends for the rest of our relationship, V!”

“So you’re choosing her over me? That it?” Vanessa had questioned. Brooke still remembers the tears in her eyes. She’d known Vanessa hadn’t meant to say that, she knew Vanessa knew she was being unreasonable. But Brooke had reacted instantly, thinking in absolutes, or perhaps not thinking entirely.

“Fuck, Vanessa, well if it’s that black and fucking white to you then what the hell are we doing anyway?” she’d yelled, the finality still hurting her if she thinks about it. The raised tensions in the room had come to a boiling point. Vanessa had gone quiet.

“What are you saying?”

Brooke had committed and she was still angry, still frustrated. She’d doubled down. “Why the hell are we doing this if there’s no trust in our relationship?”

The realisation had dawned slowly and sickly like tar over Vanessa’s face. “You’re saying you want to break up?”

Brooke hadn’t replied, only stared at the floor. Vanessa had taken it as an answer.

She’d left.

Brooke had regretted it, but she’d known they would make amends. It had just been a silly argument, and things had been said that neither of them meant. She still loved her. They still loved each other. Brooke had given it an hour, waited for her to cool off before she called her to apologise.

Vanessa hadn’t picked up.

Brooke’s still waiting on her to call back.

***

Brooke is ten minutes away from a firm meeting when she gets the text.

V: i’ll be at Rialtos for the next hour

V: your move i guess

She doesn’t even think about the decision, simply acts. She asks Nicky to send her apologies, tell the director that she’s had to go home with stomach pains. If she gets a disciplinary it’ll be worth the risk. She crashes out of her office like a tsunami, her bag and her coat swinging wildly from the crook of her arm. Rialto’s is a five minute walk from her office but she makes it in three even in her stilettos. It’s only when she sees it on the corner on the sidewalk opposite that an overwhelming feeling of panic and sickness hits her like a gut punch. She’s been waiting for this moment for the past month-and-twelve-days (she’s counted), but now that it’s here she almost doesn’t know what to do. She’s never felt nerves like this- all of her nerve endings are buzzing like broken strobe lights and every time her heart beats her whole body feels it. It had been different the first time they were supposed to meet up and talk things out because Brooke had been there first, she could sit for a while and psych herself up. But this time Brooke knows that Vanessa is sitting at a table in the bar just across the street, and all that’s separating them is a busy road, a door and a few steps. Brooke steels herself, forces herself to take a few deep breaths as she checks her reflection in the shop window beside her. She looks a fright: no makeup, sleep-deprived bags under her eyes, the only thing remotely presentable about her is her hair which she threw into a low ponytail that morning. Then again, she supposes that Vanessa’s seen her without makeup before. Brooke thinks Vanessa’s seen every possible version of her, apart from of course this one. She takes another deep breath, turns around and stares the bar down as if she’s going to war.

It’s time.

Brooke dashes across the road and it crosses her mind that perhaps it would be better to just let fate take its course and get hit by a yellow taxi, but that’s the coward’s way out so she reaches the bar entranceway, pushes the door open with a huge, held-in breath. Rialto’s is dark inside with dim red lighting, and so even at four in the afternoon it seems as if it’s midnight. There’s red booths with black lacquered tables that shine under the crimson of the lamps positioned above them and the walls are covered in framed pictures, none of which Brooke takes in because she’s searching, slowly yet frantically as if she’s attempting to both prolong and speed up this whole situation. One booth near to her to her right holds a cheerful couple, another on her far left houses an old man drinking a cup of coffee.

And then she sees her.

She’s got her back to the door but Brooke recognises the wave of her blonde hair, the tie-dye of the oversized hoodie she’s wearing. She recognises the acrylic nails and the chunky rings that pattern the hand that’s curled around what looks like a French martini on the table. A searing, painful memory of their first date at Le Bernardin wrenches Brooke’s heart. She takes another deep breath and walks forward even though she feels like she’s going to be sick. She stops just at the table and the breath is knocked out of her lungs.

Vanessa looks up at her, her face impassive. Her makeup is perfect, but then Brooke wouldn’t have expected anything else. There’s dark roots at her side parting but Brooke thinks she somehow suits them. Apart from that she looks exactly the same, just how Brooke remembers her.

“Hi,” Brooke greets her feebly. Vanessa somehow communicates a shrug through a blink.

“Hey,” she says, taking her hand off her glass to gesture to the seat opposite her. “Sit.”

Brooke nods as she sits down in the red leather seat, and it’s only then that she notices there’s a second cocktail opposite Vanessa. It looks like a pornstar martini, it’s one of Brooke’s favourites.

“I ordered you one. Figured it might make this easier,” Vanessa explains. Her expression doesn’t break. Brooke is touched by the gesture.

“Thanks,” she says. Her hands shake as she reaches out to take the glass, sips at it and feels the sweetness of the vanilla vodka and the tang of the passionfruit coat her dry mouth. Her stomach’s still churning as Vanessa sits regarding her for a moment. Brooke wants to say something. She wants to immediately apologise for it all, even though she’s left twelve voicemails and twenty texts saying the same thing. She wants to ask how Vanessa is, even though that would be the most idiotic of things to say. Eventually she decides to lead with a compliment.

“You look great.”

Vanessa sniffs. “You don’t.”

Brooke takes the hit, supposes she deserves it. “I’ve not been sleeping great.”

“Yeah. Yvie’s mentioned,” Vanessa looks down at her lap, blinks. When she looks up again she’s clearly ready to speak, and Brooke’s heart is in her mouth. “So, we need to talk properly.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa looks down at the table, then into Brooke’s eyes. Brooke can tell she’s having a hard time doing so. “Uh, first off I wanna say sorry.”

The apology knocks Brooke for six. She feels herself frown involuntarily. “For what?”

“Well, it was wrong of me to try an’ make you choose between me and your friend. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it but I was jealous, an’ I was hurt. But that don’t excuse it, so I’m sorry.”  

Brooke shakes her head. She’d been annoyed at Vanessa for that at the time, and she’d have maybe appreciated an apology a month ago, but just now it only seems trivial in the grand scheme of things. “Vanessa, you don’t…you don’t need to apologise for this situation.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes at her and there’s a warning look in her gaze, so Brooke drops her protests and shrugs a little. “But I accept your apology.”

Vanessa nods, clearly following some internal script. Brooke is happy to go along with it, to play her part and say her lines, whatever they’re meant to be. She’s so used to immediately taking control of every situation she finds herself in, and even though her stomach feels sick and she feels as if she’s in an interrogation room she doesn’t mind playing the role of the witness and letting Vanessa be the lawyer for a change. She supposes she is on trial in some way.

“Now…I know that you’re sorry, you’ve made that pretty clear, so I don’t want another apology from you,” Vanessa begins, and part of Brooke doesn’t like that because she does want to say sorry, but maybe that’s just for her own benefit and not Vanessa’s. Vanessa sighs as she continues, looks down at her drink and this time doesn’t break eye contact. “But I need you to know how much you hurt me.”

Brooke winces. She realises Vanessa’s waiting for confirmation. “Okay.”

Vanessa pauses, and the breath she takes is shaky before she speaks again. “I…loved you so much, Brooke Lynn.”

The past tense slices Brooke in half.

“I never loved anyone like that before in my life. An’ I always thought you were too good to be true, like somehow one day I’d wake up and our whole relationship would be a dream. I never stopped tellin’ you how lucky I was or how much I appreciated you or how much I loved you. An’ you never stopped tellin’ me either. You made me feel so loved, an’ so precious, an’ so…fuck, sorry.”

Vanessa’s tone grows frustrated, anger layering with the tears Brooke can see in her eyes as she tips her head up, swipes at them like a tiger to wipe them away. Brooke thinks her heart might be breaking again, halves into quarters.

“An’ so that day, when we had that fight,” Vanessa continues, staring steadfastly at Brooke. “All of that, everything we had…it was like it didn’t matter anymore? Like everything we’d shared an’ everything I’d told you an’ everything you’d told me…like, what, that was all for nothing?”

“It wa-”

“Just lemme get this out, please,” Vanessa puts a hand up, stops her. “It was like everything I knew about you was just…nothing. I didn’t know you anymore. An’ I know it was a stupid fight and we shoulda been able to work that shit out, but…I was hurt. I’m still hurting. You hurt me.”

Vanessa stops. She’s done. Brooke wants to cry. She swallows the feeling down before she speaks.

“I behaved like a dick. And I said stupid things, but by the time they were out I couldn’t take them back. I didn’t mean any of it, Vanessa, I just…opened my mouth and said whatever got there first. That’s my fault, I know that. And I know I’ve apologised before but I haven’t had the chance to do it in person, so I’m honestly so sorry for hurting you. For making it seem like our relationship meant nothing to me. Like you meant nothing to me. You mean the world to me, you still do,” Brooke sighs, trying to make the deep breath she takes to stave off her tears subtle. She can’t meet Vanessa’s eyes when there’s tears in her own so she fixes her gaze on the passionfruit half floating in her drink as she continues. “And you don’t have to accept it, just as long as you hear it.”

“I know,” Vanessa says instantly. She looks calmer now she’s said her piece and heard Brooke’s, and she takes a sip from the two little black straws sticking out of the martini glass. She suddenly rolls her eyes, a bitter smile spreading across her face. “Fuck you, Brooke Lynn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean…fuck you for making me still love you. Fuck me for still loving you,” Vanessa sighs, resigned. The words make Brooke’s heart give a leap and she can’t help the smile she instantly tries to suppress and fails. Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, her expression turning serious. “But that don’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know. You don’t have to,” Brooke says guiltily. She thinks about saying it, wonders if it’ll guilt-trip Vanessa and she doesn’t want that, but indulgently and selfishly she says it anyway. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

Vanessa winces as if she’s been shot, her expression instantly turning into one of discomfort and her eyes squeezing shut. Brooke frowns. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Christ. You’re so fuckin’ Canadian,” Vanessa sighs exasperatedly as she puts her head in her hands, and Brooke probably would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been trying to repair the most important relationship of her life so far. Brooke feels awkward and she’s in this conversation without a map, unsure which direction it’s going in.

“Where do we go from here?”

Vanessa drains her glass, foam and syrup all that’s left. She leans back in her chair and folds her arms over. There’s a tiny smile that’s back on her face, and it makes Brooke’s hopes start to climb.

“Well,” she shrugs a little, her guard still up but ever so slightly lowered. “You can start by buyin’ me another drink an’ we can take it from there.”

Brooke nods, grabs her purse and almost sprints to the bar. She orders another French martini and another pornstar- she thinks she’ll be needing it. As she waits for their drinks and the sound of ice in a cocktail shaker cuts through the air, Brooke sneaks a look at Vanessa in the booth. She’s so gorgeous. Brooke’s happy to see her again, despite the circumstances. Just as she makes to turn back around, Vanessa’s head snaps up from the phone in her hand and their eyes meet.

Vanessa’s gaze is soft and the small smile on her face is warm.

Maybe they’re going to be okay.

[panlight]

Masks

Hello friends would you like to read my Elizabeth Masen figures out Carlisle fanfic from like 9 years ago? Part 1 of 3. 

"Cullen? A word?

Carlisle had been successfully avoiding the chief of medicine since his shift ended seven hours ago, but Dr. Schmidt had finally managed to corner him. Carlisle had heard him coming, of course, but it was probably about time to get the well-meaning lecture over with.

"I am needed here," Carlisle insisted quietly, not wishing to wake the patients. They were the ones that needed rest.

"Your dedication is laudable, but I won't allow you to endanger your own health,” Dr. Schmidt said, gesturing towards the hallway. "You are our brightest young star--it would be a terrible loss to the future of medicine if you were cut down in your youth."

It was times like these Carlisle wished he looked older.  He didn't need coddling, he didn't need looking after.  Normally he tried to take the protective instincts of his physically older colleagues in good humor, but now Carlisle couldn't help but resent them.

What could he say? That he was immune? That he was immortal? That it was only because he had been 'cut down in his youth' that he stood here now, two and a half centuries later?

"You've been here for 19 hours straight."

Carlisle sighed and removed his mask. "I appreciate your concern, however--"

"You'll be of no use to anyone dead."

How about undead? 

Carlisle wished he could tell Dr. Schmidt that he was one person on the hospital staff about whom he need not worry.  He required no sleep, no food, and he certainly couldn't succumb to the influenza.  No, the malady he had contracted centuries ago had rendered him immune to all human ailments, immune to death itself.  

". . . but the simple truth of the matter is that while everyone your age thinks themselves immortal, Dr. Cullen, that is not actually the case. You look like death, son,” he added.

Carlisle turned to glance at his dim reflection in the window and discovered, with some shock, that Dr. Schmidt was right.  The pallor was nothing new, but the dark circles under his eyes and the flat black of his irises were unsettling, and did make him appear decidedly unwell. He was suddenly acutely aware of the dry, burning pain in his throat. Carlisle had been so focused on his work, so overwhelmed by the scope and tragedy of this epidemic, that he had been completely ignoring his own needs. When was the last time he had hunted? It had been at least a month, if not longer. That was unforgivably irresponsible on his part.  

"Very well.  I will go home and . . . recuperate.  But I will be back in eight hours."

Dr. Schmidt was still there when he returned.  Carlisle knew for a fact he needed to eat and sleep.  He had a wife, children, grandchildren.  He needed to take care of himself for them.  Carlisle hoped the dedicated fool realized how unbelievably lucky he was to have a family.

"Carlisle, you look much better! See what a little sleep can do?"

Of course sleep had nothing to do with it, it was blood that had brought a faint blush of color to his cheeks, brightened his eyes and lightened the circles beneath them.  Carlisle couldn't imagine he would have been welcome there if his supervisor knew what he had been doing in his eight hours off. Then again, doctors were in such high demand, perhaps even his questionable lifestyle would be overlooked.

"You should take your own advice, Dr. Schmidt.  Go home.  Rest.  I will take care of things here."

The old doctor's round spectacles reflected the dim light of the hall as he clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned to leave.

Despite his superiors' objections, Carlisle always took on the most virulent cases himself.  And even though there was no risk of infection on his part, he still had to pretend.  Thus he took all the necessary precautions, donning the white coverall, cap and mask of his colleagues.  With his pale complexion he must have resembled a ghost as he drifted up and down the ward at night, uncannily appearing at the bedside of whoever needed attention the most, whoever was having the most trouble breathing, whoever had a spike in their fever.

That was how he met the Masens.

The father, Edward, was originally the only patient from the family, but his wife, Elizabeth, and son, Edward Jr, spent so much time at his bedside that they quickly contracted the illness themselves despite the masks they wore. Edward Sr. never regained consciousness once he was brought to his ward, but his wife and son were not so far gone.  Elizabeth had the best chance of survival, but her grief over the loss of her husband and her worry over her son were hurting her chances.  And although Carlisle knew it was dangerous, he quickly grew attached to the spirited widow and her son.

“Mrs. Masen, “ he chided gently as he came upon what was becoming a familiar scene,  “you should be in bed.”

“I am in bed.” She lay holding her teenage son, the poor boy shivering with chills.  The two looked very much alike, with a similar reddish tint to their hair, and identical emerald green eyes.

“Your bed, Elizabeth.”

“I am needed here,”  she murmured, stroking the boy's hair.  

Carlisle had never known his mother, and yet he found himself missing her as he watched Elizabeth with her son.  Would his mother have loved him so completely, so recklessly? He supposed so she gave her life to bring him into the world, after all.  It seemed now like a wasted effort, giving one's all to deliver a child only to have him become a vampire.  Carlisle could only hope the way he had chosen to live the life he had gave her some small measure of comfort.  Perhaps she would have been able to see past what he was, although he knew his father never could have.

“When Edward is well again he is going to need you.  You can't risk your health like this.  Come along, back to bed.”

Elizabeth sighed, kissed her son's forehead, and climbed out of his bed to return to her own.  She faltered, weaker than she believed herself to be, and Carlisle swooped in to catch her.

“Careful,” he smiled behind his mask, hoping his eyes alone would convey his sentiment.

“You're awfully quick on your feet for so late at night, Dr. Cullen.”

Under different circumstance her statement may have sounded vaguely flirtatious, but there was no teasing in her words. Instead her tone was confused, skeptical. Carlisle had moved just a little too quickly, and she had noticed.

“It is not late from my perspective, Elizabeth.  I am quite accustomed to working the night shift.”

“Why do you work the night shift?”

“I have no children and am unmarried. By working the night shift, I allow my colleagues to spend time with their families.”

Sadness washed across her features, probably thinking of her own shattered family. “You must be lonely.”

Yes! He wanted to scream.  “I have my work,”  he said instead, trying to make sure there was no discernible emotion in his voice.

“You have no family at all?”

“Like your Edward, I am an only child.  And both my parents have passed away.“

“You seem awfully young to have lost both your parents,” she said, squinting thoughtfully at him.  All she could see were his eyes.  “Physically, anyway.”

He froze.  “Pardon me?”

“You're young,”  she reiterated. “Yet, somehow you remind me of his grandfather.”

“Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?”

“An observation,” she said, turning her head to cough and pausing to pour herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand.  “The way you carry yourself, how you speak.  It reminds me of him.  And your eyes,” she added.

“Are an unusual color, I know--”

“Well, yes but . . . your gaze is not that of a young man, but someone who has seen the world.”  She paused a moment, but did not give him a chance to answer.  “Why are you working in this ward?

“To spare my colleagues.  I caught the influenza in the first wave,”  he lied smoothly.   “I am immune.”  

“Then you don't really need that mask, do you?”  Elizabeth asked.   “May I see you?  

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have worked so hard to care for my son and I, but I feel as if I do not know you at all.  You are always hidden behind your mask.”

If only you knew, Elizabeth, he thought.

[jj-lives]

bumbleby Week - Day 2 - Meeting the Parents - Puns of fun

I know I am so late on the day two shit… oops.

____

Puns of Fun

“I’m nervous.”

 Blake stared up at the two story structure.  It loomed over her more intimidating than Beacon’s tower on her first day of school.  Her clasped hands started to wring painfully in her own anxiety.  

“There’s no need to be.”

Yang stepped forward, shouldering their shared bag.  Blake felt Yang’s hand interrupt the busy nature of her own as she trapped one in her strong protective grasp.  

“What if-”

“No, none of that.” Yang interjected. “You are not doing yourself any favours by imagining the worst possible outcome.”

“Weiss would disagree.” Blake half-joked, finally tearing her eyes from Yang’s childhood home. “‘Preparation is planning for every possibility’ is what she would say.”

Yang laughed.

“You really want to take lessons on parental relationships from Weiss?” It pulled a small chuckle from Blake and Yang’s teasing smirk turned soft at the sound.  “Just relax, alright?”

Nodding, Blake allowed herself to b pulled up the porch steps.  Yang only paused for a few, too short, seconds when they came to the front door.  She turned and Blake was reassured once more by her soft confident smile.  If Yang believed all would be okay, who was Blake to question her?

With a quick turn of her wrist and a gentle shove the door gave way, allowing them entrance.  Blake forcefully swallowed the lump forming in her throat and followed closely behind Yang as she stepped into the house.

“Dad, we’re here.” Yang called out as she dropped their bag on the bench just inside the door.  

“In the kitchen.” Tai’s voice drifted from the back of the structure.  

The couple dozen steps it took to reach the kitchen seemed to take an eternity to traverse in Blake’s mind.  She tried not to think about how this could all go horribly wrong, but try as she might she didn’t think it was going to go as smoothly as Yang was trying to convince her. She, after all, played a part in Yang’s injury from the fall of Beacon and she had run directly after.  She’d hurt Yang and what parent would so easily forgive that?  In the kitchen, a blond man was standing at the counter, his back to them.  He seemed to be busy preparing something.

“Dad, I’d like you to meet Blake.” There was a pregnant pause that only increased Blake’s concern the longer it went on.  Why wasn’t he turning around? “Dad?”

“Hold on Yang. I’m just making us a snack. Just take a seat at the table and I’ll be right with you two.”

“Okay.” Even Yang’s tone warned Blake this was not Tai’s normal behaviour, but she led them both to the table on the opposite wall and they sat side-by-side. 

“You two are so quiet.” Tai stated after a minute of silence.  Blake could feel how palpable the air surrounding them became.  Yang’s earlier surprise should have been enough of a worry, but the frown making its way across her face was very concerning.  It started with a pull at her lips and ended with a furrowed brow.  “Is something wrong you two?”  Yang opened her mouth to respond, knowing Blake wouldn’t speak until actual introductions were made, but before she could say a word Tai continued. “Or does a cat got your tongue?” 

More silence.

Blake wasn’t sure how to respond.  Sure she’d heard the phrase before, but did Tai really not know Blake was a feline faunus?  Had Yang never mentioned it to him?  This was going to be more awkward than she had even originally imagined.  Would Tai have a problem with his daughter dating a faunus?

Yang’s laughter abruptly cut through the dead air and all Blake could do was stare bewildered at her girlfriend. She didn’t even notice Tai had turned around and made his way to them until he was placing a plate of sandwiches on the table and a glass in front of each of them.  

“Eat up you two.” Tai smiled warmly at both of them whilst taking a seat himself.  

Blake reached for a sandwich only to appear polite.  She wasn’t particularly hungry after all the stress she’d put herself through imagining this meeting.  To Tai’s credit he didn’t seem phased by the ears twitching in Yang’s direction atop her head.  After taking a bite of her tuna sandwich -which was delicious- she reached for her glass.  She couldn’t help but stare at the white liquid filling it.  

Blake knew Ruby’s affinity for the liquid. She had been told enough times that “I drink milk” had become their teams excuse for just about everything, from not wanting to study to not needing to train. She hadn’t known it was the household’s go to beverage, but as she stole a glance in Yang and Tia’s direction she saw both their glasses held only water.  

Blake’s eyes widened at the realization of just why she was offered milk. 

“I’m sorry Blake,” Yang said between chuckles. “You had to know I got it from someone.”

When her eyes shifted, Blake noticed Tai was also trying to control his laughter.  He was at least doing a better job of keeping his pleasure silent.  

“I’m sorry too. The opportunity was just too purr-fect to pass up.” His comment elicited another round of uproarious laughter from the pair and all Blake could think to do was duck her head and blush.  She didn’t know how to respond. Her usual banter saying provoked in her might not be welcome with the elder Xiao Long. Their laughter lasted a lot longer than Blake was comfortable with. One would eventually start calming down but even a glance in the other’s direction set them both off again. “Yang, isn’t this just hiss-terical?”  

Blake was starting to get annoyed. She admitted their laughter, even at her expense, was preferable to Tai’s anger or disapproval she’d been expecting, but if she was up for an entire weekend of this she didn’t know if she could survive it.

“Are you okay Blake?” Yang finally asked, concerned. Blake was about to reassure her but was interrupted before she even opened her mouth. “You haven’t finished your sandwich. Are you feline unwell?”

Tai roared once more but Yang’s teasing glare watched her reaction carefully, a challenge Blake realized.

Blake pushed the glass of milk across the table so it came to rest in front of Tai. 

“I only drink milk from a bowl obviously.” 

Blake stood and exited the kitchen. Tai’s “Did I go too far?” followed her out. She actually made it out the front door and halfway down the porch steps, further than she’d anticipated, when Yang’s heavy footsteps could be heard jogging after her.  

Blake was glad because she didn’t actually have anywhere to actually go. Unless she wanted to walk to the docks and catch a ship back into Vale, and that would be a little far to take her fake storm out. 

“Blake, come back.” Yang called, skipping down the steps after her.

“No, I’m going back to Vale. Enjoy your weekend with your father.” Blake huffed and crossed her arms, not allowing herself to look at Yang lest she cave and drop her facade.

“You’re not actually going to leave.” 

Blake felt Yang rolling her eyes, actually felt it.

“You want to push me?” Blake shot back sternly.  The glance she spared showed a surprised Yang and Blake silently congratulated herself. 

“Shit,” Yang breathed. “No, of course not! Did we go too far?”

Blake caught view of Tai leaning against the frame of the porch, observing them with concern written on his brow.

“Are you kitten me? You two are paw-sitively claw-ful, and if you weren’t so purr-fectly lovely Yang I would walk out right meow. I would only put up with this shit fur you, you know?”

Yang’s jaw dropped as she stared at Blake in bewilderment.  Tai got over his surprise quickly, not knowing her character as well as his daughter and he doubled over laughing.  Blake had rarely been able to render Yang completely speechless but this was one of those rare moments she was going to treasure.  

“Whatever you do Yang, keep this one around would you?” Tai said, coming up beside them and swinging an arm around each to guide them back into the house.  As Tai released Blake to enter first she heard Yang’s whispered voice rise up behind her. 

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’m going to marry this one.”

Suddenly, coming to visit Yang’s dad didn’t seem like such a bad idea. For all that could have gone wrong, getting closer to her father could only mean getting closer to Yang. That was after all the whole point of this trip, because she did want to spend the rest of her life with Yang. She already knew that. Hearing Yang admit the same to her own father was something Blake wasn’t expecting, but was pleasantly surprised by it.

Blake would put up with all the horrid puns in the world if it meant spending the rest of her life with Yang. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t put up with for her actually.

[malereader-inserts]

Give Me My Worth

Fandom: Twilight Pairing: Cullen x Adopted Son/Brother!Reader Summary: It had to get yourself sick in order for your foster family to realise Word Count: 2251 Request: “Cullen family x mreader where the reader does everything that his siblings ask him to do put whenever he asks for anything the family ignores him and it ends with a happy ending. I need some hurting put not that much” A/n: you didn’t say human or vampire reader so I am making the reader human - also extra ANGST. Also, I don’t know what time some American school start or finish their day, so I’m going with what usually England school’s run by with 9am to around 3:30m (obvs depending what school you go to, then end time fluctuates around)

You flop back onto your bed.

You were exhausted, the alarm clock was hitting 2:00am. Your body shook with a dry cough as you wipe the sweat off your forehead. You sighed as you sat up, getting your bag ready and finish the homework you were supposed to finish when you got home until Emmett asked you to clean their clothes.

Then you got busy when Jasper asked if you could go on a book hunt for one of his lessons, which got added by Alice ordering you to pick up her delivery, then Rosaline asked you to grab some equipment for her car. As you went to pick the essentials - took an hour to find Jasper’s book, Alice delivery was out on the opposite side of Seattle of the bookshop that Jasper’s book was. Then it took your upper strength and energy to lift the tools for Rosalie into the back of your car.

By then, it was 7pm. You watched Jasper come and go with his book without a simple thanks as Alice, scowls for you taking your time as Rosalie walks passed you to retrieve her essentials, leaving you to feel unwanted as a cough took over your body.

You had asked what was dinner, but you found out that Esme went out to help into the local shelter, leaving you with nothing eat, though you weren’t that pressed about the situation because they needed Esme more than you need her. You had to dinner around 7:30, finishing later into 8, though you weren’t eating much.

 By then you were ready to start your own work to do before Bella called you if you could pick her at La Push since her truck broke down and Jacob refused to go to the other side.

It was a simple pick up and drop up, yet Bella had dragged you to join the wolf pack in their storytelling session around the fire making you leave with Bella around 10:15, the cold wasn’t helping with the situation, suppressing your faint cold. Just as you dropped her off, you were met by Edward, who looked at you thankfully for bringing her home safely but annoyed that it was late at night.

When you were driving away you stopped to get yourself gas for your car, returning home at 10:35. Just as you were about to sit down and make a start on your homework, you were beckoned once again by Alice.

She had claimed that she was far too busy to do her own history homework, it was just a one-time thing and she wanted you to do it. She gave you a look and waved you off as she and Jasper went hunting, leaving you no choice to whip out your history book and write her essay, coming up to 11:49.

Just as you printed it off and placed it Alice’s bag, you were called by Rosalie to help her with her maths homework, despite her repeating high school she always seemed to be failing maths, you were barely managing and whilst everyone else was out hunting you were the only one available. 

You kept your cool around your sister, it took almost an hour for her to understand what she was doing and fifteen minutes for her to finish it. By 1:20, you were exhausted, you craved for your bed but you just couldn’t with the amount of work you needed to do. 

At this point of the night, you felt unwell. A headache, a rough dry cough kept taking over as you breathed unevenly, ignoring the pain that came along with it.

You had greeted your foster dad when he came through the doors at half one, kissing his wife and the both of them went out the door to hunt, ignoring your begs to stay off school.

Just as you were about to drag yourself up the stairs, Emmett came bouncing in with a smile, begging for you to join him and Jasper in a video game. You had one game before rushing to your room.

Currently, you looked at the bight screen in front of you, your exhausted eyes bore into your geography homework. Your chest hurts, breathing hurts as you shiver. Ignoring everything you plugged in some music until you found yourself working up at the sunrise.

The situation had been almost a routine, you loved your family, but everything was unbearable. You were in a constant state of tiredness, your body ached and you were becoming feverish. In the heat of that, you pushed on, despite feeling used and unwanted at the same time.

As you got yourself ready for the day, you noticed the sun was out. Your siblings would be staying off and the fact that you had helped them do their work, you sighed in frustration sending yourself in a fit of coughing. Pulling your sweatshirt on you, you grabbed your bag and went to your car.

It wasn’t like the family had anything good to say, they were all engrossed with their things - ignoring or forgetting that you had existed. You shouldn’t be driving with the lack of, or no, sleep you had gotten.

Angela greeted you with your head leaning against your steering wheel, “You don’t look so good (Y/n).”

“Thanks, I don’t feel like it either.”

You drag yourself out the car, a wave of dizziness had hit you, as you lean on the car. Angela’s hand flew to your shoulder, keeping you stable.

“Do you need to see the nurse?”

“I think I can live.”

You waved her off as you join Bella in the first lesson of English. She greeted you with furrowed eyebrows knitted together as you sat down next to her. You placed your head on the table, a headache consuming you with the pain in your chest increased, Bella had noticed your shallow breathing.

“You should go home,” Bella spoke as she looks down at you, “Visit the hospital or something.”

You sat up, leaning your chin on your palm, heaving a cough as you covered your mouth, ignoring the wheezing, “I rather be here than hell at home.”

Bella looked at you confused, “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t had a good night sleep for the past week, Bells, I just feel like I’m back at the foster home with the Cullens.”

Bella had known your traumatising experience with the foster home and found herself severely disappointed with the Cullens. She gave you one last look before she turned her attention to the teacher, who had walked in the class.

When the lesson had finished, you and Bella walked to your locker.

“Alright, give me your keys, we’re taking you to the hospital,” Bella held her hand out as she gave you a look, you sighed as you dug through your pocket and gave her your keys.

She grabbed you by the arm as she escorted you to the car. You sit there shivering, unable to fight back as you started to hack out a cough.

“What about your truck?”

“Broken down remember? Dad took me in,” Bella responded, “Are you coughing blood?”

You had slipped into silence as Bella started the car, muttering how annoyed she was at your family, at her boyfriend. Pulling up to the hospital, you had muttered how your family couldn’t find out about your state.

Once admitted into the hospital with severe pneumonia, which had been developing for days with quick x-rays and other medical precautions that took place, you were felt rendered unconscious after a day’s worth of examination.

Bella had called her dad that she was looking after you in the hospital, pitying as you were in for monitoring oxygen levels, temperature, heart rate and breathing rate, whilst antibiotics were given to you at intervals.

She softly runs her hand through your hair, “I wish you knew how much your family cares about you.”

She sighs as she leaves you for the night, going to your car and examining the empty notifications of your phone, wondering where you were. As she drove your car, she didn’t know what to say, wondering if Alice had predicted this outcome.

When she had arrived at the Cullen’s house, she was greeted with Edward and Alice. They had wondered why she was driving your car but allowed her to go into the house, despite no greeting.

“Ah, Bella!” Carlisle greeted, “Didn’t know you were visiting today.”

“Unexpected turn of events,” Bella responded, her arms crossed and looked like she refused to be touched, “I’m feeling like I’m having an off day.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I didn’t expect to find myself pitying the honourary human Cullen, at the hospital where he lies unconscious with the last thought that his foster hates him, making him feel unwanted nor needed,” Bella explained, “But, what do I know? It wasn’t like he was on the verge of tears on the way to the hospital complaining his chest hurts as he begs me not to tell you, fearing he was wasting your time.”

“Wh-”

“And the fact he was about to pass out due to his sleep deprivation and I swear he had compared his life here like the foster home-”

“We get it!” Rosalie sneers.

“Do you?” Bella asked, keeping herself near her boyfriend in case Rosalie attacked. In this sheer moment, Bella had gathered a lot of courage to speak like this to a bunch of vampires, “You’re sending him to an early grave.”

The Cullens share a look, Jasper felt so much guilt, regret and remorse. He couldn’t take it as Edward was gaining too many thoughts at once, he couldn’t contain it.

“My dad is picking me up,” Bella commented, just about to turn around and leave.

“Bella?” Esme quietly spoke, the human looked at her, “Why is he in the hospital?”

“Severe Pneumonia, monitoring his levels,”

Carlisle’s feeling worsens because he was the doctor, he should have spotted your illness before you had ended up in the hospital. Edward and Alice grimace as they also were trained to be doctors, but they couldn’t give much thought to their brother as they cared way too much of themselves.

The moment you had woken up, you didn’t expect to see golden eyes watching you intensely. You blinked slowly, before processing what was going on, where you were and what had happened. You shut your eyes once again, hoping that the tiredness would wash you off to sea and ignore your family.

“We’re not leaving,” Jasper spoke from the corner of your room, his arm over Alice.

There was silence, you felt Esme rub your arm, she had a heavy heart as she had lost her son once she did not want to lose another. You peaked your eye open, groggily rubbing the sleep away.

“Hey, there sleeping beauty.”

You glared at Emmett, muttering under your breath knowing full well they could hear you, “Still feel like I haven’t slept enough.”

Rosalie smiles at you, “How are you feeling-?”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you here? Don’t you have anything better to fulfil your goddamn boring life?” You questioned as your chest started to spaz as you were sent into fits of bloody coughs.

“We haven't been the greatest,” Edward started, “Carlisle is working right now, but he’s keeping an eye on you, but nevertheless, we came to apologise.”

You looked at him, eyebrow raised and unamused.

“We treated you horribly, we used you and for that we’re sorry.”

You cut Edward short with a snort, “You didn’t just use me, you made me feel shit, reduced me to feel like nothing. Home didn’t feel like home anymore - I want my worth to be validated, give me my worth.”

Your voice broke at the end of the sentence as your breathing was laboured, uneven and you were wheezing. You blinked slowly, ignoring the ringing noise in your ear and the distant headache you could feel, your body was shutting down again. You just wanted to rest.

“We’re so sorry, sweetheart,” Esme soothes you.

“Sorry doesn’t wash away the feeling-”

“So, we’ll prove it to you, prove that your worth is validated in our house.” Emmett interrupted, he was almost begging, “We forget we’re not human like you, but please give us a second chance to show you that you can have faith in us.”

You looked at them, their golden eyes looking hopeful at you. You softly hummed, before responding.

“If I say yes, will you let me sleep?” There was a simultaneous nodding of heads, “Okay, but this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“That’s okay, we’re okay with that,” Jasper responded.

“We’re not deserving of your forgiveness, at least not yet,” Alice concluded.

“You mean a lot to us,” Rosalie spoke fondly, “We love you.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I love you too, unfortunately.”

The room was full of silence, as your body too over allowing you to sleep. Your uneven breathing become steady, as the group of vampires watched the rise and fall of your chest, fearing that if they would look away you would just stop. They didn’t want to lose you, it was awakening for them, but it was something they needed to know.

You weren’t a robot or a vampire like them. You were human, with needs and emotions.

If you need your worth validated, damn right they will show it to you.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (semi-stream of consciousness) Thoughts Part 3: Spider-Miles and his Amazing Friends/Foes

Apologies for not getting this out sooner. I’ve been/still am unwell so I was physically too energy drained to crank it out.

For this outing we’re going to discuss the characters not named Miles Morales. Spoilers ahead.

 As I have said before, Miles might be the primary protagonist but he is not the sole one.

Alongside him we have the Peter Parker who died (who, in what is surely a Clone Saga reference, is blonde), the older washed up Peter Parker, Spider-Gwen, Spider-Ham, Spider-Man Noir and Peni Parker with her SP//dr mech...with a cameo by Spider-Man 2099 and 1960s Spider-Man.

Going up against them are Kingpin, Prowler/Aaron Davis, Doctor Octopus/Olivia Octavius, Tombstone, Scorpion and Green Goblin with cameos by the Lizard/Spider-Gwen’s Peter Parker and some versions of Doc Ock and a reference to Electro. Honestly there were probably more villains too I just missed them because this movie is such a feast for the eyes that you need to see it more than once to take everything in. For example my friend caught a Ditko reference I missed.

I already gushed about how impressive it is that the movie balanced so many characters so lets not go over that again beyond saying that it is honestly mind blowing that us Spidey fans got all THOSE villains (some of whom have never been on film before) in this movie and what is essentially a Carolin Trainer Doc Ock reference rendered as a really cool villainess.

For real Olivia ‘Liv’ Octavius was bad ass. If Kingpin was the Big Bad she was his ‘Dragon’ to use TV Tropes terminology. Her design was unique to Molina’s Doc Ock and her unveiling was one of the movies best twists that I really didn’t see coming. Also Aunt May seemed to know her which means in my headcanon they were like old friends and had tea together sometimes. It is also worth of note she is technically one of the relatively few Marvel movie villainesses.

Sticking with the villains for now Tombstone and Green Goblin were the least interesting. Goblin here existed essentially to serve as reference and honour to the Death of Spider-Man arc from the Ultimate comics as he is very much involved in Blonde Peter’s death and dies himself. Tombstone was just...Tombstone. He was just Fisk’s bodyguard and nothing else. Still the fact that there even exists a Spider-Man movie WITH Tombstone in it is something of a marvel. Scorpion is elevated somewhat beyond Tombstone and Goblin by virtue of his interesting redesign and the quirk that he speaks Spanish, thus connecting him to Miles. Whilst the movie doesn’t use it’s relatively even hero and villain count to just pair the characters off, it should be said that Tombstone and Scorpion do exist specifically to give Noir, Ham and Peni something to do in the second and third act climaxes.

This is not a detriment to the movie though. Although this is an ensemble movie, it is Miles movie primarily, Peter and Gwen’s secondarily and the other Spider-Heroes’ behind them. This point is accentuated when we are given their origins simultaneously in a three panel sequence. It is understood that these three characters are to be regarded somewhat collectively, sort of like the Warriors Three from Thor.

Getting back to the villains though, I have little to say on Prowler I didn’t cover last time. All I will add is that his visuals are very cool. Even though he is based upon Ultimate Prowler his look is more 616 Prowler influenced, but imagine if instead of a misguided antagonist he was a scary slightly Spawn inspired villain. So he was totally bad ass.

However hats must go off to Kingpin. He was the main and best villain of this story. It is funny this year has been oddly Kingpin focused in terms of Marvel content.

He was brought back superbly for Daredevil season 3. He was a notable figure in the PS4 Spidey game. He was the main villain of the PS4 prequel novel. He got a lot of play in Daredevil and Spider-Man comics where he was the mayor and he is now serving as a Marvel movie villain for the second time. For me personally I complimented all this by checking out Daredevil Born Again and Last Rites, two very Kingpin centric stories.

As far as his portrayal here is concerned, the central conceit of the movie again creates a potential get out of jail scenario for any direction the writers want to take with the characters. This is an AU version of Kingpin and so is at liberty to deviate wildly from the 616 version as Liv Octavius did.

How interestingly what we wind up with is an interesting rendition of Kingpin who’s deviations from his canon counterpart’s personality are relatively minor and his overall portrayal is different more in where it places the emphasis as opposed to what the specific traits of his personality are.

Comics Kingpin is defined by his cold controlled and sophisticated demeanour hiding a thuggish, cruel and raging temper beneath the surface. He is the boss of bosses, the biggest criminal ever in more way than one.  

Spider-Verse Kingpin is a little more ‘street’ in his dialogue and vocal performance than we might be used to with classic Kingpin and ever so slightly more prone to making jokes, but beyond that his personality is very similar. Essentially he is Kingpin with a bit more Tony Soprano injected into him. The idea of his calm exterior hiding a cruel raging monster beneath is very well realized though via his gimmick of clicking his pen as a kind of stress ball to maintain his temper and his beating Spider-Man to death with his bare hands. Not to mention his flying into raging bull mode at the climax of the movie when things go all wrong.

Where the key deviation lies for this rendition of Wilson Fisk though lies in his motivation for the movie. Whilst various stories in comics and other media depict Kingpin’s motivation to simply rid his criminal empire of one superhero or another, or else further expand and secure that empire, Spider-Verse Kingpin is all about his family. The entire reason he is investigating parallel universes is in order to find alternate living versions of his dead wife Vanessa and son Richard. They died fleeing him in horror upon witnessing him fighting Blonde Spidey, so Wilson feels guilty and heartbroken over their deaths.

What is ingenious about this take upon Kingpin is that you could entirely see his canon counterpart doing something like this and it serves to add a note of sympathy to him in spite of his directly murdering Spider-Man and Miles’ uncle. Whilst it is perhaps not as nuanced or multilayered as the Netflix Kingpin, it still serves to make him more than a two-dimensional, black and white gangster. So as a villain he is simple, yet effective.

  Kingpin, like all the Spider-Heroes sans Miles, also has a backstory flashback sequence that  explains his history with his family. These are strategically placed throughout the movie and are reminiscent of the origin sequences from the Suicide Squad movie. However what worked so poorly there works magnificently here.

These origin sequences do much more than simply drop exposition for each character. Putting aside how the movie does enough to build up and endear us to most of the characters who get such sequences, the sequences are actually in aid of conveying to the audience the primary conceit of the film, that of alternate realities.

And the best way to convey this idea is to prevent the familiar with deliberate changes.

What I mean by this is that the movie sets up these origin sequences in deliberate contrast to one another and signposts this fact with repeated dialogue and visual cues in each sequence. This even applies for Kingpin as the visuals of his origin sequence are evoked for the climax wherein he briefly does see flashes of his wife and son from other realities.

As far as the Spider-Heroes are concerned though, the first of these sequences is at the top of the movie with the background information for Blonde Spidey.

This helps immediately hint that the world we are watching is both similar to yet different to the ones we might be familiar with, noticeably the world of this Spider-Man is more similar to our own as Blonde Spidey (surely a Ben Reilly reference unto himself) is a beloved and highly merchandised celebrity. Even the iconic upside down kiss with Mary Jane occurs for him with MJ upside down. A fun little in joke for the audience, or sly easing in of the idea that this Spider-Man is not the one we know?

A little of both probably, but that one scene illustrates what I mean because the second origin sequence we get is about the older Spider-Man. Like I said it plays itself in deliberate contrast to the Blonde Spider-Man, retaining the same narrative/dialogue structure within the short vignette to convey for us how this Spidey is different and thus develop his character. E.g. he is older and yet less successful, he is underappreciated and in bad shape and his marriage to MJ (whom he shares a more traditional upside down kiss with, see what I mean, it slyly hints this Spidey is more like the ones we recognize) has ended in sad divorce and he is a wreck.

Further origin sequences repeat for Spider-Gwen (she is similar to her comic counterpart, but her hang up is distancing herself from her friends), Noir, Peni and Ham.

As I said before Noir, Peni and Ham have their origin sequences play out simultaneously on the screen. This cements their lesser status within the movie compared to the other protagonists.

Collectively the sequences not only use the individual Spider-Heroes to mutually develop and build up each character on the most basic level to the audience (Spider-Man but a Looney Tune pig, Spider-Man but if he was a drummer Gwen Stacy, Spider-Man but if he was Humphrey Bogart, Spider-Man but if he was an anime girl from a mech anime, etc) but also serves to hold the audiences hand as it gets them to accept the conceit of parallel universes.

Of course the concept is first broached at the start of the movie where Blonde Spider-Man’s origin sequence concludes with him declaring himself the one and only Spider-Man (a sentiment echoed in other origin sequences too) and is then immediately followed by Miles’ introduction. We also have the topic raised in Miles classroom.

When combined with the other origin sequences, this opening obviously challenges the audiences idea that there could only ever be one Spider-Man and that it would have to be Peter Parker (a fair presumption, most audience members would be unaware of any other Spider-Heroes). This I think is part of the ingeniousness (forgive my repetition of the term but it is true) of featuring the two Peters in this movie.

See both Peter Parkers are as much positioned as deliberate deviations from the norm general audiences would expect as Spider-Ham or Spider-Gwen. Whilst one Peter is blonde and a successful married celebrity with essentially his own Spider-Cave, another is the oldest on screen Peter Parker we’ve ever had, pot-bellied and a divorcee. Outside of some video games and two 20 year old cartoons general audiences have never even seen a married Spider-Man so presenting not just one but two, and one of whom is post-marriage to boot, is a brilliant way to sell ‘this isn’t the Spider-Man you know’.

But these Spider-Men ARE Peter Parker. So if there can be versions of the Parker Spidey audiences are familiar with that are so different to what they know, the idea of Peter Parker but an anime girl or a 1930s noir character or a cartoon pig becomes easier to accept as does Gwen Stacy (whom audiences ARE familiar with from the recent Marc Webb movies) as ‘Spider-Man’ becomes yet easier to accept.

All of which build to what is second half of the question the start of the movie raises.

The question is partially ‘Does Peter Parker have to be the one and only Spider-Man’ (obviously not there are alternate versions of him as well as Gwen Stacy in the role) and, perhaps more poignantly, partially ‘Can Miles be Spider-Man’.

And this is the the most important purpose that the origin sequences serve. They are all building towards the climax of the movie which bookeneds the start wherein it is at last Miles turn to relay his own origin, allowing the movie to put to rest the question it raised at the start and cement in the audience’s minds that YES, this kid can and now IS Spider-Man.

As Stan Lee said, part of the appeal of Spider-Man is that under that costume anyone can imagine themselves to be Spider-Man. This movie embodies that message, embeds it into itself and in that sense serves the fundamental ethos of Spider-Man or him being the relatable everyman, even whilst Peter himself is not the heart of this movie.

And it did all that via having comic book style flashback exposition dumps!!!!!!!

I might have said this before or elsewhere but this is the most ‘comic book’ comic book movie I’ve ever seen! As in it is a movie that looks like and plays out like a comic book!

And just like the best comic books and comic book movies it always remembers that these stories are someone’s first so whilst it presumes a certain amount of foreknowledge (like you know who Spider-Man is) it leaves nothing to chance and organically walks you through everything you need to know. Again, those origin sequences by being placed in contrast to one another walks audiences gently through the massive concept of multiverses which no other theatrical comic book film before this to my knowledge has ever touched (sorry DC..).

Sticking with the Spider-Heroes for a moment, what should be understood is that the characterization of them is all geared towards the needs of the specific story being told, which obviously has Miles at the heart of it.

What I mean by this is that whilst the movie doesn’t give you the most detailed or faithful rendition of Spider-Gwen or Spider-Man: Noir ever they are the right takes for the movie’s story, for selling the concept of parallel universes and Miles development.

Blonde Spidey is not just hyper successful in order to contrast with Old Spidey. His success and competency (his brief action scene is incredibly impressive) is designed to also contrast to Miles inexperience and to sell him as almost a Superman/Captain America figure within Miles’ world. His death is mourned as the passing of a great and revered hero, a national day of mourning and even made me tear up a bit. This is done to accentuate the guilt Miles feels and the burden Miles feels to live up to his dying wish and shadow, the latter of which could fuel a potential sequel. His specific death scene itself is played as very different from the Ultimate comics. There his death was the grand finale (we thought) to the saga of a hero we’d been following and gave him a fittingly grand death. In the movie since his death is primarily the launch pad for Miles’ journey it is less grand, even cruel in how quick, blunt and undignified it is.

Old Spidey’s failure is not undertaken because the filmmakers believe Spider-Man is or should be some abject loser or failure, as I and others have feared. It is a direction taken because it gives him an arc for the movie. His hang up is wrapped up with his divorce from Mary Jane. But refreshingly for comic fans their separation occurred because MJ wanted children and he couldn’t bring himself to go there. It is through his tutelage of Miles (and hilarious confession to Blonde Spidey’s widow, a reflection of his student’s poor attempt to woo Gwen earlier) that he works through his issues and gets his happy ending of reuniting with his MJ. He thus has an arc intertwined with Miles even as he serves as his reluctant and somewhat haphazard mentor. If you think about it, having a version of Spider-Man more akin to the ‘default’ version would have made for a boring and underwhelming movie as far as Miles and Peter’s relationship is concerned. In this dynamic though master and student mutually grow.

Moreover his arc is interesting on a meta level as his pot belly somewhat resembled Tobey Maguire in some infamous and unflattering post-Spider-Man 3 images and Peter and MJ having a child and divorcing were in fact concepts toyed with for the aborted Spider-Man 4. All of which lends credence to the idea that Old Spider-man could very well be the actual Maguire Spider-Man. Indeed Maguire was apparently considered to be cast for this Spider-Man.

Between them Blonde and Old Peter represent something of the best and worst case scenarios for the ‘standard’ Spider-Man that broadly exists in the popular consciousness of general audiences.

Also one of these two Peter Parkers is explicitly Jewish. They have a Jewish wedding with Mary Jane which is a lovely touch as both his creators were Jewish and it has often been said the character embodies certain characteristics that recognizable within Jewish culture.

Spider-Gwen is changed into being more snarky than her earliest comics depicted her mostly because she has to be a more in control and experienced counterpoint to the in experienced Miles, serving as the subtextual second-in-command of the team. Her character’s conceit of being distant from her friends was something sort of present in her comics but is played as her central emotional problem in this movie that is also worked out through the course of teaming up with others. Additionally the film, seeking to connect her and Miles romantically (perhaps unnecessarily, but it is a sweet enough young romance nevertheless, helped by their similar age for a change) draws a parallel between how both her and Miles lost a Peter Parker. Parker in her universe was the Lizard as in the comics which further helps sell the idea of ‘Spider-Man’ being flexible.

The other Spider-Heroes are again, bodies to pad out the team and all of them are geared towards comic relief which helps balance out the team and movie over all, even if it goes against how Peni and Noir were originally characterized in their solo outings. But again this isn’t a solo outing, it is a team outing centred around Miles.

And the key thing to note here, as I noted in previous instalments is that all these other Spider-Heroes NEEDED to be in here and (to a lesser or greater extent) needed their own arcs because Miles was not going to hold the movie all on his own.

As for the other characters not much to say really. Miles parents are done well though his Dad gets more focus, a biproduct think of the movie focussing upon his brother Aaron. Aunt May has a small but lovely role as the keeper of Blonde Peter’s legacy. There is a touching scene which adapted Spider-Men better than the actual story. In the comic book 616 Peter meets Ultimate May in the relatively recent aftermath of Ultimate Peter’s death. In the movie, apart from Blonde Peter being older (meaning more years with Peter), Old Peter has also lost his Aunt May meaning the moment is much more emotionally packed as bereaved aunt and nephew reunite.

Then there is Mary Jane. Again a small role and she is somewhat relegated to a motivator than her own character but in a movie this packed where the heart isn’t Peter Parker you can understand why. You do feel bad that every (good) character in this movie got a happy ending or at least a happy final scene except her...well sort of. She is just left as the widow of Blonde Spidey but she gets a nice scene where she reunites with Old Peter. So ONE version of MJ has a happy last scene.

I will say this, the movie treated the character with respect. It is MJ who delivers her husband’s eulogy that prompts Miles into action and sums up the message of anyone being Spider-Man. It is made clear MJ was not the root of her split with Peter because ‘she couldn’t handle it’ or some shit like that. So whilst the movie didn’t give her much to do it also didn’t punch down on her or disrespect her legacy the way Homecoming did. And if nothing else how cool was it that we got not one but TWO Peter/MJ marriages on screen in a major motion picture. Take that Marvel!

But I cannot talk about the characters in this movie without talking about the three best cameos in any comic book movie.

The first was the surprise post-credits sequence where Spider-Man 2099 showed up! Of all Spider-Heroes he was the one I wanted most to show up. I love Mayday of course but I never deluded myself she could show up and in fact Old Peter’s story opens up that possibility for her more down the line.

2099 shocked me (how appropriate) and I thought we were going to get some nice sequel bait. That was until that was subverted for the second cameo that made me and my friend split our sides with laugher.

1960s cartoon Spider-Man, specifically with him and 2099 recalling the ‘Spider-Man pointing at himself meme’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That is how you integrate a meme right!!!!!!

They even paid the 1960s show homage by referring to it as going back to the beginning since the 1960s show was in fact the first time Spider-Man was ever adapted into animation.

The third and best cameo goes to the Stan Lee appearance.

I am not ashamed to tell you dear readers that when I saw Stan Lee, even a cartoon version of him, saying in his own voice that he was friends with Spider-Man and will miss him I genuinely cried a little.

Even seeing the grave of Blonde Spider-Man shortly afterwards, a scene I’d already seen as the after credits scene for Venom, hit me hard and felt very different in a post-Stan Lee world.

And of course there was that ending title card crediting Lee and Ditko. Beautiful, no other word for it.

And given the movie’s fundamental message I can think of no more fitting way to honour the fathers of Spider-Man.

[artigas]

Last year, I met a girl in February. We went out to catch a movie together, got to talking, and after a few dates, she outright told me she had feelings for me. I remember her texting me once, after we split ways at night: I wish I had been brave enough to kiss you. Probably still one of the most striking sentences anyone ever told me. When she told me she had feeling for me, I wasn’t surprised. If I was being honest, I largely returned those feelings. But, more significantly, I was too terrified by all my personal trauma and anxieties to accept I returned to them and to accept what admitting such a thing might entail. I did not want to confront what mutual attraction or being in a relationship looked like. I was scared. Terrified. Unwell. 

So, what did I do? 

I ditched her. I stopped replying to her messages, I stopped reaching out, and I show enough disinterest for her to stop trying. Suddenly I was too busy, too stressed, too everything to give her the light of day. 

It was cruel. I was selfish, hurtful, and too immature to confess that while I wanted a relationship with her, I was nonetheless unwilling or, perhaps, incapable of committing to the self-work of engaging with her in the healthiest way possible. I knew that being in the relationship I wanted to be in- a healthy, honest, and affectionate one- demanded that I begin to confront my fears and flaws. It just so happened that I felt comfortable with the ugliest sides of me. It may sound insane, but you can make a home out of anything. I was always so ashamed of the fact that I had never been in a relationship. I also genuinely yearned for love and romantic companionship. But I always self-sabotaged every single effort, attaching myself only to people who I knew on some deep, unspoken level would never be emotionally available to me. I see now that it was a toxic balancing act. It was a way to appease my romantic yearnings without ever having to do the work of engaging with all the scary shit a romantic relationship would necessitate. It was a way to pursue something while mutually assuring I’d never achieve it, because I had formed an identity around its absence. I knew what it was like to be ashamed of myself for being alone, to believe that I was inherently undesirable, that something was “wrong” with me because no one wanted me. I didn’t know what it was like to hold the evidence that all those thoughts were unfounded and then stare at myself bare-faced in the mirror.

I never thought about it like this, but I was more engaged with the idea than the reality. I wanted the benefits of love without paying the terrifying cost of vulnerability. I did not want to be known, but I dreamed of being seen. I wanted to remain hidden from others, but mostly from myself. I didn’t want to face the wellspring of shame and insecurity that ultimately had nothing to do with a relationship and everything to do with me. I got so swept away in the fantasy I didn’t want to ever really show up. 

In September, I messaged her. A lot of shit was going wrong for me and the guilt of what I’d done to Ellery suddenly came back in full force. I apologized for what I’d done to her. I made it clear she was under no obligation to even respond to me. I affirmed that she deserved better than what I did to her and she deserved an apology and I hoped that it was not too late to give her that very thing. I was radically transparent and uncomfortably honest. The next day she replied.

Yesterday I spent two hours with Ellery. We openly established we were only meeting as friends, but I was still nervous. Would it be awkward? Was this a mistake? Could we truly be friends after what I’d done? I told myself I would go if only to test the water- if even this moment of rare friendliness nearly a year later was unhealthy or hinged to the past, I knew I’d have to disengage once and for all. I’m beginning to learn now that sometimes things have to end- that it’s better to say goodbye than stretch yourself out to the point of resentment. You sometimes cross a line with people, no matter how good they are, no matter how friendly you could have been, no matter how faultless it is on all sides. You learn that blame has nothing to do with it. You learn it isn’t a matter of who dealt which wound. You accept that friendship has rendered itself impossible because of feelings and choices long past. 

The hang out went well. I wasn’t blind, of course- her hair was shorter now and it suited her best that way. Her eyes are still blue and bright and she’s got a nice smile. But the feelings between us were entirely different. How I ended up speaking to her and with her was unlike the infatuation before- I felt more relaxed. We said things that were embarrassed and called each other ‘dude’ and talked about our ugly habits. I didn’t want her to know about those before. I tailored my language before. But now we talked about silly things and embarrassing things and I told her about my return to therapy and she told me about her play being performed in a few theaters. By the end, I told her I was grateful we could meet again but asked: are you comfortable? Or do you think this should be the last time we meet? You’re allowed to feel that way.

She shook her head. She told me about the pain she felt before, but how she understood it, even when it was happening. She said: we’re probably never going to be best friends, but we have a lot in common and I genuinely like you. Maybe we can do this again when I visit in the summer? 

I told her I would like that. I told her I was grateful she accepted my apology, but I also wanted her to tell me if I ever crossed any lines or if she, at any point, felt suddenly unable to even be friendly. She promised she would. We hugged, said goodbye, and that was that. 

This is a lot. I’m saying so much. Probably nobody is reading this, but I’ve grown so much. I’ve hurt and been hurt and I’ve done my fair share of healing. And today I’m still thinking about who I am and who she is and all the miles I have left to go before I can really say I’m doing things right. At the very least, I think I can say: I’m doing things better than I ever have before. 

[katiekat1321]

The Master and The God (part 10)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

A/N: Hello everyone! I just wanted to thank everyone that is reading and enjoying this story! I’ve been having a great time writing it! I just wanted to tell say that I’m meeting Tom Hiddleston in January at ACE comic con here in AZ and I’ve got a photo op! I’m so excited so it you have any pose suggestions I would love to hear them, I have no ideas yet!

In the last chapter... You returned to Loki’s room after talking with Infinity so he can start telling you what led him down the path to the Battle of New York. He explained his side of what happened before falling from the bridge (essentially Thor 1 happenings from his POV) and you find out that Odin has a private library where there is information that is different form Asgardian public knowledge or unknown to them entirely. Only the King and Queen, or beings just as, if not more powerful, can see that anything is in these books, but you can read them.

The next morning you woke up much later than you expected to, late enough that Frigga actually came to your room to wake you up. She claimed she was worried you were unwell, but you had a feeling she was worried that yesterday’s meeting with Infinity might have been too overwhelming for you to take in.

“I’m fine,” you assured her, “After I left the Bifrost I headed back to Loki’s room and we talked for too long so I didn’t get to bed until quite late.”

“So… He knows?” Frigga questioned. “I’m sure he had no qualms with this arrangement.”

“Actually, he did most of the talking yesterday. He’s finally opening up about what happened,” you told her.

“Well that is a big step for Loki, but Y/n… I know Infinity told you not to tell anyone about what the two of you had discussed and what you know now, but Loki is involved as well. He deserves to know the truth, or at least some of the truth.” Frigga advised.

“I know. I have a lot of things to figure out at the moment,” you said. “But first I need Loki to finish tell me what happened to him after he fell from the bridge. I know in my heart that whatever it was is connected to what Infinity is warning us about.”

Frigga didn’t know how to respond. The thought that her darling boy, Loki could have been hurt by whatever evil is coming was almost too much to handle. You could feel the anger in her strengthening her Seidr, like adding kindling to a fire.

“He was acting strange yesterday too. When I came back, he had nearly destroyed his room, books were thrown all over and the furniture was broken. I asked him what happened, but he lied. Have you ever noticed he uses his Seidr when he lies? That’s how I knew. I could feel the spark of it when he said it was just cabin fever. That’s why his silver tongue is so effective, it’s actually magic.” You explained to Frigga.

“I might know the reason for that. Actually, I might be the cause of it. I had come by to see him, after you headed to the Bifrost, to talk to him. It seems our conversation might have hit too close to home for him,” Frigga said.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Well, I might’ve caught him plotting and tried to open his mind to what his heart desires. I’ve always wanted the best for him, but I fear it was the wrong thing to do. He hadn’t realized these feelings himself and pointing them out him didn’t go as well as I hoped,” Frigga said. “He is rude and harsh, but it’s just to protect himself. If you give him the chance, I truly think something wonderful could blossom between you two.”

You pulled your bed sheet up over your head to hide your embarrassment. It seemed like everyone was trying to push you and Loki together. You supposed that meant it is what fate wanted, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing to hear the mother of the guy you were interested trying to set you up. “I just don’t think right now is the right time. At a different time, under different circumstances maybe…” You mumbled through the sheet.

Frigga seemed to agree and got up, pulling the sheet off of you. “You’ve got to get up. I heard Loki pacing when I passed his room on my way here. He seems anxious. You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Frigga had turned on her heel to leave the room when you remembered the library last night. “Wait,” you yelled suddenly. “I wanted to ask you something, Allmother. What Infinity said about Odin being afraid of me. Is that true? Am I stronger than Odin?”

Frigga smiled softly at you, but her eyes were flooded with apprehension and fear. “Yes, Infinity and Eternity’s predictions are always right. As for being stronger than the Allfather, perhaps not right now but you will be. Does this concern you?”

“I don’t know that ‘concern’ is the right word,” you muttered. “A lot is happening right now. I’ve had a lot of revelations in the last few weeks. Is it possible to meet with the Allfather soon? I have questions I believe only he can answer.”

“I will let him know you would like to request a presence with him,” Frigga agreed as she left.

And with that you rose from the bed and got ready for the day. Within half an hour you were in front of Loki’s room, greeting the guards, and knocking on the door. To your surprise, Loki actually opened the door for you. He looked like he had gotten very little sleep. His raven hair was messier than normal and tangled in many places.

“How are you this morning Loki?” You inquired.

“Can we skip the formalities this morning?” Loki said, completely ignoring your question. “I think I’m ready to explain what happened. I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not this is a good idea for hours and I don’t want my decision to waver again.”

You were a bit taken back by the rush of words, but quickly agreed. Loki seemed like he was barely holding it together so you figured it would be better to let him tell his story however he wanted to and at whatever pace he felt comfortable with. You took a couple more steps and reached his bed, sitting down on the edge and patting the spot next to you, gesturing for Loki to join you.

Loki sat down awkwardly, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. “You see, I fell and I thought I was going to die. I thought everything was over and my mother, my brother, they would all remember me for my betrayal, but I lived. I fell through a wormhole and ended up on an abandoned planet known as Titan.”

As Loki spoke you felt a cold chill run down your spine but let him continue.

“The whole planet had been abandoned. The people were killed in a terrible famine, but one man remained. His name was… his name was Th-Thanos. I found him and a small group of beings from other various worlds looking out at the ruins of the once beautiful capital city. I called out to them for help, hoping they could get me back to Asgard, but instead they took me in.”

“At first, they were very welcoming. They asked me how I ended up on Titan and I explained to them that I had tried to wipe out all of Jotunheim. That seemed to excite them. Thanos was particularly impressed with my magic skills and said I would make a powerful ally. He told me he could give me a planet to rule if I were to help him get the tesseract from Midgard, you see, he is obsessed with finding the six Infinity stones. I was very tempted and agreed with little to no question, but when I saw what he was doing to the girls he called his daughters I knew that I needed to get away from them as soon as possible.”

“What was he doing to them?” You blurted out. You didn’t mean to, but your curiosity and concern got the best of you.

“He made them fight each other and whoever lost… Thanos would have a body part replaced with machine. He claimed that enhancing them would help put them on a more even playing field and make them the strongest women in the galaxy, but the blue one, she was more than half machine already.”

You could barely believe what Loki was saying. You knew he wasn’t lying, you could feel how calm his Seidr was at the moment and you could feel the pain in his voice as he continued to recount what he had seen.

“Thanos asked me to join him and be one of the ‘Children of Thanos’. I learned from his other daughter, the green one, that all of them were picked up by Thanos at young ages from planets he traveled to. His army would round up the whole population and slaughter half of them. He would see potential in a child and decide to spare them and raise them in that unforgiving environment so they could aid him in these genocidal missions. She told me she would be trying to escape Thanos’s grasp soon and once freed she would do everything in her power to destroy him, to prevent him from destroying any other populations and collecting more children. She had asked me to help her. I refused because I knew I needed to make a break for it sooner than she could manage. I tried to escape shortly after that talk, but Thanos caught me and took control of my mind with the scepter, the one I had brought to Earth. There is a powerful gem, an infinity stone, in it that can brainwash people. Thanos took control of me and forced me to do his bidding. It was like I was trapped inside my own body but couldn’t do anything. It was awful. I tried to fight it, the first few times it was easy, but the more it happened the deeper I was pushed and the harder I fought the more I felt like I was on the brink of insanity. It got to the point that he had such complete control over me and he thought my consciousness was buried so deep I wouldn’t be able to escape, he sent me to Midgard to take control of the planet and open a portal to allow his Chitauri army direct access to the planet. As long as I was near the scepter it could keep me under his control and render me powerless. I began to lose hope of ever being freed when I suddenly was able to regain some control. It was small at first, but I realized that while I let Dr. Selvig study the scepter and work on the portal I was growing stronger again. I was away from the scepter for long enough I was able to break free. After that point when I had to hold the scepter it was a fight over who was in control over me, Thanos or myself. I considered stopping everything and fleeing back to Asgard somehow, but I knew if I left, Thanos and his children would come to Midgard instead and that is a fight your people are not prepared for.”

Loki stopped speaking for a moment so you moved closer to him, grabbed his hand, and just held it. You felt his Seidr spark again but ignored it because you were too shocked by what he had just told you. “So, you became the villain to protect Earth?” You clarified.

“I didn’t want to hurt all those people. You were right,” Loki struggled to say. He eyes were squeezed shut like he was being forced to relive the moments in his head and couldn’t stop it. “Back on the tower, when you said that this was more than mischief. I did all of that for the promise of a throne, I’m awful.”

“No, you’re not,” you told him. He turned and looked at you incredulously. “You feel regret. That proves you’re not awful. Hell, you told me how to stop the portal back then. You had some bad things happen to you and your whole life was flipped on its head. You were put in a terrible situation and had to survive a madman. You fought it the best you could, but even you are not strong enough to defeat an infinity stone alone Loki.”

You maneuvered Loki’s body so he was now lying down on his side on the bed. You sat down next to him, facing his back. “You need rest,” you explained when he tried to move. “You put yourself through a lot of stress in your explanation, let me help you.” As you spoke you moved your hands and created a small mandala of dimensional energy meant to calm Loki down and relax his mind. Once the spell was complete you held it over his head until his eyes drifted shut and he was fast asleep.

It was a simple healing charm, meant to rejuvenate the mind. You knew Loki would be asleep for a few hours so you decided to take this chance to meditate and hopefully find an answer to the growing number of questions you now had.

When you meditated you liked to have something to ground you. This always confused the ancient one, who tried to teach you to meditate by emptying your mind and disconnecting yourself from the world, but that never worked for you. And after the Ancient one had to force you back into your body because you were drifting away, she understood why emptying yourself wasn’t going to work for you. You needed something to ground you or your mind would wander too far away. You would sometime play Tibetan monk throat singing, that Wong had introduced you to, but when you couldn’t use headphones you would braid yarn or wind it around your fingers.

You looked around the room in hopes of finding something suitable to toy with but found nothing. You looked back at Loki and noticed again how tangled his hair was so you decided to do him a favor and fix it for him while you meditated. It’s nothing more than that, you swore to yourself as you started running your fingers through it, working through the knots as you closed your eyes and emptied your mind.

You meditated for a few hours before Loki began to stir. In that time, you had a vision that compelled you to contact Nick Fury as soon as possible. You were also able to take a step back and analyze the situation more clearly. Thinking back on Loki’s story you realized that at first, his seidr was calm but as he continued you realized that his fire grew more turbulent and, in the moment, you thought it was because of the emotional stress he was going through while retelling what happened to him. However, when you took a step back and reflected on everything you realized that something wasn’t adding up.

Could Loki really have given up his ambition for the throne so easily. Would he really care more about a planet of people he didn’t know more than he does about himself? He might not be evil, but he is kind of egocentric and self-serving. You decided it would be best to confront Loki about that and then try and explain what happened with Infinity without giving to much detail away.

“Y/n?” Loki said groggily, “How long was I asleep for?”

“A few hours I think,” you replied. You looked down at him. His eyes barely open, trying to adjust to the light shining in through the window. You saw that his hair seemed to be untangled and you’d even began twisting the hair different types of braids while you meditated.

“That was the best rest I’ve ever gotten. You must teach me how to do that.”

You snickered, “It’s a mystic arts thing. I don’t know if you could handle it.” Loki faked offense at that, but you continued talking before he could say anything. “So about earlier… was that story one hundred percent honest?”

“Why do you ask?” Loki said cryptically.

“While you slept, I was meditating. You could say it was enlightening and I realized I misread you. Your seidr shifted and what I thought was pain, I now believe was a lie. You still want a throne,” you accused. “I know what makes your silver tongue so successful.”

“You’re so smart darling,” Loki said smugly, “I did lie a bit. If things had gone as Thanos had planned and I had ended up being named King of your world I wouldn’t have been opposed. Is it really such a bad thing though? Being king was supposed to be my birthright. I was raised and groomed for rule. I believe I would have made a very fair king.”

“Of course, you do, but that was all in past tense, ‘was’, ‘would have’. You’ve given up?” you asked.

“For the moment yes. My first priority currently should be getting out of this prison sentence, is it not?” Loki said simply. He went to run a hand through his hair and felt one of the braids. He looked at you, confusion written on his face. “Did you… braid my hair while I was asleep?”

“While you were sleeping, I was meditating. I normally twist rope or listen to music while I meditate, it helps ground me so I don’t get too lost inside my own mind.”

“I see,” Loki said as he stretched and got off the bed. You watched him walk over to his desk and open a small chest on it. “Do you often get lost in your own mind?”

You weren’t sure if that was supposed sound insulting or not but you answered anyway. “When I first arrived at Kamar-Taj and was new to the Mystic Arts when I mediated too deeply it was like my astral form would float off and I had a lot of trouble breaking the trance like state I was in and finding my body again, so the Ancient One suggested grounding methods.” You had looked down at your hands as you spoke, but when you looked back to observe Loki’s reaction you saw that he was tying the braids with small pieces of leather, adding a bead with ancient runes on them to one.

Loki returned to the bed, this time just sitting down cross-legged opposite you. You leaned closer and grabbed the braid with the bead on it and saw that the rune was the first letter of your name. It could have been a coincidence, but you had a feeling it wasn’t. It did amuse you that Loki was acting like a, 8th grade girl with a crush though. This seems like a good time to explain what has been going on, you thought to yourself before taking a deep breath.

“Loki, I believe it is my turn to tell you something,” You started, your voice sounding a lot calmer than you actually felt.

“Ah yes, I almost forgot! What happened to you at the Bifrost, Lady Y/n? What did Heimdall call you for?”

“Well I wasn’t called by Heimdall. Well actually he was the one who called for me, yes. But he wasn’t who needed to see me,” you said, aware you were rambling. You mentally cursed yourself for not just being able to say it outright. Loki raised an eyebrow at you, but stayed silent, expecting you to continue. “It was actually an old friend of your mother’s, kind of. Apparently, word has gotten around the galaxy that Asgard is housing a human who can master the Seidr and she came to see for herself. Her name is Infinity, she is a cosmic entity who has some bidding to do on Earth. She’s offered me something in return for taking care of it for her.”

“Wait, a cosmic entity?” Loki asked for clarification. “What can you manage that a comic entity can’t? What can you help her with that she can’t do herself?”

That question had been floating through you mind as well. You had some inklings of why you would have been chosen, “Well I am kind of an oddity aren’t I? A human allowed to be on Asgard, one who has magic known by few on Earth and the Seidr. They might even think I’m some kind prophecy for all I know. I also know Earth rather well and can go between the two worlds as I please.” You realized you were starting to sound defensive so you tried to just change the subject back to the real topic at hand. “Whatever the reason is, she wanted my help and offered me a couple very generous gifts in return. She made me a master of the Seidr. I still need to learn spells and such, but the power I have access to is greater than what I could have managed even after years of learning at your mother’s side.”

“That explains why you were so different when you came back, you seidr was burning so much stronger. It would have been difficult to not notice,” Loki said. “That will aid you a lot in your own endeavors Lady Y/n.”

“There’s more,” you admitted. You looked down at your lap, your hands running along the soft fabric of your dress. “She claimed that giving me full access to my powers wasn’t really a gift. That was more to allow me to fulfill her requests. The gift I was given is my lifespan. Infinity suggested that allowing me to live as long as an Asgardian would be a fitting reward for what she’s asked of me and it might benefit me in more ways than just one.” You paused and looked up, meeting Loki’s eyes only to realize he had been staring at you this whole time. “Your mother may have also made the same suggestion, that this… upgrade would interest you as well?” You tried to sound sure of yourself or nonchalant. Honestly, you had no idea what tone you should when trying to ask Loki if he was interested in you now that you wouldn’t die in a couple decades. There wasn’t exactly a manual for this kind of situation.

“I know I’m the god of mischief, but this is no time for tricks,” Loki said, his voice low, almost threateningly so.

“You think I’m lying? I’m not,” you nearly shouted back. You were shocked that he would even suggest that. “Why would I lie about that?”

Loki didn’t respond to your question. You didn’t want to push him, but the silence was growing longer and longer, getting more and more awkward as it went on.

“I’m not expecting anything from you, you know.” You said, “I don’t think that just because I’m not going to die centuries before you, I suddenly have a chance with you. The Allmother is just very persistent, as I’m sure you know. She believes you are interested in me. And Infinity even thinks we might be… well suited for each other.” Hearing it out loud was very odd and unsettling. You felt your cheeks grow pink. It did seem that fate was hinting that the two of you should get together, but you were in no position to try and force Loki. Now was honestly the worst time for you to suddenly develop a love life.

“I do know how mother can be,” Loki finally said. “I, well I’m not uninterested in you. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” Loki still refused to look at you. He was now picking at his emerald green bed sheets and the realization hit you like a freight train. He is nervous. I’m making Loki, God of lies and mischief nervous.

“You know,” you said, finally building up the courage to say something, “I’m not opposed to the idea either. I know it’s weird that Frigga has been trying to…” You were racking your brain, trying to figure out what term fit the situation the two of you found yourselves in.

Loki interrupted you then, “It’s mortifying really. My mother is trying to set her fully-grown son up on a play date.”

That made you laugh, “I think she’s hoping for more than a play date Loki. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is I’m not opposed either.”

Loki was a stuttering mess as he tried to get his words out, but he finally managed it, “I do like you, but I’m locked up here. What kind of man would I be if I expected you to live your life under house arrest too?” You smiled at him, his concerns were about you and your happiness. How was this the same person who was trying to take over the Earth less than a month ago? No one else would believe it.

“My prince, I’m positive I can find a way to free you.” Loki’s eyes widened considerably. Shock written all over his face at what your suggestion meant.

“You’re going to break me out of my prison?” He asked skeptically.

“Absolutely not! Do you think I’m a criminal? I’m just going to speak with Odin and request that you’re let out, but still kept under a close watch. A parole of sorts.”

Loki chuckled at that, “you actually think he will agree to that?”

“I do,” you said confidently as you stood up, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve as well.” You knew that was a rather cryptic response to leave on, but you grabbed your cane, and walked out before Loki could say anything.

**If you would like to be added to the tag list for this fic send me an ask!

Tag List: @missaphrodite23 @sidemenaremylife @casuallyobsessivewitchcraft @alfoos @fiftyshadesofriri  @dammitkatt @awkwardnesshabitat @fiery-feyre @serrure-ikol  @bone-ankle-tree @shysaladewriter @lizard-zombie 

Part 11 -->

[paladin-andric]

Moments in History: The First King’s Passing

Fitting mood music here

Gira swooped down onto the garden grounds, everyone else already gathered. The grass waved in the cool Autumn breeze as the sun shone down on the crowd of royals.

The dragon quickly landed and moved to examine the situation. Mere moments ago, a castle servant barged into her room, panting with exhaustion. Someone had sent the man to fetch Gira immediately, the servant sprinting through the halls to make sure she could come in time.

“Godfrey,” The man said, gasping, “They think it’s the end. He’s in the garden.”

No sooner then the words left his mouth, Gira launched herself through the hole in the ceiling, rushing to her greatest friend’s side.

The prince looked up at the dragon, pain in his eyes. He was no longer the baby she once knew. Through the years, he had matured into a wise and experienced man. His young face and bushy goatee reminded Gira of Godfrey, so long ago...

“Gira...father is...”

“Leave it to me!” The dragon bellowed, “Step aside, all of you!”

“N-No, Gira, that’s not it.” The prince lowered his head. “He’s not sick. He’s not hurt. It’s just time.”

King Godfrey lay in an elaborate looking bed, the old man pale and deathly looking. The dark brown in his hair and beard was long gone, with nothing but white left. He was dressed in his finest garments and his crown lay beside him.

“He is unwell! Allow me to do my work!”

“Gira...” The prince swallowed nervously. “He’s ninety-three. You must understand that this is out of your power.”

“How dare you!” The dragon roared, “Move out of my way, NOW! He will be well as long as YOU stay out of this!”

Gira stepped forward as the crowd made room for her, the dragon leaning down and looking closely at King Godfrey. Gira felt sadness well up in her as she saw the pale shade of what was once the powerful and energetic king.

Taking a deep breath, the black dragon blew her healing breath, the wisps of magic pouring out of her maw and onto the king. She felt brief elation at her work, only to be dumbstruck as time passed.

Nothing happened. The king was still motionless, eyes closed and looking just as sickly.

“W-What?” Gira, for the first time in her life, felt true fear. “Why is...?”

“I told you,” The prince said, “He’s not sick. He’s old.”

“I do not understand...why is he not cured?”

“You cannot cure age, Gira.”

The dragon’s eyes widened as panic filled her. Quickly, she breathed again, pouring healing energy over Godfrey. Nothing. She did it again. Once more, nothing happened.

“Gira, please!” The prince cried, “Let him pass with dignity!”

“There is nothing dignified about this!” Gira shouted in horror, “Look at him! He needs help!”

“There’s no more helping, Gira. He’s reached his limit.”

“N-No! That is not true! He is just worse than when I cured his leprosy! I just need to keep using my magics! He will improve with enough effort!”

“G-Gira...“

The hoarse whisper made the dragon freeze. That voice...

“Godfrey...?”

The king was awake. Eyes open only a sliver, staring at the black dragon.

“You came...”

Gira leaned forward, frowning. “Of course I did.”

“Rufus is right...my time has come.”

“No!” Gira cried, “I can save you, just as I have before! This I swear with my life!”

“No,” Godfrey responded, “Please. You did revive me, but...I am so old...I am so tired...Gira...my body is shutting down. Forcing me to go on like this...it hurts so much.”

Gira’s tongue was tied as she fumbled to find an appropriate response. Godfrey started right into her eyes, his pain apparent.

“Let me go, Gira.”

The words hit the dragon like a mountain. Her claws dug into the earth as the shock and pain rendered the dragon speechless. Her face was twisted into a visage of horrified realization.

This was it. He couldn’t be saved.

“Oh, Gira,” Godfrey said, voice low, “I know it hurts. I felt the same when my parents before me went.“ The king took a long pause, the speech taxing on what little of him was left.

“But you have to accept that I’m leaving.”

Gira’s stomach was churning as she struggled to keep herself from collapsing. Her body felt weak and wobbly. Her vision was clouded.

“King Godfrey...I...I cannot...it cannot end like this.”

“This is the only way it could end,” the king responded, “We all go eventually.”

As the dragon stood, mouth agape, Godfrey turned to face the prince.

“Rufus...I know you will do great things. Already you’ve shown your potential. You’re a great man. I am so proud of you.”

“Father...” Prince Rufus let tears flow down his face as he wrapped his arms around the bedridden king, “I will make you proud. I promise.”

“I know you will. Goodbye...my son.” Godfrey lacked the strength to hug his son back, all he could offer were tears. The dying king turned his attention back to Gira. The dragon’s eyes were shut tight as she fought to fully grasp what was happening.

“Gira...you’ve done so much for me. For everyone. I could never truly repay you in full...but you have my eternal gratitude.”

Gira shook her head. “N-No. I could not heal you. You are going to die, and it is my fault.”

Godfrey took a deep, raspy breath. “Gira...in my youth...you cured me of leprosy. I was at death’s door. Thanks to you, I got to live my entire life, and to the very fullest. I owe you everything. It’s not your fault that time claims me. You’re a savior. This is just how it has to be.”

“Godfrey...I will not be able to go on...please...please do not die. I do not know what I will do without you.”

“You will live, Gira.” Godfrey’s face curled into a weak smile. “You are so young, compared to what you will be. You have your entire life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away. Live...for me. I want you to be happy.”

“I...I cannot...” Gira’s voice quivered. “G-Godfrey...please...”

The king sighed. His bones ached. His chest hurt. It was time.

“I’m sorry. If I could stay, I would. Thank you, Gira. For everything.”

Gira bowed her head. “Master Godfrey...”

Godfrey smiled, content. “I’ll miss you.”

Slowly, the king’s eyes closed. His chest stopped rising. Silence filled the air as the crowd wept.

Prince Rufus turned away, covering his mouth as his eyes squeezed shut.

Gira shook her head. This couldn’t be happening!

“No...NO!”

The dragon roared, the people covering their ears as her might made itself apparent to all.

“Come back! Come back, Godfrey! Do not leave me! I need you!”

The dragon breathed quick, shallow breaths as she gazed at the king.

“Please...”

Prince Rufus held his hands together as he watched the men lower his father into the grave. Thousands lined the field as King Godfrey’s funeral commenced. Loud wailing could be heard all around the fields as the king was placed into his grave.

Tears poured down Rufus’ face, but he didn’t dare wipe them away. He was the new king. He was expected to show strength and resolve, and he would conduct himself accordingly.

He had known his father wasn’t long for this world. The man was ancient. He had plenty of time to come to terms with that.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Rufus stood in silence as the priests issued their prayers. His eyes were on the grave, watching as men shoveled dirt onto his father’s coffin. This was the final time he would ever see him.

The prince took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. He was the king now. The people needed him to be strong, to lead them through this hardship. To show them that their hopes did not die with Godfrey.

Suddenly, a deafening roar made Rufus look up, eyes wide.

The roar had come from very far away, and yet it was so loud he could hear it clearly as it echoed through the skies. It was a long, drawn out roar. In it, Rufus could hear bitterness, anger, sadness and pain.

The sorrow behind it shook him to his very core.

Gira, the man thought to himself, He was my father, and yet...I don’t think even I understand how much this hurts her...

A few years had passed since the coronation. Rufus accepted the Crown of Geralthin, officially becoming king. He continued where Godfrey had left off, centralizing power and strengthening the kingdom. He was by all accounts, an excellent ruler. He gave the people hope, knowledge that this fledgling kingdom was destined to survive, something to believe in after the death of one the greatest rulers in history.

Even with all the work he had put in, he managed to reach Gira. The dragon had been holed up in her wing of the castle, inconsolable. She spoke to no one for the first few years, yet after much time, Rufus managed to speak to her, slowly getting her to open up. It hurt, he knew, but he made himself something of a shoulder to cry on. It felt good for Gira, getting to let everything out.

It was soon after her mention of the good old days, when she and Godfrey played together, that a decree was made. Absolute War had always been Gira’s favorite board game, and Rufus decided to officially decree a rule change to the game. Each faction would now have a Hero, a powerful unit that offered many bonuses to the army.

Geralthin’s Hero was clad in shining armor, wielding a large sword raised above his head in triumph. A crown adorned his helmet, and his presence made everyone on the field stronger. In the new rules book, players were given the information about this new unit.

Unit type: Hero

Name: The First King

Description: A legendary champion that inspires all around him. Men become greater than themselves in his presence.

Okay, I actually cried writing this one. This hurt.

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