#perhaps because they both have the faces of people who are about to irretrievably fuck shit up

[onefellsloop]

not exactly a dream cast, but when I picture Stephen and Diana, I'm 100% picturing Murray Melvin and Millais' portrait of Louise Jopling

[hanibalistic]

#890E0A | LEE MINHO.

genre | faint angst, platonic relationship, fluff

word count | 1641

warning | brief mention of toxic friendships, anger directed at oneself 

note | for a good friend of mine who won’t see this, and perhaps for all the angry and neglected souls out there, i wish you great joy soon. 

minho slid a piece of paper over to you when he plopped down on his seat. you glared at it, and then up at him, and you scoffed when you saw him busying himself with the container filled with colored markers.

oh, hell, he better not have dragged you out of your one-minute meditation—which was hardly meditation at all, you were simply containing the fustration your research paper was causing you—just to have a drawing session with neon-colored markers.

"why the fuck am i here?" you asked, leaning back against the chair and sighing in annoyance.

"hey," he eyed you sharply, "mind your language."

"you upset me," you said, disregarding his warning but taking it into account anyway. "you pulled me out of studying during finals week, and you have upset me. give me a reason why i should mind my language?"

he arched his brows, slightly annoyed but understanding and sympathetic enough of your situation to not throw flames at you for being rather disrespectful. he knew you would come around when all was said and done, and you would eventually make it up to him with a grumble of apology that was just genuine enough you wouldn't need to buy him an extra cup of coffee to make him feel better.

"how are your classes?" he asked instead, diverting the conversation as he picked out the bright colors within the rainbow of options and slowly set them out before him. "are you doing good in school so far?"

you pursed your lips together, feeling icky that he was asking about your business despite you hinting so many times that you were stressed about school and the upcoming exams. perhaps you felt bitter that he was the only person who decided to reach out and ask, that he was the only one who caught onto your subtle hints, while still feeling touched that... well, he was the only person who reached out to you and asked.

it has been an on-going war with yourself—you didn't want to like minho, he was obnoxious and honest. but he was also caring, understanding, fierce, and peculiarly tolerant. you should have scared him away by now, or at least gotten him angry with your seasonally terrible behavior, but he was still here, after years.

somewhere down the line, you realized, whether you like it or not, minho was your kind of people and he was not someone you should want to let go of at all.

"it's going good so far. i am not very confident in how i would do but you know me," you smiled a little, "i always end up with a good grade."

he huffed out a smile, his lips quirking up. after finally collecting all the bright colored pencils, he looked at you and reached over, dropping them on your paper. returning to his seat, he motioned toward the pencils and spoke, "you want to draw?"

"no," you immediately replied. "you really dragged me out here to do this stupid shit? when i have an exam coming up?"

"how many times do you think you can pull the exam card before i get tired of you?" he asked, grinning at you with a sense of mockery that let you know he, again, was not very happy with your tone.

"about five times ago," you said boldly, staring straight at him with a face of blank expression yet your heart beat rapidly.

you never stop. you were afraid, always, that this would be the last staw you could pull, that this would be the last of his nerve you could step on, that this would be it. you waited for him to yell at you, you waited for him to cuss and scoff at you, you waited for the scolding to happen—and it does happen, rightfully so, but it was gentle.

minho has never scolded you in a way that made you feel inferior, in a way that feigned understanding, in a way that made you feel as if your feelings didn't matter at the expense of another.

because you do matter to him, a lot. and he would hate to have you feel like your feelings have been neglected over his need to correct your misplaced anger, whether it was of the world or yourself.

"are you angry?" he asked, tilting his head and arching a brow. "do you feel like everyone is against you?"

you looked up at him, gulping down a lump of saliva. and you muttered, "not angry, just dissatisfied... and lonely... and stressed."

he hummed, his eyes softening. "why?"

"i feel neglected, like i don't belong," you said. "and it was my fault. i think the problem is me, but i hate that i am the problem because i–"

you wanted so badly to find people you could be yourself with, unconditionally, enduringly. put aside affection and love, you wanted resonance, compassion, tolerance. but you were so scared you wouldn't be able to do so that you forced yourself to stay with those you were with right now, to be okay with what you have right now, even though those were not the right things for you.

and it broke you.

it completely tore you down, like water to fire, fire to earth, like light to shadow, shadow to bones. it broke you, made you angry, made you sad, made you snap. like a child yelling at their parents after they felt as if they have been wronged. it made you hurtful, so hurtful, and everyone blamed you for the damage others have put upon you.

"pick up the red marker," minho said after your sudden pause. "i find it helpful with releasing anger."

you clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes, looking away to hide the incoming tears you refused to let fall. "what the hell am i supposed to draw?"

"oh, i don't know," he replied casually, picking up a marker and begun doodling on the paper he prepared for himself. "what does your anger look like today?"

you clenched your jaw. "i'm not angry."

"oh, but i think you should be," he said. "rightfully so, as well, with friends like yours."

you opened your mouth, and then you closed it. after a moment of thought, happy memories flashing before your head causing your heart a moment of wavering weakness, you licked your lower lip and defended, "they're not... they're not bad people."

"yet they make you hate yourself, they make you feel like you have no place with them," he said, focusing on his paper. "they make you feel as if you don't matter, and you are only there to be funny before they forget about you."

you clenched your grip on the marker—he was spot-on.

"they're not bad people. they're friendly, they're good, and you loved them. but, unfortunately, they are not your kind of people," he said, and he finally looked at you. "and that makes you irretrievably upset, because you don't want to hate them yet again and again–"

"i can't help but dislike them all," you finished the sentence for him before taking in a shuddering breath.

"and that's okay," he muttered, "being angry is okay."

you are young, and emotional, and sad, and annoyed, and giddy. the range of emotion you could feel, the spectrum of colors you could experience according to what you do, what you like, the people you are with—your choices, your words, your mistakes, your beautiful, beautiful mind.

you will hurt people, intentionally and unintentionally. you will make people love, intentionally and unintentionally. you will apologize, you will express gratitude, you will sing and dance, and you will find your people, your person.

"be angry, and let it teach you a thing or two," he said. "just don't put it on jisung next time, okay? he's fragile, and he cares about you enough to feel upset that you, out of all people, said those things to him."

your heart thumped. until the last moment, still, he cared about you more than your words. and that would be what makes your apology genuine; not out of obligation, but out of a need, for both of your sake.

"i always apologize at the end, you don't have to remind me," you said. "i knew i was being a piece of shit."

"being self-aware is good, but it is not enough," minho said. "try doing something else next time, alright?"

you nodded quietly, your eyes moving from your paper to his face. he was so nonchalant, as he always has been. you never felt pressured by him, he lets you take it all in at your own pace, and he would always make sure he gets his point across.

"minho," you called then, and you only spoke when he looked over at you. "you know i only listen to you because i never felt like you have wronged me, right?"

his lectures, his scolding—you willingly accepted them because he has no record of making you feel disregarded and expendable, he has never made you feel like you had to be annoying to get attention, and he reached out unprovoked.

and he was your kind of people. and his kindness was not for a public show and tell.

pursing his lips into a kind smile, one that you felt as if you were undeserving of, he said, "thank you."

and he picked up his paper. you squinted your eyes at it, seeing that there were a tree and a cat next to it. it was an ugly drawing, but it was very much like him to draw something like this.

"my anger today is green and yellow," he said. "and yours?"

you sat up and took a look at the markers. licking your lips, you picked up a red marker and smiled at him, genuinely.

"i am thinking red."

minho nodded in approval.

an excellent choice.

[the-mercurial-star-o-vesper]

NSR HCs

And we don’t mean their Human Resources

To be fair, this is gonna be mostly 1010 stuffs with some things here and there. Can’t help it, I am drawn to robots (... and I draw robots).

I’mma restate things from other posts (I’m a -hah hah- broken record), and add some new things too.

Here we go!

1010 is the local Super Hero squad. Hear me out. They got blasters, they got megaslams, they can Fly, they even have a Robot Factory that can replace bodies if they get destroyed (Which really isn’t something you’d have-- I know that bands can get injured by their fans, but if a Vinyl City fancrowd can destroy military grade robots, then DK West would’ve been gone loooong before BBJ)... [Then again, BBJ’s fans pretty much rioted out of control, and even had fortress map style canons; maybe revolutions and riots happen more often than we think. There’s DK West’s side story after all] Anyway. They’re armed to the teeth, synch’d to the max, and pose like its the god damn Power Rangers. These dudes are prepared for a Kaiju attack and Powerpuff Girl style throwdowns.

1010 isn’t based on Neon J’s past (probably)... ... But based on his coworkers. Consider. We know White (Rin) apparently has Neon J’s old face. So he’d be the Neon J. You’d think, with this case, Blue (Purlhew) would take after DJ Subatomic Supernova (DJSS). But Purlhew resembles the Sixth Megastar more than DJ Subatomic (Consider the connection the two have to either smoke or air waves; and the fact that they both have glasses and have this air of mystery) Red (Zimelu) likely takes after Yinu’s Mother, the Dubstep artist of NSR. Consider his aggressive style (Nearly all of 1010′s excess attacks are Red, and Zimelu’s bullets are the only other one’s that can be deflected). Plus his Saws. They’re circular Saws, which are more often used in Woodwork. Yellow (Haym) would take after Eve. Their the similar hairstyle (Both have forelocks that cover an eye; and if you wet Haym’s hair, its basically Eve’s). Though having a poet’s name may make Haym more Yinu-style classic, plenty of the Fever Dream District is named after classical musicians or even sufficiently clever scientists. Green (Eloni)... raps apparently. And he’s green, and boy oh boy, who do we know that’s Green and Raps? DK West. Sounds like Neon J was around during DK West’s little uproar. However, Eloni also has traits off of SAYU (look at the eyebrows and the cowlick), and the curly hair is reminiscent of Yinu. Perhaps Eloni had an older design? ... All this leaves room for having potential bots that take after DJSS or Tatiana. Or very possibly, Bunk Bed Junction.

ADDENDUM: Why Eloni has no fans. Cos he’s green, he raps, and the Vinyl City Crowd set fire to the car of the last green rapper’s car (DK West). I imagine quite a few folk would beeeee-- turned off by this, historically.

Excessive Partying in Metro District Sounds like someone is trying to get away from something and fast. Careful about the hangover.

Its call the Metro District Well, Metro is short for Metropolitian, so it could be the main city part of Vinyl City. Aaaand Its short for the Subway. So considering we fight 1010 on a Highway (Literally, the cars levitate). Perhaps it has a train?

Vinyl City has Levels Consider it when you walk around. There are lower Levels, Higher Levels, and even a literal Highway in the sky (FLYING. CARS). This place is leveled out like Taris on Knights of the Old Republic. Parts of the “upper” level districts (The levels you move) apparently are literally moved around so much, folks aren’t even shocked anymore. NSR Tower’s stunt in the end isn’t that implausible. The entire game foreshadows that there’s something else up with Vinyl City. The place even has Robots, Cyborgs, and quasi-supernatural stuff.

Conditions of Vinyl City are worse than they appear. Let me list why the Blackouts are bad. - Food spoils. They’re on a island nation with rice fields. That means heat and humidity, and that means Food spoils a lot faster. This taxes local markets, and as its an island nation (meaning trade is expensive), Starvation likely was a regular problem prior to NSR (And may even still have issues then). - No Heat. In the dead of winter, Hypothermia doesn’t need days, it just takes a couple hours. (I should know, I was in that blizzard that overtook Texas US). - No Water. No Power means no Water for areas, because it takes power to push water. It also takes power to heat water; so if you didn’t lose your Water, you at least lost your Hot Water. - No Power to Water, means Sewer lines Back Up. Bad Juju, all around. - Damaged Equipment. One of the biggest problems for electronics for blackouts and brownouts is Damage. The resulting blow outs or noise can and will damage lights, wires, electronics, computers, the works. That’s one reason why you see flickering electronics in-game, post blackout. They aren’t just lacking power, they’re damaged from the Blackouts. Now for the worse bits. Once you’ve reached Metro District, you find out that the pipes you occasionally see drain water from underneath the city. Meaning that Vinyl City both has Blackouts and regular Flooding Problems (Probably why the City has Star Wars style Levels). If there’s no Power, then the drainage stops and the flooding happens. - It wouldn’t shock me if the Vinyl City Navy has local emergency services when storms come. While Tatiana does bring up some of BBJ’s shortsightedness in their revolution, she ultimately was and is in the wrong. Both the atrocious judgement skills of the Lights Out Auction; and the fact that the Blackouts have far reaching consequences; one of which is that People Die without power. Admittedly, Vinyl City’s history of blackouts probably means that the local populace can survive without power and may even have local backups if the Megastars are preoccupied. I doubt there’s as much death or devastation here than say, a primarily arid nation state in the midst of a freak blizzard. And anyone hooked to a Hospital or other Emergency Powergrids may just lose water and nothing else. So the heavy handedness against NSR and Tatiana is harsh, but I count the worse case scenarios because Worse Case scenarios don’t need days to happen, they takes a few minutes before fuck everything falls apart. ... Take the fact that the Satellite was taken down in seconds, and in those mere seconds, it became completely irretrievable and the situation nearly unfixable. I’d like to think that Tatiana was aware about just how unfixable things can get (Which is one reason why backup power goes to the Megastars; the concerts can and will bring things back online) [There’s even a faint implication that if the Megastars do stop their concerts that the city goes out. Consider who all was at the Lights Out audition, then consider the fact that if they’re judging lights out, then they’re not making concerts, and if they’re not making concerts, they’re not powering the City. No wonder all the Megastars have problems if they’re under that kind of stress]

[myassbrokethefall]

OK, my GoT thoughts under the cut. Summary: Motivations technically understandable/justifiable; execution bad/dramatically unsatisfying/anticlimactic/baffling.

Essentially: I can buy what happened to Dany and I can accept the ending for Jaime, but the way the show got to both of those points makes no sense to me, and undercut the effectiveness and the meaning severely for both.

Dany: Was I expecting this character to just fly into King's Landing with her giant terrifying dragon(s), roar at Cersei, peacefully take the kingdom, and have a parade thrown for her as she happily fulfills her destiny? No.

Am I mad that we got a "mad queen" arc? I am not. One might almost say it was inevitable and has been foreshadowed with every word of the show and the books since the beginning.

But I was expecting SOMETHING redemptive, not just "Dany goes crazy and kills everyone for no reason." I also was looking forward to clash of the two queens, both crazy for power and increasingly unstable in their attempts to hold onto it, and for it to become clear that Cersei was irretrievably gone to the dark side, and Dany was not. I was expecting Dany's reckoning with her "mad" side to involve her somehow overcoming it, or trying to overcome it, even if in some small symbolic way that ultimately ended in tragedy for her. Not just her...becoming evil, full stop.

This entire season has felt super rushed, and I also am annoyed that we have had TWO hour-and-a-half episodes almost entirely dedicated to battles. When there is so much shit to get done!!! Character arcs are getting short shrift but we gotta have all the gore and destruction, not just in one episode, but in two episodes, directed by the same dude who is their “battles” guy I guess. Having this battle almost cheapens the other battle. I was like, remember when we all united against the ice zombies and humans finally prevailed, and it showed all these other conflicts to be ultimately petty and meaningless in comparison to the fight against death and existential (and literal, lol) darkness? That de-escalated quickly.

So it's not that I didn't want Dany to go mad or I think that was impossible. But it felt very pointless the way it was executed, and felt like it happened because it's the end of the series, not because anything particularly organic made it happen in this moment. (Yes, she lost two dragons and Missandei and Jorah, and Jon froze her out. Her changing her whole personality into a crazed murderer of civilians -- in the face of a victory, no less -- still made no sense to me.) Like I could see her going crazy on the city if they threw rocks at her or something after she was like "I just killed Cersei, you simple dumbasses! I LIBERATED YOU! LOVE ME!!!! I'M THE GOOD RULER!! OK FUCK YOU THEN!!" But to be flying around, basically accomplish her goal of taking the city, and then suddenly be like "Rarrr, Dany go crazy! Because Targaryen blood! Kill all humans!" It's not like Cersei even likes the humans; we spent a long time establishing that she doesn't give a fuck about the people. There was no reason, to my mind, that Dany snapping would involve her burning the whole city that she's fought to get for so long. It felt like it was for shock value, both at the loss of life and at us going "omg Dany was the villain all along!" But it did not, to me, feel earned. Just baffling and disappointing.

If anything I thought CERSEI would do some huge evil gesture to pointlessly fuck the city just to go out in a blaze of glory, and Dany would fight AGAINST her own nascent rageahol Targaryen feelings and experience character growth and transcend her fate in order to try to prevent that from happening. Or NOT ultimately be able to do that, but at least make a gesture towards such a thing. It was just weird the way it happened. And I don't see how Dany can come back from this, as a character, and that is disappointing because we've invested so much in her. It's really deflating. It's just like, oh, I guess Dany is bad now. She was a crazy Targaryen after all! Everybody thought she might go mad, and now she did. D'oh. But it's a weird and oddly anticlimactic ending for such a character. (I realize it hasn't ended yet, but I don't think redemption is in the cards for her after this episode.)

(Also, what was Varys, etc.'s basis for suddenly deciding that she bout to go crazy and we can't trust her? Her being impatient to get to King's Landing and get going on the sacking last week? Arguably she should have let the armies rest, and I took Sansa's side in that argument, but you could make a case for Dany’s side as well, which was essentially "sure, we're tired, but if we wait longer they'll also regroup and it will be even more difficult, let's just get this the fuck done already." That to me doesn't say "I'm dangerously unstable and everyone knows it!" so much as "Our military strategies differ!")

OK. So what I was expecting was Dany versus Cersei, both power-mad, both not wanting to back down, but one of them at her essence having a heart that truly does care about justice (the beat of these warring impulses within her has been struck MANY times with Dany's character) and managing to see through the power-lust fog to remember that. Whether too late or not, for that to happen in some capacity. And this also ties into Jaime's arc.

I wasn't upset when Jaime heard about shit going down in King's Landing last week and decided that his happy chill Winterfell life with Brienne wasn't going to be that easy and he had to go back to fix the mess he helped make and sever his connection with his twin once and for all. (I mean, I kinda was, but I was like, yeah, I can see that this has to happen.) And he was fucking pissed about it and he was all, this is my shit too, I'm an asshole who has done bad stuff that I have never really atoned for, as this jaghole in the rolly chair keeps reminding me, I can't be with you until I get back in the mud with her and end it once and for all. That is where I ASSUMED they were going. And I think they sort of were, but it didn't end up that way at all.

So what I thought was going to happen was Jaime would get to the city, insinuate himself in somehow, get to Cersei, and talk her down. Or make an attempt. That this was how Jaime would finally cement his redemption, as the only person who could reach Cersei. I thought all the "I'm bad, I've done bad things, I'm as bad as she was" was him essentially being pissed that this was his task. When Tyrion was going on about you can escape and get in a dinghy and start a new life together with your incest baby, I thought, oh dear sentimental (perhaps not in an entirely in-character way) Tyrion, Jaime is going to go and KILL her ass and not a moment too soon. He knows that the blood on her hands is on his hands as well. He doesn't want to start a B&B with her in Europe; he needs to cut the cord, to use an apt metaphor. He doesn't want to, and he's dreading it, but he's the only one who can make it happen because he's the closest to her and she trusts him and he's the only hope of saving the city. He may hold her and TELL her that they can escape, and might even say "oh yeah babe there's totally a dinghy waiting for us if we can just get through the tunnels," and then he's going to stab her in the gut and avert that battle that I dumbly thought they would not stage an entire second one of after they just had one two episodes ago. Jaime the kingslayer, who slayed the queen as well, his own sister, but he had to do it and now he's finally fully redeemed. Even Dany who didn’t trust him will see that he was ultimately the only one who could do what had to be done.

If Jaime died in THAT process I wouldn't be surprised. Like if Cersei fought him and he had to somehow sacrifice them both (a la the Cleganes) in order to get her to die, he would do it, and that would be tragic but meaningful. Or if he dispatched Cersei and THEN got buried by the collapsing castle or whatever, he had accomplished his mission but it was too late for him. Hell, maybe they even make it to the fabled dinghy of redemption and he's talked himself into the idea that he can control her, and then he has second thoughts and drowns her or something because he knows he will never be free if she's alive, and neither will the world because she will always lust for power. OR EVEN if, at the last minute, he gets sucked back into her orbit and he's like "bitch we ARE gonna escape!!! WE CAN START ANEW, IT'S ALL LIKE WE DREAMED" and then she kills him or something but at the last second some shit that he puts in motion causes her to die and the city is saved that way.

But what I was NOT expecting is Jaime to be told "go get her, put her in a boat, start a new life together!" and just like, DO that, or try to. To just apparently shrug off the whole Brienne thing and get to Cersei and be like "hi baby! I missed you" and "let's hug" and then they just die in the castle FOR NO PURPOSE. It didn't redeem Jaime, it didn't tragically NOT redeem Jaime, Jaime just sort of went back there just in time to die with nothing resolved. What is the point of watching this character grow over the seasons and then be like "well I guess he realized he had to go back and die with Cersei because THEY ARE TWINS" (pretty much what the showrunners said). Yes, They Are Twins, which is why it's tragic to have one kill the other, or for him to outgrow her, or for him to give up a promise of happiness to go back and put a stop to her evil deeds because he's the only one who can. What I'm saying is, it's not the tragedy per se that I object to! But to just be like, well, he came back to her because remember they were incest twins and they love each other! They died, the end, is just...such a weird anticlimactic way to do it. “He couldn’t escape her orbit after all; that’s the tragedy!” I guess, but to me that was not supported at all in the rest of Jaime’s arc. It felt like we were pointedly amassing evidence that he WOULD be able to escape her orbit in the final inevitable confrontation. And then that just didn’t come up at all. 

And I love Brienne and I loved them together but like, I don't care THAT much, this isn't a shipper thing. I'm not surprised that Jaime ended up dying. It just makes no sense for the character for it to happen the way it did. I kept thinking we were going one way and then something would happen where I'd be like "huh??" As with my old friend Christopher Carter, I can't tell if they just didn't convey what they were supposed to be conveying (maybe Jaime WAS supposed to be intending to kill her, or to do SOMETHING other than just go back to hang out? and it didn't come through?) or if they just legit wrote it like that. Like the Brienne storyline was just a way to pass the time before the timer went off and they had to cut all that short and dump it in a drawer and get Jaime back to King's Landing so he could die with Cersei because once they thought of that ending scene 5 years ago or something.

I mean: Jaime was the Kingslayer. We were reminded of that A LOT, and also of the fact that the king he killed was Dany's father, and that Dany's father was "mad" and evil, and Jaime killed him ultimately to protect the city, and then got shit for this for the rest of his life.

And we are also shown that Dany is becoming a Mad Queen, who may be about to follow in her father's footsteps after all.

And Jaime goes to all this trouble to get back to the city, where almost these same events are playing out all over again. And...

...Jaime just goes to hang out with Cersei? And then dies? How is there not a whole situation where there is SOME parallel to the Kingslayer thing that we keep being reminded of and that is repeating itself? Such as:

Jaime slays a Mad Queen, but it's Cersei, not Dany.

Jaime has a chance to slay a Mad Queen, Dany (we've literally already had a conversation about this a few eps ago, that she was worried this would happen), but instead he is able to reach her and show her that she is different from her father and it DOESN'T have to play out this way.

Jaime has a chance to slay a Mad Queen (either could work) and prevent the destruction of the city, again, but this time he makes the other choice and doesn’t do it, and it results in tragedy.

Jaime, transformatively humanized and experiencing non-incestuous love for the first time and no longer at the top of his fighting game, no longer has the killer instinct to pull the metaphorical trigger on slaying whichever queen, and Tyrion pops in to do the job for him.

Like any of these things would have made more dramatic sense than what happened, which was, NOTHING. Jaime doesn't even get near Dany and once he gets to Cersei he's just like "hi! time to die I guess" and then they die.

(Maybe something along these lines will happen in the finale? Again, I'm not sure how at this point.) (I suppose it's not IMPOSSIBLE that Jaime could be pulled out of the rubble, but if he is Cersei might be too, and I am REALLY done with Cersei and do not want to dedicate the finale to trying to kill her YET AGAIN.)

Anyway. I was being flip about male showrunners yesterday but honestly, it feels like they are like, let's just wrap this all up fast so we can have 1.5 hours of battle scene. THE PEOPLE NEED A(NOTHER) BATTLE EPISODE.

It WAS cool seeing Drogon FINALLY destroy the Iron Fleet, but literally, why didn't Dany do that last episode. I couldn't enjoy it because that continues to be so baffling to me.

This is longer than I intended; oh well.

[giveusawink]

Sunday Mornings:-

It felt like a year since it was summer, it  reality it was only a month or so. Typical English weather reeks havoc all year round apparently. Intense rainfall at a constant rate. Hence the reason Harry and I were drenched to the bone, huddling close together, under a tree, to preserve what little warmth we had. He'd dragged me out to go on a walk, and it had ended up with us in this current state.

"Did you seriously not check the weather before we left?" I turned to look at him, his hair stuck to his forehead.

'It was a heat of the moment thing. I wanted to walk. You didn't need to come with." He looked round, frowning slightly when the rain showed no signs of stopping.

'God Harry, you're like a dog." I chuckled smiling softly at him.

"Am I? What gave it away? The fur or the tail?" He nudged me as I snorted.

A shiver racked my body, pulling me closer to Harry. His arm found its way around my waist, as he rubbed his hand up and down my back.

He sighed. "I don't think this rain is stopping. What do you say? Run for it?"  He looked to me.

"I'd say swim for it."

He smirked and rolled his eyes before we both began the descent into the rain.

We reached Harry's house after about 20 minutes. He opened the door and pushed me in, him following close behind.

Harry's house always had this sense of ease. It was one of those places that had this atmosphere of complete and utter comfort. Perhaps it was because he always got me settled before he bothered with himself.

"You're having a shower. No way are you catching hypothermia on my watch." He looked pointedly at me, his lips curling into a small smile.

"That'd seriously be much appreciated. I'd rather not voyage back into that rain for a hospital trip." I grimaced.

He rolled his eyes "You know where it is. I'll find you a change of clothes once you're out."

"Thanks." I smiled. He's such a gem, good people are hard to come by nowadays.

After my shower, a change of clothes were waiting on his bed as expected. Shrugging then on instantly warmed me up. It's crazy how comfortable baggy things are.

As I walked down the stairs, I was instantly hit by the smell of a roast dinner. Quickening my pace, I found Harry in the kitchen also in a change of clothes.

My arms found their way around his waist as my face pressed gently into his back. He smelt vaguely of cologne. Cologne seems to last years, whereas perfume never seems to last a minute. If his cologne could survive a rainstorm, I was confident it could survive anything.

"Hey there." He chuckled. I smiled as he turned around, embracing me with his hand stroking my damp hair.

"Hey yourself." I looked around the kitchen to see various pots strewn about. "Cooking? I'm impressed"

He rolled his eyes whilst smirking. "Come on, we both know I'm the only one who can cook."

That was true. I tried to cook a roast dinner a couple of months ago but it resulted in a burn and a cut to my arm.

As if he was reminiscing the same moment, he took my arm and ran his thumb over the scar.

"Well, we're not all cut out to be professional chefs." I took his hand in mine. "Can we sit on the sofa whilst it's cooking?"

His expression softened as he gently pulled me into the lounge. He sat down on the sofa and tugged me down so I was sitting sideways on top of his lap.

"Are you warm enough?" He muttered. As if on cue, another shiver racked my body. His arm reaches around to the back of the sofa to pull the blanket over both of us.

"Much better." I snuggled further into him and flicked the TV on to whatever mindless programme was on ITV.

After just a couple of minutes I felt my eyelids growing heavy. I looked up at Harry to discover him totally knocked out already. Smiling slightly, I shut my eyes and let sleep engulf me.

I woke up to a god awful burning smell coming from the kitchen. It took me a second to realise before the Roast sprang to mind.

"Fucking hell Winks." I muttered to  Harry-who was still very much unconscious.

Scuttling to the kitchen, I turned off the oven and chucked the remains of the chicken on the countertop. Although, chicken seemed like the wrong word to use, it was more alike to a pile of charcoal.

"Ah shit." I heard come from behind me.

"I see Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken." I smirked as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his left hand.

"If I remember correctly you were asleep as well." He came over to inspect the remnants of the roast, sighing deeply when he saw it was irretrievable.

"What are we going to do now?" I chuckled wrapping my arm around his waist.

He thought for a minute. "Chinese?"

I smiled softly. "Chinese sounds great."

[alia-turin]

That is something cute and fluffy and heartwarming (as much as I can write heartwarming stuff) because next couple of chapters won’t be as nice. Enjoy the fluff. 

Fic Title: Not Strong Enough Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 Rating [Warnings]: M [mention of body injury, some self doubt, sex] all chapters will have different warnings Pairing: Luche x OC, Nyx x Luna Summary: 3 years have passed since Noctis disappeared and Luche finds himself on the side of unfamiliar road with no recollection how he got there Note: I was listening to Apocalyptica’s Not Strong Enough while writing that hence the title. It’s VERY suitable sing for the fic.

Tagging: @birdsandivory @lazarustrashpit @jojopitcher @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy

At Nyx and Luna’s house Ada watched Cor being introduced to Sylva and that was the cutest and most awkward thing she had probably seen.

“I’m Sylva, two years old.” The girl introduced herself extending her tinny hand toward Cor. The Marshal blinked and then kneeled to be on the same level as the kid and extended his arm.

“Cor…ugh way older.” The handshake was very awkward due to the size difference and the obvious confusion on Cor’s end.

“You are a natural.” Ada teased him. And the Marshal gave her an angry look. “Sylva since Cor is taller than your dad if you ask him nicely to lift you, you will be taller than Nyx.” She winked at Cor who gave her another pleading look to stop to stop that torture.

Sylva extended her arms up to be lifted and Cor couldn’t say no. He got up grabbed the kid and…did what could be called lifting. His arms were extended and he was holding her as if she might be sick or something.

“Cor, she doesn’t bite.” Ada encouraged him and showed with her hands that he can put the kid on his shoulders.

“Since when do you know anything about kids?” He tried to fight her back and save some of his pride but did follow her advice and placed Sylva on his shoulder.

“Marshal, look at you!” Luna walked in from the kitchen and brought drinks for the three them, Nyx, Tredd and Luche were still dealing with the people outside. “You are ready for one of your own now, we should find you a suitable lady.”

That’s where it became awkward. Cor looked at Ada by pure instinct she suddenly felt on the spot feeling the need to say something even if no one was expecting her to say anything.

“He would be an amazing father, wouldn’t he?” Ada blabbed from the top of her head not even thinking what she said. Just as the words left her lips she figured how stupid and very much out of line that was.

“I will pass.” Cor forced a smile and let Sylva carefully on the ground. “Married to my work and the kingdom.” He watched as Sylva walked towards the drinks that Luna brought and then added. “I will check out on these three, they probably need some adult supervision.”

“Fuck.” Ada said as he was out of the room and she collapsed on the couch behind her.

“Fuck!” Sylva repeated enthusiastically.

“Sylva, no that’s a bad word!” Luna scolded her but her eyes were fixed on Ada.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” That wasn’t a statement just about the swearing it was about the whole situation.

“Did I say something to offend him?” Luna asked and Sat next to Ada grabbing a glass.

“It wasn’t you.” Ada sighed and drank from glass it was some sort of juice, she wished it was something stronger, way stronger. “He and had a thing. Serious thing for two years.”

“Oh sh…snap.” Luna stopped herself knowing the kid was going to repeat exactly that word. “You know what I have something for this conversation.” Luna disappeared in the kitchen and then came back. “It’s not good but it’s strong.”

She passed a brown unlabeled bottle to Ada and she sniffed it. It was rum, Ada never liked rum but right now anything would do even Tredd’s poison.

“So, what happened?” Luna asked after each of them had a shot. “Luche?”

“No, I still thought he was dead when things happened. And yes, I guess I never stopped feeling for him.” Ada sighed and took another shot. “We just had issues. Both of us individually. We worked well, he helped me go over a lot of issues I had and I would like to believe I helped him as well. But some things nobody could fix. He is still blaming himself for Noctis, the King…everything. No amount of words from me or anyone will fix that and he throw everything of himself into trying to redeem himself for something that is neither his fault nor could be redeemed. I on the other hand…” Ada poured herself and Luna another shot and they both finished them. “I always felt like I never stopped loving Luche. He was a corpse and I should have hated him for everything he did, but I guess not saying goodbye properly leaves you with that feeling of unfulfillment. Cor and I started drifting away then I figured out that the magic was hurting me more than I thought and he was going to see it. He was going to ground me and put me behind a desk or something and I couldn’t take that. I felt like I needed to fix my ex boyfriend’s mistakes. Eventually we split, it was mutual agreement. If those were divorce papers I guess you could call it irretrievable breakdown.” Ada sighed. “It’s all so stupid.”

“Do you have feelings for him?” This time Luna poured for both of them and they drank again.

“I respect him. He taught me a lot, helped me a lot.” Ada smiled. “He is an attractive man…I’m not sure how to put it to words. He warms my heart and he is somebody I could be with. Somebody that under slightly different circumstances could make me happy. Once all that is over perhaps and he as no more demons to chase, figuratively speaking. Now Luche…he burns my heat. It killed me when he was away. He had always had that power over me, he can just smile and I would melt. I should hate him. He killed my best friend, a lot of other people I called friends and then he looks at me and I cannot say no to him. He betrayed me and everything I thought we both believed in and as soon as I saw him I knew I cannot stay away from him. I’m rational about him when he is not in front of me and then I’m alone with him and…I would say yes to almost anything he would ask me to. I know it’s wrong, but my heart always overrules my mind about him.”

Luna poured them another drink and they drank then she grabbed Ada’s hand a squeezed hard.

“I can understand what you mean.” Luna said eventually. “Nyx made my heart burn in a way I never thought possible. It’s not the same, it’s absolutely not the same, I know but Noct was the man I could live with. He is handsome and I know he would treat me well, maybe one day I would have grown to love him. If…something is to happen to Nyx, I know I would be able to find someone else to make me happy, but I will never be as happy as I am with him, I know it.” Luna sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to compare it, it’s nothing alike, I just wanted you to know I understand what you are saying.”

“Cheers to that.” Ada poured again and they both drank.

“Is he going to be okay?” Luna asked and at first Ada didn’t understand who, brain was getting slower but then figured it, Cor.

“Yeah. He is fine.” She said hoping she was right. “He is just a bit more protective now with Luche around and I’m sure there is certain level of silent comparison going on. I found them sparing this morning, Luche’s nose was broken pretty bad, Cor had just a scratch.”

“I didn’t see anything on his face!” Luna said astonished.

“Yeah magic does miracles.” Ada waved her hand. “I don’t want to tell Cor to back off, because I don’t think I am the right authority to make a judgement on what Luche deserves and how honest he is, but at the same time I’m trying really hard to believe in him and if I add Cor’s misgivings that’s never going to work.”

“About tonight…” Luna started.

“I was going to tell him I will stay here with him, but now I am having second thoughts. Not because something happened, I just doubt him.” Ada finally admitted something that was going around her head for hours.

“You have every right to doubt him.” Luna nodded.

“Yeah I wasn’t doubting him last night…” Ada said with a short laugh and the princess made a curious face.

“Why don’t you try it on test basis?” Luna suggested. “You guys have a lot of issues, like serious issues, but obviously both of you want to get over them or at least try to do so. Try it for a week. Living together and all that. But I mean really living together, not just sleeping. Try to furnish that place with whatever is left in this world and trust me you will be tested.” She laughed and poured again to both of them. “Finding mattress for Sylva was the hardest thing ever, at some point Nyx was going to hunt all the ducks that he could find and make a mattress himself.”

Ada couldn’t stop but laughed. Imagining Nyx running after ducks and then trying to make a mattress. She would pay to see a video of that.

“We also don’t have a single matching sheet.” Luna continued also laughing. “It was so weird at first but now I don’t really care that much. I already have so much.” She looked at the little girl and Ada had to smile a bit nostalgically. Matching sheets or not, having a family seemed like the most normal thing anyone could have in this weird world and she was happy for Nyx and the princess.

“Oh, by the Six do these people ever shut up.” Tredd walked being as noisy as possible. Sylva looked at him curious not scared but probably wondering what kind of creature that was. “Are you two drinking? Desperate housewives much?”

“You are just jealous because you actually have to do something.” Ada came back at him and gave him a smug smile.

“Hello there, little demon.” Tredd knelt in front of Sylva and Ada saw the princess getting on edge. Didn’t blame her. “Oh, you are so lucky you are not as ugly as your father.”

Tredd’s words were met by a kick in the ass from Nyx making the redhead almost loose his balance and fall.

“You will scare the child.” Luche said and laughed. Sylva didn’t seem scared but her blue eyes had became wide staring at Tredd continuing to wonder about the nature of that unknown element.

“Come on, I will make you all dinner for job well done.” Nyx said before they all moved to the kitchen.

 Luche was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the wall behind him. They were finally alone in their still empty house that didn’t look like much. Ada was sitting next to him her eyes fixed somewhere on the wall across.

“I think Nyx and Luna found new babysitter in Tredd’s face.” Ada said and laughed. She was right, Tredd was the unlikely person who for some reason the kid liked. He was trying to avoid communicating with the child buts he followed him everywhere. Even tried to follow him to the bathroom and her mother had to hold her.

“From all the people this child could take a liking to she likes the one that absolutely cannot stand in the same room as a child.” Luche chuckled. That was going to be hilarious tomorrow.

“I think we should give it a try.” She said after a break and Luche turned toward her with a wide grin. Then she added too fast “Living together I mean.”

“I’m happy to provide either way.” He continued grinning and could see her blushing. He loved making her blush. His problem however was, he didn’t want to ‘try’ he wanted to do it. The Marshal had told not to try anything on her that might make her change her mind, but Luche had to disagree with him. He loved her and he was going to do anything to keep her with or without the approval of Cor.

“Let’s just see how we work together after all that…” she got up slowly as she said that and he just watched her. “You did well today.” Ada said as she started undressing. Her back was turned toward him but that was enough to make him take a deep breath. She loved teasing him and he loved watching. She pulled her top slowly and then started working on her pants.

“I’m glad something I did meets your approval.” It sounded petty but he was just teasing her, his words meant nothing. She bit on it however and turned around, her pants already gone, she had just her underwear on. Luche smiled to show her he was joking and she just raised an eyebrow. “Come to me.”

She stepped closer to him unhooking her bra, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it away. By the time she sat on him her panties were gone and he had pushed his own pants enough to free his erection. She sat on him slowly moaning has his full length went all the way in. Luche pushed himself closer to her and wrapped his hands around her back, his mouth on her ear.

“Marry me.” He whispered on her ear and suddenly she pulled away from his chest, her eyes fixed on his.

“What?” her face was covered in confusion and doubt, probably she thought she didn’t hear him.

“Marry me. Or however that thing works now, I doubt we can go to the court and get marriage certificate.” He smiled. “Come on Ada, we have been together for four years before my untimely demise, you had three years to forget me, you were with someone else and then eventually ended up in my arms again. You might not trust me, but you love me. That trying thing…sure let’s try but I want you.” At the back of his head he added ‘and fuck what Cor thinks’ but didn’t say it. It was going to make thing worse.

“I never took you for a man who says stuff like that because his dick is wet and warm.” She joked but he didn’t smile, he was dead serious. Took him a day to figure it out, but he did. That’s how he sorted everything out. She was going to be his, and they could work on their trust issues without having a Marshal between them.

“I’m serious.” He continued looking her in the eyes. “Look at me and tell me there is anybody else who made you feel the way I do or that you think there might be someone else.”

“Luche…it’s not that simple.” She tried to get off him but he placed his hands on her hips and kept her in place. He did pick a bad timing for that. In his head he asked her, she said yes and then they fucked. Now the fucking has been postponed and his own hips were just aching to move.

“It kind of is. Do you want to spend your life with me or not?” he narrowed it down since he really started wondering how on earth to weddings here work. Did people even get married or just decided hey we live together now.

“Yes.” She said quietly after taking a moment too long for his liking.

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?” he smiled and rolled her over under himself.

[ivarthebonemearmy]

Perhaps A Year Is All I Need (pt 2)

Part 1

Summary: What do you do when you are paired with the person you detest the most? Beatrice is a History major at Oxford University. She is a straight-A student, but she cannot help but hate Ivar’s very existence. Fate likes to play tricks, neither of them has anything to lose if they choose to gamble. Or do they?

Word count: 2460

Trigger Warnings: none

Chapter 2- Attitude

I stared at him just as hard as he stared at me. His piercing blue eyes held me in place turning me into a statue made of stone, and once again I was reminded of my imminent hatred towards the man in front of me. Finally, after a few seconds, he leaned back and sighed loudly.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked, never dropping his stare from me.

“Pardon?” My brows furrowing in confusion. “Do what exactly?”

He rolled his eyes and spoke slower, enunciating every word as if I was a child, stupid enough not to understand a simple question. “How and where do you want us to work together?”

“Oh,” I said. “I am free most evenings and the library is open until 7 pm, we could study there?”

He nodded curtly in agreement, his face completely unreadable and void of emotion. “4 pm tomorrow sound good to you?”

I thought about my schedule, mentally checking and planning. My studying for other classes will be tremendously cut down but I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much I have to study to keep up with him in every class we shared together. “Yes,” I agreed.

After that, we have barely uttered a word to each other. I made more than one attempt at small talk but all I got in reply was the shrug of his shoulders or his piercing stare would hold me in place until I would stop talking before he went back to looking like a Greek statue of sorts.

He was extremely good looking and I could definitely see why he got the attention of everyone. His chestnut hair was shaved at the side and braided meticulously and neatly at the top. I could never braid my own hair to save my life- another reason to hate him, I thought bitterly to myself. His jaw was well defined and his face was covered by a gentle stubble. All in all, he looked like I would imagine a god of sorts would look.

Needless to say, I felt like a slob next to him, and even that is an understatement. Where he dressed casually, but smartly, I preferred the comfort of my hoodies and loose shirts and yoga pants. My hair was always up in messy buns or unruly ponytails, and the only makeup I wore was a tinge of mascara and lipgloss. He was lean and athletic, his chest well defined but not overly so. I guess it is from having to carry himself around on his crutches everywhere. I, on the other hand, was not the skinniest girl around. My body had bumps and curves, and though sometimes I wished I looked leaner, I had no time to spare to go to a gym and looking good to appease other people felt futile for me.

I realized I was full on staring at him when the bell rang, startling me out of my daze. Quickly gathering my things and pushing my desk back to its original place, I turned to say goodbye to him but he was already gone. “Wanker,” I muttered to myself before making my way to the next class.

The day went by quickly and before I noticed I was back in my dorm, getting my homework and notes out for the day. I studied them until my eyes were stinging with tiredness and begged me to close them. Stretching out like a cat, I prepared for bed and fell into a deep sleep.

The morning came way too soon, and I already dreaded the end of the day. Ivar plagued my mind, making me jittery and restless. I thought about what I will do, what the first projects and assignments will feel like when shared between two people, and what will I say to make it more bearable for the both of us- though mostly me- to survive the rest of the year.

The closer it got to 4 o’clock, the worse I felt. My stomach twisted itself into knots, all pulling themselves in different directions. Going to the bathroom, I splashed myself and gave myself a motivating speech. “I can do it,” I muttered. “It’s just Ivar, the guy I loathe with every atom of my being, he is nothing but a partner that I need to pass.”

The library wasn’t as busy as it gets closer to the finals. I could see first years, fervently taking notes with towers and walls of books crowding their space. My eyes looked around before they locked in on a table by the window. His crutches were propped up against it, his back to me. My eyes trailed over to a woman who leaned over him, pushing her chest out, a strand of her blonde lock was twirled around her finger. I scoffed. Of course, this would be the case.

I made my way over, plopping myself in the seat opposite him. I felt the woman’s hard stare zero in on me, and I shrunk back into my seat.

“Who’re you?” she asked venomously.

“Beatrice,” I muttered, not looking up. I felt Ivar’s stare on me and I glanced up to meet his stare.

“Leave,” was all he said, not breaking his stare. For a second I thought he was talking to me and I froze my movements, unsure of what to do, but then the woman scoffed and cursed at him and strutted away, swaying her hips side to side. He didn’t even flinch.

“You know, you really should be nicer to her,” I said. “Her sharp, fake claws might just do some irretrievable damage to those eyes of yours everyone seems to fall over for.”

For the first time ever, I saw his lips turn up forming a ghost of a smile but he did not reply or say anything for that matter. If he hadn’t spoken those few words to me yesterday, and the one he uttered today, I would’ve wondered if he is even capable of speaking.

I grabbed my laptop out of my bag and booted it up. Whizzing through the emails, I found my professor’s instructions on the project we are meant to be working on first.

“Did you read his email, yet?” I asked him, eager to get this over with as painlessly and as quickly as I possibly could.

“Mhm.”

Prick. “Any particular topic piques your interest?”

He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back. I noticed he did not have any supplies once again and I resisted the urge to snap at him for coming completely unprepared. How he passed with flying marks at this rate was beyond me.

“Right,” I said. “Well, we have to pick something before we get started.”

“Obviously,” he said, smirking.

I felt my resolve snap. “Look, if you’re going to be an arsehole, then be an arsehole after we are done here but I need the grades and unfortunately I need you to get them and I will NOT put a dent in my perfect score just because of your infuriatingly ridiculous attitude,” I seethed, my simmering anger was now boiling. My face flushed from the outburst. “Now, pick. A. Topic.”

He stared at me for a moment before relaxing completely and leaning his elbows on top of the ebony desk. “Vikings,” he said casually as if outbursts were something he was completely used to and something that seemed to calm him down, even,

“Vikings it is then.” I breathed out and looked back down at the email. I was relieved he picked the topic I wanted to do most. The history and culture were by far the most fascinating to me and I could read about them for hours out of pure enjoyment. “Thank you,” I added, my anger slowly subsiding. If there is anything he cannot hold over me is my lack of manners. I was raised better than that.

“So, how about we divide the sections we need to cover between the two of us?” I hoped he would agree. We would barely have to talk to each other, and the workload would be well balanced and covered. I knew he was a good student, our scores were never too different from each other’s and I hoped that when it came to school, I could trust him as much as I trusted myself.

“Alright,” he said. “Which sections do you want to do?”

“Umm,” I glanced at the four sections we needed to cover. “I would love to cover their belief systems. Other than that, I am good with whatever.”

“Fuck B, I was hoping you wouldn’t pick that one.” I looked up at him, startled, flinching at the swear word but relaxed again when I saw mischief dancing in his sky blue eyes. I smiled at him, despite my brain screaming at me not to.

“Sorry. As The Rolling Stones song goes… You can’t always get what you want, even if you are the infamous Ivar Lothbrok.” I winked at him, though I berated as soon as I did. Am I flirting with him? Have I gone completely mad? And Rolling Stones? Really? My lack of socializing skills was painfully obvious and I resisted the urge to pack up, leave and never come back. He chuckled, breaking my internal panic, and I decided I didn’t mind the sound as much as I would’ve thought. His change in expression made him more human than he usually seemed. His eyes crinkled at the corners and lit up, wiping the storm away from his orbs. “The Rolling Stones wrote a song about me?”

I flushed crimson. “No, I-I meant…” I puffed out the air. “Forget it.”

He laughed at my evident discomfort, this time louder. People around glanced up at us, some shushed and scoffed. “Why on earth would I want to forget finding out that one of the most famous bands wrote a song with my name, hmm?”

“Arsehole,” I muttered, though I felt my mouth twitch trying to form itself into a smile and he reciprocated. We looked at each other for a few beats of silence before I cleared my throat, focusing on the task at hand. I still hated the guy, but his close presence didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

After we agreed on the sections we would do; him doing strategies in battles, and the advancement of ships and tools and how they were made, and me doing beliefs and punishments, we went our separate ways, not seeing the point of staying longer than necessary. I was thankful to see only an hour and a half has passed and I still had some time to get my homework covered this evening for the next couple of days.

We agreed to meet here the same time the next day. Even though we were doing different sections, we thought it would be useful to be able to bounce ideas off of each other in case we needed a second opinion. Again, I was glad to see he valued the work and quality of work just as much as I did.

The next time I saw him he was alone. The library was emptier as it was a Friday night and parties were thrown all around the campus. It was my favourite day purely for that reason, as weird as it sounded. Whilst others drowned in bottles of liquor, I satisfied my brain with knowledge whilst the dorms were quiet. If I was being honest with myself, I was surprised he didn’t ditch me for a party. I was sure there were a million other places he would rather be than research a history project with me as his partner.

I sat down at the same spot, throwing him a smile when he noticed me. He nodded at me in acknowledgment and proceeded to type things out on his laptop. I saw he brought some books and notebooks this time and felt happy to see him come prepared for once. Every time I saw him in our classes, there was an empty desk in front of him. He never made notes, never had the textbook open. His attention was always either at the professor, or he stared straight ahead. I resisted the urge to ask him about it, silencing my curiosity.

For the first half hour, we barely said anything to each other. Occasionally we would ask if we could proofread what the other wrote, or he would ask me my opinion on if he should mention a certain fact or leave it out.

“You’re humming,” he said, breaking my focus.

“Hmm?”

“You’re humming,” he repeated. His voice was a matter of factly, rather than accusatory or holding any kind of annoyance.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, blushing. “I don’t usually study here, and humming always helped me concentrate.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Where do you usually study, then?”

I shrugged. “In the dorms. My room is quiet and I don’t share my space with anyone.”

“How about we study there next time, hmm?” he asked.

I was taken aback and for a moment I was too stunned to speak. “Are you inviting yourself into my room, Ivar Lothbrok?” I teased, composing myself.

To my astonishment, a tinge of pink spread itself across his pale cheeks. “I mean if you would find it more comfortable.”

I thought about it for a moment, weighing my options. On the one hand, I knew the library would get extremely crowded in the next week or two and would only get worse as the year progressed. If there is anything I hated more than I hated Ivar, was crowded and loud spaces when all I craved to do was read and write. To me, people were the thieves of peace and joy. On the other hand, having him so close to me wasn’t a particularly good, or a pleasant thought. He wasn’t as bad as I expected him to be, and in a way, I hated him even more for that but at least in the library, there was a route to escape. My options came down to losing my peace and possibly letting my grades slip or being close to Ivar, which honestly, I was capable of sucking up.

“Alright,” I finally said. “But you try any funny business, Lothbrok, hanky-panky or other, and I will kick your arse, I swear to God.”

He seemed to visibly relax at my words. He held up his hands in defense and leaned back. “Swear on my life, I will not,” he said, amusement evident in his voice.

“You better not,” I muttered, mostly to myself though I was sure he heard me. Things were about to get interesting.

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Crush - Chapter 3. Condemned.

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: Here is the third! Thank you for reading - again - in some cases ;)

Tags: @iammarylastar @badassbaker @pathybo @mimigemrose @frecklefaceb @beltz2016 @ariwolff14 @kenzieam @tigpooh67 Remind me if you want on the list. 

Nothing else brought him as much joy as the demure looks from the Amity folk. The trying to appear chaste and welcoming, when in fact he knew that they were counting down the seconds till he would lift his foot from the Amity turf.

"Good morning to you."

"Good day."

"What great weather we have…"

Rehearsed, fake, pathetically-annoying, and unneeded. Did they actually think he would acknowledge them? Had they really been on the Peace Serum for far too long to realize what hostility was?

Hostility was him practically snarling in their face and staring them down. But at this rate, he was just going to have to tell them to fuck themselves as they seemingly weren't getting the hint.

At least the animals knew. The dogs would scamper and the cats would hiss or jump a tree. He couldn't help but have the sneaking suspicion that the animals were far smarter than the people here, and maybe they ran Amity covertly.

But then again, maybe he was being a bit hasty to label these guys.

Abbey was here after all, and as much as he'd seen to date, she was perfectly clued on. She would have been a fine article at Dauntless. She would perhaps have made it far – or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part because he liked the girl.

His inner asshole echoes out to him that she wouldn't have lasted five minutes – the woman in question was a florist for fuck sake.

Eric finally comes to a stop outside the dark oak open doors of Johanna's barn, waiting somewhat patiently. This time he'd decided he wasn't going in. He couldn't stomach another trip up to the fly-haven loft so instead deciphers to wait it out, perchance on the surroundings in the quiet five minutes.

He squints to the furthest figures in the fields in the distance. Two women, laughing, hair flowing freely. For a minute he thinks he can hear them, but it's just his imagination because although it's a hot and bothersome day, the wind is raucous against his ears.

"Makes a change from Dauntless, doesn't it?"

Johanna appears from behind him. Eric already knew she was there, just preferred to register her as disinteresting.

Johanna roams over his sharp outlook, the bowed eyebrows, and creased forehead. She would almost say he looks confused, lost even. Perhaps, in a way, she liked to think he uncooperatively liked the laid-back few days he was given – he would never admit to that though.

"We are opposite ends of the spectrum, Johanna. We have our jobs. Dauntless offers protection - promoting violence. Amity farms and radiates peace and tranquillity… Both our factions are alien to each other. Change wouldn't be the term I would use."

"What term would you use then, Eric?" He can feel Johanna gaze over her shoulder at him and he finally relents, giving her a flashing cold look, almost rolling his eyes.

"For you Johanna, I'll simplify it by saying: polarity." However, she just chuckles under her breath. "Originally I was going for antithesis. But by the looks of you, you've never touched a book in your life. Mud and insects seem to be your sort of thing."

"You could win awards for your cunning. Have you ever thought about entering Erudite's spelling contest?"

"Don't mock me, woman." Even though the appearance of him is threatening, his tone is not. However, Johanna doesn't say anything, just pushes her view back out to the woman and takes a similar stance to him, letting the silence wash over them. Eventually, Eric sighs, having grown bored with the company and the serene picture in front of him and covers his chest with his arms. "So, are you going to tell me the truth about the factionless reports or are we going to fuck in a minute with our new found bond?"

Johanna purses her lips in distaste and frowns at him which he gleefully smirks to, and she swears the smile this time reaches his eyes as he got the reaction he was looking for. "As you know I can't have disruption among Amity, or panic, that's why I didn't want anything said in front of the men. Word gets around here quickly."

"Funnily enough, I've gathered that."

She ignores his sarcasm and continues anyway. "But there have been a few disturbances if that's what you want to call them these days…"

"Like what… define, please. I'm in no mood for guessing games."

"Break-ins, a few assaults further towards the city and away from Amity. We've had a few livestock taken…"

Eric keeps his poise and seems to lack any emotion on his face as she talks. His two piercings glint from time to time from the concentrated sun capturing her eye. "Your livestock is irretrievable and possibly non-existent, so don't have any hope Daisy the cow will be coming home anytime soon. As for the break-ins, you'll have to take me to the sites and we'll up the watches. But as you know, Amity is pretty wide-spread for cameras and to be fair I don't want my men watching the grass grow."

"I figured as much. The extra watches will have to do. But I want to keep this between us. No one else from Amity is to know. Not even Mark knows."

Eric scoffs hearing his name. "Oh yes, I forgot about your little bitch."

"Mark is a good man. I've never had any problems with him." Her bracelet rattles as she readjusts the long gaping sleeves on her orange and yellow dress.

"Whatever, Johanna. I don't care for him..." But he did care for Abbey. His eyes flick to the floor having slightly hesitated to end the sentence and he has no doubt she's caught the slight betrayal his over-charged body seems to be depicting. For some reason, he feels wholly embarrassed having outed a slight suspicion to the fact he did actually care about someone other than himself and especially to the likes of Johanna.

Johanna keeps her eye-line dead center and the top of her lip ever so slightly curls upwards. "Abbey… Abbey Ainsworth."

"What?" Eric snaps his head over to her, his composure completely spoilt. But he keeps the deadly look in his eye, distrusting of the woman before him.

"I know of your history together. Is that why you are here?"

"How the fuck do you know?"

This strangely gets underneath her skin. An insult to someone as patient and attentive as her. "I'm the spokesperson for Amity. I like the chance to get to know my people, unlike Dauntless." She keeps his eye and doesn't weaken, proving silently that she meant her words.

"You know nothing."

"I know that Abbey was riddled with guilt when she arrived, telling me about her best friend, a name of a boy I had no idea would become a future leader for the warrior faction. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."

Eric takes a long moment, appearing to roam over her conclusion, fighting internally as to whether or not to say anymore. "Who is she marrying?" He gyrates on his heel a little, clearly uncomfortable with this conversation.

"A very nice young man." Johanna can feel herself softening, because as she said those words, Eric looked anything other than defeated - albeit it was for a split second.

She didn't fool herself, Eric was powerful and could easily handle his own. He was headstrong, determined, but also very much human like the rest of them - and that meant the unfavorable human emotions that came along with it. She was unsure how a man like him would cope with that. But if she believed in anything, it was love, and from Abbey's recent interest in the Dauntless movements and the lack of work she had been doing. Johanna needed to know, needed to help - to stop a possible future mistake. "Go and speak with her. I'm guessing you have already marred the database of Amity, so you know where to find her."

Eric stares straight ahead for a long moment and Johanna steps away from him, heading back towards the shadows of the barn. "I know where to find her. I'm just unsure of what else I may find…"

Johanna laughs, turning a little to peer over her shoulder at the tall, muscular man still frozen just outside the doorway. "… Perhaps reconciliation."

Eric did not want to do this. Didn't want to be anywhere near the nauseating spawn of the devil - flowers. Even worse… an entire shop of the stuff.

The door chimes as he strolls in. He knew of the Amity flower workshop from all the work they did with the other factions; the displays outside Erudite and similar checkpoints between Candor. There were also presentations at Authoritative gatherings and then there were personal exceptions. But it doesn't mean he's ever set foot inside of Amity's natural germination haven and thought he'd never have to – until now.

The women in here basically freeze when they see him, and he's sure he even sees one run out the back in fright.

Eric smiles.

"Afternoon ladies."

"Good afternoon, sir." The roundest, most flush woman speaks first, still sharing inquisitive looks with the others as she's temporarily stuck under his limelight.

Eric walks to the counter that she seems to feel relatively comfortable behind and leans forward on it, peering up to her wide, surprised eyes. "I heard through the grapevine that Abbey Ainsworth works here." He plays with the cuttings scattered from a bouquet sitting to his right.

"She does." The woman nods and her double chin wobbles, eyes flicking to his hands and eyes in caution.

"What's your name?" Anyone else that truly knew him, knew the tone he used was way too overly sweet and charming.

"Sandra."

"Well, Sandra. I'm looking for Abbey, is she here?" He tilts his head, scanning her futilely to see if whether she was going to lie or not.

"You just missed her… You'll have to come back after two thirty." The frightened eyes of Sandra peer to the door and back to him, practically begging him to leave.

"Where is she… Sandra…" He notes the way she also glances to the woman out the back who's popping her head through the doorway to look at him until she finally deflates her restricted chest with a hefty conquered lungful.

"Follow the stream out of Amity. Through the bush towards the small waterfall. You'll hear it before you see it. You're more than likely to find her there."

Eric stands, nodding his head. "Thanks, Sandra." He makes a point to also acknowledge the women ogling him from the back, saluting them exaggeratedly. "Ladies…"

Eric had no idea what he was doing here. His uniform was too black, too hot, too forced against his arm muscles, and he had streams of sweat trickling down the sides of his face. It wasn't as windy now as it was earlier, which made it seem all the more blistering.

The little stream runs on his left and he follows the abandoned dirt path alongside it. Crickets and other insects seem to fly and jump around him as he moves and he can hear his own breath as he pants from the heat like some feckless dog.

He's in two minds to turn back when he all of sudden catches the reverberation of running water just beyond a small parting of worn bushes in front of him, perfectly defined to a small human shape.

He closes the distance quickly and holds a hand out in front of him as he pushes his way through the shaded leafed alcove. He immediately stops dead in his tracks. The small 'waterfall' is only about two people high surrounded by boulders of some sort that catch the water into a natural pool. The place is wild and alive with adjacent trees and weird flowers that remind him of cauliflowers.

There she sits, her back to him on a small boulder just by the water, her hair pulled into some messy bun, and he's pleasantly enthralled to see her sporting some mint green dress sitting snuggly against her body. She's totally unaware of him in the early afternoon sun and for a minute he smirks incredulously to himself over the situation.

What does he say now? Does he say that he was looking for her? Did he stumble randomly to this place? Did he see her walk up here? … his evil side kind of wants to push her into the water, mid-thought.

Eric doesn't know what he's going to say, but he was going to approach and figure it out quickly on the spot. He was good with on the spot pressure and that's what he was going to work with.

"Abbey?" He places his hands in his pockets and peers to the floor, biting his cheek, before fixing himself steadily and confidently back onto her having found his steel backbone before she would turn around and see.

For her unsuspecting form, she still turns her head relatively slowly over her shoulder. "Eric?... Oh my god… What are you-"

"I came to… find you…" He's really just lying out his ass now. "And I lost you further back there and was about to turn back – good thing I didn't."

Abbey's face rests in suspicion, then she smiles. "You were looking for me?"

"Yeah…"

She chuckles and pushes her side-swept bangs out of her face that had fallen from her messy bun. "You wanna… sit… or something with me for a bit? Only until I have to go back to work... I'm sure you're really busy, too."

"Okay." He cuts her off quickly. Eric sits next to her on the same boulder and pulls his knees up, looping his arms over the top of them as much as he could from his strained uniform. Suddenly, he feels like he's thirteen again.

"You look hot…"

"You don't look so bad yourself…"

"Eric…" she giggles softly. "I'm saying you look like, really sweaty. You're wearing black for goodness sake." But he smirks back at her and she finally realizes that he was joking. "Wow. So, Dauntless really suits you." She studies him as he slips off his jacket. "Look at those tatts!" She grabs his arm without thinking and he watches her eyes as they roam over the skin. "I'm so jealous."

"You want a tattoo?"

"Yes, why? I think a tattoo would suit me, don't you think?"

"Amity aren't allowed tattoos. And no."

She sighs. "Yeah, like I don't know that already…" and smiles sweetly at him. "I see you still like to try and boss me around."

"I don't think you should get one. It wouldn't look like…." He trails off, not quite wanting to finish, or not even really knowing how to. Eric had wanted to say: you.

"Okay, so you're allowed and I'm not allowed..." She runs her hand down a crack in the boulder and pulls moss, lobbing it at him. "Still such a chicken shit."

"Careful, Ab's. I'll chuck you in if you keep talking like that. Especially to a big, bad Dauntless Leader." He motions with his head to the water.

Abbey gives him a blank look for about a second. "Ohhhh, you were talking about yourself?" And then begins laughing. "I'm terribly mistaken."

Eric grips her ankle and tugs it harshly, causing her to hit him away and eventually landing on her elbows, lying further back. He copies her, just so that they were on the same level.

Abbey's finger traces the indents in the rock but his eyes never lift from her. "I'm sorry I just like, outed I was getting married, out of the blue, not having seen you for so long. I was just really shocked and couldn't find the words to say what I wanted." She blinks a few times before finally lifting her head, meeting the gray-colored haze that stares back at her. "When I saw you, it bought a lot of things back."

"I understand."

"No… no, you don't." She sits up now, throwing something out to the water. "I thought I'd never see you again." She grows quiet, picking at something else instead of looking back at him - and it's utterly annoying.

Eric's really not used to this kind of behavior or emotional put-out. He really doesn't like explaining how he feels, or what's on his mind. It's been a long time since he's seen a woman so conflicted, or even given them enough time to be. Usually, they were in and out and he would barely speak to them again. Abbey was the only woman he could bring himself to actually be pleasant to.

"Well, you're rather depressing me." Eric holds himself on one elbow, lying back casually as he peers out to the small holding of water. Abbey's jaw drops and she shuffles forwards, nearer to the water, and splashes him. For a minute, there is a deadly silence, and he watches the droplets dripping down his crisp vest.

"Shit… I didn't think… sorry…" She begins rambling off, crawling over to him to pat at the water stains on his chest.

"You know; I'd hang you over the chasm if you were an initiate, right…"

"Still find pleasure in pain, Eric?"

"Oh, that's only the start…" She stops patting and evades his gaze, watching his hand as it slides onto the top of hers, swamping them. However, she doesn't pull away, rather plays with his larger fingers, anything to avoid him. She pushes until they are palm to palm and Eric instinctively closes his fingers interlocked with his hers.

"Don't marry him…" The words are out before he even realized he'd thought them. And right now, his heart pulses in his ears, his breathing quickening. It was a long shot, but it was worth the try.

"Eric… I…" His free hand grips onto the back of her bent knees and pulls her further towards him. He doesn't care about her pretty dress, the miniscule distance between them if they were caught, or her fiancée.

"Cancel the wedding. Say you need time."

"Time for what? You'll be back to Dauntless and I'll be back to what I was doing before, alone, giving up the chance someone took on me. Do you know how long it's been since someone took a chance at me? To even ask me out? Men were scared of me, Eric, for years… I was too intelligent, too mischievous, too vivacious."

"Perfect… and every other fucker was stupid – including me, for not seeing it sooner." He sits up, pushing back the sticky hair on her face, trailing the outline of her jaw he knew so perfectly well. His other hand still remained strictly entwined with hers.

"I'm sorry, Eric… I can't, do this, again." She motions with her free hand to the small absent space they had between them. He could feel her words breezily feather against his skin, meaning absolutely nothing to him as he could sense they meant absolutely nothing to her either.

"Fine…"

She peers up as Eric stands. Green flecked orbs wide-eyed and wistful before him, yelping as he picks her up fluidly from the ground in one motion and hurls her into the water. She splutters when she resurfaces and her hair lies flat against her head, strands feathered across her bronzed cheeks.

"You asshole!"

"Don't be like that, it was a bit of fun." He's trying his hardest to stifle the laugh clawing its way up his throat.

"At least help me out, the rocks slippery. I've fallen in before."

"Should I ask?" Valiantly, he holds his hand out, unthinking.

"No, just help me out, shit head." Her cold wet hands grip his, but she's anchored to the water and when he finally looks her in the eye, she's smiling, and now he knows his mistake.

He desperately tries to keep his balance but it's impossible. The angle, the unexpected, her unwomanly strong grip, but mostly her smile.

The water splashes harshly from his militantly dressed body and baulk. Abbey goes under for a few seconds from the momentum but she's laughing when his head finally comes back up.

Strangely, for once, he lets himself laugh with her at his own undoing. Droplet sprinkled faces, flat unkempt hair, and full dazzling wide smiles. The water is actually a relief, and it's deeper than he thought.

To his shock, and his smile faltering, Abbey wraps her legs around his waist. The tips of his feet just touch the bottom to keep them upright as his arms pull her closer, that distinct slippery feeling forming in the base of his stomach in anticipation.

Fuck his now broken phone.

Fuck his sodden unusable gun.

There are goosebumps on her skin, but she's never looked more beautiful, naturally beautiful compared to most of the women he's shared a bed with over the years. Almost hesitantly, she loops each arm over his neck as he wades backward trying to find steadier footing, their eyes never wavering – until she clears her throat.

"Remember that song that I used to sing you, that you absolutely hated…" She keeps her grip firm and his arms reposition till they are sat neatly underneath her ass.

"Please don't, you sound like a squealing pig."

"Okay, okay, I won't sing. But you remember, right?"

"I had nightmares consecutively after every incident." She hits him, splashing water into his face "Yes, I remember."

"At least you remember that." Her eyes drop and she finger-walks down the blocks of his tattoo's, he lifts his head so she can get to the base of his neck.

"I remember everything." She seems too busy checking out his tattoo's rather than listening. "I remember what you taste like..."

That stops her.

Eric audibly hears her swallow, smirking to himself. "I remember what you sound like…"

"Oh, stop it…" She's blushing, but her thighs tighten on his hips.

"I also remember what you feel like…" He watches as her lips part again. Was this some unique cue that she wanted him to kiss her? He's never noticed that before, not even when they were younger. Perhaps it was just something he'd learned with age and he was a little more observant now. "Does your fiancée say these things to you?"

"Does that matter?"

"You don't love him. If you did you wouldn't be here like this, with me." Eric pulls one of his arms from the water and wipes the droplets on the side of her cheek. "You said you loved me once. I know that hasn't changed." He watches as her lips purse themselves into a fine line. Without a push, he knew Abbey wouldn't productively sort her life out. "I'm going to give you an option. You call off the wedding amicably, or, I'll stop the wedding myself."

"Don't be stupid. I'll be hated, they'll gossip. I can't-"

"Okay, don't see it as an option then. It's going to happen, one way or another." Eric feels her wriggling, fighting the conflicted emotions.

"You can't just waltz into my life after all these years and call the shots."

"I think it's about time I did. So, I am now." Abbey sighs against him, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. He makes a point of grabbing her attention by gripping the back of her legs harder, pressing her against him.

"Just give me a few days." She's peering down at him while he watches her lips, and it's positively mesmerizing. Eric comes to the conclusion he could spend the rest of the day in this position – and also that he wants to bite her. "What are people going to say?"

"Fuck everyone."

"That's such an Eric thing to say, I'm not like you." He lets her fingers adventure around the piercings of his ears, the nape of his neck, slipping themselves underneath the shoulders of his vest. Eventually, she leans forwards and brushes her nose against his and he lets out a small suspended breath. "My moon came back…" Abbey whispers, almost agonizingly-defeated, clamping her eyes closed.

Eric can't think of anything reasonable to reply with, so instead, he settles for:

"I did."

It's those damn crickets and shitting frogs keeping him up in the night. But not only them, Abbey. Eric wonders if she's with her fiancée right now and the thought makes him feel sick, gripping at the base of his stomach and tightening his chest. He turns over for the billionth time.

Just as his eyes start to slowly close, someone begins pelting on his door. "Sir! There's been an incident!" Eric responds instantly on auto-pilot, throwing himself out of the covers and grabbing his pants. He's dressed within a matter of seconds and yanking the door open to the young Dauntless member scared shitless before him.

"What is it?!" Eric pushes past him without giving the young lad a second thought, heading for Johanna's office in the first instance, unsure as to whether that was particularly where he was meant to go but the young Dauntless follows him so it was a good a guess as any.

"The factionless have taken two Amity trucks. One of the drivers is fatal." The boy pants from behind him.

"Was it a night-run?"

"Yes, just the two. The drivers were left out by the road."

"Where?" Eric's voice has taken on a darker tone, viciously snapping at the youngster having grown impatient.

"That's the thing, it was literally just outside Amity."

Eric storms through the already open barn doors in the blackened night and marches the twirled steps. Johanna's already here, looking like she just rolled out of bed herself, her face twisted under the pale lighting. "What are you not telling me, Johanna? And think very carefully before you lie to me." He comes to a stop as his legs hit her desk, using it as some form of restraint on himself before he automatically throttles the woman.

"I-I, I thought it was under control."

"I'm guessing it was food or mechanical support you were offering them. Which is it?"

"They said if we fed them then they would leave Amity alone…" Johanna trails off, turning her head away from the burning hate in front of her.

Eric slams his fist on the desk. "You'll be prosecuted for this - aiding the factionless! You know that right?" He huffs, heaving his chest painfully, the adrenaline and annoyance on full flow. "Why did they attack? Food payment not on time? Or something else?"

"We didn't have enough to cover them, it's been hot, the crops are dry and there are many mouths to feed. I thought they wouldn't miss one delivery."

"You've painted a fucking target on Amity, you know that? You stupid cunt!" Eric says the words with utter venom. "If you have any self-respect left, you'll let me guide the movements from Amity, without question, from here on." Eric motions for a phone from the boy behind him, leaving Johanna in her guilt-ridden position as he can't bear to look at her.

"What are you doing? Who are you calling?" Johanna speaks to his large, shadow-covered frame - predominately to the back of his head.

"Someone's got to sort this shit out."

Eric stands in the early hours, hands in his pockets, roaming over the small wooden hut standing in front of him.

Abbey lives here.

He's not stalking her – he tells himself. He's just checking to make sure she was okay, make sure there was no factionless hanging around. And with that in mind, he brings himself to the door and knocks timidly.

A light flicks on outback and he can hear the sleepy occupants footsteps tread towards the door.

Abbey opens the door a crack, her eyes puffy and tired, a light robe pulled around her. "Eric? Are you okay? Has something happened?" She lets the door swing wide open and gleefully he watches the way she checks him out in complete worry.

"I'm fine. Are you alone?"

She nods, then smiles. "I am. My fiancée is not here if that's what you're asking? He respects my need for my timed independence."

"Let's not go over this again," Eric shakes his head.

Abbey takes a step back, chewing her lip, looking behind her briefly. "You want to come in?"

"I just came to see if you were okay. You should really go back to bed, it's late and you must have plenty of flowers to pick first thing..." He smiles, but it's forced. He's more tired than he's letting on.

"Oh, right… You, er… wanna sleep here?" She shifts nervously, and he quirks a brow at the unexpected. "Just sleep… nothing else, you idiot."

"Okaayyy." Eric suddenly feels sixteen again and stuck under the oak tree of where she first kissed him.

She holds her hand out, an elegant but working hand with finely cut nails. He hesitates for a split second in a natural second instinct, a trick, or a game that he wouldn't put past her. He gazes at her palm before meeting her green and accustomed eyes that are smiling at him, crumbling every defense he has ever built towards her.

Eric is a condemned man – when he slips his hand in hers.