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madhousedarry · 4 months ago

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The Omen: Legacy of Lunacy | Chapter 21

Meanwhile, the girl managed to enter the house and go to the kitchen - it looks like while Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" was sleeping in his bed, Molly managed not only to frolic with his older brother, but also to study the layout of the house.

At least she found the toilet the first time, which she immediately entered and locked with the latch.

For obvious reasons, there was no point in the boy trying to spy on the guests, so he simply went into his brother's room to inform him that Miss Scallop's protegee had gotten some fresh air and returned to their home.

Upon entering Ryan's room, Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" noticed that he was sitting by the window with his back to the door.

"Brother!" the boy shouted. "I brought you news!"

"Well, what's going on?" Ryan muttered discontentedly, turning slightly towards his brother.

"Molly's back!" his brother proudly informed him in the tone children use when telling their parents about their success at school.

"Well, screw it," his older brother responded indifferently. It was obvious that this topic had long since lost all interest for him.

"She's in the toilet now," Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" continued in a solemn TV presenter's voice. "She'll come out soon, uh-uh, you know! And then we'll fuck her right here! Right now! You'll see!"

Oh, the boy shouldn't have said such words to his assexual brother!

Hearing these words, Ryan seemed to break loose from his chain - he jumped up from his chair like a tiger and in one leap found himself next to his brother; grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, he covered the boy's mouth with his other hand.

After this non-violent act, the young man turned his brother to face the exit of his room and gave him a farewell kick in the ass with his knee.

"Don't talk to me about this, you asshole!" his older brother's angry words reached his ears.

The boy stood motionless in the middle of the hallway for a moment, looking at Ryan's door slamming shut in front of him. Then the child's face twisted into a grimace of hatred for the whole world and his older brother in particular.

Suddenly, footsteps were heard behind him, and the boy turned around reflexively. As expected, it was Molly. Seeing his piercing gaze, she stopped in front of him, about twenty-five paces away.

The boy felt an irresistible desire to rush towards her and grab all the accessible parts of the girl's body with his hands… But instead of all of the above, the following happened - the girl suddenly came close to Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" and tried to embrace him, which the boy did not expect from her.

"My poor little thing," Molly cooed, looking at the hunted boy.

Her gentle voice suddenly brought back memories of his long-lost mother. Succumbing to the mood, Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" suddenly burst into tears and went to the girl's arms himself.

The latter picked up the crying eight-year-old boy with her tender hands and pressed him to her chest.

And for the first time in all the time he'd seen women (whether they were real or drawn), Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" didn't want to immediately pull the girl's clothes off and start groping her tits.

Instead of this vile desire, he was overcome by a feeling of shame and remorse mixed with a feeling of loneliness.

"Don't cry, baby, I'll try to make sure everything is okay with you," Molly continued to coo, and Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" had already forgotten that she had a crocodile face - after all, all people have their own shortcomings: who's to blame if they were born that way?

It could be said that for the first time since his mother died (and the latter died almost immediately after she gave birth to him), Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" saw in a woman not an object for jerking off, but a person with a heart of gold.

And, shedding tears in the arms of a completely unfamiliar twenty-two-year-old girl, the boy felt himself truly defenseless and in need of care from loving people. And there was no doubt that Molly loved him. And it was not a matter of pedophilia at all - it was just a maternal instinct that for no apparent reason prevailed in her nature among strangers.

And what about Ryan? The asexual drug addict who had no sexual attraction to anyone was still of interest to Miss Scallop's protegee. Apparently, she thought that Ryan's reluctance to show her his mighty phallus was just a manifestation of shyness, and she hoped to get her own in the future.

But for now, this question should be postponed until the evening - after all, Molly needed to get used to the house and decide what role she would need to play during the indefinite period of time that she would be here.

So, after wiping Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert's" snot, the girl got up and went to the bathroom to tidy herself up, while the boy, recovering from a session of crying and hugging, walked into his room with a bad head and immediately fell on the bed - not to start jerking off to the image of lady Vieira, but only to calm his nerves, forgetting himself in a half-sleep. Soon he drowned in sleep.

Waking up the next day, the boy noticed something strange in the window - a human figure in a red shirt and jeans. Without getting out of bed, Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" reached for his phone to capture the wonder on his crappy (only two megapixels) camera, but the mysterious man disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

Then the boy decided to call Miss Scallop - after all, it was his duty to report to her about the fate of her protegee, who had been staying in his and Ryan's house since yesterday.

Scrolling through his WhoreApp in search of the old cow's contact, Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" noticed with horror that, at least in the avatar, Miss Scallop looked like a spitting image of Molly the Slut - of course, adjusted for age.

The boy could have sworn that the latter was, if not the daughter, then a very close relative of the old cunt, for they both had the same crocodile faces and long hair - the differences mainly being that while Miss Scallop wore her hair in one braid, lady Vieira let it down as she pleased.

Well, and it was not worth losing sight of the fact that if the old cow's face was eaten away by wrinkles and alcohol, then, although ugly, Molly's still blooming face left no doubt that the latter was twenty years younger than the former.

Regardless, Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" was at a loss as to what the connection was between a twenty-two year old slut and a forty-two year old fucked up cunt.

Their last names were too different to be able to confirm their family ties. Although, who knows, as is customary with cousins and second cousins… In any case, the boy was already dialing Miss Scallop's number in anticipation of asking her the question that was gnawing at him.

His hopes were justified: the old cunt immediately picked up the phone and, as they say, from the very beginning, began bombarding the little boy with questions on such interesting topics as cosmetics and hygiene of her protegee.

Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" had a hard time keeping himself from yelling at the old woman and telling her to shut up, but there's a limit to everything - when Miss Scallop started asking how many pads lady Vieira had in her purse and whether she should order more by mail, he clutched the phone with both hands and, trying not to curse, shouted into the receiver:

"Dear Miss Scallop! For any questions about lady Vieira's problems, please contact my older brother! I'm too young to understand such things!"

"It's never too late to learn, kid!" the old woman answered him cheerfully and immediately burst into causeless laughter.

The boy took advantage of his opponent's momentary weakness and finally used his weapon:

"Miss Scallop, so who is lady Vieira to you that you are so worried about her?"

Having blurted out these words, the boy held his breath. Would this old crab answer him or not? Would she ignore his question or start scolding him? However, he could not have expected what followed next.

When the meaning of his words reached his interlocutor, she immediately stopped laughing and said in a strange, conspiratorial tone:

"My dear Robert," she always called the boy that when she wanted to teach him politeness, "the answer to that question is clear to me today… and a select few," she added after a moment's pause. "I… That is, we don't want this to become public knowledge."

"But Miss Scallop!" the boy became capricious. "Tell me, is it hard to say?"

"It's NOT hard to say," the old cow chuckled, "but dealing with the consequences of an information leak will be beyond the power of even those like…"

Apparently realizing that she was about to blurt out something unnecessary, Miss Scallop made a strange, muffled sound and pressed the call cancel button.

It is clear that the boy could not see this, but you yourself should understand that when the call window suddenly disappears from the screen of your phone, it means that the subscriber has ended the connection with you!

In any case, Miss Scallop avoided answering what seemed to be a very simple question, which caused little Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert"'s heart to be filled with an incomprehensible anxiety - as if the old crab had kept information from the boy about something that could at any moment destroy the usual life of an eight-year-old wanker.

At least he felt a strange sensation, as if someone had started pressing on the back of his head, and he immediately threw the silent phone onto the bed and grabbed his head with both hands.

Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" rummaged through his short-cropped black hair, trying to shake off the stupor that had suddenly overtaken him, but he was not really successful - the result of all this was that his usually neatly styled hair had taken on a crazy look that could best be described in the words of the great English writer Pelham Grenville Wodehouse - "Did the cat drag you in from the garbage heap?"

It goes without saying that there was no way that a young The Omen Ican dancer could have read The Mating Season at the age of eight, and it is not a fact that even as an adult he would have become interested in English literature of the mid-twentieth century.

But he realized something else - he had just experienced the same thing that happened to the main character of the film about the dead little girl from the well! "The Ring"!

Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert", just like Kazuyuki Asakawa (renamed by stupid The Omen Icans to Rachel Keller) picked up the phone and heard… But that's the point, he didn't hear anything!

If the film had the sacramental phrase "seven days!", then in the case of Miss Scallop's call the boy himself was asking to learn something that the latter flatly refused to tell him! In other words, it was not the presence of certain words, but on the contrary their absence - that's what gave the horror to this whole crazy story!

Poor Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" sat on his bed, legs tucked under him like a Turk, staring straight ahead. With his entire atrophied brain he sensed the coming fuck-up, but what kind of fuck-up it would be and when it would happen - he had no answers to these questions.

All he knew was that the secret of Miss Scallop and lady Vieira's affair was so deep that its revelation - or concealment? - might be the last thing that lay ahead for him.

These dark and childishly complex thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the door. The boy raised his head and stared blankly at his older brother, who, leaning his right hand on the door frame, looked at Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" with a smile on his lips.

For a few seconds the brothers looked at each other with completely different feelings, until the elder one broke the silence with a question that was appropriate in this situation:

"Do you want to eat?"

The everyday nature of these words seemed strangely absurd to the boy who was going through a difficult morning, but the latter found the strength to act like a true Jew - to answer a question with a question.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What, you can't?" Ryan asked reasonably, unaware that he was taking the exchange of questions to the nth degree. "You look like…"

"Like a cat dragged me from the garbage dump?" said Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert", simultaneously leading the dialogue to a dead end and quoting an English classic, completely unexpectedly for himself.

"I wanted to say it was like you were dug out of a buried subway, but your comparison would work too. What happened to you?"

The boy tiredly touched his forehead with his palm.

"Brother," he answered with unexpected sentimentality, "they tried to drag me to hell."

"And I thought," Ryan interrupted, "that hell was the only place you could go to even when you were walking home, not suspecting anything. So what's it like in hell?"

"I haven't been to hell, you dumb asshole!" Ryan's joking tone was driving the boy crazy. "I want to tell you a scary story!"

"As scary as "The Omen" movie, or even scarier?"

"Fuck, you're annoying!" Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" lost his temper. "Are you going to stop joking or not?"

"Will you stop swearing, you little brat?" his older brother answered him in the same rude tone. "Molly was buzzing my ears at breakfast today about how you, at eight years old, swear like a cabby and that it needs to be done immediately…"

The boy didn't hear the rest of the words - grabbing his clothes from the chair in an armful, he ran like a bullet into the corridor and, diving into the bathroom, locked the door.

However, hearing a barely suppressed giggle behind him, he immediately turned around with his heart pounding furiously - it turned out that at that very second Molly was in the bath, who - just think! - was shaving her armpits!!!

The boy had never known about such a hygienic procedure among girls, so his surprise was not surprising, forgive the tautology.

He stood silently right in front of lady Vieira, holding a shirt and shorts in his hands, while the crocodile-faced, heart-of-gold lady stood in front of the mirror, carefully swiping a razor under her armpit.

Although she had her back to the boy, they both saw each other's faces in the mirror, and so they both felt some discomfort - at least Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert", as for Molly, it seemed that she only enjoyed the presence of a stranger during her hygiene procedures.

"You're a curious one, I see," lady Vieira chuckled, not taking her eyes off the boy's surprised face reflected in the mirror. "You came to see me shave my armpits. I bet you'd like to see me change my pads, too, huh, my little pervert?" With these words, she burst into laughter."

The boy didn't know what to do with himself, but he knew one thing for sure - it was better to be in the company of this idiot with her head in the air than next to Ryan, who would only like to lecture his little brother.

Besides, there was something, to put it mildly, intimate about this situation…

"I know what you're thinking, vulgarian," Molly's voice suddenly rang out. "But don't even hope for that - I change my pads in the toilet, and I always lock myself in there! Besides," she continued, still running the razor under her armpit, "I'm not such a fool as to get caught for corruption of minors."

"Uh-uh…" mumbled Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert", his hands sweating and almost soaking the clothes he continued to hold in his arms.

"So go ahead and have a good time, boy," said lady Vieira, and to the boy's surprise, she put the razor on the sink and, opening the door, gently pushed him in the shoulder, thus pushing him out into the corridor.

The boy had no choice but to follow the advice of the older woman and go ahead, to the kitchen, where Ryan was already waiting for him, who, it seemed, still needed to speak out after the embarrassment that had happened a few minutes ago between him and his younger brother - otherwise, how else to explain the fact that, upon seeing Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" enter the kitchen, he immediately began to think out loud about the peculiarities of puberty in boys of primary school age?!

However, to be honest, this conversation was of little interest to the little The Omen Ican imp. His imagination was much more struck by a large plate containing sliced tomatoes mixed with pieces of ham and pickles, and all this splendor was covered with olive oil instead of the mayonnaise that the boy had grown tired of.

"Is this all for me?" the boy asked.

"I think that it's all for you…" Ryan answered in a mysterious tone, finally stopping his moralizing conversations.

"What about lady Vieira?" Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" asked hopefully, looking up at his older brother with his big chocolate colored eyes.

"She won't mind if you finish the whole plate," said Ryan, who hadn't quite emerged from his role as mentor. "However, I hope you won't eat it all in one sitting? You know it's unhealthy!"

"I can't eat that much!" the boy said with annoyance. "Maybe you'll join me?"

"I'll help you," Ryan answered strangely, "I'll sit across from you and make sure you don't overeat. Got it?"

Frankly speaking, the boy did not understand a word of what his older brother said to him, but in order not to run into a conflict, he silently nodded. The last action caused a satisfied smile to appear on the young man's lips.

"Well, you see!" he said. "Now come here…"

Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" didn't need to be asked twice - he immediately walked up to the table and sat down in his place.

"That's it, good," Ryan nodded in satisfaction. "Keep it up!"

There was something odd about the older brother's preoccupation with the little boy's food, but the little boy couldn't care less - which couldn't be said about the salad that Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" pounced on the minute he sat down at the table. And if Ryan hadn't been watching him, he probably would have gobbled up every last crumb.

But the older brother continued to sit opposite him and watch the movements of the spoon in the younger brother's right hand closely - apparently in order to curry favor with Miss Scallop's protegee, who, as Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" remembered, had been doing nothing but complaining to Ryan about his behavior all morning… But that was not the main thing.

When the plate was almost half empty, Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" tore his eyes away from the salad with difficulty and glanced at his brother: he was sitting in front of an empty glass with a completely calm face, which was impenetrable like a mask.

It seemed that this was a completely different person compared to the one who had been in this room a couple of minutes ago! The strange gleam in the young man's eyes only reinforced this impression.

"Uh-uh…" Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" mumbled, looking at Ryan, who was not paying attention to his actions.

The boy felt uneasy under this intense gaze; it seemed to him that his elder brother at that very moment saw in him something that it would have been better never to see at all.

However, his train of thought was interrupted by Ryan himself, who suddenly tore his gaze away from Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" and raised his eyes to the ceiling of the room: a spasm ran through his body as if from an electric shock, and suddenly an expression of terrible torment appeared on his face, mixed with some strange triumph.

All of the above was so unexpected for the boy that he did not immediately understand what was happening. And when he realized it, he became scared and really wanted to run away from this room somewhere far away…

But Ryan had already come to his senses; his face was calm again as usual: apparently it was just some kind of attack from internal tension… The older brother looked at the boy with a smile of a winner, in which there was simultaneously the joy of victory and tears of pain. Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" even seemed to sense in it the presence of some kind of guilt before himself.

"What was that?" the boy asked his brother.

"It's okay," Ryan reassured him. "It doesn't concern you," he suddenly said in a completely different tone.

Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" had seen so much in the last few days that such a change in the mood of a conversation right in the middle of a sentence no longer shocked him - and it was worth remembering that Ryan was a big fan of drugs, so such mood swings were, as they say, nothing new.

That is why the boy did not bother his older brother with insignificant questions, but simply silently pushed away the half-empty plate of salad and, wiping his mouth stained with olive oil, stood up from the table.

"Wait a bit," Ryan stopped him.

"What do you want?" Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" muttered discontentedly.

"Yes, I just remembered about my slut's luggage," the elder brother continued. "That slut was talking so much about some trifles, but about when her luggage would be delivered, not a single word, you understand, NOT A SINGLE word!" he suddenly yelled at the last word.

Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" involuntarily flinched when Ryan suddenly raised his voice for no apparent reason, but of course he didn't grab his head and run away in panic.

"Well, not a single one, then not a single one," the boy said philosophically, throwing the dirty napkin into the trash can. "What business is it of yours?"

"What does it matter to me?" his elder brother asked with a beastly grin. "And does it matter that this whore is in charge of my clothes? Took my razor? Drank my juice? THREW AWAY MY STASH!" he suddenly yelled, getting up from the table and clenching his fists. "MY STASH, YOUR MOTHERFUCKING!!!"

"Hey, take it easy, FUCKING EASY!" Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" shouted in the same tone as his brother.

With these words, he did something that he bitterly regretted for the rest of his life - when Ryan, suddenly enraged, rushed at him with his fists, the boy cold-bloodedly tripped his enraged older brother, causing him, losing his balance, to fall hard onto the linoleum.

At the same time, Bobby "His-Name-Was-Robert" rushed out of the kitchen, fearing revenge from Ryan. However, that was not what he needed to fear…

The thing is, when he fell to the floor with all his might, Ryan managed to break his glasses, which he had somehow put on that morning - something, by the way, that had never been noticed before.

However, it was enough to look at the frame of the glasses to understand that they belonged to a female person - the bright pink color and the unambiguous shape in the form of hearts spoke louder than any words. That is, that very morning Ryan borrowed glasses from his new girlfriend - the slut Molly - which he had to bitterly regret.

After all, what would happen if you fell face down on the floor and managed to break your glasses? The author of these lines had never experienced anything like this, and had never seen anything like this in her life, but simple logic tells her that the shards of glasses would stick into her eyes, which would make the owner of the glasses feel like a fool - forgive me for the black humor.

Be that as it may, that's exactly what happened - the boy tripped his older brother, who fell with all his might onto the floor and, breaking his glasses, simultaneously cut both of his eyes.

There was blood - as if a pig had been slaughtered, the whole floor under Ryan's head was covered in it. And there's no need to even talk about screams. True, what's characteristic, it wasn't Ryan who screamed, but his beloved slut Molly, who, having finished shaving her armpits, came out of the bathroom and, seeing that her newly acquired fucker was lying face down on the floor and bleeding, behaved like a true hysteric.

One can only wonder that this fool didn't do anything nasty in that terrible moment and at least lived to see Ryan's funeral - which did take place, I guarantee it! What happened to her next - no one will ever tell you, because the page of history ends at that moment.

Some say Molly Vieira turned to prostitution - which, given her first encounter with Ryan, would not be surprising. Others argue that she, how shall I put it, did not survive the loss and followed her lover.

And when lovers do such things, they will never return to all other people. I hope you understood me correctly. In any case, you and I should not be interested in the future fate of this extremely vile person, who not only had the face of a crocodile, but also had the habits of a real whore!

Let's consider Ryan's death as Antichrist's punishment for this creature!

#TheOmen #The Omen #Omen #AsiaVieira #Asia Vieira #Delia #Delia York #fanfic #fanfiction

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holykillercake · 4 years ago

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Hazy Justice - 03

01 02 03

🇨‌🇴‌🇵‌!🇸‌🇲‌🇴‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇽‌ 🇲‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇾‌🇩‌🇴‌🇨‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌!🇷‌🇪‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌

word count: 2.5k

summary: After eight years serving your country in a war, you returned to your hometown as the new head of Trauma Surgery in one of the best hospitals in the country. You were expecting a calmer life now, but suddenly you see yourself choosing between your brain and your heart, light and dark, justice and evil.

highlight: ¨You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.¨

warning: Use sunglasses. Too bright.

notes: .Dear comrades, it has been a while but it's finally here! With new characters and lots and lots of threads.

🇱‌🇪‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇲‌🇲‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇭‌🇪‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇱‌🇴‌🇻‌🇪‌!

¨Hello...¨ you were instantly greeted by the tingling doorbells that let the owner know whenever a client entered the establishment.

Your eyes traveled to the half-moon bar where the slim and tall woman leaned casually, cigarette adorning her elegant fingers. Her eyebrows raised as she took in your figure, double-checking if you were not someone else.

¨Oh! Y/N-chan, is that you?¨

¨Shakky!¨ she made her way out of the bar to hug you ¨It´s so good to see you! You haven´t changed at all!¨

Her kind chuckle made you feel like a kid again, and you couldn´t stop yourself from tearing with the nostalgic feeling.

¨Thanks, Baby. Now you,¨ she put her hands on your shoulders and opened a distance, eyes examining you like a mother hawk ¨you look tired. Eight years in war made you no good.¨

You nodded and laughed ¨I guess we can put it that way.¨

¨Come, treat is on the house.¨

Clapping your hands, you followed the lady towards the bar. ¨So, where´s Rayleigh-san?¨

¨He just left, but it shouldn´t take long. He´ll be happy to see you, Y/N-chan.¨

The circumstances that connect you to Shakky and Rayleigh go way back to decades ago when your parents were still alive. By that time, all you knew was that they were friends, people you could trust. You were not allowed to ask more questions about their jobs, and you couldn´t find a suitable answer with the information you had.

They were always on the road, visiting only once in a while. They would bring incredible gifts from various countries and discuss ¨adult matters¨ with your parents while Crocodile helped you with homework.

Whenever you brought up your curiosities to your brother, he would say that they talked about the war, and you were too young to hear such things. Crocodile was also not allowed in the room, but he´d always peer into the conversation through the ventilation ducts.

If he´s saying, it must be true.

Since your dad was a Lieutenant Colonel, there was always the possibility of his unit being requested to offer back up or engage actively. You never minded it, though. He had already been sent to a lot of dangerous missions, and he came back every single time. He was strong and invincible. He would always return to his family.

Well, that was true until the day you found your mother in the kitchen, breaking in tears, holding a smudged letter in her hands, together with your father´s dog tag.

You stared at her and your brother, blinking in the hope of seeing what was wrong. The woman at the kitchen table did not look like your mother. She had no sparkle in her eyes or pride in her chest.

On the contrary, thick and dark tears fell from her eyes, blurred from the makeup that always accentuated her piercing gaze. Her lips were not curved in the tender smile she used to carry. Instead, she bit her lower lip so hard that you could almost see blood staining her pink lipstick.

¨Dad´s not coming home.¨ was all Crocodile said.

That was not the time when things got completely off track, but it was a significant change in your family's life. The government offered a military pension and a country flag for the services provided by your father. However, you had to be transferred to the Commercial District, where your mother worked as an archivist at the Ohara Institute of Historical Research.

¨Y/N?¨ you heard a male voice call, making you turn.

Your eyes shifted between the two male figures standing at the door. ¨Rayleigh-san!¨ you shouted like a kid seeing Santa Claus at the shopping mall ¨Smoker!?¨ this one came out more like a question.

¨You have grown, little one!¨ he patted your head like old times. ¨Maybe my white hair makes sense. I´ve aged!¨ he laughed cheerfully, and Smoker tilted his head.

¨Finer than wine!¨ you giggled, then turned to the other white-haired man, cheeks blushing ¨This is, uhm... I swear I´m not following you.¨

¨Oh, you two know each other?¨ Shakky asked, adding two more old-fashioned glasses on the counter.

¨We´re neighbors!¨

¨That´s great! Come, we have a lot to talk! Today is on the house!¨ Rayleigh shouted similar words as his wife. You wondered if that was the synchronization of personalities or if the alcohol he had prior was impairing his judgment.

Shakky decided to close for the day, wanting to spend as much time as possible in your company. The clock seemed to have stopped while you were drinking, eating snacks, and catching up on years of conversation.

It was funny how sometimes it felt like a ping pong game between you and Rayleigh. Every so often, the conversation would turn into matches of him serving shots of military-wise improper questions and you backhanding with ¨That´s classified information, Rayleigh-san.¨.

Did he have a poor memory or all those years of scotch and cigars in your father´s office taught him nothing? Either way, you were having too good of a time at that table to worry about his faulty memory.

¨Are you sure you´re neighbors?¨ Shakky asked with a playful grin ¨You seem to know nothing about each other.¨

¨I would say that´s a pretty sharp point.¨ you answered in the same lighted tone.

¨Tight schedules, I´d say.¨ Smoker added, shifting on the couch.

¨But it looks like you´re free today. How about dinner? Four of us, our house, like old times Y/N.¨ Rayleigh seemed too keen on this, and you wondered if he was trying to set you up on a date.

¨Well, as much as I would love that, I´ve got plans for tonight.¨

¨Let me guess,¨ Rayleigh created a tension ¨classified information?¨

You laughed loudly at his stupid joke. It was a predictable Ray-san ice breaker, but you couldn't help yourself. This man was a blissful delight.

¨Much to your content, tonight´s plan I´ll be able to spill.¨ you teased him ¨I´m having dinner with Crocodile tonight!¨

What happened after you pronounced those words would have gone unnoticed by someone inattentive. It felt like a slight change in the air, like those quiet moments before a bomb exploded, when the clock stopped ticking.

You didn´t have the chance to question before Shakky took the wheel.

¨That´s great, Y/N!¨ her elegant hands embraced yours, affectionate and caring ¨Did you see how much he´s changed?¨

¨Uhm, actually,¨ you blinked, focusing back on the conversation ¨it´s the first I meet him in... eight years.¨

The tightness you felt in your chest almost made you tear, and the woman saw it. Her eyes carried a hint of compassion... or pity.

¨You miss him a great deal, right, Baby?¨

¨Yeah...¨ you shrugged ¨he was out of town when I arrived, so I only got the chance now. But how´s he doing? Did he change a lot?¨

¨Oh, baby, it´s been a while since we met. He´s a busy man, you know.¨

Your brows raised, then furrowed, and you had a perplexed smile hanging on your lips. You would not have believed those words if they hadn´t come directly from them.

¨Oh, wha- well, I´ll¨ a nervous laugh left your mouth ¨I´ll drag him by the hair, then! Busy man, bullshit! He used to bug mom and dad all the time, asking why you guys couldn´t live with us!¨

¨Don´t stress yourself over that, Y/N.¨ Rayleigh said with his gentle smile. ¨He runs a lot of businesses, I´m sure he would drop by more if he could.¨

Shakky nodded¨And, it´s your first time in the Light District, right? Was that the only district you haven´t lived in yet?¨

¨That and the Noble District, obviously.¨ you rolled your eyes.

¨You lived in all other districts?¨ Smoker asked after a silent moment in the conversation.

¨Yeah, long story and not that interesting. You´d be bored, trust me.¨

¨It´s rather difficult to find someone who lived in more than two districts, so I´d like to hear that.¨

¨Alright, but don´t say I didn´t warn you.¨

You peeked at your wristwatch, running some basic math in your head and deciding that it was time to go if you didn´t want to be late for dinner. Your lips twisted in a pout, and your expression dropped a little for having to leave this fantastic moment.

Surprisingly enough, leaving them was not as difficult as you imagined. Maybe because they reminded you that you could visit them anytime now, or because you did not want to act like a crybaby on Smoker´s car.

He said it was also about time for him to leave and offered you a ride back home. You would not have to take the subway and would get the chance to know him better.

A win-win situation.

The first minutes were a bit silent, but after you asked him if he should be driving since he had quite a lot to drink, he responded with an awkward stuttering that was rather charming. The conversation that followed was smooth as you realized he was way easier to talk to than you imagined.

Smoker was respectful, always making sure that it was ok for you to talk about your past while sharing some things about his life as well. Inside of that car, he almost seemed like a different person. His brows were not furrowed ad his voice sounded relaxed.

The ride ended too fast for your liking, and you saw yourself waving goodbye when deep down you wanted to ask him to stay for a coffee. Unfortunately, you couldn´t, maybe some other day. Now you had to make yourself presentable to meet your other half, your brother.

...

The Light District was nothing like you had seen before. The entrance was marked by a gigantic golden arch, which carried an equally shining bell.

Tall palm trees swayed in the cool breeze, tinged with orange by the sunset. Luxurious establishments, whose signs began to be lit, occupied both sides of the clear sidewalk.

From a distance, you could see the tip of the Ferris wheel of the Sora park. It did not spin due to the recess, but the lights remained on. The roller coaster that had been the cause of the accident was surrounded by tall metal poles, being repaired for the reopening of the place.

The driver Crocodile sent to pick you up lowered the window so you could enjoy the view to the fullest. Your hair started to fly in the wind, and a delicious smell of butter invaded your nose. The restaurants had already begun to heat up the pots to receive their customers.

The Light District was projected to offer convenience to the ones who were willing to pay the price. Therefore, all that was best was located in Eldorado Avenue, the main passage that extended for kilometers like a luxurious and soft red carpet.

¨We are approaching the hotel, miss Y/N. Sir Crocodile awaits for you.¨

¨Uh...¨ you murmured, amazed by the view.

You squinted when something reflected in your eyes, catching your attention, and a gasp got stuck in your throat when you spotted the famous Hotel Verde.

Well, it was impossible not to notice it.

First of all, it did not look like a hotel. It resembled more a small town. Even taller palm trees guided the way towards the entrance, both sides occupied by ponds and tropical plants. The building stood tall like a lighthouse and at the top rested an enormous golden statue of the reptile that represented its owner.

You did not wait for Daz, the man your brother chose to escort you, to get out when the car stopped. You put yourself out as soon as the limo parked in front of the main stairway. After so many years without putting on a heel, maybe you would accept a hand to go up the stairs.

Your hands smoothed the dark green silk dress that dragged on a short tail, courtesy of Crocodile, along with shoes and jewelry. You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.

When the valet took the car somewhere else, Daz put himself beside you, offering you his arm. Your heart pounded like the Ox Bell at every step, and you breathed through your mouth, trying to keep your cool.

You saw various types of people coming in and out of the hotel, all of them embellished with jewels and shiny tackles like Christmas trees. Each and every one exalted wealth and power, with their nonchalant glares and pointed noses. Your gut twisted, remembering Shakky and Rayleigh´s words, wishing Crocodile hadn´t turned into someone like them.

The long stairway was divided in the middle by a golden rail, separating who went up from who went down. That might have been the reason why the man coming down your way caught your attention. Or perhaps it was the weight of his gaze, hidden by the reddish specs. His blonde hair and skin seemed like gold, the pink suit looked orange-ish due to the sunset, and his wide grin made you quiver.

He walked with two men by his side, freeing the way for him. At some point, no one dared to come close to the stairs. It was only the five of you.

¨Daz!¨ the man, who seemed more familiar now, exclaimed ¨I wonder who´s the person that would make you leave your boss´back.¨

He approached you, hungry gaze brimming on his tongue. He was tall and seemed even more as he closed the distance.

¨Not even the luxury dolls get to be escorted.¨ he gently took your hand and kissed your knuckles with delicacy.

You weren´t convinced by his gesture. If anything, you felt bothered to see him disrespecting the house´s rules, as if that disrespected you directly. ¨Tell me, dear, what is your name?¨

¨If you wish to know something from someone, it is more appropriate to introduce yourself first.¨ your voice came out indifferent and a vein popped on his forehead before breaking into laughter.

¨Fufufu I can´t say you are wrong!¨ he leaned back, large hand on his stomach. ¨I´m Donquixote Doflamingo. It surprised me that you couldn't put that together. Now tell me, doll, what do they call you?¨

You sighed and looked around, spotting a figure at the top of the stairs that lifted your mood and gave you all the strength and confidence you needed to end the conversation. A smile grew on your lips as you turned to Doflamingo, eyeing him with nothing but the will to leave.

¨They call me Lieutenant-Colonel Y/N L/N, Division Surgeon of the Army. Or just LT Colonel L/N if you prefer.¨ you offered him a respectful nod before turning your attention to the man who waited for you with a smile on his face. ¨Now, if you excuse me, Mr. Donquixote.¨

#one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #captain smoker #smoker #smoyan hahaha #op fanfic #crocodile #sir crocodile #eldorado #daz #dark king rayleigh #rayleigh #shakky #one piece doflamingo #doffy

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 6 ~A Wrinkle in Time~

Previously in The Tethered Ties ...

And when he finally glanced back down at the laptop, he nearly choked. Right there on the screen, peering up at him, was a cantankerous-looking, crocodile Dundee version of Harry. Same eyes, the same face, and though a handsome fellow, this man's skin looked weather-beaten, and he had a scary scowl on his face.

"Jamie," Claire giggled. "I'd like you to meet my uncle ...Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb."

Ah, holy fuck! Though uncle Lamb looked like Harry, Jamie knew this man was nothing like Harry. Harry was ...or had been a polite, refined and jolly ol' chap with a very posh accent. This man was far from the polished look Harry presented. This man looked like he'd seen the world and confronted danger and probably wrestled crocodiles as a hobby. Convincing uncle Lamb that he's good enough for Claire was not going to be a walk in a park. Jamie knew he had a long evening ahead as he gingerly sat down in front of Claire's laptop and braced himself.

Jamie cleared his throat and sat up straight. "Good evening, sir ..."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

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Jamie had a dream. It was unlike any other dreams he had before.

He was cycling down a road, the cold wind stinging his cheeks, a plastic container of pastries in one hand. Excitement rose within as he followed the familiar route to Murtagh's house, huffing and puffing when he picked up speed. He was dropping off his ma's freshly baked treats to his godfather, hoping Murtagh would have time to go fishing.

An ear-splitting screech of brakes echoed in the air, along with mangling metal crashing and twisting.

He stopped. The plastic container dropped from his hand, and his bike collapsed to the ground. He began walking towards the crash site, sensing with every step, he was nearing a metamorphic truth that would change him forever.

Despite the trepidation mounting in his chest, he couldn't stop moving towards the wreck. He quickened his pace and then began to jog, and then he ran. Faster and faster.

He ran until the breath whooshed out from his lungs in burning gasps, and he slowed to a standstill in front of the harrowing scene that was before him.

The wind picked up, and the clouds dimmed the sun. The acrid stench of burnt rubber and engine oil filled his nostrils. A familiar face appeared through the cracked windshield, calling out his name in desperation. For a second, his heart ceased to beat, and his breath caught in his throat.

Harry?

"Save her ...please ..."

The plea struck his ears, and he tried to move, but he was stuck on the spot. He twisted his body and stretched out his arms, willing his feet to budge, straining and grunting and chanting a soundless prayer for strength. A piercing scream jolted him out from his struggle, unfettering him from the invisible force holding him in place, almost tumbling over from the abrupt release. He realised they were cries from a child.

He moved towards the car and wrenched the back door open, seemingly the only side still intact from the collision. A child, no more than the age of five with angry red blotches on her cheeks and wild curls, was restrained by the seatbelts. Her pudgy wee arms were outstretched as she screamed on top of her lungs, crying out for her mummy.

He stared in disbelief, immobilised by the uncertainty of his next course of action.

"Save her, Jamie ..." He glanced up to see Harry's face contorted in pain, eyes imploring. "There's not enough time."

"But ..."

"Go! Take her with you ...Now!"

Spurred by adrenaline and fear, heart pounding against his chest, he began to move. He unfastened the strap across the wean's body and grabbed her from the seat. Wee arms and legs wrapped around him as he spun around and headed for the moor. Holding tight to his bundle, one hand bracing the tiny head pressed against his neck, he ran as fast as he could. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Harry watching him through the window and then the car exploded.

Jamie woke up lurching upright to a sitting position, his top clinging to his clammy skin and his heart racing like a freight train. Swallowing air in big gulps, he yanked off the duvet and swung his legs out of bed, trying to even his breathing. Then he began to shake as he heard the distant roar from the deep recesses of his brain, and the floodgates of memories swung open in vivid hues. It came in massive waves, raising recollections and visions to the surface that had been submerged under the basement of time. A deluge of dispersed images merged into one, and a stream of realisation emerged. Suddenly everything was as clear as day. Everything that Murtagh had told him of Claire's parents earlier was now clicking into place. The child they'd rescued that fateful day was Claire! Except, in his dream, he'd been the only one to save her.

A cold shiver passed through him when a suppressed but very visual memory of Harry sprung into his head just before the car had exploded. Harry had just regained consciousness and had looked straight at Jamie with a sobbing wee Claire tight in his arms, the look on his face branding his consciousness forever. Though it had been relief carved out on the doomed man's face in knowing Claire would live, it had done nought to appease his soul. He glanced over at the woman beside him. She slept peacefully, her soft snores confirming she hadn't been affected by his fitful sleep.

Reliving the sequence of that event, he remembered now how the horror of that day had haunted him. It had been so bad, he'd been coerced to attend counselling by his mother. Too young to process Harry's demise, he'd literally felt on the edge of a nervous breakdown. After a year of refusing to talk about the ordeal, he'd shifted his focus elsewhere to stop the nightmares. There had been this unabating need to atone for Claire's parents' death, the urge to help and protect growing like a snowball, morphing into an avalanche to flatten and destroy any unpleasant memories and replace them with something good. He'd rescued animals and sheltered them in his father's barn. He'd defended kids against bullies at school. He'd volunteered for causes that involved helping the vulnerable. He'd enlisted to be part of the British Armed Forces, hoping to make a difference to the plights of those afflicted. He'd even gone as far as making a promise to his dying friend, killed in action during his SAS days. Jamie had felt so guilty for his inability to protect his best mate, Simon, he'd asked his friend's widow to marry him. Though thankful now the marriage had never taken place after having met Claire, his efforts to appease his guilt had been a struggle. All these years, he'd buried the horrors of war, the memory of losing Simon and images of Harry going up in flames with layers of what he'd thought were reparations. But what he hadn't known, his failings continued to fester below the surface. It was like a wound that refused to heal.

Had Murtagh's revelation triggered the suppressed memories to resurface? Or did it have something to do with his conversation with Claire's uncle Lamb? His mind wandered to their discussion earlier.

"Jamie," Claire giggled. "I'd like you to meet my uncle ...Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb. Uncle Lamb, this is Jamie, James Fraser ...my boyfriend. I'm staying with him for at least a week."

"Is that right?" the man on the screen harumphed with a growl as he stuck a thick cigar between his teeth. "Not what I was expecting."

Jamie disregarded the not so subtle dig. "Good evening, sir ..." he began.

Claire laughed. "Don't call him that, Jamie. It's too weird!" She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. "If he's giving you "the look," don't worry. Uncle Lamb is all bluster."

"I heard that," uncle Lamb grumbled.

"Play nice, then!" she shouted from the kitchen.

Jamie eyed the man on the screen and squared his shoulders. He wished he'd been more prepared for this or at least looked presentable. Instead, he resembled a drowned cat after just having arrived home from work. Claire hadn't told him much about uncle Lamb and wondered if she'd said anything about him to the older man.

He stared at Harry's look alike. Does uncle Lamb ever smile? Or is that scowl permanently etched on his face? He wasn't sure. Maybe it had something to do with that cigar hanging loosely in his mouth.

Sizing him up, Jamie presumed they're roughly the same breadth, and if uncle Lamb was anything like Harry in stature, they should be the same height too. It's a good thing they were meeting via video conference. If they had been facing each other in person, he might be less inclined to shake hands, seeing how the older man looked like he was capable of committing murder.

An amused Claire came gliding out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer, seemingly unfazed by tension emanating from her laptop screen. "Don't mind his mood, Jamie," she chirped. "He's just grouchy because five of his men came down with food poisoning. And work is being delayed again."

Uncle Lamb growled. "Don't remind me."

Claire wagged a finger at her uncle before kissing Jamie on the forehead and handing him the bottle. "I'll go prepare dinner."

He took a deep breath as he watched her head back to the kitchen. Uncle Lamb could frown all he wanted. Ultimately, if need be, he would go through twenty uncle Lambs to show the world how serious he was about his relationship with Claire.

Jamie noticed the older man watching him very closely.

"So how are ye?"

"I don't like surprises," Quentin announced, obviously wanting to get straight to the point.

"Neither do I," he returned. Facing off each other for a few silent seconds, Jamie deliberately took a slow slug of his beer. He placed the bottle back down on the table and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "But surprises are nothing new to me. I was trained to be prepared against any surprises," he added, referring to his SAS past.

Quentin ignored the remark. "Claire told me ..." He leaned forward and rolled his khaki sleeves up, exposing tanned sinewy, muscular arms. "...you met just before Christmas."

"That's right, sir ...I mean unc ...I mean Quentin." The older man raised an eyebrow at him, and Jamie raised one back.

"Things seem to be moving along. Fast!"

"Claire and I have acknowledged that."

"She was there with you only a few weeks ago for her holidays. She's just got back to work. Did you persuade her to come back?"

"She's got a mind of her own."

"Are you serious about her?"

Jamie tried not to look rattled as the older man bombarded him with questions. It was only natural to be concerned about his niece. "Aye, I built her a shed." Ach shite, wrong answer ...what the fuck was that, ye clot-heid? He felt like kicking himself.

Quentin watched him in stony silence. "A shed?"

He inhaled deeply, careful not to show any signs of frustration. "Actually, it's a writing studio," he explained, feeling the heat crawling up his neck. "For when Claire comes over for a visit. She can work undisturbed there. I've even soundproofed the walls, and it's been comfortably furnished ."

Quentin said nothing. Instead, he slowly placed the cigar on the ashtray, raised his brandy snifter to his lips and drank.

Determined, Jamie pushed on. "Claire has handed her notice to her boss, and once her commitments in London are done, she'll be moving here ...to Broch Mordha." He tamped down the rising emotion from his throat as he thought of Claire preparing dinner for him in the kitchen. "Look, I may not look like the man ye hoped for, for yer niece, but ye dinnae ken me. I admit I come with a lot of baggage, but I'm working hard on it, and she's helped me tremendously in dealing with ..." He trailed off. He didn't want to pull the PTSD card out. This was about Claire, he reminded himself. "I ken her history. I ken she's moved a lot, lived in boarding schools, nae home to go to during the holidays, following ye half-way around the world when school's out. She told me she's never felt any sense of belonging anywhere ..." Quentin glanced away. "I want ye to know, I willnae be just another stopover for Claire. And even if she has to travel long distances to visit ye, she'll always have a place to return to. I have roots here, and I can give her..."

Quentin crossed his arms. "Give her what?"

Jamie cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm serious about taking our relationship further. As ye can see, she's staying here in my home until she goes back to London. Though there is this unspoken understanding between Claire and me, I dinnae want to be presumptuous ..." Jamie rolled his head to ease the tension in his neck. "...in thinking, she will move in with me when she relocates here to Broch Mordha. But I plan on asking her. And it would be verrae nice if ye could give yer blessing and ..."

He shook his head. "No!" His grin was more like a baring of his cigar-stained teeth. "Ask me again in a year."

Jamie ran a hand through his hair. "All due respect, I ken she will say yes when I ask. And I ken she's stubborn enough to make up her own decisions with or without yer blessing. But I'd rather I have it ...for all our sakes. I'm no' sure if ye are aware, but I have my own business that I share with my brother, I own a house, I have no mortgage, and I make enough to provide for both of us with enough left for savings. She can pursue her dream of writing to her heart's content without worrying about finances."

"You overlook the fact that she's a city girl. What if her writing career never takes off? What are her possibilities in the Highlands?"

"Oh, but it will take off. I have faith it will. She's very passionate about pursuing her dream, and rightly so, because she's a talented writer. I can attest to that because I've read one of her finished works."

Quentin's face softened just a tiny bit. "You have?"

"Aye, I have," he hedged. "Claire should have published her work ages ago, and I plan to encourage her to do just that. Her writing would be a wonderful gift to the world."

"You're doing a lot for someone you barely know."

"Quentin," Jamie sighed, swallowing his exasperation. "I'm in love with yer niece. I'm aware everything between us is happening fast, and I dinnae suppose there is a timeframe or formula to follow when it comes to relationships. I'm just winging this and going along with my guts. And my guts are telling me Claire is the one. I still cannae believe someone like her is even real and that she loves me back. I sometimes wonder if I'm dreaming. She brings the best out of me, and I want to do the same for her. So if helping her realise her dreams is all I have to do to keep her, that's what I'll do."

A few heartbeats of silence and watching each other closely passed before Quentin spoke again. "What did you say your last name was? I didn't quite catch it."

Ach, Christ, he's gonnae do a background check on me! "Fraser," Jamie replied.

The older man let out an impatient grunt. "Yes, yes, but which Fraser do you belong to? There are a lot of Frasers in the Highlands."

"My parents are Brian and Ellen Fraser," he replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Quentin's brows knitted together, and his stubbled jaw flexed twice. "You mean Brian and Ellen from Lallybroch?"

Jamie shifted in his seat. "Ye know them?"

"And you're Jamie?" Quentin asked, ignoring his question.

Confusion descended over Jamie as he saw the transformation in Quentin's face. "Aaaye," he said slowly and deliberately. Where in the bloody hell is this going to, now?

"And Claire wants to move in with you?"

"As I've said, I havenae asked her, but I think she would like the idea of us living together. It would make perfect sense since we do love each other."

He grabbed the cigar and pointed the tip in his direction. "You have my blessings." Ignoring Jamie's sharp intake of breath, he tipped back the rest of his brandy. "Conditions are, there should be once a week phone-calls. Video or facetime ones or whatever you call it. And when I'm on British soil ..."

Jamie suddenly straightened up on his seat. "We'll visit, or ye can come and stay with us."

Quentin shot up on his feet. "Very well then, welcome to the family, Fraser. Go and get your dinner ...you wouldn't want your wife ..." he coughed, his face turning red. "...I mean your girlfriend reheating what she's just lovingly made."

Jamie got up as well, ready to shut the laptop, relief and confusion at the sudden turn around washing over him in waves. What the fuck just happened? Too bewildered for words, "Of course," was all he could muster.

Quentin hesitated, as if in search of the right words, his throat working overtime. When he finally spoke, Jamie couldn't help but hear the emotion in the older man's voice. "If Claire's father was alive today, he would think his daughter has made a fine choice."

His jaw dropped involuntarily. "He would?"

There was no reply. Too shell shocked, Jamie stood there staring at the screen for a full minute, long after Quentin had signed off.

When Claire reappeared from the kitchen, she launched herself into his arms and whispered, "Hungry?"

His bewilderment evaporated, happiness shrouding around him in such a way he knew everything was going to be alright.

Puffing out a breath, Jamie shoved a hand through his hair and made his way to the bathroom. He knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep for a while, so he might as well washed off those vivid dreams of Harry and clear his thoughts of that conversation with uncle Lamb. He felt like he was living in the Twilight Zone and badly needed to get his equilibrium back.

The silence of the night closed in around him until the soothing spray of the shower hit his skin. He wondered if Claire would remember anything from her parents' accident. She'd mentioned a couple of times, she had been five when they passed away. Considering that Claire was now in a happy place, content and well-adjusted, it was probably not the brightest of ideas to conjure up her past. But then, on the other hand, he suspected she might want to know what had happened that day. After all, she did have the right to know her history, no matter how painful.

The image of Claire's bright amber eyes and husky laughter flashed in his mind.

Jamie sighed, turned off the shower, and quickly dried himself off. When he realised Claire wasn't in bed, he made his way to the kitchen. He quietened his pace when he found her dropping teabags into two mugs, wearing only his t-shirt and a pair of woollen socks. She didn't hear him approach at first, looking deep in thought as she waited for the kettle to boil.

Moonlight streamed in through the kitchen window, creating a halo out of the wisps of curls framing her face, the whole scene reminding him she was everything he wasn't, a shining light where he watched her in the shadows. Sorcha! A force within spurred him towards her, needing to touch that light, hoping it wouldn't fade with his damaged soul.

"It's late, Sassenach. What are ye doing up?" he asked, walking towards the fridge.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" she jumped, hands flying to her chest. She tucked a loose curl behind her ears and faced him with a sigh, a small smile slowly forming her lips. "You weren't in bed, so I thought you probably had one of your nightmares. I'm making us some chamomile tea. It helps with sleep and relaxation."

He wasn't sure if this was the time to tell Claire about his dreams, so he dismissed it with a wave of a hand and smiled. "Just a strange dream. Is that one of yer herbal remedies?" he asked, stirring the subject to something neutral.

She lifted a shoulder. "Something like that."

He opened the fridge and found a rainbow of colours of fruits, vegetables, yoghurts and juices. Claire hadn't been kidding when she'd said she went food shopping today. Obviously, root vegetables, eggs, cheese and a container of hummus he'd bought wasn't enough. Smiling, he grabbed a pear and shut the fridge door. "Do pears go with chamomile tea?"

Her face lit up, making his heart expand. "I suppose so." She poured hot water into the mugs and brought their teas to the dining table, Jamie following close behind her. "And it's good for you. You ought to eat more fruits."

"But you bought enough pears to feed an entire village, Sassenach," he pointed out, biting into the succulent fruit.

Claire giggled as she sat down. "The other bag of pears are for the sticky toffee pear pudding I'm going to make. Uncle Lamb loves making it for me whenever he comes over for a visit. So I thought I'd make some for us. He told me the recipe he uses was from my mum."

The way she smiled fondly at the memory made him want to draw her into his arms, but he took a seat instead. "With pears? I've only ever had normal sticky toffee pudding," he said, sipping some tea. "My ma makes it sometimes."

Her eyes twinkled. "I was told my mum loved to bake. And apparently, according to uncle Lamb, my favourite was cream buns."

Curiosity started to niggle in his belly at the mention of Claire's mother, even though he rebelled against it. Is this the time to talk about the death of her parents? Before he could change his mind, he came straight out with it. "Sorry to change the subject, Sassenach, but I have something to ask. What made ye come to the Highlands every Christmas?" he asked. "Ye mentioned once, ye like coming here during the Holidays. I mean, it's a great place to spend Christmas and all, but is there a particular reason?"

For a long moment, she stared at him with a faraway look. He realised he was holding his breath, half of him already regretting asking the question. There was a possibility her answer could lead to resurrecting a tragic event and snuffing the light out of her. And he needed to bask in her light some more. What was he thinking? Leave the past in the past, Murtagh had told him. He didn't know what lay on the other side of bringing up her parents' death. Either way, Claire didn't need to be dragged down with a sad memory.

Feeling suddenly foolish, he put down the pear he was eating and reached out to touch her hand. "Ye know what. Dinnae answer that. It's getting late. The tea is working its magic already, and I think I'm ready to go to bed."

A delicate frown marred her brows. "Are you sure you don't want to know?"

Am I sure? No, not really. "Go on, tell me then."

She suddenly beamed like the light that she was. "The reason why I love coming back to the Highlands every year is, this is the place where my parents met and fell in love. I'm not quite sure where exactly, but it was somewhere around here. As far as I know, the Highlands was their happy place where they made loads of happy memories and great friends, and every time I come here, it makes me feel closer to them. You might find it odd, but I do feel most at peace here. There's something that draws me to come every year. Call it gravitational pull or whatever. But it feels like it's my parents' way of sharing their happiness with me. Am I making any sense?"

His breath of relief released in a slow rush, lightness invading his chest, as he realised she didn't remember anything of her parents' death. Or at least he presumed so. But, if it's his burden to carry the truth of Claire's parents' death alone, so be it. Why bring up something dark that has no place in their lives anymore? Maybe one day ...in the far future. Her hand still in his, he stood up, pulling her to her feet before lifting her into his arms. She squealed in surprise. "It doesnae matter if it makes sense or no', Sassenach. If it feels right to ye, then it must mean something. Who knows, maybe the reason ye're probably drawn to the Highlands is that ye were conceived here. Have ye ever thought of that?"

Claire slipped her arms around his neck and smiled. "Or maybe ..." she leaned in to nibble at his earlobe. "...because I was drawn to ye. Have you ever thought of that?"

Jamie laughed as he started to walk them towards the bedroom. "C'mon off to bed with ye ...I have an early start tomorrow."

Claire eyed him mischievously as she snuggled closer. "To bed or to sleep?"

With a guttural groan, he lowered his head, brushing their lips together as he gave his answer in kisses.

Dear Readers,

I hope this chapter made sense to you. As you might have noticed, I didn't write the events in this chapter in chronological order, and I hope you can understand why I wrote it the way I did. If it didn't make any sense, please, I'm all ears ...ask away, and I'll answer.

It was a challenge writing the dream part, so I hope I've done it justice. And mostly, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed seeing the feedbacks in the previous chapter. So a big thank you for that!

Let me know what you thought about the latest instalment and until the next update, take care of your health and keep up the positive vibes. X 😀❤️

ADDED UPDATE - An explanation to this chapter

I was trying to be clever and do the first two part of this chapter in the reverse order that I may have left you confused than enlightened. I have copied and pasted an explanation to the question posted by one reader in AO3. I hope this will help clarify things. So here goes:

The dream was brought about by two triggers. First, was Jamie's conversation with Murtagh in Chapter five. Although in Jamie's dream he'd been the one to save Claire, in reality, it had been Murtagh. But it was Jamie who carried Claire to safety after Murtagh instructed him to. This was the conversation:

Murtagh puffed out a breath. "The last time ye saw Henry, he was in a car accident ...with his family."

"What?" he choked.

Murtagh turned tired-looking eyes on him, and there was a deep sadness in them that startled him. "It was the day they were coming back to Broch Mordha for the first time in years. I heard talks around the village that they've rented a wee cottage from Mrs Baird. And also heard words about a wean. I didnae want to stick around to find out. I thought I'd take a wee trip to Skye and stay there until Henry and his family were gone. I was just packing when ye came barging into my hoose tellin me that a car had smashed to a tree. I came running oot like a gudgeon with ye right behind me. Ye must have been nine or ten. It wasnae far from where I lived then. By the time I got there, Henry was still alive, and Jules was unconscious. He ordered me to get the bairn first and then Jules. My first thoughts were to save Jules, but the wee child was screaming, and Henry was begging me to save her. Between the two of us, we managed to get wee Claire oot, and I ordered ye to take her as far as possible from the site. And that ye did. But I couldnae save Harry and Jules because the car caught fire and Henry lost consciousness. When I smelt gasoline, I had to run, and that's when the car exploded."

The second trigger was brought about by seeing Uncle Lamb's similarity to Harry and also by their conversation via video conference. Towards the end of their conversation uncle Lamb realised Jamie was the young boy who'd carried Claire to safety before the car exploded. Uncle Lamb would have remembered this because he was the only living guardian of Claire and the story of his brothers' demise would have been passed on to him when he came to collect Claire. You will also notice that Jamie found it strange the sudden turn around in uncle Lamb's demeanour at the end of their talk. But Jamie hadn't known the reason for this until after the dream. The dream in a way brought back all the suppressed memories and everything clicked in place together.

Now Jamie is unsure of asking Claire what she knew about the crash and telling her his dreams. Seeing her happy and contented, he didn't want her to relive that past in case more grief than good comes out of it.

I hope I made more sense here. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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szynkaaa · 4 years ago

Photo

I more or less watched The Boy!!! And by watching, I mean I skipped more or less through the jump scare parts because I cannot do horror movies at all. I haven’t watched one since 2015 and The Boy was like the first horror movie after five years

Full disclosure, the ONLY reason I started watching the movie was because someone posted a gif of Greta standing close to Brahms who was all sweaty and breathing heavily n I was like “oh shit who dat he hot” and here I am

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

I did some digging for interviews and generally what people have been saying about the movie, took some screenshots from youtube to put my thoughts and musing together too!

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

So first of all, let’s start with a low resolution photo I found on IG of James Russell without mask:

which brings me to my first musing/thought/question?

It’s all under the cut, very screenshot and text heavy, you can find more Brahms drawing at the bottom though ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So at the end of the movie, we are shown a Brahms with a broken mask and his face being burned, indicating that he was in fact in the fire.

I assumed first that the fire was created by the parents to fake their sons death and then he had to live hidden inside the walls?

But I’ve also heard apparently it was Brahms who set the fire to fake his own death or maybe an eight years old kid really was trying to burn himself down??

My other theory is that his parents made the fire and tried to kill Brahms and it did burn him but he survived, and the parents didn’t wanna go to jail sooo to hide everything they made their son live in the walls

i mean the responsible thing would be to turn their kid in and have him treated and stuff;;; listened to a murder podcast about two cases where kids murdered enough kids and how they are doing now interesting read Brahms made me think of those two cases

I also do not think that the previous nannies were killed. Like, c’mon. You’d report a person missing and sooner or later it would go back to the Heelshire mansion and if the body counts piles up? Can’t look good and I doubt that the Heelshire wants the police investigating them close up.

Also, when the mom was like “He’s chosen you if you’ll have him” to Greta? Is it just me or the wording or does it sound like a marriage proposal/arrangement xD

Brahms is a brat and he sees the people around him as his possession or to toy around. But I also do think that he has some abandonment issues but not in the sad tragic kind of way lmao. Even if he was the one controlling and manipulating his parents from behind-the-scene (quite literally I suppose?), he was still told as a kid to live in hiding and that no one can know he is alive. I don’t know much about the human brain, but I can imagine how damaging that must be to his mental growth and set him back in some way? We don’t know too much about his relationship with his parents - but I assume that he must have still loved them in his own twisted way. Can’t imagine that he would have been indifferent about his parents suicide.

The scene before Greta manages to back out - first he uses the child voice to beg her to come back and promises he will be good. That’s his manipulating Greta, but when that doesn’t work and she tries harder to open the door, he becomes more desperate to keep her there and then completely loses his temper and threatens to kill Malcolm if she doesn’t return. I’m pretty sure homeboy would have killed him anyway. And then later when she returns and he is all heavy breathing and smelling her hair and then jumps up when she shouts Brahms? Idk I def think there is some sort of abandonment issue going on.

I don’t think he is a child stuck in a man’s body or manchild or whatever. I think that he does know how to take care of himself - but he just chooses to manipulate people with the facade of a kid to do his bidding and cater to his needs.

Anywhomst, but clearly Brahms is also a very manipulative and controlling person based, based on how the mother was reacting on the destroyed bedroom, she really seemed to be at the end of her wits and just breaking down with her “you promised you’d be good”. It was very heartbreaking to watch and also scary because it really makes you realize just how much power Brahms holds over them?? idk maybe it was just me.

Next point: the CGI mask + the burns

So according to some interviews with the director stated that at the first test streaming, people weren’t really scared of Brahms because he was too handsome so they had to slap a mask over his face. The face was done after everything was filmed. I’m thinking the face burns were also added post-production when they were adding the cgi mask. Otherwise, James would have needed to go through the makeup department for some wicked face burns and it would have been visible during the filming and test screening too? Which would imply that at first the fire was supposed to be just a cover story that their son is dead and it was changed later

Observation/thoughts on Brahms Heelshire

Love how he stands there with his hands behind his back and then nods when Greta tells him to go under the cover

James Russell is 191cm tall. So like. Brahms is really fucking tall. But I notice that most of the time he stands with a slight hunch. Could be due to him crawling through the walls and crawling out of places that requires him to do a lot of crouching. His bed in his hideout made me really sad, I’ll get to it later.

Since James didn’t get many lines in the ten minutes that he appeared, I do think that his eyes did all the acting. They stand out even more with the mask on, there is just this crazy look on it. I also noticed during my rewatch that he doesn’t seem to blink much or at all.

Oh yeah, he also peeped on Greta and Malcolm making out on the bed and then cockblocked them. We been knowing that he made a Greta doll and very likely jerked off to it. We also been knowing that he very very very likely wanted to bone Greta at the goodnight kiss scene still waiting for the maskeless kiss scene gimme gimme. I also highly doubt that Brahms has much first-hand experience with kissing n stuff. High key thinking he was trying to do copy Malcolm and do what he observed lmao

When I first watched the scene, I assumed that the hole behind the mirror has always been and it’s just another one of the hidden passages Brahms to slip in and out, but now that I’m looking at the shape of the holes, it seems to me more like the mirror and brick wall were broken at the same time?? If that is the case holy shit boy is s t r o n g. I mean, he also punched through the closet door like no big deal so really what have the parents been feeding him.

I’m also leaning toward the fact that he ran there because Greta screamed loudly. I don’t think he was in the room as them when everything went down there, it seemed more like he heard the scream and had to nyoomed over and then punched a way through to get out of the wall. And then went on to attack Cole. He must have known that Greta wanted Cole gone, since that what she whispered to the doll before going to bed.

Tbh, I fully expected him to murder Cole in his sleep, but Brahms wrote a warning message in blood to tell him to get out soooooo like. Cole you were warned and now you gotta live with the consequences ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Brahm’s sleeping corner

This scene was shown at the end after Greta and Malcolm escaped. We also see them briefly during the part where Greta and Malcolm are trying to find a way out and stumbled into Brahms’ hideout. I’m not sure why the rules are slapped on the walls. It seems to me that Brahms is very very very set on that the rules / routine should be followed. In the movie, he called Greta and suggested to her that she should follow the rules, to which she then started doing it.

I headcanon that that’s the routine that he grew up with as a kid and it’s just very very very very very hard to break out of it - not that he is trying to break the routine.

I’m failing to find a good way to put my thoughts into words, but I guess the rules and routine is sort of his coping mechanism?

I suppose if you had an OC that you ship Brahms with and want to change stuff around the house, the OC would have to very slowly introduce new rules and routines. Baby steps, yknow.

Brahms has a violin hanging there! Honestly I would be surprised if Brahms didn’t know how to play at least one instrument. The family also has an old ass piano/clavichord (?) and Brahms loves classical music soo yeah. Love me a boy who appreciates classical musical hehe

I suppose the egg boxes are there to soundproof the room more - maybe so he can play the violin?

There’s also music sheets hung around his attics, it’s not clear on the screenshots but when you rewatch the scene and shove your face close to the screen. Some are hanging next to the violin and there are some taped on the wall next to his bed and porn too

nice to see he has a fridge and microwave, I was concerned that he wasn’t well fed and that leftovers might not be enough, but then again. Dude is 191 cm so clearly he has been drinking his milk

Didn’t take a screenshot of his vanity, but there is a crocodile magnet stuck to the mirror hehe. I do think that he shaves and stuff, otherwise his beard would be much longer??

We can see more music sheets stuck to a pillar on the right.

Loving the christmas lights that he has hanging there above his bed. It’s cute.

On the shelf he has a bunch of tupperware and empty bowls. Most of hte things are neatly organized. We can also see some books and a pen

There’s some sunlight streaming inside - I do hope that Brahmsy stays warm during winters.

Here we can see more of the food that he has there - there is also a sink but I didn’t snatch a screenshot of it. I think those are potatoes in the pot? Maybe he does know how to cook some basic stuff, I do wonder if he has a functioning kitchen up there. Probably not for fire safety reasons lol

Yall see that thing on the note sheet covered pillar? Ngl, that’s a whole ass aesthetic right there.

He got a few potted plants up there. Took a closer look at them and it seems like they were healthy. So he knows how to take care of plants, which is nice to know I suppose?

Yes, we all know what he was doing with the doll and what the tissue balled up tissue implies. However, has anyone noticed the size of the bed???

If you scroll up a bit to the screenshot of Greta seeing the doll, it looks t i n y. The make shift doll takes up more than half of the space.

Yall. this breaks my heart. Dude is a beanstalk. I’m pretty sure the bed is from when he was a kid shoved by his parents to live inside the wall, does he have to sleep there in his adulthood too???

Even though Brahms strikes me as someone who probably doesn’t sleep much or during normal times, that bed must be so tiny for him. He must be sleeping with his knees bend and shit unable to stretch out :(((

Brahms: is a psychopath that smashed the skull of a girl and very abusive tormented his parents and then Greta Me: omg he needs a bigger bed that poor thing :(((

Brahms’ DIY corner

Ah yes, Brahm’s little DIY/creative corner.

Homeboy got lot of animal traps, cages and taxidermies hanging around, pointing strongly toward that it’s a hobby of it?

Also at the end where we see him fixing up the doll, we can get a better shot at his desk, and I gotta say the threads and stuff are all very nicely organized. Brahms’s table looks more organized than mine does lmao.

So we know he is a crafty boy. Not sure how difficult taxidermy is but I imagine it does take a lot of time to learn? Well he had all the time in the world anyway.

So yeah, that’s a wrap. Congrats if you made it to the bottom of my incoherent thoughts and ramblings, have a bonus drawing of Brahms wearing different masks:

#the ham talks #brahms heelshire #the boy #the boy 2016 #brahms #brahmbling

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fanmoose12 · 5 years ago

Text

Levi had a nice, good life.

Maybe, he was living all alone on some far-away island. And maybe, his only companions were four animals, who had found him after he was washed up to the shore, - dwarf elephant Petra, peacock Oluo, red panda Gunther and a koala Eld. And maybe, he had no one to talk to, beside his pets, and he had no memories of his life before he had appeared on that island, but still. He was content with his life, he was happy.

But all good things have to an end. And Levi’s happy, quiet life had come to an end as well.

It all changed, when he set his eyes on her – Princess Hange of Zoe Kingdom.

***

It all happened completely out of blue.

One moment, Levi was with his animal friends, picking up some fruits for the lunch, and the next – he heard the loudest, most annoying shriek in his entire life. It didn’t sound like any animal Levi had known, and, of course, he instantly froze in his spot, thinking if he was the only one, who had heard it. He glanced at his companions and saw that they were just as frightened as he was.

Still, no matter how unnerved he was by the whole ordeal, Levi wasn’t going to just sit there and wait for some unknown animal to come and kill him and his friends. So Levi rose to his feet and nodded to Petra, Oluo, Eld and Gunther, signaling them about his intent.

Then, carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, he began making his way towards that sound.

He didn’t hear another shriek, instead Levi picked up a new strange sound – it was speech. Whoever was hiding in the woods in the middle of the island, they were talking just like Levi. Now he was more intrigued than worried, and Levi moved faster, eager to see, what was going on.

As he took one step after another, Levi soon reached a small precipice, which led to a lake. He looked down and saw two humans – who looked so much like him. One was lean and had a messy brown hair, while the other person was tall and blond with wide shoulders and strong hands.

Levi decided to stay in shadow for now and observe those strange newcomers.

“Hange, please step away from that lake!” the blonde man shouted, his voice urging and commanding. “There can be crocodiles there!”

“I know!” the woman with brown hair answered. “And I want to see them!”

“The King will kill me, if a damned crocodile bites off your hand,” the man shook his head in exasperation.

The woman turned to her companion. She started to laugh, a big, wide smile appearing on her lips. The moment Levi saw her face, her head thrown back, her eyes sparkling and her shoulders shaking, as she continued to giggle, he was lost.

He didn’t remember seeing another human being before, had never heard the sound of genuine and happy laughter, so without thinking, without even realizing it, he took a step forward. And then another, until he was standing at the edge of the precipice.

“Hey!” he shouted to get their attention, his eyes never leaving the face of that strange woman. “Do you need any help?”

As their eyes met, the woman’s face changed. The excited grin was gone, her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a slight ‘o’. “I didn’t know that this place was populated by humans…” she whispered, staring intently at Levi.

“If you would be so kind, then please help us to get out of here,” the woman’s companion replied, breaking Levi out of his daze.

He nodded once and then crouched down, reaching with his hand towards newcomers. The blonde man was the first one to grab his arm, and even though, he was quite heavy, Levi managed to successfully drag him up.

The woman outstretched her hand next, and when Levi took it in his, he was surprised at how soft and warm her skin was. The tips of her fingers were a little calloused, but the rest of her palm was as smooth as silk. When the woman appeared next to him and it was time to let go of her hand, Levi was strangely reluctant to do so. And maybe, he wouldn’t have let go of her so swiftly, if the blonde man hadn’t cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable by the prolonged silence.

When Levi turned to glare at him, the man smiled, if only a little awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, good sir. We are very thankful for our rescue. My name is Erwin Smith, I am a royal researcher and a companion to her highness, Princess Hange.”

“And that’s me!” the woman exclaimed, taking Levi by the hand once more and energetically shaking it. That same happy grin was back, as she fixed the glasses on her face, trying to take a better look at Levi. “And what is your name?”

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what his name was. He didn’t remember his childhood at all, and the only thing he possessed that linked him to his past was a small chest that had washed up on a shore alongside him. ‘Levi’ was written on the front of the chest, and inside it there was a book and a small picture. It was a painting of him and a young woman, whose dark hair and long face looked very similar to his. Maybe, it was his mother or maybe, his sister. Unfortunately, Levi couldn’t remember.

“Well?” Hange prompted him again, after he was silent for too long. “You do have a name, right?”

“It’s Levi…” he whispered, still a little dazed.

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed, clasping his shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“We didn’t know that this island had humans living on it,” Erwin noted. “Where are the others?”

“There are no others,” Levi simply replied.

“You live here alone?!” Hange cried out.

“I’m not alone,” Levi protested. “I have friends.”

As on cue, Petra, Oluo, Gunther and Eld stepped out from the forest. Erwin and Hange looked at them with a mixture of shock and incomprehension.

“Em, Levi?” Erwin began carefully. “They are your friends? But they are animals… Are… you talking to them?”

“Of course, I do,” Levi crossed his hands on his chest, scowling at Erwin. “But they don’t answer me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“They are so cute!” Hange giggled, as she crouched down to gently scratch behind Eld’s ears. The little koala enjoyed her affection, letting Hange get closer to him. She softly cooed.

“Hey, Levi!” Hange rose to her feet and walked up to him, laying her hands on his shoulders and leaning close to his face. “Do you wish to travel with us?”

“Huh?” Levi startled, not entirely following what Hange had meant.

“Well, we’re planning to stay on this island for a week or two to study its flora and fauna,” Erwin explained with a gentle smile. “And then we’ll return back to our kingdom. And we can take you with us.”

“I’ll introduce you to my parents!” Hange exclaimed with another happy smile. “And maybe, we can find your family as well!”

“M-my family?” Levi stuttered.

“Yeah! Like parents or siblings, I’m sure someone is looking for you, Levi,” there was a soft, gentle look in Hange’s eyes, as she stared straight at Levi. “And I want to help you find them.”

And that was it. The convincing smile on her lips, her kind and hopeful words and those beautiful brown eyes… Levi just couldn’t say no.

***

They spent two weeks on Levi’s island, and then, when it was the time to leave it, Levi gathered all of his belongings and asked Hange, if he could take his friends with him. She agreed instantly and then she launched into a long tale about the lush and huge gardens around royal palace, which was the perfect place for Petra, Oluo, Gunther and Eld to live.

And so they sailed away. Levi stood on the deck, gripping the railing tightly, as he watched the island, where he had spent his whole life, slowly disappear from the view.

He would have stood there for a long time, lost in his thoughts, but soon Hange came up to him, hugging his shoulders with a joke already on her lips.

And, strangely enough, Levi relaxed with her beside her, even though the scowl was still present on his face.

When they arrived to palace, Levi spent his days either walking through the gardens with his pets by his side, or he went to sit in the library, watching Erwin work and wondering, what the hell Hange was so busy with.

Upon their return to the kingdom, Levi almost never saw Hange. She was always somewhere else, always away from him. She was going to become a Queen, Erwin explained, and that’s why there were a lot of things that needed her attention. And even though, Levi understood it, it wasn’t like Hange had to babysit him all the time, still…. He missed her. The big and unfamiliar palace seemed even more unfriendly without Hange by his side.

***

Levi had spent nearly two weeks in Hange’s palace, when she finally approached him, saying that she had wonderful news.

“I’ve managed to find your family!” she beamed, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement.

“Huh? My family? What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I’m saying! Erwin and I looked through the archives and found Queen Kuchel. She had lost her son in a shipwreck, and the boy in the picture looks just like you!”

As if to prove her point, Hange took a picture from her pocket and showed it to Levi. As he took it in his hands, they were slightly trembling. And as Levi looked at the picture, his breath hitched in his throat. It was the same drawing he had in his chest. So was this woman his mother? Did he really have a family? Was he not alone in this world?

“You don’t have to meet her, if you don’t want to!” Hange blurted out, seeing his hesitation. “I didn’t tell her about you, I’ve just invited her for a small tea-party. You can sit in the side-room, and when— or if you’re ready, you can come in and meet her.”

“I… alright,” Levi felt a lot more relaxed now. “Thank you, Hange.”

She winked before enveloping him in a short hug. “Don’t thank me just yet,” she whispered in his ear.

“Stay here,” Hange instructed him, as she led him to the small room. “Or don’t, that’s entirely up to you. I’ll be there if you need me.”

Levi just nodded, not sure what to say in this kind of situation. Hange smiled one more time, and then disappeared behind the doors.

Levi took a seat on the one of the many sofas, which stood in the room, and shakily exhaled. He tried to sit as comfortable as possible, his mind going through a million of different thoughts and feeling.

Soon, he heard the door open, and Hange’s loud voice greeted the newcomer. Levi froze instantly, straining his ears to hear what was going on in the next room.

“I’m so happy you’ve managed to find the time to visit our kingdom, your majesty,” even though he didn’t see her, Levi could hear the smile in Hange’s voice. “It’s a great honor for me, Queen Kuchel.”

“Oh, please,” that voice contrasted wildly with Hange’s. It wasn’t loud and shrieking like hers, instead, it was pleasant and melodic. It was quiet and almost weak, in comparison to Hange’s. Levi involuntarily moved closer, to hear that woman better. “I couldn’t just ignore an invitation from a future Queen. Besides, I’ve heard your wedding is approaching, I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Ah, yes,” Hange awkwardly chuckled. “I am to be married in a few weeks.”

“Excellent!” the woman clasped her hands, and the loud sound resonated across the room.

Levi felt like he was punched. Hange was marrying someone? Why didn’t she tell him? Was she even going to tell him? Levi was utterly lost, his thoughts and feelings swirling around, making him feel dazed and overwhelmed.

Without even realizing it, he got to his feet and opened the door, walking into the room. The loud gasp and the sound of a chair falling to the ground managed to snap Levi out of his shock. He blinked a few times, coming to his senses.

And in the next moment, he felt two gentle hands on his face, as a woman, whose features resembled his own so much, stared deeply into his eyes.

“L-levi?” she uttered, her voice barely above whisper. But for Levi it was as loud as a cannon-shot. “Is it really you, baby? Did you come back to me?”

“Y-yeah,” Levi shakily nodded, feeling his eyes fill with tears. “I guess I did.”

Those gentle hands wrapped themselves around Levi. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, but then he looked behind his mother’s back and saw Hange, who was smiling widely and showing him thumbs-up. He nodded to her, once, and then hugged his mother back, inhaling her oh so familiar scent and burying his face in her shoulder.

Levi was so focused on his mother, he didn’t even hear the door opening and Hange swiftly making her way out of the room.

***

He talked with his mother through the whole day. Levi told her all about his life on a deserted island, and she, in turn, filled him on everything that had happened in their kingdom, while he was away.

Most of his childhood memories still eluded him, but with the help of his mother, Levi remembered some things about the stuff at their palace and his uncle Kenny. He remembered his mother's gentle hands and the way she softly sang him a lullaby, when he couldn't sleep.

When the sun had set, Levi and Kuchel moved to the gardens, and there, Levi introduced his mother to Petra, Oluo, Gunther and Eld. All of Levi's friends took an immediate liking to Kuchel, and even proud Oluo let her pet and feed him.

They were sitting there for a long time, talking about nothing. Levi laid his head on his mother's knees, as her fingers softly played with his hair.

"So you're friends with Princess Hange, huh?" Kuchel suddenly noted with a chuckle.

“I guess,” he shrugged. “I mean, she brought me here and found you. Without her, we would have never met.”

"Oh, baby," Kuchel leaned in and kissed his forehead. "I'm so sorry for abandoning you. I should have never left you. I should have never stopped looking for you."

"It wasn't your fault," Levi took his mother's hand in his and squeezed it. "You couldn't know that I was alive."

"I should be thankful to Princess Hange then," Kuchel smiled at Levi. "She brought you back to me.”

"Mgh," Levi mumbled noncommittally, turning his face away.

"What was it?" A mischievous grin appeared on Kuchel's face. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing." Levi grunted, crossing his hands on his chest.

"Really?" Kuchel giggled. "Because it looks like that scowl on your face," Kuchel touched his forehead, tracing the lines there with her thumb, "became even more prominent than usual."

"You're mistaken."

Kuchel shook her head. "I don't think I am, my dear. So do tell me: does something bother you? Has Princess Hange offended you in some way? Should I go and have a talk with her?"

"Mother, no!" Levi's expression was horrified. "There is nothing to talk about. Hange did nothing wrong."

"Really?" Kuchel raised her eyebrow. "So this isn't about her upcoming marriage at all?"

"I..." Levi rose up from his mother's knees, turning his back to her face. Even without seeing his expression, Kuchel knew he was scowling. "I don't care about her marriage. She can do whatever she wants."

"And that's it? That's really all that you feel about it?"

"I just don't want her to marry some jerk she barely knows."

"And?" Kuchel softly prompted, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"She's annoying as hell," Levi began angrily. "Her voice is too loud, she laughs way too often and her jokes are fucking terrible, but..." He trailed off, his voice lowering to a whisper. "But I like being with her. And I don't want to leave her side."

"Honey," Kuchel embraced him from behind, laying her head on his shoulder. "You're not a boy, lost on a deserted island anymore. You're an Ackerman, and you're an heir to the throne. I'm not encouraging you to do anything, but... Just keep this in mind. And go talk to that girl. At the very least, you should thank her for saving you."

"I... Yeah," Levi ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I should go and do exactly that. Thank you, mother," he gently kissed her cheek. "I'll come to talk with you in the morning."

Kuchel smiled and gave him a slight nod.

"I hope you'll bring some good news to me tomorrow," she whispered, when Levi walked away.

***

Levi entered Hange's room without knocking. That was his mistake.

Because as he opened the door, he saw Hange with some young girl fretting over her. And Hange… Hange was dressed in a wedding gown.

"I'm sorry!" Levi exclaimed, turning around and then slapping a hand over his eyes for a good measure.

"You don’t have to cover your eyes," Hange laughed. "Only my fiancé shouldn't see me in my wedding dress."

Right, that's right. Hange was going to be married soon. She had a fiancé. And it wasn't him.

"Anyway," Hange began, looking at Levi in the reflection of the mirror. "Why did you come?"

"I... I want to talk."

"Oh, yeah, alright," Hange nodded. Then she turned to the girl beside her. "Nifa, you can go now. I'll call you, if I need anything."

The girl slightly bowed her head. "Good night, your highness."

"Nifa," Hange drew her name, looking at the girl with a teasing smile.

"Ah, of course, forgive me," Nifa frantically bowed again, a blush painting the delicate features of her face. "G-good night, H-hange!"

"That's better," Hange clasped Nifa's shoulder with affection. "You too have a good night, Nifa."

When her maid had left the room, Hange turned all of her attention to Levi.

"So?" She plopped down on her bed, and then gestured Levi to do the same. "How was your talk with Queen Kuchel? Is she really your mother?"

"She is," Levi replied a little breathlessly, emotions once again overwhelming him, as he remembered his mother's warm embrace. "That's why I wanted to talk with you. I want to thank you for... Finding her for me."

"Don't be silly," Hange carelessly waved her hand. "You're my friend and I wanted to help you. Besides, most of the work was actually done by Erwin. I only joined him, when I had the time."

"Still," Levi insisted. "I know you were very busy these days, but you still found the time to do this. And I know it was your idea to start this search in the first place. So, stop protesting and accept my gratitude."

"Alright, alright," Hange softly chuckled, staring at Levi beneath her lashes.

Looking like that, with her hair down and framing her slightly blushing face, with that soft smile and eyes that seemed to sparkle in the candlelight, she was the prettiest sight Levi had ever seen. He stared at her, unable to look away. Hange looked back at him, and everything else seemed to blur into the background. Without looking directly at her dress, Levi forgot about her wedding and the fact that she didn't tell him about it. In that moment, nothing else mattered, but Hange. She was sitting so close to him, and Levi felt like she was getting closer, leaning into him. He almost leaned in, too.

But then they heard the knock on the door.

They both startled, and Hange shot to her feet, smoldering the creases in her dress.

"Come in!" She shouted, her voice squeaky and shaky.

The door opened, and timid-looking man with chest-nut hair poked his head inside.

"Lady Han— Oh, I'm sorry!” the man let out a horrifying shriek, as he saw what Hange was wearing. He instantly closed his eyes with his palm. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't know you were trying on your wedding dress!"

Levi watched the man with an amusing smirk, wondering if he himself had looked just as stupid as that poor guy. Definitely not. There was no way his face looked as constipated as that man's.

"Moblit, that's fine," Hange giggled. "Just wait a second, I'll find some robe. Then you can open your eyes."

So that was Hange's fiancé? Levi glared at him, crossing his hands on his chest. Why in the world Hange was marrying him? He looked absolutely pathetic.

"You can look now, Moblit," Hange returned from her side chamber, a robe now draped over her dress. "Did you want to something?"

"I-i wanted to wish you goodnight, Lady Hange," Moblit put on a tentative and very shy smile. "And ask if you want to accompany me to the tomorrow's opera?"

Hange grimaced. "Maybe, it would be best for us to go horse riding?"

"You don't like opera?" Moblit asked, surprised.

Hange smiled sheepishly. "Not really?"

"Oh, alright, then I'll— Oh!" Moblit exclaimed, as his eyes finally landed on Levi. "You're not alone, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt!"

"You didn't," Hange assured him with a smile.

Well, Levi would have argued with that.

"By the way, Moblit, meet my friend Levi!"

"Oh," Moblit raised his eyebrows. "That's Levi?" He walked up to him, shaking his hand. "I've heard a lot about you, good sir."

"Can't say the same about you," Levi curtly replied, squeezing Moblit's hand just a little too hard.

"Don't mind him," Hange said cheerfully, coming to stand beside Levi, and accidentally elbowing him in the side. "He isn't very good with court manners."

"Right, of course," Moblit chuckled nervously. "He grew up on a deserted island, I remember."

"Ah, but he isn't the lost boy anymore!" Hange joyfully announced. "Our Levi is an heir to the throne of Ackerman kingdom," she winked, grinning from ear to ear. "Very important and all that."

"In that case," Moblit smiled. "My sincere congratulations, your highness. My lady," he bowed to Hange. "It's time for me to go. I'll come to get you tomorrow morning."

"Yes," Hange nodded. "I'll see you soon."

"You're going to marry him?" Levi asked, as soon as Moblit closed the door after himself.

"Well, yes," Hange replied, a little defensive. "Is there something wrong with Moblit?"

Levi gave her a flat look. "He looks like he's two seconds away from shitting his pants."

Hange instantly covered her face with a hand, stifling her laugh. "You can't say that, Levi! Moblit is nice! He's very kind and he always listens to me. My mother and sisters like him very much!"

"And you?" Levi stared deeply into her eyes. "Do you like him?"

"He's nice," Hange replied, shrugging helplessly.

"So you don't love him," Levi stated.

"Maybe, I'll learn to love him," Hange protested, albeit weakly. "With time."

"And that's how you want to spend your life? Trying to learn love someone you don't?"

"Soon I will become the Queen, Levi," Hange reminded him sternly. "I don't really have a choice who I'm going to marry."

"And what if you had?"

"W-what?" confusion painted Hange's features. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Hange. You've said it yourself. I'm not the lost boy anymore. I'll be a King, too. And I need to find myself a wife."

"Are... are you proposing to me?" Hange asked, not quite believing her ears.

Levi shrugged. "Maybe, I am. Will you... Will you accept?"

A sly, mischievous grin appeared on Hange's lips. "Maybe. I mean, I need to talk with my father first, but... Personally, I'm very interested in what you're offering."

"So, t-that's— that's a yes?" Levi stuttered, hating how weak and nervous his voice sounded.

"That's a maybe," Hange smirked, seeing the annoyance on Levi's face. "But I'll do everything in my power to turn it into yes."

"Fucking hell, four-eyes," Levi growled, lightly smacking her arm. "You actually got me worried, you asshole."

Hange giggled, taking a step closer to Levi and laying her hands on his shoulders, looking him right in the eyes. "What? Were you worried that I'd reject you?"

"I wasn't sure. I mean, who knows what is going on inside that head of yours. I'm not nice like your Moblit, after all."

"Mm," Hange agreed. "You're not nearly as nice as Moblit, but luckily for you," Hange leaned in, dangerously close to Levi's lips. "I seem to like you just fine."

"Fucking thanks for that," Levi whispered, his voice soft despite his crude words.

Hange began laughing, and Levi surged forward, putting his lips on hers and kissing her with all gentleness he possessed.

Hange answered him in the same kind, moving her lips slowly against his, relaxing in his arms.

"Levi," she called, when they broke apart. "After our wedding, maybe we can take a short vacation? Sail into the sea, explore the new lands..."

"Just the two of us?" Levi asked, already imagining that. And very much liking the image his mind had supplied him with.

"Well..." Hange trailed off, avoiding Levi's suspicious eyes. "I'll need Erwin with me... And I was going to ask Moblit to come with us..."

"What?" Levi asked her incredulously. "You want to invite the guy you've rejected?"

"I haven't rejected him yet," Hange noted, earning a vicious glare from her soon-to-be fiancé. "But I was serious when I said that he's a really nice guy! And he is a very talented artist! What if we discover a new species? Or find a new island? I'll need his skills!"

"Fine, fine," Levi accepted his defeat. Arguing with Hange was pointless anyway. He just couldn't say no to her. "But you’re not inviting anyone else. I don't want some strangers travelling with us."

"That's a deal!" Hange beamed and then gave Levi a quick peck on his lips.

Yeah, Levi felt that he was going to have some serious problems saying no to his future wife, if she continues to kiss him like that.

"But we'll take Petra, Oluo, Gunther and Eld, right?"

"Of course," Levi huffed. "I can't just abandon them. And..."

"And?"

"After your stupid trip, we'll visit my kingdom. I want to spend some time with my mother."

"Ah, you're such a softie," Hange teased.

"Tch," Levi turned away, feeling a blush appear on his cheeks. "Only you can know about this. Not a word about it to anyone else, you understand, four-eyes?"

"Of course, my lips are sealed, dear husband."

Dear husband. Levi liked the sound of it.

And, of course, he will personally ensure that Hange's lips are sealed.

By frequently kissing them.

#its not exactly a retelling of that movie so im sorry!#it had too much drama in it dfksdjfj;ffj #still hope you like it!!!#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levi and hange #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #Shingeki no Kyoijin #levi #levi snk

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wastelandcrown · 5 years ago

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logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 1: anybody have a map?

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warning: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a theatre brat to the highest degree (Sorry Roman stans)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight who very graciously let me use it! I’ve made a couple changes, mostly surrounding Virgil’s involvement and I gave Logan performance anxiety because I thought it would be neat. There will be warnings on the chapters that have potentially triggering talk.

Pairings: Eventual Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, Eventual One-Sided Logicality, Platonic Analogical, Platonic DRLAMP

Word Count: 2584

There he stands, at the precipice of his own destruction. By all accounts, it is fair to say that Logan is blowing this out of proportion. Wildly. Though he was doing much more than adequately in school, had a fairly stable mental health, and was better than most teenagers in regards to his physical well-being and room upkeep, it apparently wasn’t enough. Don’t misunderstand, his parents were in no way vindictive or cruel. Just...positive. Overtly so. In a way that made Logan cringe. How he, a man of logic and science, was ever made from these two extremely lovey-dovey saps, we will never know. Despite all his successes his parents still encouraged him to partake in activities with his peers. ‘Oh Logan, why don’t you join the school football team?’ ‘Logan, wouldn’t it be nice to make some friends at the local animal shelter?’ ‘Why are you always by yourself? Wouldn’t it be nice to make some friends?’ No, it would not. Not for him. Other people are stupid, especially teenagers. His whole life was planned on the cork board above his desk, and there was nothing important enough to make him deviate from his goal.

To him, at least. To his parents, his social life being active was figuratively their number one priority. He’s been hoping for a calm dinner with his mother and father, he even enjoyed it most nights. He and his mother would discuss new things going on at the schools they respectively learnt and taught at. His father would discuss his work managing the popular local theatre. Discussing his father’s work tonight was a mistake.

“You know, Logan,” His father begins, and he knows where this is going, “The youth production is going to be starting up again soon.”

His mother smiles, taking his father's hand, “Loganberry, we think it would be good for you to join. You’re in your second year of high school and you don’t even talk to the kids in your class!”

“Mother, please try and understand, I really don’t think it’s necessary for me to find friends. I don’t enjoy having acquaintances, let alone having close personal friends.”

“Logan-” His father starts again but his mother pats his hand, and he quiets.

She smiles at him and reaches across the table to put a hand on his cheek in a caring motherly gesture.

“I know you don’t like other kids dear, but...think about it this way! It could be a fun experiment!”

Logan pauses, leaning into his mother’s touch, and nodding to show he’s listening.

His mother started again, “You can gather data on a lot of different kinds of people, and then find out who you most enjoy hanging out with so that...in your...career…”

Even though she’s trying, she stumbles, and his father picks up the slack, “So that in your career, you can find the people who you think are easiest to work with and be more efficient that way!”

He knows what they’re doing. They’re buttering him up with some flimsy science experiment and explaining their position with a strange metaphor. But when both his parents are smiling at him like that...he can’t bring himself to say no to them. When he looks at them like this, he suddenly remembers how similar he looks to each of them. His mother’s dark brown hair, His father’s icy blue eyes, the glasses that sit snugly on both their faces...They smile at him so brightly that he just can’t say no to them.

“Fine. I will do it, just this once.”

His parents erupt into literal cheers. He finds it a tad too much, but as long as they are happy he supposes he can put up with socialization and scheduling conflicts for a few months.

That’s how he ended up at the theatre with his father at eight in the morning, on a Sunday in July. If it were his choice, he would be eating Crofter’s by the spoonful and reading some classic literature. Instead, he’s here. His father did get them both coffee, however. So he stands there awkwardly, nursing the cup that’s gone lukewarm, and he starts to feel nauseous. As he follows his father, he can hear the other kids. They’re loud. Too loud. Logan is going to hate this, he already hates this. He’s overthinking a bit, eyes trained to the floor when he accidentally trips. He’s bracing to be smacked in the face by the floor and his coffee when someone taller than him places a hand on his chest and props him back up.

“Hi there!” Says the smiling man, who is tall with brown hair and brown eyes. He looks very kind and is wearing a Steven Universe t-shirt.

“I-I apologize for that, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Logan manages to stammer out. Had he been this nervous the whole time? He takes a deep breath and tries to get a grip.

“Oh, no problem!” The man nods to his dad, “Hey, Edward! This is Logan?”

“Yes, he is! He’s usually a little more focused, though.” Edward nudges Logan with a smirk, and Logan has to nod and concede. He’s right, of course. He is usually more focused.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Logan! I’m Thomas Sanders, I’m the head on the performance department here! Your dad’s been talking you up for weeks, you’re going to fit right in.”

With these words, Logan feels himself flush a little. Leave it to his father to talk him up for no good reason. He had never even been in a performance before!

“Uhm-Yes. Thank you-” Logan begins and is cut off by a large crash.

Thomas lets out a deep sigh and turns, motioning for Logan to follow. His dad gives him a big smile and a double thumbs-up, Logan gives him a small and tired smile in return. He wishes desperately he had refused his parents the second he enters the auditorium. On stage, an adult in an orange beanie is reprimanding a boy dressed like he just crawled out of the mosh pit of a rave. The boy is laughing maniacally as off to his side, a nearly identical boy in a strangely put together outfit is pouting and crying crocodile tears. Logan makes a note to steer clear of the neon-garbage-rave kid.

“What did you do now, Remus?” Thomas asks with a sigh, as the kid points off stage and cackles.

“Remus started this year off by glue-and-feathering Roman’s make-up bag.” The adult in the beanie says, and Logan looks shocked. They’re certainly going to kick this guy out, right? Right!?

“Remus...Dude…” Thomas grimaces, making his way over to who Logan assumes is Roman and supportively patting his shoulder.

“What!?” Remus nearly shouts through his laughing, “It was funny!”

“It was not!” Roman cries with such an intense amount of drama.

This only makes Remus laugh more.

He’s watching so intently that he doesn’t notice that someone has entered and is standing next to him.

“Oh, Hello.” He politely mutters, turning to look at the person. He’s shorter than he is, and definitely a lot bouncier. Even at eight am, he looks joyful. His eyes are a lighter blue than his, and his head is a mess of blonde curls. He also has round-ish tortoiseshell glasses. He isn’t unpleasant to look at, aside from the fact that he’s wearing cargo shorts and socks with sandals.

“Hi! Don’t worry about them, Remus does something like that every year! He likes a-uh...fun start!” The kid starts talking, and even his voice is joyful and bubbly.

“I’m Patton Foster, it’s nice to meet you!” Patton offers Logan a hand, which he takes and gives a firm shake.

“Logan Lark. Is it typically this rambunctious, or does it calm over time?”

Patton looks down, a little sheepish, then offers Logan a smile, “It’s always like this. Sorry!”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll just need to adapt to my circumstances.” As he says this he knows that it is going to be an especially arduous task.

Pointing to his cup, Patton starts speaking again, “Is your coffee getting cold? We have a microwave backstage if you want me to warm it up for you!”

The offer is sweet and genuine, so he lets Patton take the cup and run off behind the curtains. If he’s going to be here, he should start on that experiment, so he thinks. Patton seems sweet, potentially too sweet. It may be a ruse, but if his behavior is genuine Logan thinks he might be able to get by in his interactions with him. At least he’ll be able to send him off to do polite tasks if he ever needs to.

Returning with his coffee reheated, Patton is nearly bouncing on his heels. Throughout the early morning, Patton drags Logan around and Logan realizes the bouncing is just how Patton is. He scoots by as Thomas introduces the staff. The person in the orange beanie, Joan, is the stage manager. Stood quietly beside them is a darkly dressed kid who only acknowledges the audience with a nod, his name is apparently Virgil Storm and he is running lights and sound for the show. Logan wishes desperately he could be up there on that stage. Not because he’s decided he wants to be here, but because he wishes he had known tech was an option. Damn his father for making him act. There are only about twenty kids in the audience, and by the time Thomas is done explaining the rules and conduct, the time is reaching noon. When Thomas announces that the production they will be putting on is called “Hamilton” and is a musical, the others begin to cheer wildly. Now, Logan has no clue what Hamilton sounds like, but he knows it is about the Founding Fathers. Musicals have never interested him, and especially not one about men who owned slaves and were all hoity-toity. He’s heard of it, of course. His father talks about how it revolutionized musical theatre, but Logan has never been interested enough to ask any further questions. As everyone is buzzing, he turns to Patton and taps him on the shoulder.

“Is that a good thing?” Patton looks a little puzzled and goes to answer before he hears an offended gasp from behind him.

“A good thing!? Is Lin-Manuel Miranda’s pride and joy, the musical that revolutionized musical theatre, the Emmy Award-Winning show Hamilton any good!?” Roman gawks at him and sputters like he’s never heard something so blasphemous in his life.

“I have no interest in musical theatre, therefore I was asking to gain clarity.” Perhaps saying this is a mistake because there are many gasps from other students, and Logan is pretty sure someone yells ‘Sexy!’

Roman snaps at him loudly and rises from his seat, “Why are you even here then!? You look like a nerd!”

“Roman!” Patton stands up and now Logan is cornered between them, “Don’t be rude!”

“Wha-Well I’m sorry that I’m confused as to why he’s here if he doesn’t even know about Hamilton!” He steps closer, cornering Logan even more.

Then he stands, “My father enjoys musical theatre and asked me to join, I don’t see what the issue is with my joining but if it truly perturbs you I suppose I will take my leave.”

He’s really grateful for this opportunity to abandon the theatre, and he turns to try and leave and ends up nearly chest to chest with Patton.

“Hey now! There’s room enough for everyone here Logan!” Patton says brightly, and from the stage, Thomas nods.

“Patton is right, Roman. We welcome everyone to try their hand at theatre, so please sit down so I can let you all go have lunch.” Thomas looks exasperated as Roman sits with a huff, followed by Patton and Logan.

On the stage, Thomas continues to explain what they will be doing, and then they’re being released to lunch with the goal of listening to the musical and beginning to practice their audition material.

Logan manages to slink away from Patton, who had started talking to Roman about being nicer to the newbies or something. He had forgotten to bring lunch, which was probably fine. He’d just have to go and find his father and ask for some money. Pushing the auditorium door open, Logan finally notices he has attracted someone’s gaze. He makes eye contact with a glaring boy in a bright yellow hoodie, and he nods. The guy looks away and Logan shrugs him off. The front desk happily calls his father, who comes and brings him some money for the lobby vending machines and promises to buy him something more filling on the way home. This would severely throw off his new healthier diet, but he caves. After this day he would probably need some disgustingly greasy fast food to make him feel a little better. After the stunt with Roman, he’s not sure he’s going to go unnoticed. He buys a bottle of water and a granola bar from the vending machine and decides to sit at one of the lobby chairs to avoid the others. As he turns to find a space to sit, a voice from beside the vending machine makes him jump.

“You’re not going to fuck up the show, are you?” The voice says, and Logan turns to find the same kid who was glaring at him before. From up close, he’s around the same size as Logan. His eyes are green-brown heterochromic, his hair is messy and brown, and one side of his face has vitiligo in a pattern that looks eerily similar to a reptile’s scales. He is glaring Logan down and he can’t help but feel a little intimidated.

“I don’t plan on it, no. Just because I am here against my will does not mean that I am going to attempt to make the show disreputable in any way.” He tries to say this confidently and he thinks he succeeds when the boy grins and offers him a hand.

“Janus Devine.”

“Logan Lark.” And then he stops, and realizes he recognizes the origins of that name,“Are you by any chance named after the Greek god of doorways?”

Janus blinks, seemingly not expecting that reaction, “Shit-Yeah-How did you even know that?”

“I pride myself on being well-read.” Logan adjusts his tie as he says it and Janus gives a little chuckle.

“Very good to know.” Someone yells from down the hall, and Janus rolls his eyes at the noise, “How would you like to come to join me and my...friends this afternoon?”

“It would probably be of good use to me.” He replies with a small shrug of his shoulders. Hopefully, these friends are nicer than that Roman fellow, but not as nice as Patton.

“Oh no, it’s going to be totally useless. We aren’t going to get anything done.” Deadpans Janus and Logan just stares at him a little confused.

“That was sarcasm, specks.” His counterpart tacks on when he sees the confusion on his face.

“Oh, right”

All he can do now is follow Janus as he walks down the hallway towards the loud group of people. Logan follows behind and watches Janus’ movement. He walks so confidently that it’s almost like sauntering, but it’s too slow. Too smooth. It’s like slithering.

Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself for whatever horrible experiences await.

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mcheang · 5 years ago

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Shameless

I am currently very interested in Eternal love of dream (also known as eternal love pillow book) and I can’t help wondering what it would be like if Marinette had Dong Hua’s personality - thick-skinned and shameless. Dong Hua is known for winning any argument.

This personality change would have happened after Style Queen where Audrey did give Marinette a few pieces of advice. To ignore criticism and be proud of your creation. Be shameless and take risks.

Hence when Chameleon comes, and Marinette is supposed to move to the back, she refuses.

“I didn’t give up this seat for Chloe, and I refuse to give it up for you, especially when you never even thought to ask me beforehand.”

As Alya guiltily flushes, Adrien offers to move to the back.

“No!” Lila shouts, surprising the boy.

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Why not? Adrien is a good student. Nino can sit in front again. And I get to keep my seat. If you need help studying, I can tutor you Lila. Adrien doesn’t exactly have the free time.”

The way Marinette figures, if she can’t sit next to Adrien, then neither does Lila.

Lila grits her teeth but can’t complain.

Adrien moves to the back, Lila takes Alya’s original spot as the couple moves to the front.

When Marinette sees Lila being served lunch, it annoys her but she keeps her cool.

Instead she points out that instead of buying her food, the class should have taken Lila to the nurse’s office once they realized her wrist wasn’t properly treated. Even Alix and Kim tightly wrapped their wrists with bandages or tape when they sprained their wrists.

The class realize Marinette is correct and insist on bringing Lila to the nurse’s office so the nurse can supply her with bandages for a sprained wrist.

Surprise: The nurse has no record on Lila’s health about a sprained wrist, especially if it bothers her for this long. And why isn’t it on record about her tinnitus? How could Mrs Rossi be so irresponsible?

Lila tries to claim that her Mother is very busy and she didn’t want to worry her.

Nurse: That’s even worse. A Mother who isn’t around to protect her child on the airport tarmac! Im calling child protection services.

Lila puts on crocodile tears and tries to insist she wants to stay with her Mother but the nurse lectures Lila on the importance of her own well-being.

Seeing Lila about to continue protesting, the nurse orders the class to bring the poor girl back to lunch while she calls her Mother.

The sympathetic class does so and force feed Lila when she just wants to storm back to the nurse’s office and rip the phone out of her hand.

There is no akuma since Marinette wasn’t angry and teenage panic isn’t enough to attract one. If it were that easy, then there would be a lot of akumas attracted to kids fretting about homework or curfews.

However, when class resumes, Lila is called to the office and the class offers their sympathies.

Mrs Rossi is arguing that Lila has never had such injuries or saved some kitten! Lila arrives and Mrs Rossi confronts her.

Lila is frantically thinking of any occasion in the past when she had been left alone at the airport. Nothing works. Lila wouldn’t have been left alone long enough to save a kitten and be thanked by a rock star.

Lila lies that she visited the airport on her own after school.

Mrs Rossi: and you didn’t think to tell me? Or mention having had any trouble hearing before?

Lila: you were rarely around and you always looked so busy.

Mrs Rossi sighs but insists on taking Lila to the hospital immediately so she knows full well how injured her Daughter is and so she can buy the proper medical equipment.

Lila lies her way through the medical exam. At least she can fake having had hearing loss and a sprained wrist.

The next day, Lila returns to school with a hearing aid and a bandaged wrist. Seeing an opportunity, she moves to the back to sit with Adrien.

But Adrien saw how Lila invaded his personal space and lied to his friends. He chose to sit next to Marinette because she’s one of his closest friends. “Sorry, Lila.”

In the end, Lila is left sitting at the back and alone. And Marinette gets to sit in front where Ms Bustier can wake her up from daydreaming about her new deskmate.

This isn’t over though. Lila is still lying about being friends with Ladybug. But since Marinette is trying to be thick skinned; she doesn’t call Lila out on that but decides to just warn Alya once to check her sources and to back Lila’s claim with proof.

Alya agrees to do so and eventually meets Ladybug, who shamelessly throws Lila under the bus.

Alya is enraged that Lila lied to them and decides to double check everything they were told. It took some time and a lot of favours but she eventually exposes Lila.

Lila gets into trouble and is akumatized into Chameleon to discredit Alya but is defeated.

Lila is suspended, and her Mother revokes her transportation card (she walks to school) and allowance until she can make up for the medical bills Mrs Rossi spent on her. Lila is also grounded and will be under the supervision of a strict neighbour.

When Alya rants and suspects the nonchalant Marinette to know Lila was lying, the new Marinette says, “of course I knew. I’m not stupid.”

When the class gets angry and defends themselves, Marinette points out that if Lila had been BFFs with Ladybug, Hawkmoth would have targeted her more than once. And doesn’t anyone find it sounding suspicious to the public that Jagged would write a private/public song about a teenager? Also, who lets her daughter attend only one day of school before taking her to Achu?

Class: why didn’t you try to warn us?

Marinette: because she had you all wrapped around her pinkie and i know a futile effort when I see one. I know how to pick my battles. And before you accuse me of not caring, I did tell Alya to check her sources.

Class: why have you become so mean?

Marinette: not mean. Honest. If I was mean, I would be holding your gullibility over you. But I’m not. You’re the ones still stewing over Lila when she isn’t even here anymore.

The class admits Marinette does have a point.

Adrien doesn’t try to correct Marinette because he is friends with Chloe and doesnt correct her, and is friends with the blunt Kagami.

What makes Marinette different from Kagami is that she is more languid, shamelessly cheerful and less concerned about pleasing others.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #adrienette #lila gets exposed #lila karma #lila is exposed #lila salt #ml salt fic #chameleon fic

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meetthetank · 4 years ago

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Cruciamen Chapter 9: Sabbath of Filth

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Other Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), Emil (NieR: Automata), Kainé (NieR) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, genre typical violence, On the Run, Monster of the Week, 9S is a half demon, 2B and A2 are shapeshifter Dragons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut in the future, inaccurate depictions of medical procedures, Fantasy Biology, A2 is Nonbinary

They lose track of time after the second day.

It becomes harder and harder for A2 to remain lucid as the minutes drag into hours, hours into days, days into....It doesn’t matter, really. They barely have the strength to look up at the sky anyway, not that it’d make much difference. A2 lay against the mud wall, their eyes glazed over with exhaustion as they watch the starving men they shared this prison with devour one of their own. The dead man passed earlier that day, and the others waste no time tearing into his flesh and breaking his bones against rocks. While they may not be human, the idea of feasting on the man’s corpse disgusts A2. They’d rather continue to starve than eat the scraps of flesh off the dead man.

Though, if they are honest with themself, A2 considers it more than once. They turn their head away from the spectacle as the old man cracks the corpse’s skull open and scoops out fingerfulls of fatty grey matter. A shiver wracks their body, something that happens more frequently as the days drag on. As the temperatures change throughout the day, their body reacts violently. Shivering in the cold, sweating in the heat. Sometimes they drag themself along with the sun’s rays or hide in the shadows to maintain some kind of balance within them, but the comfort is always painfully temporary.

The inability to maintain their body heat is only one part of their personal hell, however, and not the most concerning part. After removing the poison arrow from their shoulder and “dressing” it with filthy rags, the skin around the wound turned fetid. It drips pus and infected blood constantly, spreading the infection further. Scales start to fall off of them in patches, exposing the raw, red skin beneath that bleeds at the lightest touch. Even their hair begins to fall out in clumps whenever they run their hands through it, or they’ll wake up to find more stuck to the mud. Their clothes feel loose; their vision is blurred to the point of near blindness. Whenever rotten scraps of food get tossed their way, they vomit up whatever ungodly thing they put in their mouth.

They feel their body falling apart piece by piece. They can’t even transform anymore. The last time they did they passed out for so long that they woke up to rats gnawing on their toes and the starving men staring at them with a horrific glint in their eyes.

A sinking suspicion rises in A2’s gut as they try not to listen to the act of cannibalism just a few feet from them. If that man hadn’t died when he did, A2 would have been killed. They’re outnumbered, weak, and if they were being honest with themself, they would have welcomed it.

Wasting away in a pit of filth is about the worst way to die A2 can think of.

They glance at a discarded bone fragment from the dead man. It looks to have been part of a long bone. Sharp, sturdy… lethal. More than enough to get the job done.

A2 braces their arm against the wall of the pit and pulls themself to their feet. Their knees buckle under their weight, but they manage to stay upright, at least partially. Slowly, they stumble over to the forgotten bone. One of the men looks up at them with the look of a starving dog defending its meal, but he remains silent and returns to his scraps of meat. The idea is revolting to A2, but the hunger pains overrule morality. They shouldn’t be alive, they want to simply be consumed by hunger in their sleep, but instincts drive their body to the point where they don’t even realize they’ve picked up the bone.

Commotion erupts from above. A cacophony of drums, flutes, and voices drift down to the prisoners. Though A2 can’t understand the language they hear joy and excitement in the strange song the witches sing. The instruments and their wild, boisterous tunes echo across the bog and loop back on itself, creating the illusion of call and response. There must be some kind of celebration or festival happening above. The primal, starved part of A2’s mind leaps at the thought of food being dropped for them, but that hope is dashed the moment they look over and see the old man sobbing into his hands.

“Oh gods...help us please…” he cries. He clasps his hands in front of him and bows low to the ground. The other men follow suit, throwing their bodies onto the ground nearby. In yet another language new to A2, the men begin to recite a mournful hymn the likes of which A2 has never heard. Its sorrowful, plaintive words, and though they can’t understand the language it sends chills down A2’s spine. It’s a prayer for the dead.

A2 staggers over to the old man, brows furrowed and heart thundering with growing anxiety. They kick him over to his side, the anger, disgust, and fear reaching a boiling point within them. The old man looks up at them, tears streaming down his wrinkled face as he wails for mercy.

“What the hell is going on?!” A2 shouts, kicking the man again.

The other men drag him away from A2 as they prepare to kick him a third time.

“T-the…” the old man whimpers, “The sabbath....”

Before A2 has the chance to demand an explanation, the cage sitting atop the pit is lifted off. Witches armed with spears and carrying lengths of rope drop down into their prison one by one. The men cower together behind the oldest, who extends his arms out in a feeble attempt to defend the others. He crumples to the ground after one of the witches punches him in the temple. One by one the men are grabbed and bound in rope. None of them resist beyond continuing to pray, whispering their psalms under their breaths.

A2 hisses at a witch that strides up to them. They can’t see her face through the strange, crocodilian hide mask she wears, but they’re willing to bet that she’s sneering down at them. One of her tattooed hands shoots out and grabs them by their hair. They thrash and squirm in her grip, lashing out with tooth and claw at any scrap of flesh they can catch. Their fingers catch the skin of the witch’s arm, but their claws fail to pierce through. The witch laughs and roars something to her comrades at their pitiful fumbling. A2 hadn’t realized just how weak they really are; they can’t resist beyond swaying their body back and forth as the witch ties their limbs together.

Their body, much lighter now than before, is lifted up onto the witch’s shoulder like a bundle of old sticks. Her shoulder digs into A2’s stomach, forcing up the few scraps of food from their gut. The witch just laughs at them, barks a few words, then begins to ascend a crude rope ladder that drops into the pit.

For the first time in gods know how long, A2 sees the world beyond their prison. The entire village of witches seems to be out for this festival, all of them dressed in scaled skin cloaks and ghoulish masks made from the heads of crocodiles and alligators. The children scamper behind A2, giggling and pointing at them. They gnash their teeth and snarl at the witch children and they dart away, screaming and laughing with fear and delight. The village dances, cheers, and sings as A2 is paraded through the square along with the other prisoners. They can barely hear the old man sobbing over the din of music.

An old woman dressed in an alligator hide covered with red and white paint approaches the prisoners, flanked by two masked huntresses each carrying bowls of black liquid. She speaks a long, droning prayer that catches the attention of the other witches, who gather around. Even the children go silent and cling to their mother’s sides. The shaman approaches the old man, places her hand on his head, then dips her thumb into one of the bowls and smears the black paste onto his forehead. She makes her way down the line of prisoners, each one being “anointed” by the paste. A2 snarls at the old, masked woman as she comes to them. Her prayer rises to a fervent scream as the villagers and huntresses join in. They try to bite her fingers when she smears the black sludge in much more complicated patterns on their face. However, their strength fades from their body. They can’t even lift their head enough to snag the shaman’s fingers, all A2 can do is weakly open and close their mouth.

A2 and the prisoners are once again taken around the center of the village to another boisterous hymn. The witches jeer and laugh at them, the faces of the crowd blurring into one shapeless mass. Fumes from the pungent black substance lightens A2’s head to the point that they feel like they’re floating through the air. All resistance in their body fades; they lie limp in the witch’s grasp, eyes rolling into the back of their head, jaw slack.

Then the music shifts from playful to sinister in an instant. Rapid drumbeats fill the air like thunder and the entire village silences in its wake. The shaman bellows a short hymn before the procession of prisoners diverts from the center of the village. A2 tries to crane their head around to see where they’re being taken now. They see five logs jutting out of a bank of mud in front of a massive open lake, the only patch of Bog that they’ve seen that is void of mangrove trees. The only feature on the body of water is a single submerged log floating nearby.

One prisoner is tied to each log with roughspun rope, tight enough to hold the men up without any support. A2 snarls as they’re pressed up against the bark of the central log with enough force that it rattles their lungs and pushes the air out of them. Ropes are tied around their body, suspending them above the mire and facing the massive lake of stagnant water. The shaman continues her hymns and leads her attendants behind the logs and out of sight from the offerings.

A2 shuffles their body back and forth in an attempt to loosen their bindings. The rope digs into their already raw, exposed skin. Blood trickles down their arms and legs into the mud beneath. Turning their head they see the other prisoners wailing for mercy or sobbing quietly. They try to ask the man beside them if they have any idea what is going to happen to them, but all he responds with is a choking, hopeless sob.

Their mind races with possibilities in time with the beating drums, each more horrific than the last. They could be shot with arrows until they bled to death, flayed, set ablaze, or simply left to bake in the sun and be picked apart by animals. Somehow, despite the threat of agonizing torment, A2 finds peace in the closeness of death. Whatever may come, at least they won’t be suffering much longer. They could endure the pain, and they would walk into the next life without any regrets.

Well...

The surface of the water stirs as the drumbeats increase in tempo. The piece of wood floating on the lake drifts towards them… and grows in size. A2 watches, mouth agape, as the small log emerges from the water. The log turns from a piece of driftwood, to a tree trunk, to a snout. The piece that had been above water had only been the tip of an enormous alligator’s nose. Rows of spines and ivory teeth line this monster’s mouth in a crooked smile. Its yellow eyes seem to glow in the dim light of the bog and dart from prisoner to prisoner. Most of its body lies below the water with the top portion of its head visible. The rest is obscured by the murky depths of the lake, masking the primordial beast’s true size. Its nostrils flare as it drinks in the scent of terror from the restrained offerings.

A2 watches in horror as the alligator opens its maw wide enough to engulf one of the thousands of mangrove trees. Its rancid breath washes over them like a soft breeze carrying the stench of death. They close their eyes to the sight and wait for oblivion.

“Looks like I’m gonna see you sooner than you’d like...4S…” They whisper.

A deafening crack splits A2’s ears. Their eyes shoot open to see the crocodile’s mouth where the two men beside them were tied. They spot a limb thrown far from its body floating in the lake nearby, already attracting scavenging fish to come feast on the great beasts' scraps.

The village erupts into cheers, goading the alligator on to feast again. In a single swallow it gulps down two men as it turns to the old man to A2’s left. With a sigh, the monster languidly takes him into his jaws. The old man cries out from inside the alligator’s jaws. His hand, sticking out from its mouth grasps for purchase before the beast turns its head up and the kind old man is swallowed whole and alive.

As the witch village sings the praises of this ancient, evil creature, A2 can only look on as the last surviving prisoner. The alligator lowers its head back down, its yellow eyes level with their body. It… watches them squirm in their bindings. Its eyes alone dwarf A2 and draw them in like a terrible portal to its mind. There’s a strange, foriegn intelligence behind it. It’s sizing them up, or trying to understand the pitiful creature before it. The alligator blinks, its third eyelids gliding over its eyes like a fleshy viel, before it sinks back into the depths, vanishing from sight.

The music grinds to a halt as the alligator disappears. Confused mumbling drifts from the village as the witches try to decipher the will of the reptilian god, though A2 might be more lost than the entire population combined. Why weren’t they eaten? Why did the alligator spare them out of all the other prisoners? What will the witches do to them now that they were rejected?

Why does the universe refuse to let them die?!

Suddenly chaos erupts behind them. The sounds of panicked witches mix with hoofbeats, war drums, and a language that A2 can understand.

“Be on guard, sisters!” a voice bellows, “Their weapons are coated in poisons!”

There’s weapon clashes, war cries, horses screaming and rats shrieking. The crackle of flames and heat of an inferno starts to lick at A2’s body. They try to look over their shoulder, but the log is too wide to look around while tied to it. Instinct defeats their self destructive desires. A2 puts their remaining strength into thrashing back and forth against the ropes. The log shakes with them and eventually comes loose from the mud and falls to the side, taking A2 with it. They writhe in the mud and cover their body with the foul smelling sludge. It seeps through their clothes and helps them slide out of their binds.

A2 digs their fingers into the mud and drags themself across the ground towards a crumbling hut about fifty feet away. They spare glances around as people in black robes, hoods, and gleaming silver armor beat back hoards of witches and their rodent mounts. Whoever these new warriors are, they easily overpower the village huntresses and shaman. The warriors… knights… cultists… whoever they are… wield an assortment of ornate gold and silver weaponry. Swords, axes, maces, flails, all of them seem to emit light on their own, even when coated with the witches’ mud-like blood.

It is a massacre, but they could all burn in Inferno for all A2 cares. Damn the witches of the Bog and the Bog itself. A2 crawls on their belly through the muck like a worm but salvation, however temporary, is a mere twenty feet away.

“Sister! Over here!!” a female voice calls, a voice that is sickeningly close.

A2’s stomach drops as they throw a frantic look over their shoulder. One of the robed warriors looms over them with a dagger in one hand and a spiked flail in the other. The spiked silver mass dangles from a thin chain and emits a faint, fragrant smoke as it sways in the breeze.

“Please, stay still,” the figure says in a calm, soothing voice, “We’re going to-”

A2 scrabbles against the slick mud away from the armed figure, but a sudden weight pins them to the ground. Arms covered in black fabric restrain them as they thrash against the warrior’s body to no avail. A short conversation takes place as A2 throws themself back and forth like a cornered animal.

Two armored boots appear in front of them. A towering black robed figure in a silver mask depicting a serene face stands over them holding a small vial with a thin, long needle protruding from it. They hiss and shout and curse but their pathetic displays of intimidation do nothing to stop the warrior as the needle is plunged into A2’s neck.

Their world fades to blessed oblivion within an instant.

#nier atuomata #a2 #fanfiction #fantasy au #nier fanfiction #tank fics

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whitetigerdemoness · 5 years ago

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*update* There’s more! Master post of all chapters

I had an idea about Lila telling one lie too many to the wrong person.

She sits next to Nathaniel now right? Introvert Nath, who is probably a very good listener because he doesn’t want to talk. So Lila can happily chatter away in this one sided conversation about what ever she wants without feedback. Feedback which she uses to gauge how well her lies are working. So without this she just rambles along about anything.

It takes a couple weeks, but Lila finally says something that Nathaniel isn’t sure about. He doesn’t want to start drama, and he can’t actually prove what she said is false, so he doesn’t call her out on it. Once you’ve noticed something wrong though you start paying more attention whether you like it or not. He notices Lila makes a lot of little claims that don’t really add up, but once again he doesn’t want to start a fight and he can’t really prove anything.

Then Lila messes up big time. She’s constantly trying to get Nath to draw her into ‘his’ Ladybug comic and use her ideas (to which he politely tries to tell her Marc is his writer, and if she wants to collab they can’t leave him out) until one day she claims that the reason she didn’t start school at the beginning of the year with everyone else, why she went with her mother on a diplomatic trip out of the country instead, was because this creepy old man had been stalking her, inspired by her beauty, and had been akumatized because of it, leading to her kidnapping.

The Akuma’s name? The Evillustrator. I would like to think that (especially for minors) an akumatized person’s identity is kept secret if possible after they’re cured. People may know what the akuma did and maybe the reasons, but not WHO they were. The classmates know because they were there, but it’s not really something people talk about so Lila doesn’t know who he was either. Just that he kidnapped a girl for a ‘date’ and Ladybug and Chatnoir had to save her. Lila naturally assumes that since akuma identities are not public knowledge there is no way her shy, quiet classmate would be able to contradict her, right?

Nathaniel is stunned into silence, staring at her in disbelief, which Lila takes as interest and digs herself deeper. She goes on and on about how this middle aged man was stalking her, drawing creepy pictures of her, trying to ask her out ect. and how unsafe and traumatized she felt. She even had to get a restraining order against him, which is what triggered the Akumatization! It’s actually how she first met Ladybug, she saved Lila from Evillustrator! Then she took a trip with her mother to get some space, but returned to France to stay in school or something.

In the end Nath is equal parts too shocked at her claims and too wary of confrontation to call her out on it, but from then on he notices how absurd and outlandish some of Lila’s tales are. All the while dodging her efforts to get into his comic (and asking now and then about the manga publishers she promised to introduce him to? Not like he expects that to ever happen) and just trying to get through the day.

I think the boiling point would be when Lila claims to the whole class that she designed Jagged Stone’s iconic Eiffel Tower sunglasses, and the class just wow’s and ah’s. (Marinette and Adrien are not there, as well as a handful of others because this is lunch break, but most of the class is there)

“Are you serious?” Nathaniel asked in disbelief.

“Of course!” Lila preened, not catching his tone. “Uncle Jagged and I are so close, he really values my fashion input! Why just the other day-”

“No,” Nathaniel cut her off with a sharp motion. “Are YOU serious? You guys believe this? Out of every lie she’s forced you to swallow, you believe THIS one?” He gestured to the rest of the class, incredulous.

“Nathaniel! How could you say something like that about Lila? Don’t tell me Marinette has gotten to you.” Gasped Alya.

“Alya...You do remember that Marinette is the one who designed those glasses right? You were there. You claim to be her best friend, how can you constantly take Lila’s side over hers? This entire semester Marinette has been the only one brave enough to call out Lila’s BULLSHIT and you constantly shut her down!” He steamed. Nathaniel may not have romantic feelings for the bluenette anymore, but she was still his friend and he was tired of seeing her hurt by someone who claimed to care for her. For whatever credit you want to give her, Alya did pale as she realized the red head was right.

“W-what? What do you mean, M-Maritnette designed those glasses? Did she tell you that?” Lila sniffled, turning on the water works. “I can’ believe she would take credit for something she didn’t do, I thought she was a nice person and I w-wanted to give her another chance but to lie like that...to convince you that it was all her idea for attention...” She sobbed, hiding her face. The class, which had looked hesitant at the new information at first, quickly rallied behind the crying girl, glaring at Nathaniel.

“Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!” He shouted, getting angrier by the minute. “You all believe that Marinette, sweet, helpful, kind Marinette, would LIE about something for attention? NONE of you think it’s odd that Marinette, who gives EVERYONE a chance can’t stand Lila says something about her?!”

“Yeah, it says she’s jealous to have her spot as class sweet heart usurped. We all know Marinette is only mean to Lila because Adrien is more interested in Lila than her. Just like you’re being blinded by your own crush on her. Come on dude, you’re smarter than this.” Quipped Kim.

Nathaniel thought his hair had fallen into his face (well, more than usual) he was seeing so much red. The final straw though was seeing Maritnette and Adrien standing in the door way, realization on Adrien’s face and horror on Marrinette’s, that made his next heart beat take the shape of butterfly wings. He barely heard Hawkmoth’s usual spiel about Ladybug and Chatnoir’s miraculous as he bent over Lila, her face stained with crocodile tears that were quickly becoming real.

“Lets see how well that restraining order is working.” Purred the Evillustrator, smirk absolutely feral.

#miraculous ladybug #nathaniel kurtzberg #lila rossi

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marisaaa · 5 years ago

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Layers

Robron week 2020 day 1 - first meeting

Aaron and Robert meet at a festival and fate just wants to bring them closer and closer together.

Ao3 link

The first time in ages. Liam Gallagher was playing at Leeds festival and Aaron had actually managed to get tickets. Him and his group of friends were all going for all three days and it was finally here.

Aaron sat on the train surrounded by his mates and apparently everyone else who had managed to get festival tickets. The train was packed. Girls in tiny tops and tiny shorts, boys half-naked and carrying the weirdest things around.

A massive inflatable crocodile was wedged in between Aaron and Adam as they sat on the seat opposite his girlfriend, Victoria and her mate Amy. Amy definitely had a crush on Aaron. She kept winking at him and licking her lips – Victoria had obviously noticed too but wasn’t saying anything. Victoria and Adam both knew he was gay but obviously hadn’t passed the memo onto Amy who was still sat ogling at an uncomfortable Aaron.

“Oi, man.” Adam said excitedly next to him, “This is going to be the best weekend of our lives!” Aaron nodded, smiling and making a face at Victoria who just rolled her eyes. “In a few weeks you are gonna be back in a boring classroom learning about brains.” Adam snorted, “enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”

“It’s Psychology, Adam.” Aaron corrected him, “It’s not just about brains.”

Aaron had worked his butt off and had been accepted in the Royal Holloway College to study Psychology, it had been his dream. Finally he could leave the tiny Yorkshire village and do something for himself. Adam, however had flunked his exams and was set to working at the farm for the rest of his life. Not that he was complaining.

Victoria and Amy were a year below so they still had another year ahead of them to decide what they wanted to do – either stay working for their parents in the village or do something else.

“Well right now, I couldn’t care less,” Adam joked as the train slowed, “because we are here!”

Victoria and Amy wooped as they stood up and picked their stuff up from their feet, getting ready to leave the carriage.

“How long is this line?” Aaron moaned as he dropped the bag he was barely holding up, “I swear we’ve been waiting days.”

The queue into the festival itself was looped around the arena several times and they hadn’t even got to the point to collect their wristbands yet. His legs and shoulders were screaming for rest, but the line seemed to keep moving but still going absolutely nowhere – meaning he could not sit down for a second.

“Aaron if I hear another complaint leave your mouth, it will be last thing you ever complain about.” Victoria warned, giving him an evil look.

It was hot, sunny and they were all tired. None of them were going to get on when it was like this.

Suddenly, Victoria stood up straight and leaned over the temporary fencing to see someone ahead of them in the queue who were facing the opposite way.

“No way.” She said quietly, before shouting, “Robert!”

Aaron’s gaze shot up from where he was staring at the floor to a tall, blonde man with a smile on his face as he flirted with another girl.

He had heard of the infamous Robert Sugden. Victoria adored him but Andy an ongoing grudge, refusing to speak about him at most times. Robert had left the village with their mother after a nasty custody battle with their dad. Jack was given custody of Victoria but Andy and Robert were given their own choice, considering their age. Robert chose Sarah and Andy chose Jack - no surprises there.

Robert and Sarah moved away very soon after that – Victoria mentioned the south - and they’d barely been spoken about since. Aaron was only about 12 at the time so he had other things he thought would be better to do than worry about another family’s problems.

“Victoria?” Robert stared in disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

He apologised to the people in front of him as he pushed forward to lean over the barrier and give her a hug, “I would say you’ve grown but-”

Victoria jokingly punched him in the arm and smiled, “And you haven’t got any less annoying, I see.”

Robert scoffed and looked behind her, “These your friends?”

Victoria turned around and grabbed Adam by the arm, “This is my boyfriend, Adam.”

Robert reached his arm out to shake Adam’s hand, looking him up and down.

"It’s so good to finally meet you.” Adam told him as he shook his hand eagerly, Robert smiled and nodded before looking over at Aaron.

Butterflies immediately filled his stomach. He felt himself blush under the stare of such a beautiful person, his green eyes twinkling in the light. Even with green glitter and paint stuck in his hair he was still absolutely perfect.

Aaron quickly cleared his throat and stepped forward, bringing his hand out to shake Robert’s, suddenly self-conscious about his palms that were most likely very sweaty. “Aaron.” He introduced himself, not tearing his gaze away from Robert’s who looked like he couldn’t look away either.

Amy’s voice ruined the moment and Robert’s eyes moved away from Aaron’s, “I’m Amy.” She said sweetly, “Victoria’s best friend.”

Robert laughed and greeted her back before Victoria spoke again.

“We’re celebrating Aaron and Adam’s – well mostly Aaron’s – A level results.” She exclaimed, smiling widely. “Aaron’s been accepted into a London uni!”

Robert’s eyes were back on Aaron’s again and he felt himself go even redder as he looked down at his feet.

“Is that so?” Robert said smoothly, still staring at Aaron, his lips upturned in a smile.

Aaron looked back up at Robert and his heart started beating hard in his chest and he smiled back and nodded. God, his lips were beautiful.

Suddenly a shout behind him made Robert turn quickly and wave. “I’ve got to go, Vic.” He apologised, looking back at his sister, “I’ll try to find you though, once we’re in.”

They said their quick goodbyes and Robert turned and pushed through the crowd again as it moved against him.

Their gazes caught again as the line moved, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice the smile on Robert’s face as he looked away.

Liam was performing on the second night so the first day just consisted of them looking around at all the small performers and seeing the prices of food.

They’d set up their tents by the wall separating the park but not too far away from the main stage so they could still hear the music.

Adam already had the cans of beer out and Amy and Victoria were painting each other’s faces. Aaron sat back on his camp chair and listened to Adam rambling on about something irrelevant as he soaked in the rare sunshine and smelled the smoke of barbecues in the atmosphere.

It was dusk and the music from the live performance was dying down as people were sat around their small campsites.

“Okay, never have I ever...” Amy started, “kissed a member of the same sex.”

Aaron downed the last of the beer in his can and finished with a refreshed sigh as he threw the empty can on the ground. Adam and Victoria burst into fits of laughter and Aaron smirked at them. Amy looked puzzled.

“Am I missing something?” she asked them, looking towards Victoria.

Victoria made eye contact with Aaron and he nodded, “Aaron’s gay, you div.” she told her with a laugh.

Amy’s head turned sharply to face him and he pretended to bow his head.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot!” she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands.

Aaron leaned over and patted her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Amy.” He reassured her, “You’re not the only one. I can’t help I’m so irresistible.”

Adam snorted and sprayed the beer that was in his mouth all over the grass in front of them, earning him a disgusted response from the girls.

“Okay, my turn.” Aaron steered the conversation back. “Never have I ever-“

But someone behind Victoria’s head stole his focus. Robert was walking over to them, his muscly arms were flexing underneath a white shirt as he carried a bag over his shoulder, the glitter still evident on his face was glimmering in the small light of the fires.

“We’re waiting.” Amy’s voice appeared.

Aaron just gestured towards the man striding over and all their heads turned. Victoria stood up as he got to where they were sat.

“Victoria, guys.” He greeted them with a smile, glancing over at Aaron again, making his stomach do somersaults.

“Rob, how has your day been?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

Robert sighed, “Could’ve gone better. My mate and his girlfriend had a row.” He explained, “thought it would be better to leave them to their awkwardness for tonight.”

Victoria frowned, “Oh, that’s a shame. Where will you be sleeping?”

He shrugged and gestured towards their tents, “I was hoping you had room for a stowaway?”

Aaron gulped. Robert staying with them? He didn’t know how to feel. Before anyone could react, Victoria took his back of his shoulder and told him he was welcome.

“Hang on, which tent is he going to sleep in?” Adam asked, pointing to the three tents lined up next to them.

“Well he can share Aaron’s, can’t he?” Victoria answered.

All eyes were on him now. One pair of green eyes included a small smirk, too. They made eye contact and Aaron’s breath hitched. It was really the only option for them to share. Adam and Victoria were using the same tent and Amy and Aaron had brought their own.

“Yeah- yeah sure.” Aaron stuttered nervously as the small smirk turned into a grin.

“All sorted then!” Victoria said happily as she pulled Robert’s camp chair out from the side of his bag.

The tent felt a lot smaller with an added body. Robert’s presence was massively affecting Aaron. He didn’t even have much stuff it was just… the feeling of him laying right next to him made Aaron much more nervous than he should.

Aaron was laying on his back in his sleeping bag as he watched Robert add another jumper to his layers of clothes, underneath a sleeping bag and blanket.

“Do you have enough clothes?” Aaron teased jokingly, causing Robert to turn around mid-change.

“These are my night clothes.” Robert explained, “the rest are at my tent.”

Aaron nodded in understanding and Robert turned to face him once he’d gotten his jumper on. Their faces were very close and Aaron could almost feel Robert’s breath on his face, making his own breathing falter.

“So… are you here with anyone?” Aaron asked quickly, trying to break the tension, “Not here here but like- at the festival.”

Robert shook his head, not looking away from Aaron’s eyes. Aaron smiled a bit at that but tried to play it off cool. “Just me and my mate wanted to have a catch up. Didn’t realise his girlfriend was part of the plan.” Robert explained.

Aaron sniggered. “Guess they come as a package deal.”

“I guess they do.” He whispered.

Another silence fell over them and Aaron awkwardly bit the inside of his lip. “What about Amy? Do you think she’s-”

“I don’t want to talk about girls.” Robert interrupted him.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Aaron retorted, watching as Robert’s gaze moved from his eyes to his lips. Aaron absent mindedly licked his lips ever so quickly before Robert surged forward, crashing their mouths together.

The air was kicked out of Aaron’s lungs as he realised what was happening. Robert Sugden was kissing him. Robert let out the smallest moan as he pushed on his lips more before pulling back.

Their eyes met again but this time, Robert’s looked more fearful. As if he were worried about what Aaron would think.

“Why did you stop?” Aaron whispered, looking back and forth between Robert’s pink lips and his eyes.

Apparently, that was all the information Robert needed as he let out a shaky breath and propped himself up on his elbow so he was hovering above Aaron, both of them smiling into another kiss.

Robert’s mouth parted slightly and Aaron felt his tongue across the tops of his lips as he deepened the kiss and brought his hand up to clasp the back of Robert’s head, gliding his fingers through his soft hair.

Aaron felt with his other hand around to where Robert’s jumper sat on his hip, trying to feel for the skin there. Damn, the layers.

Robert pulled back, his eyes still shut, “Layers.” He whispered, stifling a small laugh.

Aaron nodded in response and moved his hand onto Robert’s waist, above his jumper before pulling Robert back down to kiss him again.

It was cold. Aaron’s feet were turning into ice cubes by the second and the air gaps in his sleeping bag were just voids of below zero temperatures.

Shivering, he turned around to see Robert, curled up next to him, a jumper folded underneath his head as he breathed deeply.

Aaron shakily brought his hand out from his sleeping bag and shook Robert awake, watching as his eyes fluttered open and his legs started to stretch inside his sleeping bag.

“Robert?” he whispered, “Robert, do you have another jumper?”

Robert took a deep breath in as he lifted his head and threw the pillow that was underneath it on top of Aaron.

“What about a pillow?” Aaron asked, unfolding the jumper.

Robert smiled and opened his eyes wider, “I have you for that, don’t I?”

Aaron chuckled and quickly put the jumper on over his head, fidgeting as he got himself fully inside his sleeping bag again. He could feel Robert’s eyes on him as he settled onto his back.

Robert shifted and placed his head comfortably onto Aaron’s chest, letting out a contented sigh as he did so. Aaron weaved his arm out from underneath Robert and the sleeping bag to wrap it around Robert’s sleeping form, squeezing him gently as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to birds chirping and people talking what seemed like right outside his tent. Aaron looked around and saw he was alone inside the tent and any evidence of another person being there had disappeared.

Looking at his watch, Aaron saw it was 6am. Way too early – but he could hear Adam and Victoria’s voices outside so he knew he wouldn’t get away with sleeping any longer.

He slowly got up and ducked out of the tent to see Adam and Victoria sat on their camp chairs, both holding a bowl of what looked like porridge.

“Good morning, my man!” Adam greeting a little too loudly for this early in the morning, “Would you like some slop made by the missus herself?”

Victoria gave him a playful slap on the knee and stood up to spoon a serving of the liquid into a bowl and handed it to Aaron as he brought out his own camp chair.

“Thanks.” He said as he sat down, grunting at the pain in his back.

“How did you sleep?” Victoria asked, crossing one leg over the other as she sat back down in her small chair.

“Yeah, fine.” Aaron answered, playing with the mixture in his bowl.

“I’m guessing Robert didn’t wake you when he left, then?” Adam said through a mouthful of porridge, “Disappeared without a trace.”

“He hasn’t disappeared, Adam.” Victoria corrected, “I said he’s probably just gone back to his mates.”

Aaron hoped it wasn’t because of him. Maybe he’d woken up a lot more sober and realised that their activities last night was a mistake and he didn’t want to face them sober.

At least Adam and Victoria weren’t aware of what happened.

The rest of the festival was great. They saw a load of great artists perform, got drunk in the daytime and danced until they got warnings from the guards.

Robert hadn’t been seen again the rest of the weekend. Aaron knew it was by a massive chance that they would bump into him again, given the sheer amount of people at the festival but it didn’t stop his heart from lurching every time he saw a tall blonde man across the crowds.

One month later

Aaron knocked on the door of the small terraced house as he watched the taxi drive off. He was starting uni in a few days and had found a great deal on a room share in the outskirts of London- saving him from having to pay for accommodation in the university itself.

He saw movement on the other side of the blurred window and a lock clicked open as a guy with messy brown hair opened the door and looked at him with a puzzled face.

“I’m – um – I’m here about the room share?” Aaron nervously asked, worried for a second that he’d got the wrong house.

The man’s face suddenly changed into understanding and he stepped back, opening the door wider to let Aaron in.

“Of course!” he exclaimed as Aaron walked further in, “Completely slipped my mind that it was today.”

He shut the door behind Aaron and helped pick up his bags.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He introduced himself as he awkwardly held the bags in the small hallway, “My room’s the one next to yours.”

“Aaron.” He replied, smiling and looking at the decorated walls.

“I’ll show you to your room then!” Max said eagerly as he stood on the first step and made his way slowly up the stairs, hitting the bags on the banister as he went.

Aaron could hear voices downstairs in the kitchen as he nervously followed Max up the stairs but was intrigued when he could hear the faint sounds of an Oasis song coming from behind a shut door.

Max stopped at the shut door and dropped the bags.

“I love this song.” Aaron told him as Max lifted his hand to turn the handle. He looked up and smiled.

“Oh nice, gives you something for you two to bond over.” He said as he opened the door and stepped into the room, “Rob, meet Aaron.” He called.

Aaron stepped into the small room behind him, nervously smiling but as soon as he saw the man sat at the desk, his face fell and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered out of their cage.

Robert spun around on his chair and his eyes were wide, but a smile was very much evident on his face. “A- Aaron?” he asked in disbelief.

“Robert.” Aaron breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest.

#rw2020 #robron fic

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wesleyhill · 4 years ago

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The Voice from the Whirlwind

A homily on Job 38:1-11, preached at Trinity Cathedral, Pittsburgh, on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost 2021

Our Old Testament reading today is taken from the book of Job. Many scholars consider Job to be a literary masterpiece and its poetry the most beautiful in the entire Hebrew Bible. In light of that, I’m going to read our text again from the King James Version, which does better than most any other version at capturing the grandeur of the language.

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said, 2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? 3 Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me. 4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding. 5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it? 6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof; 7 When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? 8 Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as if it had issued out of the womb? 9 When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddlingband for it, 10 And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors, 11 And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?

This portion of Job comes from the very end of the book. In the thirty-seven long chapters that precede it, we have heard the story and the voice of Job, as well as the rebukes of some friends of his that have come to visit him.

Let’s recall that story so that we have the context for the portion we just heard. Job is a kind of Everyman character, a timeless figure. He does not seem to be descended from Abraham; he is not an Israelite. He is from Uz, some faraway city, and he is described as “the greatest of all the people of the east” (1:3). We might picture a wealthy sheikh with a palace and a retinue. His city and his lifestyle are meant to transport us into a sort of fairy tale setting (and remember — as C. S. Lewis and the Inklings remind us — that doesn’t mean the story is any less true! To be swept up in a good fairy tale is to be forced to grapple with something true about us).

One day, according to the story, an accusing, adversarial angelic figure makes a proposal to God in his heavenly court. He claims that Job only worships God and lives a virtuous life because it’s easy for him to do so. “But stretch out your hand now,” the adversary tells God, “and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” And God gives the adversary permission to take away Job’s family (his ten children are all killed), his wealth, and his health. And Job’s response is to continue, through it all, to worship God: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (1:21).

At this point in the story, three friends of Job travel from far away to see this greatest of all men reduced to sitting in an ash heap scraping his inflamed skin with a shard of pottery. For seven days they simply sit in silence with Job (as Jews to this day practice sitting shiva with the bereaved), “for they saw that his suffering was very great” (2:13).

But then, for the next thirty-five chapters of the book, Job howls out his innocence in poem after poem, speech after poetic speech, and his three friends remonstrate with him. They rebuke him for his arrogantly supposing that he can call God to account, and he retorts, “Miserable comforters are you all” (16:2). Back and forth it goes. So many words. So many “vain,” “windy words,” as the poet calls them at one point (16:3, KJV; NRSV).

And then, out of a storm that overwhelms all the words, the LORD finally speaks. Job had earlier wished that the day of his birth had been shrouded in darkness, but God turns that wish around and asks Job why he has shrouded everything with ignorant speech: “Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?” Then the LORD declares that He intends to question Job: “Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.”

And then comes some of the most memorable imagery in the entire book. I encourage you to open your Bible at home and read the passage again later, slowly, and pay attention to the striking imagery and metaphors. The LORD asks of Job:

You who are so full of opinions and recriminations, where were you when I was hoisting the rafters of the universe? Where were you when I was taking a plumbline to the Milky Way? Were you there, Job, when the roar of exploding galaxies sounded like a thundering choir of praise? Were you there when the ocean’s water broke, and I wrapped the sea with clouds like a mother wraps an infant in a warm blanket? If you know so much, Job, tell me, were you there? Because I was!

The LORD goes on like this for four whole chapters, giving Job a tour of all the wonders and terrors of creation.

And it’s at this point many readers have felt that the book of Job is at its least convincing. Here is Job, in psychological and bodily agony, crying out from the depths, “Why me?” And God’s answer is… to talk about oceans and stars and ostriches and crocodiles, as if merely asserting His power as the Creator were enough to put an end to honest, gut-wrenching questions, as if God were saying, “Shut up and just look at how much bigger and stronger than you I am.”

That’s a common interpretation that people have of our reading for today, but I don’t think it does justice to the text. Because God isn’t silencing Job so much as He is inviting Job to see in a new way. The LORD is not simply cataloguing His creatures for Job, as if He were curating a nature exhibit. Job has been trying to relate to the LORD as if He were a contractor; the LORD is trying to tell Job that, from the very beginning of creation, He is a covenant-maker. The LORD is reminding Job that back behind and underneath Job’s calculus of guilt and innocence; deeper than tit-for-tat human schemes that would supposedly sort out all the rational, moral reasons for why things happen in the world the way they do; beyond all this, at the heart of everything there is an unending, un-endable generosity, a light that can never be extinguished, an unfathomable source of life and goodness and wisdom. This isn’t merely some impersonal source of inspiration or fortitude that will get you safely through grief and out the other side; this ceaseless gift comes from the presence of the LORD Himself, the God who addresses Job, who speaks with Job, who seeks Job out precisely in his pain and loneliness. Beyond all deserving or undeserving, the LORD comes to Job. The LORD reveals Himself. Job is not given a platitude; he encounters a Person. The LORD is there — in majesty and mercy. And ultimately, in repentance and trust and hope, Job says to God, “I had heard You with my ear, but now my eye perceives You. Therefore, I recant and relent, being but dust and ashes” (42:5-6, NJPS). Job has not had his questions answered, but he has met the One who made him — the One who will open a future for him beyond all deserving or comprehending, the One who asks not for comprehension but for humility and trust.

Some of you may have seen Terrence Malick’s film The Tree of Life from ten years ago. It was nominated for multiple Oscars and struck a chord with many Christian viewers in particular. It opens with a blank screen and the words from our reading, the words that the LORD speaks to Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth… When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?” The movie follows the story of a family with young children in Waco, Texas in the 1950s. I don’t want to spoil it for you (if you haven’t seen it, I encourage you to), but I will say that tragedy of the most awful kind strikes this family, and throughout the film, the characters return to that haunting question God asks of Job, “Where were you?” — except, in the film, it is the people who say it to God, rather than God who says it to them. Where were you?

Astonishingly, the movie tries to visually depict God’s speech to Job by taking a full 18 minutes — roughly an eighth of the entire film — to show the unfolding of creation, from the big bang to the emergence of dinosaurs. It sounds bizarre, but it’s extraordinary to see. One minute you’re watching one ordinary family in Waco in the 1950s navigate ordinary human sorrow, anger, remorse, and longing, and the next minute you’re watching nebulae and planetary rings and cell divisions. At the same time that you’re seeing one particular family’s life play out in all of its quotidian drama, you’re seeing the dazzling, awe-evoking origin of all life.

Where were you? the characters ask God.

The answer to that question that the LORD gives to Job is, in essence, “I am here, and I was here before you, and I will be here ahead of you. I am here, speaking to you, addressing you, seeing you, knowing you, redeeming you. I, the Maker of heaven and earth, am the same God who draws near.”

One scene in the movie takes place at a funeral, in a church. The text for the sermon is the same one we have heard this morning. And you can hear the priest say (and by the way, in real life, the priest in the film is an Episcopal priest who helped write the words he would perform!), “Is there some fraud in the scheme of the universe? Is there nothing which is deathless? Nothing which does not pass away?”

And at that point the camera slowly pans away from the character sitting in the pew listening, who has endured and will endure so much grief in the course of the story — the camera pans up to a stained glass window where we see the LORD of Israel who spoke to Job — the LORD as a human being, the man Jesus, bound with ropes, crowned with thorns, looking out from the glass with eyes of grief and unceasing love, ready to give His life for the world He had made.

It is He whom Job meets. It is He who is alive and here with us today, who speaks to us, who feeds us with His own Body and Blood.

Amen.

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morkmywords · 5 years ago

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Masterlist | Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 [FINAL]

Royalty!AU

Length: 6.9k

Note: This was a really hard part for me to write since it’s the final part of this fic which iv’e been working on for almost two years now and it’s grown with me, not only in my writing style but as a person. I hope you enjoy it :) I’ve been thinking make making this au into a series with some other members... let me know if you’re interested!

Warnings: some swearing

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Summary: When a strange string of not so great events somehow and you with a job at the palace punching the wrong people can be not so great.

The music from the orchestra floated in the background as pairs spun and twirled in elaborate patterns. The beginning of your night was flooded with people of royal status bombarding you with well wishes, invitations, and promises of gifts. It was overwhelming but you managed to handle it and it distracted you from the new couple across the dance floor; now, things had finally calmed down a bit and Minseok returned to your side with a glass of amber liquid in hand which you gratefully took.

“It won’t be long now,” he said with a smirk.

“Won’t be long till what?”

“Well now that everyone has seen how young, gorgeous, and extremely single the new lady of the most powerful territory on the continent is…. Proposals are bound to come flooding in!”

You grimaced and punched him on the shoulder, “Don’t even joke about that!” He just winked and chuckled from beside you when suddenly you were being lifted up and twirled in the air. You let out a gasp of surprise when you were finally back on the ground and standing in front of Chanyeol who enveloped you in a bear hug. Yixing, Jongdae, and Baekhyun took up places beside MInseok as you squirmed from Chanyeol’s embrace.

“It’s nice to see you too Chanyeol but please let me go,” you wheezed as you finally broke from his grasp.

“Our little Y/n is so grown up and powerful now!” he exclaimed with a pout.

Beakhyun chimed in with a smirk, “We haven’t seen you in ages and now you come back in charge of Iyle? Shouldn’t you have mentioned it to us at least once?”

“I’m sorry, so much has happened over the past while and I didn’t even know myself until a few weeks ago.”

“You have to tell us everything Y/n!” Jongdae whined, joining in with Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s fake pouts.

“Watch what you say boy,” Yixing butted in with a smile and an arm over your shoulder, “It’s Lady Y/n now.”

Rolling your eyes you brushed him off with a smile, “It’s fine…”

“In all honesty Y/n, you look like a different person and not in a bad way,” he said with a comforting smile that only Yixing could create, “You seem so much more confident and it’s good to see.”

The other princes nodded along with him and you thanked them, you did feel different than the last time you saw them but you were glad they were back with you now, even if it was only for a few days. You continued to listen to them chatter away amongst themselves, making jokes just the same as they used too when a flash of pink tackled you in a hug.

“OH Y/N I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!” Jiyoon wailed, eyes watering as she clung onto you. “JIYOON!” You exclaimed wrapping your arms back around her as you both sobbed into the other’s shoulder. It had been so long since you’d seen her and immediately you started crying crocodile tears, staining both your dress and her. After a few seconds the latched onto your wrist and stood up again.

“We need to talk,” was all she said before dragging you away and towards one of the patio doors that was open and letting the warm night air flow through the great hall. All you could do was follow as you waved to the group of princes who stood there looking stunned. You followed her as she weaved around the patio until she found a secluded bench overlooking the spring garden where she sat you down.

“Y/n,” she sobbed again, “I missed you so much! You leave with Sehun and now you come back as the Lady of Iyle and you’re avoiding each other like the plague? I wrote you letters but Sehun just sent them back unopened, I thought you were dead!”

“I’m sorry,” you said lamely.

“What happened? You need to tell me everything.”

“He asked me to marry him… and I said no.”

“Oh Y/n,” she sighed taking your hand in hers, “I thought something like that might have happened, he’s always been so spontaneous, even since we were kids. But Y/n,” she paused, “Why did you say no?”

“Because I was afraid,” you whispered with tears in your eyes. You had never been able to tell anyone before but with Jiyoon it all just seemed to spill out of you like a waterfall.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, petting your hair calmly, “No wonder he was with that bitch Haerin. I hate to tell you this but even though we didn’t know, everyone started taking sides.”

“What?”

“You notice how only a few of the princes came to greet you right? Unconsciously, we’ve already started taking sides, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Yixing, Jongdae, Minseok, and I are all on your side. Junmyeon, Jongin, and Kyungsoo are all siding with Sehun as well as most of their siblings.”

“I didn’t mean to create a rift between everyone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured you, “Now tell me about this whole Lady of Iyle thing that happened.”

So you did, you explained everything about your father and mother, and how Lord Cha was the one that found you, and everything to do with the dead queen. She looked at you like you were insane but you knew she believed you.

“Oh Y/n…” she sighed, “I never thought…”

“It's okay,” you managed to say with a smile, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze this time.

“If it makes you feel any better, everyone on the continent knows your name, even though you’ve been ruling for such a short time your people love you!” You gave her a weak smile and the both of you sat in silence for a while.

“WIll you do me a favour and explain it to the others? I don’t think I have enough energy to explain it to everyone individually…”

“No problem! I’ll even tell Junmyeon and he’ll spread it to the rest of the boys.”

“Thank you so much,” You told her sincerely as you wiped a few stray tears from your eyes, “It feels really good to tell my best friend about all of this.”

“Anytime,” she told you with a smile, “now lets head back inside before people start to miss us, I swear when Chanyeol’s sister Princess Sejung gets bored all hell breaks loose!”

You laughed along with her as you wandered back through the wide patio doors and into the sea of people. Jiyoon was immediately swept away by the crowd leaving you alone in your search for the Princes, out of the corner of your eye you spotted Baekhyun chatting with some blushing ladies but before you could reach him you were spun around to face a smirking man with dark eyes and hair the colour of clouds.

“Nice to meet you Lady Y/n,” he purred, “I’ve heard a lot about you. My name is Taek, I’m the Governor’s son.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You croaked out as he kissed your hand with a smirk.

“The pleasure is all mine, care for a dance?”

Before you had a chance to answer his hand was around your waist and you were one of the twirling couples on the dance floor. Though he didn’t look it, he was almost as graceful of a dancer as Jongin, he navigated through the swarm of bodies like he had been doing it all his life. And he probably had been, seeing as he was the son of the Governor.

“It’s not everyday you get to dance with the most beautiful and eligible lady at the ball,” he said with a shiny smile.

“I’m flattered,” you said skeptically. He wasn’t bad looking but his motives didn’t exactly seem chivalrous.

“When it was announced that the heir of Iyle had returned everybody thought it’d be some shrivelled old man, but when you entered, boy was everyone surprised.”

“I’m afraid I don't know if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult,” you said with a frown as he twirled you around again.

“I meant surprised in the best way a man could, Lady Y/n. I assure you it was meant to be nothing other than a compliment,” he told you with a friendly chuckle, eyes glinting.

“I apologize, I am not quite used to the ways of court life yet.”

“I could hardly tell, you’re easily one of the most poised ladies here this evening and I see you are already close with the young royals?” He asked before lifting you up and shouting along with the others.

“You could say that…”

“As long as I’ve known them they’ve always been a tight knit group but now they’re taking over their parents rule and getting married like our King of Oclaria. Not much time for childish things when you’re the ruler of the country.”

With a small smile you nodded in agreement, “You’re quite right.”

“On the topic of marriage, I’d like to propose a deal,”

You looked at him quizzically, you had no interest in marrying this man you had just met but you were curious enough to gesture for him to continue.

“You see the girl the King is spending all his time with was my fiance but our engagement was cancelled once the King started taking interest in her,” he explained, “Now I am left without a wife and my father won’t let me take over the family business until I get married. Now seeing as we’re easily the two most powerful single people in this room aside from the King I think we should get married.”

You frowned, “I’m sorry but I fail to see how getting married to you would benefit me.”

Flashing you a smile that would make most girls swoon he swept you up again, “Well if we get married there really would be no downside. With both of our assets combined we would be filthy rich and have enough power to take over the country if we wanted. Aside from having a few sons you would have to do nothing but live a life of luxury after our marriage.”

“I’m sorry but I’ll have to turn down your proposal at this current point in time,” you told him with as straight a face as possible, “I’m really not interested in marrying right now.”

“Just think about it Lady Y/n,” he lamented, “together we could be the most powerful people on the continent!”

You huffed as the music came to a close and you stopped moving, he held you hand keeping you on the dance floor as those who wanted to leave cleared the floor and the orchestra began playing again. Just as you were about to answer him your hand was taken by somebody else, smoothly knocking his grasp from yours.

“Mind if I cut in?” Sehun asked, holding his arm tightly around you. It wasn’t exactly a question since he was the king but he still carried you off into the crowd of dancers before Lord Taek could answer.

“It’s quite a coincidence that you’ve managed to find yourself back in court isn’t it Lady Y/n?” he hissed in your ear, “When you left I thought I’d never see you again but now you return the most powerful Lady in the country. Aside from my future wife of course.”

“It is quite a coincidence isn't it,” You agreed with him keeping your voice as steady and emotionless as possible, “I’m not sure if I believe it myself yet either, it’s a lot of responsibility.”

He scoffed, “Well, we both know there were a lot of responsibilities you couldn’t handle either.”

You grimaced as he prepared to lift you over his head with a flourish. The lift and jumps were never your favourite part of dancing as you didn’t have the advantage of being much smaller than your partner like many of the other girls. It always felt awkward and this time was no different as you weren’t sure whether he would drop you or not.

“Now, it doesn’t seem like you have much choice about marriage,” he pointed out, “And it seems the governors son is already foaming at the mouth with the idea of marrying you?”

“You saw that?”

“Everyone did, he wasn’t exactly subtle with his proposal a few minutes ago.”

“Oh….” you sighed cheeks going warmer. The music slowed and people began to clap as the dance was finished. Partners were breaking apart and drifting back into the crowd but his hands only tightened around your waist as you tried to draw away from him. His rough fingertips dug into the bottom of your exposed back and you felt his breath against your neck as he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Lord Taek is a greedy bastard, maybe he deserves someone like you.” he spat at you before disappearing back into the crowd.

You stood there stunned for a few minutes until someone came up and grabbed your hand pulling you back into a swarm of people where you were quickly surrounded by the princes demanding for you to tell them what was going on. Quickly, you brushed them off and headed back to your room saying you felt ill and needed to rest.

-----

The clatter of people returning from the gala to their rooms had died down a long time ago but you were still wide awake. The clock on the wall chimed telling you it was three in the morning, the curtain danced in the warm summer air drifting in through the open balcony windows. Feeling restless you slipped a loose dress on over your nightgown and made your way through the silent palace corridors and into the gardens. Slowly and silently you made your way through the first five gardens, the sound of your slippers brushing against the plush grass, the hush of the wind dancing through the night, the soft trickle of the fountains, the chirping of crickets were the sounds that filled your ears in the silence. And cautiously you made your way from the garden of day into the garden of night.

It took your breath away, unlike the other gardens which glowed during the daylight hours but were otherwise dimmed by the absence of sunlight. The night garden glowed on it’s own. Purple wisteria spilled from every crack and crevice, hundreds of lights twinkling softly like stars hung from the domed glass roof giving off an otherworldly glow. You followed the twisting path in the tunnel of little purple flowers until finally it gave way to a large pond filled with little silver fish that seemed to glow in the moonlight. Continuing to follow the path around the side of the lake you came to a small structure sheltering an intricately carved marble bench. Sitting on the cool surface you took notice of the round white flowers that began to blossom in the moonlight; tentatively, you reached out a fingertip to brush against the soft petals.

“We call them moonflowers,” Sehun said, emerging from behind one of the pillars. Gone were his royal robes which he was wearing for the gala and now he was wearing something more similar to what he used to wear back in Arye. There was a certain charm that came with his messy hair and half buttoned shirt which had butterflies swarming in your stomach. It seemed so long ago that you were back in the palace of Arye, innocent and in love. Unaware of everything the world had in store for you.

“They’re beautiful,” you told him, returning your hand to rest in your lap.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, you nodded, “Too busy worrying about who to invite to your wedding with Lord Taek?”

“I declined his proposal.”

“He doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Well it’s the only answer he’s going to get!” You exclaimed jumping up.

You both stopped and stood in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you told him before dipping back into a lull of silence, “This place is really beautiful.”

“It’s always been for you, this garden. When you had nightmares I meant for you to come out here and have it be like your safe haven. Nobody except for the gardener is allowed in here still, and you of course.” He explained.

Smiling, you told him softly, “Thank you.”

“Don’t spend too much time out here,” he warned you, “There’s an early start tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” you called after him as he disappeared down the path, leaving you alone with your thoughts again.

-----

With careful steps you climbed into the carriage, footmen closing the door tightly behind you. The line of carriages stretched through the whole driveway of the palace as the various guests loaded in. Jiyoon had offered to come with you so you wouldn’t be alone but you declined, the ride up the mountainside would give you time to relax from the night before. The second day of festivities would be a picnic on the mountaintop behind the palace, it was clear as the sun was shining down upon the palace that it would be a beautiful day full of fun. Peeking out the window of your carriage as you waited to set off you noticed you were dressed quite differently than many of the other ladies climbing into their own carriages. Many of them wore high necked, floor length dresses with varying sleeve lengths. They were made of lightly patterned cotton and lace in many layers to help the wearer remain cool in the warm sunlight. On the other hand you had opted for something a little more reminiscent of what people in Iyle wore in the south where it was much, much warmer. Your sleeves were short and puffed, ending about halfway down your upper arm, like your dress from last night the neckline was wide and trimmed with lace while the back was low. With only one cotton layer dyed a soft periwinkle and spotted with many small blossoms the skirt ended midway down your calves giving you an ease of movement something longer wouldn’t allow. Opting to leave the parasol behind you donned a wide brimmed straw sun hat decorated with a ribbon matching the colour of the blossoms leaving your hair loose.

After a few minutes it seemed everybody was ready in their carriages and you set off with a lurch, rolling down the pebble drive and out the gates, up the mountain road. The view of the seaside cliffs from out your window caused you to reminisce about your trip down the coast for the first time you visited Iyle with the diving gulls and crashing waves, bordered by the swaying grasses and wildflowers. Drifting through daydreams it felt like hardly a moment had passed before you were climbing out and onto the plush grass. Blankets were already strewn about the meadow, each with a wicker basket placed in the center waiting for people to join them for lunch. One step at a time you made your way towards the open meadow until a flying ball of pink attached herself to your side with a giggle.

“Isn’t this amazing Y/n?” Jiyoon exclaimed as who you were guessing the two other princesses made their way over to your side, “This is Princess Sejung of Meadazia and Princess Hyejin of Qeca, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten them.”

“How could I?” you said with a smile, offering them both a small curtsy which only Hyejin returned. Jiyoon was the same as always, full of energy as she dragged the lot of you away in order to find the best picnic spot. After a morning of playing about in the meadows the four of you settled down for lunch, weaving flowers into each other’s hats and hair. Other guests came by to chat time after time but none stayed long, moving onto the next blanket to continue their greetings.

After lunch was finished you and Jiyoon left the two sun fatigued princesses chatting with a group of young lords and ladies as you headed off to find the croquet set Sehun had mentioned to Jiyoon last night. Once the two of you found it you played round after round until finally you were released by a tap on the shoulder.

“Would you mind going for a stroll with me Lady Y/n?” Lord Taek asked with a sparkling smile.

You glanced over at Jiyoon who had quickly stopped paying attention to the game and started paying attention to the two of you. You turned back to him uncertain of what to say, “Well…”

“She’d love to go! It’s such a lovely afternoon isn’t it?” Jiyoon cut you off, grabbing the croquet mallet from your hands and shoving you towards him.

You stumbled and he caught your hand with a grin, “Thank you Princess, I’ll make sure to return her in one piece,” he told her.

“Don’t worry, you two go have fun!”

You shot her one last pleading look before you were dragged off behind Taek and down the hillside. Surprisingly he didn’t bring up the proposal again, the two of you spent most of the time talking and getting to know each other, the two of you were nowhere near close friends by the time dinner was called but you could say he would be a decent young man if he wasn’t so set on marriage.

Unlike lunch earlier dinner was a celebration meant to give thanks for the previous year’s good fortune with food, friends, family, and as you quickly found out, lots and lots of drinking. You were only a few glasses of champagne in, when like the devil she was, Jiyoon made you drop your glass and join her in dancing around the bonfire.

“Hurry up Y/n!” she squealed as she kicked off her shoes, grabbed a handful of her long skirt and began spinning in circles to the hypnotizing beat of the drums. Feeling light from the bubbling beverage you followed suit, knocking off your hat and shoes, throwing your hands into the air with a shout of delight. The drum beats matched the pounding of your heart as you leaped around the growing fire, others equally as tipsy, if not more, quickly joined in with your pounding feet. The air filled with laughter, shouts, and music as you travelled around the circle linking arms and spinning with whoever wished to dance with you. You were in a trance, the sparkling champagne infecting you, the drum beats carrying your feet for hours as the moon rose higher into the sky. Before you realized a cool breeze hit your cheeks and you felt yourself being pulled away from the large bonfire and towards a farther side of the meadow. The fresh evening breeze sobered you and you made out Lord Taek’s glinting smile from in front of you.

“I never would have expected you to be one for dancing,” he said stopping and spinning you in front of him. He leaned close and laughed, “or drinking.”

“And I never expected you to be the one waiting on the sidelines,” you hiccuped, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, were you really so drunk he could tell just from looking at you? You certainly didn’t feel drunk but maybe your vision was blurring at the corners just a little.

He scoffed, “Believe me, nobody loves to drink more than me. Unfortunately my mother has prohibited me from touching any and all alcohol today after what happened last year.”

“What happened last year?”

“It’s too late in the evening to get into it now,” he told you with a laugh, “Let’s just say I ended up with a few scars, but not nearly as many as you Lady Y/n,” he said grasping your arm and bringing it closer to his face so he could inspect it. You could feel the ill intention in his grasp as the silver stars twinkled in the moonlight. “Tell me dearest,” he whistled, “Where did you get these scars?”

The world snapped back into focus, suddenly it felt like and were crawling along every inch of your body, tiny pinpricks against every limb. You tore your arms from his grasp, hiding in protectively behind your back, “That’s none of your concern,” you sputtered out before stumbling back to the bonfire as fast as your jelly legs could carry you. The pounding of the drums once again drowned out your thoughts as you grabbed another glass of wine, and another, and then another before being pulled into the circle of dancing once again.

Slowly but surely the crowd trickled away, climbing into their carriages in a drunken stupor and being carted back to the palace. Eventually there were only only a few people left, Jiyoon and the other princesses have disappeared already along with the other princes whom you hadn’t seen much of during the day. Vision spinning you climbed into your carriage collapsing onto the plush seat as the driver shut the door behind you. The carriage dipped as you felt the driver climbing to his seat, you closed your eyes and rested your head against the side of the carriage but the telltale poll of the carriage didn’t come.

“Take us to the back entrance and if you tell anyone about this I’ll have you exiled!” The man outside the carriage ordered.

“Yes sir,” the driver replied as Sehun climbed into the carriage beside you and the horses began trotting away.

“Sehun…” you said breathlessly, “What are you doing here?” his face was flushed from drinking and his hair had escaped from its previous slicked back style and now was hanging in front of his dark eyes. You fingers twitched at the thought of running your hands through his hair as he loomed over you, gaze weighing heavily on your own.

“I want to be with you tonight,” was all he said before he attacked your lips. You gave in easily, mind clouded by drinks you were putty in his arms as he held you close to him. He was warm against the chill of the night and you gladly moved closer to him grabbing handfuls of his half unbuttoned shirt. You broke apart and you could feel his hot breath on your neck as he whispered in your ear.

“I'm still in love with you,” he breathed out, soul pouring through his eyes and into your own before you pulled his lips to yours. A few moments later he pulled away panting before gently moving away from your face and taking your hand in his placing a kiss on the scar closest to your wrist.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered against your skin before moving onto the next. He repeated this process kissing each and every scar on both of your arms and telling you how much he loved you before moving onto your back. The feeling of his rough lips against your back sent shivers down your spine and once he was finished your lips locked once more.

Once you reached the palace he pulled you behind him through the servants corridors stopping every few seconds to make sure you were still behind him as if he was afraid you were a dream and would disappear as soon as he looked away. The grand clock chimed for three in the morning when he pulled you into his chambers shutting the door and pressing you against it, kissing you passionately. Slowly as you moved closer to the bed his kisses grew softer and when he finally pulled himself away you met his eyes.

“Is this what you really want?” he asked between heavy breaths.

The air hung heavy as you slowly reached up to pull him into a kiss as your answer, when you broke away again you reached behind your back and slowly began undoing the buttons of your dress.

----

You woke as the clock chimed six with a start. The sun was just beginning to rise through the window and everything from the previous night came rushing back to you as your pounding headache cleared just enough to see who’s room you were in and your lack of any clothing. Thankfully Sehun was nowhere to be seen as you quickly threw your dress back on, collecting your shredded undergarments with an embarrassed blush before saying a quick prayer that you wouldn’t run into anyone in the hallway as you scurried back to your rooms. Thanking the gods that you weren’t caught you quickly ran yourself a hot bath, eager to wash last night not only from your body but your mind as well. The steam enveloped you, the scent of the bath oils filling the air as you let the heat of the water seep into your muscles. When you were finished you pulled on the soft robe and headed back into your room only to be met with Yixing sitting on an armchair next to the fireplace.

Quickly you pulled your robe even tighter and fastened the belt at the waist with multiple knots, “What are you doing here?” you exclaimed.

“Good Morning to you too Lady Y/n,” he said calmly, not moving from where he sat, “I’ll give you a few moments to get dressed then please come back here, I brought you breakfast and hangover medication. We have a lot to talk about.”

You gulped and nodded silently. Rarely was that amount of seriousness ever heard in Yixings voice so you scurried into your closet and pulled on a comfortable gown and plush sweater, quickly braiding your hair away from your face before returning back to the chair next to Yixing where breakfast awaited you. With a smile he urged you to take the medicine which quickly did a good job of clearing up most of your headache leaving only a dull throbbing.

He cleared his throat and placed his cup of tea back down on the table, folding his hand in his lap in a very royal manner, “I saw you last night,” he said.

You gaped at him, you thought that everyone would have already passed out cold by the time you and the King reached the palace, “How?” was all you asked.

“I came back earlier with Baekhyun who was far beyond drunk, I was heading to the kitchen to get a cup of tea and some things for him in the morning after I finally got him settled when I saw the two of you dashing through the servants corridors. I followed you just to make sure you were alright and I saw the two of you disappear into Sehun’s room,” he cleared his throat, “I pretty much assumed what happened after you didn’t come out for a while.”

Your cheeks were the brightest pink you had ever been before, you were so sure nobody had seen you and yet, one of your closest friends had caught the two of you in the act.

“Nobody else saw you two, just me,” he assured you, “But Y/n you know what this means for your future marriage. You must be careful from now on, I won’t tell anyone but you have to make sure nobody finds out,” he warned, “If they do, the chances of you finding a husband are slim to none.”

“I know,” you said, head hanging.

“The one way around that would be to marry Sehun,” he told you softly, “I don’t want to worry you Y/n, but what if you’re pregnant? It’s almost impossible to get the herb that will stop your pregnancy anywhere on the continent after it was outlawed and the fields were burned by our predecessors. What will you tell people then?”

“I don’t know.”

He squeezed your hand in a comforting manner, “I don’t mean to burden you but I just want you to make sure you’re being careful. I’ll help you in any way I can, I promise.”

“Thank you,” you told him with a weak smile.

“The ball is tonight,” He said standing and moving towards the door, “I don’t want to tell you something you already know but if things don’t go the way you want, my door is always open.”

He shut the door behind him as he left leaving you to finish eating alone. After spending your morning alone in your room as the clock struck twelve noon you headed down to the Library to eat lunch with Jiyoon and the other princesses. As they chattered away like the small birds outside your window in the morning you kept to yourself, focusing more on the food in front of you than the conversation around you. Yesterday you had agreed to spend the afternoon with the girls as they got ready for the Solstice ball that evening, it was the grandest party of the summer and they assured you that they would need all the time they could manage. As soon as the four of you had finished your plates were cleared and you headed up to Jiyoon’s chambers. Being the ever so attentive friend she was, Jiyoon noticed something was up and pulled you aside.

“Is something going on Y/n? You don’t seem like yourself…” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

You smiled softly and gave her hand a squeeze, “I’m sorry, I’m just so exhausted after last night. I had too much to drink and not enough sleep but I’ll be okay by this evening,” you assured her, “I left my things in my rooms, I’ll come straight here after I go and get it.”

She nodded and dropped your hand. You gave her a small wave before she disappeared into her chambers and you down the hall. When you had almost reached your rooms you paused when angry voices came drifting from one of the conference rooms.

“You must make a decision, your highness! The solstice ball is tonight!”

“Things in the Southern Continent are getting restless,” a second male voice shouted, “There will be a war soon and you must marry to secure your throne!”

“Forget Lady Haerin,” A third one said, “Marry Lady Y/n, she is the most powerful of any lord or lady in our country!”

“Things are no different in your brother’s country,” the second one said again, “His advisors are pressuring him to marry more than we are you! You are not a child anymore.”

You backed away mind spinning from the information you had gotten from only a few sentences. There would be a war with the southern continent? Lord Cha had mentioned trade had been slow but you had no idea. You quickly shook it off and moved on to your rooms before anyone could catch you listening in or Jiyoon would get worried.

----

Your mind was elsewhere as you let Jiyoon do what she would with your appearance, hours seemed to fly by so quickly until you were standing in front of the grand ballroom as the Speaker announced your arrival. You went in before Jiyoon since she was at a higher position than you were, the grand staircase seemed shorter than last time with everybody milling about and almost no eyes on you. As an attempt to avoid attention you had decided forgo the original dress you had planned to wear and wear something more plain. It was white with vines of little red flowers strewn around your shoulders, waist, and wrists. You definitely blended into the background compared to the dresses some of the other girls were wearing, Jiyoon sparkled next to you as you walked up to the dias to greet the king.The entire time you kept a blank expression, eyes trained on the floor, as you dropped into a low curtsy mumbling out a “Your Majesty,” before breaking apart from Jiyoon who joined her family sitting atop thrones and headed back into the crowd. Once everybody had been checked off the guest list one of the royal advisors climbed atop a pedestal and rang a small but piercing bell, drawing the attention to himself.

“The purpose of this evening’s ball is for His Royal Highness, The King, to have a final chance to spend time with the eligible ladies of the continent before choosing his bride. At midnight I ask you please to gather back here for the King to announce his bride and without any further, please let the festivities commence.”

The band struck up a tune and the dancefloor quickly filled with people, you wandered off to the agreed upon meeting place for you and Jiyoon once she was released from her royal duties.For most of the night you stayed huddled behind a large sculpture of flowers reading the small book about the continent’s greatest composers you had stashed in the many layers of your skirts. Jiyoon stayed to chat and keep you company for a while but left quickly to flit around the crowds dancing and chatting like the social butterfly she was. People came and went, most who saw you turned away at the first glimpse of you looming behind a book but the Princes periodically stopped to chat without you, hiding from their parents or the hordes of girls always swarming around them. Finally the all ganged up on you, Baekhyun stole your book and Minseok pulled you onto the dance floor, despite the constant panic at the back of your mind you found yourself having a good time with them as they traded off with you for dances. When they were finally done with you, your book was returned and you headed back to your spot with a dazed smile.

It was almost Midnight and Sehun hadn’t paid any attention to you all night, every now and again you would see him with Haerin hanging off his arm but nothing more. As you emerged from the edge of the crowd into the shaded wings of the ballroom you were met with the man himself.

“Follow me,” he muttered before turning and disappearing through one of the doors that led to the garden. You turned back to the crowd and quickly spotted a fuming Haerin before a hand grabbed your wrist and Sehun pulled you into the garden behind him.

“You should listen to the king when he gives you an order,” he said as you trailed behind him. You stayed silent until he finally stopped you in the middle of a patch of rose bushes.

You looked up to meet his eyes and tightened your fists around your skirts, trying not to let the small bit of hope you had left peek through if he was just going to torture you, “It’s almost midnight,” you told him, “You need to be inside to announce who you’re going to marry, why are you out here… with me?”

“I need to know,” he told you, reaching out to grab your hands softly in complete contrast to before, “I know I said I wouldn’t ask again but you have to tell me the truth now, after everything that’s happened. I love you more than anything in the world and no matter how many times I try to convince myself otherwise my heart always ends up going back to you and I think you feel the same way. This isn’t just for political power it’s because I want you and I have wanted you long before you became the Lady of Iyle. I need to know now, Y/n, if I asked you to marry me what would you say.”

You looked deep into his eyes and saw a reflection of yourself inside and whispered with all your heart, no moment of doubt, “Yes.”

He kissed you softly before heading back indoors right as the clock chimed for midnight hand intertwined with yours. Your heart pounded in your ears as he slipped his hand from yours and weaved around the crowd to stand with his advisors on the dias. Jiyoon quickly found your side as the same advisor from earlier began speaking, she squeezed your hand.

“Now, as the clock strikes midnight, his Royal Highness, King Sehun, will announce who will become his bride and the next queen of Oclaria.”

Everyone was silent as the trumpets wailed and Sehun stepped forward slowly, you felt eerily calm as your eyes moved across the crowd, seeing Haerin looking smug at the front of the crowd, and finally landing on Sehun where his gaze met yours.

“I am pleased to announce,” he said calmly, eyes never leaving yours, “That my bride and the next queen of Oclaria will be… Lady Y/n of Iyle!”

The crowd erupted around you as you took in all the shocked faces of officials throughout the room. You felt Jiyoon hug you tightly screaming into your ear before four guards surrounded you and brought you through the crowd and to the dias. Sehun outstretched his hand with a smile and without hesitation you placed your hand in his and stepped in front of the throne beside him and looked out across the crowd of cheering people with your hand still firmly wrapped in his.

#exowritersnet #exo #exo k #exo m #exo sehun #exo sehun fanfic #exo sehun fanfic au #sehun #oh sehun #exo fanfic #exo fanfic rec #exo fanfic au #exo fanfic recs #exo fanfiction #exo fanfiction au #exo royal #exo royal au #exo royalty au

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theamberwriter · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! For the prompt list... Maybe 98 and 107 for Bakugou?

[I was very excited that someone actually did a request. So I ended up writing it all in one sitting, lol Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you like it <3]

Word Count: 2480

Warnings: Honestly, this got a little dark. Prompts: 98 - “Don’t stand up here and pretend to be proud of me!” 107 - “I like your face.”

The day had finally come. The one you’d anticipated for your entire life. Your UA high graduation, where you’d officially become a hero. A real, actual, licensed pro! It’d been a long, tough road to get here. You were grateful to your friends for supporting you this far.

Your palms sweat as you heard the road of the crowd. You had graduated second in your class. That made you extra proud, but also extremely nervous. You sat, listening to the principal as he congratulated you all on your hard work. All the pros were there, even small form All Might. Everyone gave a small speech.

But then, something up expected happened. Up walked a face you'd known well. Who was a year older than you, who had became a great friend in the two years you'd known him.

"Now, we have a little surprise for you all," announced principal Nezu as he returned to the podium. "When he went here, he was known as Katsuki Bakugo. I know you all know him already. He did great things while he was here, his class went through many trials. But, since he's left UA, he's done even greater things and made name for himself - as Ground Zero."

There was a deafening roar as Katsuki stepped up to the podium. A few disgruntled grumbles coming from your peers. Katsuki stood with his infamous smirk. Looking extremely dapper in his suit. His hair still looking like a blond explosion. Your heart skipped a beat.

"Thanks, principal Nezu," Katsuki said, you could hear the strain in his voice. He was trying really, really hard to be friendly. To be the kind of charismatic guy he needed to be as a hero. "During my last two years at UA, I was sought out by a dorky, little, first-year wimp. They may have been a weakling, but they had an incredible quirk of their own. I never thought we'd be friends. But I wouldn't be standing here, as a friend or as a hero, if we'd never been. They're second in your class, by just a half-point. And I've got a surprise for ‘em, since they stuck it out so long. [Name] get your ass up here."

"You have got to be kidding me," you muttered, moving out of line. You sprinted up to the front and up the stairs. You were going to murder Katsuki once this was over.

He immediately threw his arm, which had bulked up considerably since he'd graduated, around your shoulders. He pulled you into a tight side-hug, whispering, "I'm proud of you, kid."

Your heart rate picked up. You could feel heat in your face. You looked down at your shoes. Grateful you'd hadn't tripped and fallen to make things worse. You couldn’t understand why Katsuki was here, and why he’d decided to do the single thing you out. Or why Principal Nezu had even let it happen.

"I thought we'd share today with people who are just as happy for you. Just as proud of you," he announced. "Two heroes that have a place in people's hearts -"

You looked at him, your heart jostling in anxiety. Your knees quaked, your palms slicking more than they’d been. "Please tell me you didn't."

"Your parents, Oracle and Vaporwave." Katsuki gestured over the left. And out walked two people you'd dreaded seeing - your parents. They were all happy. All smiles. Acting as if years of mental and emotional torment hadn't happened.

"Katsuki, you shouldn't have," you muttered, trying to pull away from his grip. He didn't know. You hadn't told him. You’d only shared this with one person. "Like really, you shouldn't -"

He shrugged. Proudly stating, "It was nothing."

Katsuki pushed you towards your parents. You walked slowly. Trying to keep the time until you had to hug them as long as possible. There was a reason you'd chosen to live with your aunt in an entirely different town. Your parents beamed at you. And then, before you knew it before you were ready, they hugged you. You tried your best not to recoil. You had to play it cool. At least until you were off stage.

"We're so proud," your father said in your ear. "It's about time you were useful."

“But number two, really?” scoffed your mother as she hugged you. “You should’ve been better.”

Your parents pulled you to the microphone. You stood numbly, unhearing. Staring out at a million smudges of color. Sinking back into your childhood. Where you were a doll, a decoration. Trained to smile so you looked like a happy family to the public.

"We're so proud of [Name]," your mother said, fake sniffling. Her crocodile tears didn't fool you. You knew she was an ugly crier. "Ever since they were small. We knew they'd grow up to be someone great."

"We spent every second we could grooming and preparing [Name] to be a great hero," your father continued. Each word put another building block of anger in you. Filling you up, tempting you to overflow. Just a little longer. "We're so proud. And we're glad you all finally get to see what we saw all those years ago. Why I remember many fond times -"

He was going to go on a tangent with fake family memories. They'd rehearsed them, you knew it. They were going to keep up this image of a happy family. Like you were fine. Like you weren’t just the unwanted child of a mother, paid off to have a baby and keep her mouth shut. As your father kept droning on about the fake memory, you hit your tipping point. You wouldn't let them fool anyone anymore.

"Shut up," you uttered. You could feel the control you’d worked so hard on slipping.

Your father looked at you. "What?"

"I said," you started lowly, then shouted, "SHUT. UP!!"

Katsuki tried to put a hand on your shoulder, but you slapped it away. You shot him a warning glare. You could see the anger and confusion in his eyes. You didn’t have a reason to be mad at him. Especially when it was your fault you’d never told him.

Your mother smiled with fake patience. "Now, honey, we know this is embarrassing. But you've done so well -"

"What's embarrassing is having parents who didn't want me!" you yelled, the entire stadium went quiet. "After what you put me through - Don’t stand up here and pretend to be proud of me. Don’t stand up here and pretend you didn’t do what he did. Don’t pretend like you didn’t pull that same crap as Endeavor!”

You have the same sad sob story as Endeavor’s boy, you heard your mother’s smug words to you echoed in the back of your head. Isn’t it just pathetic? Isn’t it just sad? We’re the real losers here. Paying off that woman, only for her to have a dud like you. No one will take you seriously. They’ll think you’re just leeching on to a more famous backstory.

“What’re you talking about?” Her voice was dripping sweet and bitter. She tried to reach for you, but you smack away her hand. Then you shoved her hard, sending her flying into your father. The two landed a few feet away.

“I was friends with Todoroki!” you snapped, stomping your foot. “I told him. I told him what you did. We shared our trauma. Pathetic parents, creating children because they were too weak to come out on top themselves. - I’m not an experiment! You thought I was pathetic and useless as a child! You don’t get to stand here and act like I became someone because of your help. It’s because I don’t want to be anything like you two that I climbed until I was near the top. I’ll take number two. Because it means I stand above you. In a place you could never hope to reach.”

For the first time, your parents looked at you with fear in their eyes. With respect. Taking notice of what they’d done. It didn’t help you’d ended up in the air, and you were wild and glowing. And probably two seconds away from obliterating them. Even after all this time, when you let your emotions get to you, your control slipped. You acted without thinking. Fight or flight.

You glowered down at them. “Now I want you both to leave. I don’t ever want to see you again. - Thank you. For ruining my graduation day.”

You landed on your feet, and sprinted across the stage and out of sight. Your parents scrambled off the opposite side of the stage. Principal Nezu took the podium awkwardly, clearing his throat as he tried to get the day back on track. Katsuki chased after you, slamming open every door until he found you. You were curled in a ball, silent tears down your cheeks. He shut the door behind him.

“Uh,” he murmured hesitantly. “Hey. Nerd. You okay?”

You stood before you could think, bolting to him in a flash. You were in his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I told you we didn’t get along. Why the hell would you do that?!”

“I thought it’d be nice! I didn’t know it was this fucking bad!” He took a step back. “How the hell am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?!”

You groaned. “I thought it would have been common sense -”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Common sense ‘we don’t get along’ just makes me think that they don’t - I don’t fucking know - don’t like your friends. Don’t like the path you chose because it’s fucking dangerous. Not because you were a damn experiment!”

“Don’t call me that.” You could feel the white-hot rage filling you. But this was Katsuki you were talking to. Not your parents. And he had a point. Still, you couldn’t help it. “I am more than just some experiment!”

“I know!” he yelled. Then took a long moment’s pause. He tried to even himself out, but there was still an angry edge to his voice. “Why do you think I let you tag along? Why do you think I stopped trying to ditch you like Deku?! - Because nobody else was talking you up! But I could see it. All the potential you had. You had that fire. But you weren’t using it right! I didn’t want to see you fail. And you didn’t. And if you think I’m going to let you go and do something fucking stupid to mess all your work up -”

You felt your feet leave the floor. What business was it of his if you let all your work go to waste? Who’d even let you be a hero after this burst?! “Why do you even care if I fail or not?!’

“Because I think I love you, dumbass!” His face turned red as he processed the words that came out of his mouth. “I mean - I like your face - I - Shit - I like everything about you - and - fucking hell -”

Katsuki shot a blast out a window. He roared in some sort of rage, bellowing, “You’re the only person in the fucking world I want to outrank me! You’re the only person I’d let be number one over me. I like your stupid face. And your stupid quirk. I want to be a team. But not just at being pros. I mean, in life. I want to just - this is a shit time for this. Especially after I made you so upset. I have no fucking right to say this. But - I’m pretty fucking sure I love you. And that I wanna spend the rest of my damn life with you.”

Katsuki wrapped his arms around your leg, you still in the air. Katsuki was eye level with your belly button. You looked down at him. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. But you saw the anger in his eyes. It was mixed with concern. With regret. His face was full of emotions you’d never seen him have before. It began to fizzle the fire in you.

He stared up at you, keeping a hold on you. “I’m sorry for inviting them, for embarrassing you. I should’ve asked. I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve asked why you didn’t get along. And if it was okay if I brought them. This is all my fucking fault. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. If you’ll let me.”

He supported your weight as you fell out of the air. You’d had a thing for him since you’d first met him. Originally, you just admired him for being insanely strong and thought he’d be a good person as a mentor. Your feelings for him crashed down on you like a meteor. You hadn’t even realized them until he’d actually let you stick around for a few months. But everyone said you were stupid. That you’d never get anywhere because he was too goal-driven to look around. Because he was too selfish to think of anyone but himself.

You supposed this proved them wrong.

“I’m still pissed at you,” you noted. Katsuki nodded, anticipation flickering through his eyes. “But what did you have in mind? Is the great Ground Zero asking me on a proper date?”

Katsuki smiled - a real one. Not that stupid smirk. He squeezed your legs tightly. “I could never have been half as great without you. - And I’ll fucking murder you, you tell anyone I said that. But I’ll take you to dinner, a nice restaurant. None of those little bullshit hole-in-the-wall places you seem to think are so swanky. An actual restaurant, somewhere fancy. Black tie. I’ll do anything I can until you see I care. Just you and I - a team for life. Through everything.”

When you two went back, after an hour of filling Katsuki in on your past, you discovered your parents had been escorted off campus. And you were given your awards and diplomas and certificates behind the scenes. After what happened, everyone thought it was best. Later that day, you also filed a restraining order against your parents. They weren’t going to mess with you anymore. A weight felt like it was lifted off of you.

Katsuki took you out for the best date of your life a few nights later. He followed through with his promise. He took you out to the nicest restaurant he could find. It was black tie, so you wore your best. But you guys ended up getting take out after anyway because the portions were so small. You’d never felt so whole as sitting in Katsuki’s apartment, half-dressed up, laughing at some crappy movie, and scarfing down some takeaway. This made up for the graduation day disaster. You just hoped that Katsuki kept his word, and you’d be a team for life. And not just at work.

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jflashandclash · 5 years ago

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Tales From Mount Othrys

Why Little Siblings Need Fidget Spinners II

Lou Ellen was better at sneaking out than he was—something he found obnoxious since he was the one trained in stealth. She had recently learned to cast an invisibility spell. However, it sputtered and flickered when she giggled. This happened frequently enough that Pax claimed there must be a haunting as he walked around the ship.

Pax, meanwhile, could turn into other people. He mostly kept this a secret. Only Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and—of course—Axel knew about it. They’d even been nervous about telling Flynn and Jack. Axel thought Flynn would send Pax into enemy territory, something far too dangerous in Axel’s eyes.

What did Axel think Mercedes was training Pax in? Basket weaving? At some point, Axel needed to realize that Pax grew bored being useless and would start to do less-than-useful pranks if left to his own devices. Matthias was always full of ideas that sparked his chaotic side.

Pax hadn’t wanted to be around when Flynn found out that Jack was missing. As such, he needed to find someone that could leave the ship without asking anyone’s permission.

Pax thought he found the perfect person until a woman’s voice hissed, “You smell odd, Witch Boy.”

They were making their way to the Centaur Exit Port. (Pax preferred to think of the centaurs as emergency pods.) He resisted the urge to make mechanical docking noises as they approached.

Pax froze at the woman’s voice. He tried to keep calm. Acting was one of his specialties. What would Alabaster say? “I have a name,” Pax growled.

Not perfect, though Alabaster was sensitive about people calling him by his full name.

He turned, fingering the golden apple in his pocket the same way that Alabaster would finger a spell pouch. A golden apple appeared in his pocket every morning, a gift from his mother. Each apple granted the ability to shift into another person for a short period of time, assuming his intention in that time was to cause some mischief.

Beside him, he could hear Lou Ellen inhale sharply.

The women who spoke wore the dark dress of a mourner. Her eyes glowed the green of a child of Hecate. Serpentine slits made her eyes unique. Beautiful, Pax thought. Her clenched fists had nails hardened to claws. From the way she ground her jaw, Pax could see crocodile teeth between her lips.

Lamia, Alabaster’s sister. Pax almost choked. This woman had publically challenged Alabaster multiple times for control of Hecate’s children. Alabaster had beaten her each time. Afterwards, though, Pax had helped dislodge ice blades from Alabaster’s skin and treat the burns of magical wounds. Luke was bringing a stop to the challenges, since he couldn’t afford to have two of Hecate’s most powerful children injured. Plus, while Luke and Alabaster argued, Alabaster supported Kronos’ army. Lamia might not.

Pax might look like Alabaster, but he certainly couldn’t use magic to stop Lamia if she chose to attack.

Lamia took a step closer to him, uncomfortably close. Her eyes were terrifying at this distance. With Alabaster’s gangly height, they were almost level to Pax’s. Although a scowl winkled her face, Pax could tell she was gorgeous, having the elegance of a full-grown woman. If Pax didn’t look like Lamia’s half-brother and they weren’t trying to sneak off the ship, he might have given Lamia a kiss on the cheek, just to annoy and fluster her.

Then again, Lamia was a few centuries too old for him.

She sniffed. “You smell odd.”

“That’s a riveting observation,” Pax said, mimicking Alabaster’s slow, wry speech. Again, not perfect, but close. Hopefully close enough.

She snapped her jaws at him.

Pax used all of his will power not to flinch. Alabaster would not appreciate if he looked weak to this woman.

“If you don’t mind,” Pax said, nodding towards the centaur docking bay.

Lamia snorted. She turned towards the origin of Lou Ellen’s earlier gasp. “Lou Ellen, you’re sparking,” she said reproachfully, “Someone—” Her eyes shot to Alabaster. “—should be teaching you better.”

Lou Ellen released an indignant snort. Pax could imagine the way her face screwed up in anger.

Blindly, he reached out, meaning to grab her shoulder in case she went after Lamia for the insult to Alabaster.

Instead of grabbing her arm, he grabbed her hair. He had forgotten he was so much taller when he looked like Alabaster.

She squeaked. “Pax!”

Pax immediately released her. “Sorry!”

Realizing how not-Alabaster that was, he coughed and gave Lamia a glower.

Lamia paused, examining them. “I see,” she said. Her expression twisted to one of amusement. Slowly, she walked away.

Pax released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Something told him that Lamia wouldn’t have smiled like that if she thought he was Alabaster.

They turned to a waiting centaur—or Pax assumed they both did. He didn’t hear Lamia scream from Lou Ellen casting some semi-successful spell.

A centaur with a brown and cream spotted coat, bronzed skin, and massive ram’s horns stared at Pax and the spot that was sparking beside him. “Oh… kay…” he said skeptically.

Maybe Pax was better at sneaking than Lou Ellen. He hadn’t noticed the sparking before, but what Lamia said to Lou Ellen made her spark like it was the Fourth of July.

Neither of them planned this part through very well. The centaur would likely notice if an invisible girl hopped on his back.

Before Pax could come up with something, Lou Ellen tugged at his lab coat, making the material billow. “The explosion is going to happen soon,” she said, sounding ill. A tremble in her voice cued Pax in to her smothered giggles.

Pax snapped his fingers. Everyone feared the children of Hecate’s magic when it went haywire.

“We need off the ship,” Pax said.

The centaur looked nervously at the sparks. “I didn’t hear anyone scheduled for a departure.”

Pax had never considered that there was proper paperwork to fill out to disembark. Alabaster, Luke, Flynn, or one of the Titans always organized disembarkment. He just assumed you were supposed to jump on a centaur and shout, “Fly like the wind, Bullseyes!”[1] and they would charge over a rainbow.

He made the most annoyed sigh he could manage. “When Lou Ellen’s spell wears off, it will blow a crater the size of this ship. Do you want to be around when that happens?”

Lou Ellen stifled another giggle.

The centaur paled. They had him.

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned next week to see who busts these two red-handed. Er, well, red-headed in Lou Ellen’s case and red-hipped in Pax’s? It’ll make more sense when you see all the blood—I mean paint. *ehem* Nothing bad ever happens to these characters in my story, right?

Footnote:

[1] This movie hadn’t come out yet according to the real time line. I don’t care. I’m willing Pax to have premonitions of Toy Story.

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #HOO #Fanfiction #TFMO #Lou Ellen #Pax #Lamia #I forgot how much I enjoyed writing the next chapter #I really hope you end up enjoying that one #despite being sick for the last two weeks and still recovering #I had a shockingly nice day today #I hope you guys did too <3 #No jokes #Just well wishes onto the rest of your weekend <3

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lo-lynx · 5 years ago

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Femininity in the Harry Potter books

I started writing this essay over a month ago, before (as it felt like) all hell broke loose regarding JK Rowling’s transphobic tweet. As a genderqueer person myself, her comments hurt. I have loved the Harry Potter novels since I was a teenager and have often found solace in both the magic of the story and the magic of the community around these books. So, in immediate aftermath of Rowling’s comments, I struggled with how to engage with this community and these books. At first, I really did not feel like continuing to write this analysis. Now, however, I felt like I at least owe it to my love of this series and fandom to finish it. So here we go:

Last year I wrote a post about how several of the villains in Harry Potter seem to be coded as queer. In that text I also wrote that I sometime would analyse the way femininity is portrayed in the Harry Potter books. Well, studying, work, and writing other stuff got in the way, but now I’m finally getting around to it! This post is definitely inspired by some of the conversations from the excellent podcast The Quibbler, where they lament some of descriptions of feminine characters in the books. So, shout out to them, do go check them out! In this analysis I’m going to lay out several different aspects of what I see as problematic portrayals of femininity in the Harry Potter books: the silly girls, the villainous feminine men, and the (queer coded) feminine evil women.

Now, I first want to focus on what I describe as “the silly girls”. When reading descriptions of girls in the Harry Potter novels, I can’t help seeing how many of them are portrayed in a way that Julia Serano might call “traditionally sexist” (2007, 326). Serano describes traditional sexism thusly:

Traditional sexism functions to make femaleness and femininity appear subordinate to maleness and masculinity. (…) For example, female and feminine attributes are regularly assigned negative connotations and meanings in our society. An example of this is the way that being in touch with and expressing one’s emotions is regularly derided in our society. (…) in the public mind, being “emotional” has become synonymous with being “irrational”. Another example is that certain pursuits and interests that are considered feminine, such as gossiping or decorating, are often characterised as “frivolous”, while masculine preoccupations- even those that serve solely recreational functions, such as sports- generally escape such trivialization. (Serano 2007, 326-327)

That is to say, that which is deemed feminine is seen as silly and irrational. Unfortunately this fits quite well with how a lot of the girls are portrayed in the novels, such as in the fourth novel before the Yule Ball: “Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night …” (Rowling 2000, 338) This motif of giggling girls returns many times, with Harry even thinking about Parvati that: “[He] was relieved to see that she wasn’t giggling.” (ibid 358) Speaking of Parvati, her and Lavender are continually portrayed as silly girls throughout the series, such as in this moment in Order of the Phoenix:

‘I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up on Divination now, don’t you Hermione?’ asked Parvati, smirking.

It was breakfast time, two days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney, and Parvati was curling her eyelashes around her wand and examining the effect in the back of her spoon. They were to have their first lesson with Firenze that morning.

‘Not really,’ said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. ‘I’ve never really liked horses.’

She turned a page of the newspaper and scanned its columns.

‘He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!’ said Lavender, sounding shocked.

‘A gorgeous centaur…’ sighed Parvati. (Rowling 2004, 528)

Here Parvati and Lavender’s apparent crushes on Firenze is portrayed as silly, and their focus on their appearance is probably meant to be seen as frivolous. It is also starkly contrasted with Hermione’s apparent rationality, especially as she is sitting reading a newspaper in the scene.

Now, how about the men in the story, are they not portrayed negatively as well? Well, yes, of course. But when looking at some of the male “villains” of the story, many of them are described as quite feminine as well. In my previous text I noted how this was the case for Lockhart for example, who is described like this when the reader first meets him:

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue which exactly matched his eyes, his pointed wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. (Rowling 2010, 49)

Lockhart is here (and throughout Chambers of Secrets) described as both vain, and quite feminine with his stylish outfits. These traits are part of what marks him out as an unlikable character. I noted above how Julia Serano writes about traditional sexism that traits and interests that are deemed feminine (such as caring about clothes) are devalued. Serano also writes about oppositional sexism, which she describes as the idea feminine attributes are seen as natural in women, and unnatural in men (2007, 326). Similarly, Lockhart’s “feminine” seems to be perceived as abnormal/bad in the story.

Another male villain that is described as feminine is Quirrell. When Harry sees him at the welcoming feast in the first book, he is described like this: “Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.” (Rowling 1997, 134). Both the nervousness and the turban later turn out to be part of Quirrell’s disguise as one of Voldemort’s agents. The nervousness making him seem less capable of evil deeds, and the turban hiding the fact that Voldemort is living as a parasite on his head. Both of these disguises are interesting in relation to femininity though. Stephen Whitehead writes that as a man one is expected to embody strength, toughness and control over physical space (2002, 189). He contrasts this with how women are expected to embody caution, restraint etc. With Quirrell’s nervousness (and re-occurring stutter) it is quite clear that he comes off as more feminine than masculine. Another thing is this turban that he wears. Based on his physical description Quirrell seems to be a white Englishman (he is described as “pale” when he is first introduced) (Rowling 1997, 80). Later he claims that this turban was a gift from an African prince for helping him get rid of a zombie (ibid, 147). So, it seems established that this turban is seen as strange on him, and that is connected to Africa. The way this is described makes me think of orientalism. Now, what is orientalism? It is a term that is meant to describe the way Europeans have viewed “the Orient” historically and to this day. This often entails seeing people from this region as savage, sexually depraved, but also viewing the men as emasculated and week (Carroll 2018, 121). (I’m referencing this specific book because I happened to have it on hand, but a lot of different people have written on texts on this theme). In story, Quirrell claims that he (the white Englishman) got this turban as a gift from helping an African prince (it should be noted that “Africa” is very vague, I’m here choosing to see it as part of “the Orient”, but it’s not necessarily that). The other characters doubt this story, but it does tie in with the perception of “oriental” men as week (and in need of help). But Quirrell wearing a turban also ties him to this image, and perhaps makes him seem even more effeminate.

Finally, I want to touch on a theme that I wrote also about in the text about queer coded villains in the Harry Potter books, that of the female villains. Here I’ll focus on Dolores Umbridge and Rita Skeeter, and how their femininity is part of what is meant to make the reader think of them as bad. When we first meet Skeeter, she is described like this:

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two inch-nails, painted crimson. (Rowling 2000, 266)

So, the description makes her sound feminine, but there’s also something off with her rigid curls, heavy-jawed face, and long red nails. This reminds me of how feminist theorist Ulrika Dahl describes that being femme can be queer (2016). By doing femininity wrong, for instance in a way that is seen as trashy, one can come off queer. Another way of seeing this is to analyse the way that Umbridge is described:

She looked, Harry thought, as someone’s maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan that she wore over her robes. (Rowling 2004, 183)

I want to note two things here. Firstly, that she is described as a maiden aunt, that is a woman who is of an age where she should be married with children but are not. Clearly, she’s breaking the expected life pattern of a woman here. Secondly, the way her clothes are described makes her seem girlish, which is the same way her voice is described as on several occasions. Her appearance is not what is expected of a woman of her age. This puts me in mind of what Elizabeth Freeman describes as temporal drag (2000). Freeman writes that when we as children learn how to perform our gender properly, mainly by imitating our parents, we must also learn how to adapt this to our own time. So, while a woman is expected to learn from her mother how to be a woman, she cannot simply copy the mother’s look. Freeman points out that if she herself were to copy the way her own mother looked during Freeman’s childhood (ca 1970) she would not look normative at all. But we can play with this temporal crossing for queer effect if we wish. I do not think this is was Umbridge consciously does, but her femininity does have a somewhat queer effect because of the way it does not fit her age.

So, in conclusion, we can see that throughout the Harry Potter novels, several feminine characters are described in a negative way. Both “good” characters such as the silly girls, and more “evil” ones such as Lockhart, Quirrell, Skeeter, and Umbridge. These latter ones also have a somewhat queer coding. With Quirrell there is also a sort of racialised femininity, with the description of his turban. It is unfortunate that these characters are described this way, however, it rings true to negative stereotypes from our own world.

I’m not sure how to finish this analysis to be quite honest. It makes me sad to find all of these elements in the books that I have loved. But, to be quite honest, it’s possible problematic things in most works of fiction when you start looking. Nonetheless, this last month or so has been tough on my love of the Harry Potter novels and community. Going forward I want to try to focus on the more positive aspects of them, such as the magic this community makes together (while remembering the more negative things of course). I’m not sure how. But I felt like I had to get this text out there first. So here it is.

References

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer.

Dahl, U. 2016. “Queering Femininity”. lambda nordica. 2016/1-2, pp. 7-20.

Freeman, Elizabeth. 2000. ’Packing History, Count(er)ing Generations’ New Literary History, 31(4): 727-744.

Rowling, J.K. 1997. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J. K. 1998. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J.K. 2000. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J.K. 2004. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. London: Bloomsbury

Serano, Julia. 2007. Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity. Seal Press, San Francisco

Whitehead, Stephen M. 2002. Men and Masculinities, Cambridge and Malden: Polity.

#hp #Harry Potter #feminism #cw: sexism

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