#since its abandonment. sorry for writing so much about this boat it’s one of my favorite things in this game

[8512121589]

like i have a BIG interest in cut content in video games and it sucks how there's a ton of it for sky but nobody can post anything about it because it's hacked. who give a shit. i want to so badly to pick apart and examine everything i can find, if it's light awaits content or concepts that got scrapped before they even made it to beta or the little bits and pieces of concept art they release... it's all so interesting to me and there's so much i don't know about because hacked content is shut down immediately

[mc-lukanette]

Have you considered writing a "Truth" fix-it with Marinette admitting her secret to Luka? Maybe he could be a confidant like Marianne was for Fu.

Truth was having a terrible, awful, rotten, very bad day. If he could use his powers on the universe, he would've asked what he did to deserve this kind of treatment.

It started with his girlfriend keeping a secret from him concerning her ditching their dates, then escalated to Jagged Stone - who'd been his idol for years - turning out to be the father who abandoned him, and now he was fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir in Marinette's room after he’d been told by multiple people that Marinette’s supposed “secret” was that she was in love with Adrien, as if he hadn’t already known that and they just wanted to mock him.

His civilian self had never been never someone to presume, but now it's all he could do. Marinette must've ditched him because she didn't really love him, Jagged probably never even felt bad about abandoning him, and despite Adrien never even trying to win Marinette's heart, he was just better than Luka in every way, because the rich model with all the connections Marinette could ever want would always outmatch the "guitar boy" who worked a part-time job, lived on a houseboat, and had parents who either kept secrets from him or flat-out didn't want him.

Had it not been for his akumatization working to drive him towards a goal without interference, he would've cried. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and think the whole thing was just a bad nightmare, with dating Marinette just being brief highlights of it that kept getting shot down with a reminder that he wasn't good enough.

He wanted it all to be over.

Chat Noir was still trying to banter with him, but Truth wasn't having it. While going after Ladybug first wasn't ideal, as she was the smarter out of the two, it was easier to get rid of Chat Noir and deal with the heroes one at a time.

Thus, when Ladybug had run across the room to use her Lucky Charm, Truth acted. He managed to grab Chat Noir and throw him into the chest that Ladybug had been hiding in before, then locked it tight to prevent Chat from escaping. That done, he went after Ladybug, who was stunned but nevertheless prepared to fight. Chat Noir being out of the picture didn't impact her ability to fight, but Truth had Pharo on his side to knock Ladybug around when it was too hard to get a spotlight on her.

Finally, he managed to tackle her, her lying on her back and him pinning her arms down. The chest nearby rattled in protest, but Pharo shined its spotlight on it, preventing it from moving anymore.

Truth watched as Ladybug looked around for a method of escape, but she came up empty. Her eyes widened in the realization that... this was it. This was the end.

"Now," Truth said, clamping down harder on her arms as he leaned down, "tell me the truth!"

Ladybug tried to shut her lips tight, but he could see her struggling, her body shaking as she tried to free her arms to stop herself. It was only a matter of time.

Then, her mouth opened, and out came the words, "I love you, Luka!"

He froze, his fingers twitching in his confusion while he could only stare down at her in shock.

"And I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I wanted to tell you - I always wanted you to know - but I couldn't, and you deserve so much better than a hero who can't give you the time you deserve!"

A cold realization washed over him in form of a shudder. Those words could've been interpreted in so many ways, but he was the only one who registered their real meaning: that Marinette was Ladybug, her "ditching" had been her needing to fight akuma, her keeping secrets had been out of a desire to protect him, and he—

...He had only caused her more problems by getting akumatized, being no better than all those that had interrupted their dates. She loved him, and he gave into Shadow Moth to go against her.

Ladybug continued rambling, oblivious to his internal crisis, "You're incredible, and I just love you so much. I knew you were special from the day we met, when you called me—"

Truth clamped his hand over her mouth, preventing her from spilling any more secrets. He could feel Shadow Moth's influence in his mind, demanding that he remove his hand, but Truth ignored it, just as he'd been ignoring so many of his commands. The energy from akumatization that once made him feel powerful now made him feel disgusted with himself, guilt swirling in his gut and making him regret everything.

He reached up with his other hand, grabbing at his necklace and tearing it off. Ladybug's brows rose at the crunching of his akumatized object, and the last things he saw were the akuma flying free and Ladybug's expression turning to something...

thoughtful.

—————

Marinette de-transformed in a nearby alleyway and headed down towards the Seine, having not yet processed all of her feelings from that day. She had a little time left, given that Luka had quietly asked to walk back home himself, but she’d gotten no closer to clearing her mind since leaving her house. She was still a jumbled mess of "what if"s and "but maybe"s, and ultimately knew that it was going to be a matter of essentially winging it and just saying everything that she had on her mind.

As she approached the Liberty to wait for Luka, she paused as she noticed another figure already standing there. After all, Jagged Stone wasn't exactly someone you could not notice.

Before she could debate on whether to approach him, Jagged seemed to sense her and glanced over to make eye contact. She stiffened, only able to wave awkwardly and pretend like she didn't know why he'd be there.

"Hey, frockstar," Jagged greeted tiredly, his smile not quite reaching its usual lengths. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." She walked over, standing next to him and staring in the direction where Luka was going to come from. "I need to talk to my boyfriend."

"Ah." It took a few seconds for the words to actually register with him, at which point Jagged turned to her, mouth agape as he grabbed her shoulders. "My son's your boyfriend?!"

She didn't quite have the energy to feign total surprise at the “son” comment, but she didn't have to. Jagged immediately pulled back without really looking at her, regaining his composure just as quickly as he'd lost it.

"You... wouldn't happen to be able to put in a good word for me, hm?" He grinned sheepishly, jabbing at Marinette with a hopeful elbow. "Haven't exactly figured out what I'm gonna say yet."

She was torn between being upset with him on Luka’s behalf and feigning sympathy because it was not only none of her business, but she was in a similar boat and felt like she had no right to judge.

She went with the latter, smiling weakly and jabbing him back. "That makes two of us." Then, she frowned as her nerves came back. "And... anyway, I don't know if he'll want to keep being my boyfriend after tonight."

For once, Jagged didn't pry or ask questions, the atmosphere probably felt even by him. They just stood there, waiting.

After a few minutes, Luka finally walked into view, staring at the ground and seeming defeated. Marinette felt ill at the sight, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her capris to find a sense of stability.

Should she approach him? Let Jagged go first? Or, maybe that would seem evasive, so—

She felt a pat on her shoulder, looking up at see Jagged urging her forward with his eyes. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or consider him to be the evasive one, but Luka's akumatization was also mostly because of her and thus it only made sense for her to go first.

She ran the distance to get to him, Luka glancing up at the sound of her footsteps and stopping as she got to him. The usual light in his eyes wasn't there, and she had to force herself to even say a simple, "Um... hi."

"Hey." He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his head. "I'm really sorry, Marinette."

"Huh?"

"I got akumatized, and I was in your room when I woke up." His brows furrowed with uncharacteristic anxiety. "I didn't have to hear the song to know what the notes were. I must've gone after you."

Marinette blinked, having not even thought about him feeling guilty over the whole thing. She shook her head, reassuring, "No no! I mean—you told me to run! You didn't go after me, not really!"

She wasn't technically lying; he never sought her out to her knowledge, and even as Ladybug, she'd always had to chase him.

Luka sighed in relief, though his expression didn't change much. "I'm glad."

He met her gaze again. She yearned for the way he used to look at her like he wanted to get lost in her forever, but his eyes soon darted elsewhere as he noticed Jagged Stone standing not too far away.

Marinette tried not to get discouraged, stepping back into his vision and waving her hands to try and divert his attention. "Ah—don't worry about that! Look—" She paused, needing a moment to breathe, then lowered her hands and shifted to seriousness. "Can we talk? And walk? It's... really important."

She couldn't imagine the conclusions he must've been coming to in his head, partly because he didn't voice any of them. His eyes merely searched hers, seeking nothing in particular.

"Sure, Marinette," he agreed.

She managed a smile, happy that she made it this far at least. She reached out to take his hand, but stopped herself at the last second and simply walked past him, Luka taking one look back at Jagged before following after her.

The walk was tense and quiet, the only sounds coming from the evening ambiance and their footsteps. The uncertainty of it all gave her anxiety, but she'd been sure of that uncertainty since she first decided to talk to him about this.

Because, whatever the future of their relationship was, it would be in his hands.

—————

As they arrived at her intended destination, Marinette heard Luka briefly stop behind her, perhaps processing where she just took them. It was the Canal Saint-Martin, also known as the place where they'd first agreed to date, and now it was potentially the place where they'd break up as well. Marinette vaguely pondered if that would be for the best, like the memories would just cancel each other out and Luka could forget about it altogether if he wanted to.

Nevertheless, she walked over, glancing at the bridge for reference and sitting in roughly the same place she’d been all that time ago. She then tossed Luka a hopeful look, and he walked over to sit next to her.

Steeling herself up, Marinette took a breath, inhaling until she couldn't take in any more oxygen and then exhaling for just as long. At least a little more emotionally prepared than she was before, she finally spoke up.

"I...I'm sorry, Luka. I'm sorry that I got you akumatized—" She saw that he was about to interject and cut him off. "—and I know you don't blame me, but it doesn't matter—I mean—it does matter, but I'm still sorry anyway, okay? You had a right to be hurt and maybe if I'd explained myself better, then things would’ve been different."

He still seemed to want to argue, but was holding himself back so she could continue, which she appreciated.

"It's not that I didn't trust you. If anything, I—I trust you more than anyone else. You've never betrayed me and I know you'd never tell anyone if I told you my secret. You understand me even when I'm being the disaster that everyone laughs at - everyone but you - and..."

She sighed, pulling out her phone and navigating to her text conversation with him. Mentally wincing, she tapped on the photo of her Adrien wall that Ziggy had sent, then presented it to him. He leaned in to make sure of what it was, then looked back at her, clearly not understanding where she was going but knowing it wasn't her being spiteful or rubbing it in.

She said as much, "You don't assume anything, like when you got sent this dumb picture. I know it was obvious that it was an accident, but you didn’t have to go with it and you did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you got mad, but you didn't. Whenever I'm stammering and being an idiot because I'm scared or nervous, you don't judge me for it or think that whatever comes out is what I actually mean. That's so important to me, Luka, you have no idea."

She settled the phone between them and kept the picture on-screen. Her gaze flickered down to it, silently encouraging him to look at it too, then glanced back up at him.

"How much do you know about fashion?"

He tilted his head, thrown off by the sudden question, but answered anyway, "Only what my sister's ever talked about."

"Do you know why fashion trends die so quickly?" When he shook his head, she explained, "Part of it is the over-exposure. When people hear about what's in at the time, suddenly everyone starts wearing whatever it is, so everywhere you look, you see it, and then people get tired of it."

There was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, Luka looking back-and-forth between her and the phone like he was piecing a puzzle together.

She confirmed it for him, "That's why I have so many. I don't feel that way about him anymore - I don't think I ever did - but I just don't know how to act around him. I hate how the whole idolizing thing took over my life and I already tried everything else, so I figured this might work." She groaned. "And of course it blew up on me and you got sent that without any context. Of course."

He gave a look of concern at the exasperation in her tone, but she tried to ignore it, not wanting his sympathy.

"My point is..." She gestured vaguely at the phone. "I stammer about him, but it's not because I'm in love with him, it's because I've never really been his friend and I don't know how to do it. I'm not dedicated to him and I'm getting better at not doing the stuff I used to."

His eyes flickered again and she wondered if he was thinking about that day on the Liberty where she was late to Kitty Section playing, where she ignored Adrien entirely. Just for emphasis, she tapped her phone and deleted the picture, adding on, "I'm only dedicated to you, Luka. I—"

She shifted in place, hitting the wall behind her feet a few times with her heels to ease off the anxiousness. It was so much easier when she’d been Ladybug, though granted that she was under the influence of Truth's spell at the time. She and Luka were dating, yet she was sure he'd ask her to end it, making putting herself out there all the scarier.

"I..." She met his gaze. "I love you." He gaped at the confession and she continued on, "I love you like I haven't loved anyone else before; definitely not Adrien. It's the kind of love that actually makes me happy, and comfortable, and my life is better with you in it."

She bit her bottom lip, hands curling into fists at the tight feeling in her chest. She turned, placing one hand on the ground as she began to push herself up, her other hand landing on Luka's shoulder to wordlessly insist that he didn't have to stand with her, so his gaze merely followed her as she moved.

"But that's the thing." She took a few steps away, back turned to him as she stared up at the sky. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the words in her throat, but she nonetheless admitted, "I don't think it's mutual."

Luka's voice took on a sharp, offended tone. "Marinette—"

She spun to face him, cutting him off, "—and I know that you're going to say something sweet and heartfelt about how everyone has a place in your life and then something about how bad notes can still make good songs, but... Luka, you don't understand."

She turned away from him again, this time pacing as she counted off events. "Bullies and liars target me, and sometimes that means going after people I care about. I'm clumsy and a stuttering mess and you wouldn't believe the mistakes I made that I couldn't have even seen coming. It seems like I draw bad luck wherever I go; I mean, your mother is one of the most chaotic people I can think of, so you'd think she'd get akumatized a bunch, but it was only the day I showed up that she did. Even the other boys who only loved me for a little bit either got akumatized over it or became an anxious mess until they found out who they actually liked, and that last one would've at least been really useful to think about if I'd just made the connection back then, but I didn't!" She paused, then met his eyes with a pained expression. "And then there's you."

"What do you mean?"

She stopped in place, not knowing whether to be touched or not by the fact that he either hadn't noticed or was pretending not to. Throwing her arms out, she explained, "Things go bad whenever we hang out! I already mentioned your mom, but then there was the ice rink; even without me getting distracted when all you were trying to do was make me feel better, there was an akuma and you probably got frozen solid by him. When we were hanging out on the Liberty, Adrien just happened to show up on that day with Kagami to turn me into a mess, and then Desperada came to make everything worse."

Marinette couldn't remember when she'd started thinking about such things or feeling guilty for everything that ever happened. There was just a point where it felt like she was always apologizing for something, no matter how small it was, and stuff being her fault became par for the course by then.

"Then, both times you got akumatized, it was because of me—and I know you don't blame me, but I'm always involved! You were ready to leave the TV station, but because I tried to put up a fight, Bob Roth threatened me and that was your last straw. Today was the same thing; you were already upset about what happened with your dad and then it was me who sent you over the edge!" She shut her eyes tight, the memories painful to relive. "You're always putting up with me, Luka. You put up with me crying all over you and even dropped your guitar for it, and then you had to protect me from Miracle Queen's mind control! I'm supposed to protect you!"

He recoiled at the volume of her voice, then furrowed his brows, his eyes darting back and forth as he seemed to process something particular about what she said.

"I'm supposed to make you happy, and I can't. Out of all the people in Paris who should be able to keep you from getting akumatized, it should be me, and all I've done is hurt you. You're the calmest person I've ever known and then I came along and gave you feelings you didn't ask for. Sometimes—" She shook, choking briefly on the words. "Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better for you if you never met me."

Luka's gaze sharpened. He didn't reply, but turned fully to her, pushing himself up as if to approach.

However, she stepped back, his look then flashing to hurt. She took a breath, expression determined as she said with her whole chest, "I'm Ladybug, Luka."

He froze, his body going stiff and his eyes blinking rapidly at either the reveal itself or the way she’d so firmly said it.

"I'm Ladybug," she repeated quietly, this time with an ache in her voice, "and I'm telling you not because I trust you—I mean, I do trust you—but I also believe in you; that you wouldn't sell me out to Shadow Moth even with all the mind control in the world. You've always had my back and supported me even when I didn't deserve it, and I want you to know. It's dangerous and I don't know what'll happen and I'm scared but I want you to know it." She put a hand to her chest. "I'm the one who has to save Paris whenever something happens, and that's why I always had to ditch you. I'm the one who messed up and lost you your identity as Viperion. I'm the new guardian of the miraculouses, and the kwami don't even listen to me; they invaded my privacy and it was one of them that took and sent you that picture."

She realized that her vision was staring to blur and looked skywards, trying to fight back tears.

"I-I'm not a normal girl. I can't be a normal girlfriend, or give you everything you'd want out of a normal relationship. It's my fault that you got akumatized because I just—I wanted you. I wanted to be in a relationship and go on dates with you, but Ladybug isn't supposed to want things. She's supposed to be selfless and only worry about everyone else, but... you made me happy, and I wanted more of that. You were the first person I really felt like I could be myself around without being scolded or lied to and I thought it would be okay..."

She noticed him moving and quickly turned her back to him, at least able to let the tears fall now without him seeing them.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I always think I can handle things but then it goes wrong and I end up hurting people. If I'd just gone home the day of the music festival instead of complaining about Adrien not being around, then none of this would've happened." She sighed in frustration, wiping her eyes clean of tears, and she was so focused on forcing her words out that she didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind her. "I-it's okay if you want to break up, Luka. It wasn't fair that I kept you in the dark, and I understand if you're mad, or you want to date other people, o-or if you don't love me anymore—"

Her voice cut off with a gasp as a pair of arms wrapped around her midsection, pulling her against a familiar, warm chest that had an unfamiliarly pounding heartbeat. She tried to look up at him, but his hair was shadowing out his eyes and left only his trembling lips visible. In fact, his whole body was shaking, as if it were winter and no amount of layers could keep him warm.

"L-luka?" she called, confused.

"Stop," he begged quietly, the hug tightening briefly to give her a squeeze. "Please."

"But..." She trailed off, acknowledging the request. She'd never heard his voice just break like that.

"You've already sung your part of our duet, Marinette. Now it's my turn." He paused, taking an unsteady breath before continuing, "I'm glad you told me your secret. I know you're worried about me being in danger, but it makes me happy that you can rely on me now. Music boxes aren't meant to stay shut, and you deserve someone who you can open up to, even if I hate that you have to mute yourself in the first place to keep everyone safe."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was okay and it was just her job, but kept quiet to respect his earlier request.

"My life isn't worse because I met you," he murmured, an unspoken plea in his tone that told her to never think that way again. "I felt things with you that I never have before. My song started out as a flatline, then we met and you made it move. Music isn't exciting if it doesn't change but you did that for me. What you might see as bad notes is my passion for you, and I won't apologize for it or make you apologize for messing up just like every person does. I'd never wanted someone before you, and even if you never wanted to date me, I'm grateful that I got to know you; to fall for you."

Marinette blinked in an attempt to stop oncoming tears, Luka pulling her closer for comfort when she whimpered.

"All that mattered to me is when we were together, just the two of us. That's when your melody plays the clearest and when I get to see you. Those two weeks when we were preparing our music video were some of the best two weeks of my life because I got to see you in your element. I've accepted every break in the tempo because I've heard you, I've heard the Marinette you've wanted to be, and I want to be there for every beat of it." Then, he exhaled, adding with a somber tone, "I can't imagine how much pressure you must be under, or how awful things are and how impossible it must be to sing when you can't even take a breath without something going wrong. I just... I want to help you be happy. I don't care what you, your kwami, or anyone else says; you're allowed to be happy, Marinette, and I'd drop a thousand of my guitars if it meant that you get to play happy notes one more time."

She let out a sob, blushing pink as her hands unconsciously raised to rest on the ones around her waist, Luka sighing in content and nestling further against her.

"So I don't want to break up with you, Marinette. Not at all. I just want to find ways to make it easier on you - on both of us - and if that means finding ways of planning our dates around akuma attacks, or not planning at all and going wherever the rhythm leads, then that's what we'll do."

She tried to keep quiet, but couldn't help voicing, "W-what if... what if it doesn't work? What if I have to bail on you every now and then? People will think—"

"I was never worried about that," he retorted immediately. "I'm a Couffaine. My clothes are ripped, I carry my guitar in the basket on my bike, and I live on a boat. I stopped caring about what people thought a long time ago."

He was unbelievable. Marinette didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. He just held her there, his heart still beating against her back but now serving as something to calm her.

"The only opinions that matter in our duet are yours and mine," he said. His hold loosened, though hesitating like it was physically painful to release her. He let her go nonetheless and held his hands out in front of her, palms facing the sky. "So what about you, Marinette?"

She stared at his hands, then slowly raised her own to hover over them. She breathed up, then slid her fingers across his palms until their calloused fingertips met, neither making any move to pull away.

"I...I want to make it work," she whispered, leaning back against him. "I want to be with you, Luka. I'm at my best when I'm with you. I just..."

She stopped, knowing that he would have an argument for anything she said. If she apologized for the failed dates that she can never fix, he'd argue that it'd be worse to leave things off a sour note, and that not every good song starts out good. If she tried to suggest other people for him to date or imply that it'd be easier with someone else, he'd say that his guitar plays only for her and he wouldn't change that even if he could.

"...I'm sorry," she said, smiling her first genuine smile of the night. "I won't doubt myself anymore."

Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling too. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah. Do—do you?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice thick with emotion.

Wanting to see his face, she slowly dropped their hands and turned to face him, silently hoping that she didn't look awful from her earlier tears. However, to her surprise, she noticed that Luka's eyes were watery despite his smile, just like her. Realizing something, she raised a hand to her shoulder, where his face had been hovering over ever since he'd hugged her from behind.

It was wet.

"Oh, Luka..."

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. He returned the gesture, squeezing her lovingly and giving her back a few rubs that she responded to with a happy hum. They held the position, the warmth of the hug completely negating the slight chill of the night air.

Even when they pulled away, it wasn't far nor for long. Marinette wasn't sure which of them initiated it, but one moment they were staring at each other and the next they were kissing. It had been long overdue and she idly thought that it was better than she would've imagined their kiss at the cinema to be.

She breathed in his scent, her fingers blindly reaching up to slide into his hair. She almost felt like crying again, though this time in relief that everything had actually worked out for once and they were kissing without interruption. Even though Luka was more subtle in showing his emotions, she could tell that he felt the same from the way his hand on her back shook, practically vibrating with happiness.

The kiss eventually broke with a soft click, though she kept her hands on him for the sake of stability. They were both breathing a little hard from the emotional toll of the conversation yet not necessarily in a bad way.

And the love in his eyes - the life that she missed so much - was back. She honestly thought she wouldn’t have seen it again and she was tempted to just keep kissing him in relief, part of her aware that he definitely wouldn’t have minded it.

It took her a few tries to get the words out, hesitant to break up their wordless exchanges of love. She knew what revelation was waiting for Luka back at his houseboat - maybe he'd already guessed it - and she wanted to be there for him, so she asked carefully, "Do you... want me to come back to the Liberty with you?"

Eyes half-lidded, he gave her a soft smile and gently squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Do you want to sleep over?"

She nodded. "Mm, I'd like that."

Holding hands, they began making their way back to the Liberty, the ambiance of the night finally coming through to soothe them. Marinette glanced down at their joined hands, then at the wide smile on Luka's face, the latter clearly caused by the former.

She looked ahead at where they were walking, pretending that she hadn't just been admiring him. "We could always go out for breakfast together. That might work out."

"That sounds amazing." Luka feigned a look of thoughtfulness. "Maybe Shadow Moth doesn't like mornings?"

Marinette squeaked mid-giggle. "You'd think that'd be the case from the name, huh?"

He chuckled, covering his mouth with his free hand, and the conversation remained light from there. Any bad feelings from the day had evaporated, leaving only smiles and hope for the future in its place.

Everything was going to be okay. For once, Marinette could truly believe that.

[oblivions-dawn]

WIP Wednesday [Actually, Thursday]

Thank you so much for tagging me @thequeenofthewinter! I’m away from my computer a lot lately so I’m so sorry for not getting around to this sooner!

Lately I’ve been editing/re-writing the early chapters of my Skyrim fan fiction when I have some time, and since I heavily edited chapter two, that required a complete re-write of chapter three! It’s been fun but very slow going. I’m attempting to better flesh out Vigdis overall, as well as Serana. I also wanted their relationship in the beginning to be more rocky and tense for . . . reasons, ehe. So, with that said! I’m going to share a little snippet [492 words] from the new chapter three. Enjoy~

“Hey.”

The vampire turned her head in surprise to see Vigdis, who not only currently acknowledged her existence but also gestured curtly towards the other side of the fire. Curious yet wary, she walked over to her, her head tilted in question. The vampire hunter plopped herself down and repeated the gesture.

“Sit.”

Serana’s dark eyebrows shot up. Vigdis raised one of her own fiery ones in return. The vampire pursed her lips and sat, gingerly, where the hunter had pointed to.

“This home of yours,” Vigdis began with the same seriousness she had in Dimhollow Crypt, “I need to know everything and anything you can tell me about it.”

Disbelief instantly surged through Serana. “I’ve been locked in a sarcophagus for thousands of years, and you’re asking me for details about my home?”

“Old information is still information,” the hunter argued with a glare. She shifted and leaned forward. “Just tell me what you remember about it.”

“Why?”

“To be prepared. Why else?”

Serana stared into Vigdis’ hardened ice blue eyes. Her freckled features, accentuated by the scars along her cheek and chin, were set in a serious, exasperated expression. The vampire slowly inhaled, then exhaled through her nose.

“As I told you before, it’s on an island,” she told her. “I’m hoping that we can find a boat to take us there. We’ll have to keep an eye for a dock. It’s . . .” She paused. Her eyes dropped from Vigdis’ to watch the tongues of the flames that flickered in front of her. “It’s a castle. I don’t know much about its history, just that there were previous owners. Parts of the castle are abandoned, like the watchtower by the island’s dock. We mostly use the main hall and the rooms that branch off of it, including the courtyard.” She fiddled with her fingers, a crease between her dark brows. “Then there’s the inlet on the northern side of the island, which the previous owners used to bring in supplies. That’s abandoned, too.”

Her eyes flickered back up to the hunter’s, who stared at her with such intensity that she almost looked away again. She wondered if the redhead could tell she was withholding information from her right now—information that no one knew about Castle Volkihar, aside from Serana herself. And it would stay that way.

“What about your abilities?” Vigdis inquired. Her features morphed under the fire’s light; a shadow of hatred was now present in her eyes. “The Volkihar vampires typically stick to water and specialise in ice, correct?”

Serana nodded. “I personally haven’t tested the whole ‘ice breath’ trick, but reaching through a frozen lake was always fun. Not to mention that we’re still equipped with the base powers that come with all general vampires—necromancy, destruction spells, that sort of thing.”

The hunter’s eyes narrowed in thinly veiled suspicion; dread dug its snake-like fingers into the vampire. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

[resident-leevil-old]

RCW's RE7 CONTINUITY:

RCW: Biohazard

in the re7 continuity of Raccoon City Winters i feel like Mia was more sympathetic towards Eveline considering her and Ethan had strikingly similar upbringings; minimal socializing, constant tests ran on them, the needles.

I feel she was torn between taking Eveline away and staying with the Connections in order to help Ethan and it made her feel like shit the entire time. Especially when she had been lying to Ethan about working with the Connections.

She justifies it in her head, saying it would hurt Ethan more if she told him she had been working in a similar place his father had been working in, for a reason almost the same. She knows it's a shit thing, to lie to him like this, but she really wouldn't be able to stomach the look he would give her, and maybe that's selfish but she hates to see him hurt.

And then Eveline, who was young and only wanted a family ("like Ethan did," her brain yelled at her) to grow up with. Eveline, who smiled up at her even after going through the worst tests imaginable and finds comfort in her presence, like Ethan did, every time. Eveline who cries because she knows she's too dangerous to have a real family, but wants to try- hopes she could anyway, like Ethan did.

Mia considers it, running away with Eveline, back home to Ethan and Kyde and stay as far away from California as they could. She planned it out, the whole situation, down from the moment she got Eveline out of that basically a cell for a room to buying a house under a different name in god-damned Romania if she had to.

She accepts her plan as half-baked but the overwhelming guilt and sympathy in her heart allows her to forget about that.

Then the ship, sprung on her that they would be moving Eveline somewhere. The hurricane, Eveline's freakout, Mia's promises of taking Eveline with her and being her mother, the mold.

That night, before the two of them were knocked out of that ship, Eveline cried in Mia's arms for the destruction she caused, and Mia held her and cried for the feeling of failure weighing on her soul.

And when Mia hits the water, when she starts to fall unconscious, she only thinks of how Eveline said she hated storms before, just like Ethan does.

-

And Mia wakes up at the Baker's, and they tell her they rescued her, she deliriously asked if they also found a young girl, if they found Eveline. They tell her not yet, tell her to rest and they promise they'll help find her little girl. She rests, but wakes up again later, unable to keep her eyes closed. She writes on a paper she found just about everything she knew about Eveline and herself, trying to recollect her thoughts when she noticed them fading.

She falls unconscious again before finishing the paper, and she's unable to defuse Eveline's fear and anger before the Baker's are under her control.

-

The years that pass, Mia spends trying to convince Eveline that they can leave the Baker's and start anew. Eveline refuses, too scared that the Connections will come for them if they leave this house. She compromised with the shots that slowed her aging, why couldn't Mommy compromise with her? Did she hate her? Did she secretly want to abandon her? Whenever Eveline asked the answers were always, "No, no Evie I don't want to abandon you but we can't stay here forever, eventually we'll run out of resources for your shots, I don't want you to die, and you'll die after too long without them."

Eveline is content with it, with dying, if she gets to stay with Mommy the whole time. When she told her that, Mommy cried and apologized to her. Eveline never knew why she kept saying sorry, but she stopped saying she would be okay with dying because Mommy crying made her cry.

As the Baker's become cannibalistic and murderous under Eveline's control, she becomes more prideful of herself. Mia doesn't know what to do, how to stop these people from dying, falls under a state of depression. She tries to talk to Eveline, tries to tell her to stop, though Eveline only tells her that she wants to find her Mom someone to be with since she was so sad all the time. Mia knows its a part of Eveline's powers, but the look of innocence in her eyes breaks her down and she stops opposing.

Eventually, Mia tells Eveline about Ethan. Talks about how Ethan loved her more than anything in the world, laments that she shouldn't have lied to him when she only wanted to help him, tells Eveline she only wanted to leave this house so they could be with him. Eveline listens, asks her if she misses Ethan a lot, latches on to the reason she gave for wanting to leave.

Mia tells Eveline she did, that she missed Ethan more than anything in the world, and before she knew it she was unconscious again.

-

Ethan's arrival sparked something in Eveline's soul. She felt angry, at first that this man was the reason Mom would be willing to risk herself and her freedom to be with. She makes Mom fight him a few times, so angry at him for being the reason her family almost broke apart.

Then she watches him cry. She watches this man sit next to his wife each time they fought and cry, even holding her at the risk of her waking up again and hurting him. Eveline sees a man who loved her Mommy so much he would risk dying to mourn her hurt.

And, the final time Mom falls because of Ethan, he didn't move at all, crying on his knees as he held her in his arms. He hardly looks away from Mom when Jack attacks him and even when he kills him.

Eveline realized, when he woke again, his thoughts now shared with hers due to their new connection through the mold, that he loved Mom just as much as she did. She tests him, makes him fight with Grandmother and Grandfather, watching over him as he stumbled through Lucas' puzzles.

Eveline starts to like this man, who loves her Mom so much he'd died and came back to life with her as the only thing on his mind.

-

They nearly escaped, in that stupid little boat. Eveline cried when they both fell in the water. She hadn't mean to do that, hadn't meant to hit the boat directly. She panicked, pulled them both out of the water. She may be angry at Mom and Dad for nearly leaving her but she didn't want them to die.

She helps Mom remember things she forgot, everything that lead up to this. Mom cried again, and Eveline cries for her too.

She talks to Dad, in his head, and she scared him but he doesn't let that get in the way of talking to her. He shows her kindness, sympathy, tells her he doesn't want her to hurt.

Eveline cries to herself, as Mia frees Ethan and pushes him away, afraid she would hurt him. Eveline doesn't make Mom do anything except sleep, lets her rest for all that these years and this day has troubled her.

She talks to Ethan in person again, cried because he was so much more than nicer than he had to be. Cried because she understood now, why Mom wanted to be with him again, cried because she kept them away from each other for so long. Ethan convinces her to let her control of the house go, and she collapsed into the hug he gave her, so so tired.

-

Ethan held Eveline protectively in his arms when he met Redfield, not letting this child who has been through so, so much out of his sight. He doesn't trust these people, but they're helping Mia despite what she'd done so he held back his hostility.

He refused to let them take Eveline from his arms, she was tired and none of them looked like they knew how to carry a tired child.

They have to do check-ups every month during the first year, but they're allowed to stay together. They have to move to Europe, "Romania, huh?" Mia thinks to herself when she heard it, realizing that she'd gotten her wish- just differently than she expected, and no one could know where they lived but otherwise they would be fine. They keep in contact with Zoe, and Kyde (who doesn't wait to say "I told you so," to Ethan but still shows he's happy Mia was found and well,) throughout the years.

Eveline gets a final shot that was able to stabilize her aging process, and she's able to go with no more needles unless absolutely necessary. Mia tells Ethan everything she had been there for, promising to never keep another secret from him again, and he forgives her (he would do it either way). The three of them live happily in Romania, for all of three years.

And Eveline doesn't tell anyone that Ethan isn't Ethan like he used to be, waits for everyone to notice by themselves. They never do. And Re8 begins.

And that, my friends, is the RE7 Continuity of Raccoon City Winters; Raccoon City Winters: Biohazard!

[ha-hatdog]

to narnia / edmund pevensie

first narnia request hehe. the request was a little too vague like so i don't know exactly what plot you want but this is my take. hope you enjoy hihi

edmund is aged up to 16 here and so is reader. this is after they had returned from narnia in the first movie

requested by @darkladyslytherin :  Hi! Are you busy? If you don't mind can you write a Narnia fanfic Edmund Pevensie x reader where the reader is his girlfriend and he was wondering whether he could bring her to Narnia. Thank you ily ❤️

dear @darkladyslytherin do you know that you’re one of my favorite readers? just saying. i always take notice of those who really follow and comment on my stories in quotev hihi. although i haven’t seen you much lately in quotev, i just wanted to show you my appreciation. love you and thanks 

UNEDITED

Edmund was different.

After reuniting with him when he and his siblings had temporarily left to live in an old mansion miles and miles away, you noticed immediately. How can you not? He was your dear lover, and even the slightest change in his expression couldn't escape your eye. He looked the same, the same Edmund Pevensie that you last saw descending from the train with his sibling to wait to be picked up, but at the same time, he was not.

He felt different and acted differently - the naivety was gone, replaced with a steadfast regality and maturity, his decisions no longer driven with the need for adrenaline and fun, but thoroughly thought out. This was not the same Edmund you have last seen. But you loved him nonetheless, and nothing could change that, even if he was no longer the Edmund you knew as of late.

His siblings were in the same boat as him. They interacted with each other differently. Although Peter and Susan already had that air of maturity, they somehow felt older. Peter has become more assertive than commanding and Susan was gentler, yet still being able to uphold her duty as an older sister. Even sweet little Lucy seemed more mature than you, and she was ten.

You cannot help but wonder if something happened to the four of them when they were in the mansion, when they were apart from you. They had moments when they fell silent when questioned about their stay with Professor Digory Kirke, suddenly looking sorrowful and solemn, and more than once have you seen them gather and converse in hushed voices, and you knew they were deliberately being secretive and out casting you from those particular exchange as they scatter once you attempt to insert yourself into them.

Something most definitely happened back with Professor Digory.

You raised your concern with the eldest sister, asking her if there was an occurrence when they were temporarily residing with the old man. Susan was usually the most open person with you (Lucy was too, but you feel like, despite her suddenly having mature qualities, she was still ten), but when you asked her that question, she expertly dismissed it and diverted the conversation in a different route. She may think that she had done excellently keeping you in the dark, but that itch in the back of your head wouldn't go away, not until you found answers.

You were lounging in the sitting area with Susan, your hand tapping a pen on a table while Susan sat on a cushioned and high backed chair, a large book in her dainty hand.

You let out a sigh as you dropped the item within your grasp on the smooth surface, earning the eyes of your friend. "Something wrong?" Susan questioned as she set her book down on her lap, eyeing you curiously from where she was positioned.

"Nothing," You puffed out, and your eyes vision fell back to the table. "I'm just bored."

"If you're so bored, why don't you hang out with Edmund?" Suggested Susan, and when you did not respond, she took this chance to continue speaking. "He misses you, you know."

You flushed at her spoken statement and averted your gaze from her. Shame pricked at your heart as your heard the your lover's name, but even so, your remained steadfast, unfaltering, just as Edmund was to you.

You took the pen back to your hand, scowling slightly. "Never mind." You grumbled out, and Susan sighed in disappointment and exasperation to your defiant answer against her proposal.

"You're still ignoring him." It was not a question, it was badgering remark of a fact, and you were quiet, as what she had spouted was not incorrect.

You were not stupid. Before you asked anyone else, you bluntly came forward with your concern to your boyfriend - Edmund Pevensie - interrogating him about his time spent in the mansion, but he dismissed you with a shake of a head, stating that nothing out of the ordinary has happened. But his barriers has shot up immediately after the question, and your suspicion and curiosity arose. You have chased him with this question upon your lips, but he was as consistent as you were with denying you the right to know. And in retaliation to his constant rejection, you evaded his presence like the plague, just like how he evades giving you the answer you sought for, making it a point to show him that you were not giving up until he tells you something, anything, about the trip.

"He won't tell me anything. So I won't tell him anything." You retorted to Susan, sight flitting over to her. "Unless you fancy telling me - "

Susan shook her head, brown locks billowing with her movements. "There's nothing to say. Nothing happened."

You scoffed. "I'm not stupid, Susan!" Your hollering voice stunned her, and even you were shocked with your own boldness. "I know something happened but you keep making me out to be the insane one here!"

"That is certainly not the case." Denied Susan and a curtain of solemnity swung over her. She turned away, suddenly reclusive and losing the air of regality she always had around her after their return in London. "If anything, you'll think of us as the insane ones."

Confusion wrapped you in its finger. "Why would I? I have been the outcast here ever since you four came back. You always made me feel like it. Never telling me anything when really, something is going on and none of you would say something. Not even Lucy, and she's the most honest person on your lot."

Susan pursed her lips, agitated. "I'm sorry we have made you feel this way but there's nothing to say. People change, (Your Name). Slowly, quickly, they just . . . change." She murmured. "You can't stop it from happening."

"I don't mind change, Susan. But if this change means cutting me off your family, then it would be much better if Edmund and I break up, and I leave your family for good." Your words took Susan aback, and she nearly dropped her book to the floor. And yet you continued, spouting claims that supported your previous statement, unaware of the presence that has descended from a nearby flight of stairs. This new arrival stood by the last step, a food precariously tipped on the edge of the step and a hand holding on to the wooden leverage beside him.

"Peter changed, Lucy changed, you changed, and Edmund changed! I have not once complained about the four of you changing but this is too much! After we have reunited, I thought all would be fine now. The war is done, and we're going back to school in a few months but it feels like we're miles apart." You let out, frustrated. You stood up from your chair and abandoned your task. "Even Edmund feels like a stranger! He used to tell me everything, from his issues with Peter and to that little bug that keeps flying near his ear when he's sleeping! No matter how insignificant they are, he tells me and now he can't even look at me without his eyes screaming - hey, I have a secret that's eating me up from the inside and my siblings have them as well!"

Susan did not speak.

You scoffed. "Silent again, I see. Not surprised. That's all you've been whenever I'm around. I don't even know why I'm still hanging with you lot." You gathered your belongings and stuffed them inside your bag which was located underneath the table. As you continued taking items and putting them inside your bag, you went on, still unable to detect the concerned eyes of your lover staring at you. "It's obvious you'd rather keep everything to yourself, so I might as well leave and let you do that in peace."

You zipped your bag in a swift motion and turned to head towards the front door only to come to a skidding halt once you came face with a broad chest. Looking up, you saw Peter looking down at you, a conflicted expression on his mien and behind him was a concerned Lucy.

You tried going around him, to continue your short travel towards the the front door but Peter followed your movement, effectively blocking you from your intention.

You stomped your feet stubbornly at Peter, the presence of your significant other beyond your awareness. "Will you please move?" You requested, voice laced with irritation.

"No," Adamantly answered Peter, causing you to roll your eyes. "Is that how you really feel?"

"Oh," You chided, brow lifting. "Now you're finally paying attention to me. Guess all it had to take was for me to get full of your negligence. Thank you, I guess."

Peter opened his mouth to interject, but he was cut off, and you stumbled back when Lucy flung herself to you, arms wrapping around your middle and burying her face on your clothed stomach. Susan advanced towards you to pull Lucy away, but the younger girl spoke before she could be interrupted with her affectionate embrace, "No, please don't leave us!"

A curtain of shame and regret swathed you as you stared at the lass pulling you close to her, but nonetheless, you turned away, eyes closed. "I can't stay in a place where everyone avoids me as if I'm the plague. I'm going."

Lucy tore herself away from you and turned to the elderly siblings, tears springing up at the corner of her eyes. "We should just tell her!" Exclaimed she.

Peter frowned. "Lucy, we talked about this with Professor Kirke - "

"So, you're just going to let her leave us?" Asked Lucy. Susan and Peter did not respond, only looking away as they too have no answer to her inquiry.

"She's right." Everybody turned to the source of the voice, and your eyes bulged upon seeing Edmund standing by the doorframe, shoulder slouching and eyes blank with nervousness. But there was also a peculiar sort of hardened resolve in them, the some resolve that you had last seen when he promised to meet you again after the war has come to pass. You swallowed, turning away as he continued. You can feel his eyes on you, burning against your skin. "We need to tell her." He stated with finality. "I need to tell her."

Peter ventured a step forward to his younger brother, an arm extended. "Edmund," He blathered. "Professor Kirke said - "

"I know what Professor Kirke said. I was there with you, okay? I know what he told us. But I'd rather break his rule just once. I'm not going to lose (Your Name). And I know you don't want to as well." You inhaled as Edmund walked up next to you, and his hand clasped over your shoulder. You looked up at him, and you saw the hopeful shine in his eyes. "Come with me, I will tell you everything. I promise."

You opened your lips to protest, to tell him that he did not need to tell you anything if it was really against his will, but the plea in his eyes - how can you say no to him?

"I won't keep anything away from you anymore."

***

You and Edmund left the house to find somewhere private to talk. His room would have been ideal, but despite having your significant other make his siblings promise not to eavesdrop, there was no guarantee that they would hold the end of their promise and so, both of you elected to venture outdoors and find place where you were, for sure, to have your privacy. You two walked in silence through the streets, tension both burdening your shoulders.

This was not like you two, at least before. There was always laughter and sarcastic exchange between the two of you. But now, even holding his hand seemed like a task your mind can longer comprehend. Your hand stiffened and quivered whenever it tried to reach for his and you sulked in dismay, accepting your defeat.

But Edmund, although he too was absorbed in anxiety with what was to come, noticed your apprehension and how your hand moved near and away from his own. His mind was set not to intertwine his hand with yours as the small monster in the back of his mind said it would be terribly improper to instigate any form of affection when a row was settled with the pair of you. But his hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it reached out to take your hand in his hold. He felt your hand squeeze him, and he smiled and returned the gesture.

Everything will be fine. I'm sure.

You two found a field after a several minutes of walking, and decided to settle under the shade of the fee trees sprouting on the vastness.

You sat down on the ground, and Edmund was left standing, his back to you as he overlooked the plains and the hillocks in the distance. You brought your legs to your chest and embraced them, trying to abate the loneliness that was creeping on you. Now that you're alone with him and had the reassurance that he will tell you everything, the loneliness you have repressed inside of you with sheer strength alone for so long was beginning to overflow.

You glanced down at your hand, the same one he held before. I miss his hold already. You thought. I want to hold his hand again.

Quiet swathed both of you, not a word exchanged. You grew antsy as the stillness of the situation prolonged, and it looked to you that Edmund was not going to do anythimg but stand there and avoid looking at you but you knew him. He wasn't avoiding locking eyes with you - he was trying to think of a way on how to go about broaching this sensitive topic he had not touched for so long, the same reason your relationship has become rocky. You were not familiar with this mature attribute of his for the Edmund you knew would merely spout anything that comes in his mind, but you have concluded that after his abrupt change, his actions and approach to anything woukd be far from before.

"Are you going to say anything?" You questioned, fed up with the silence. He still did not look your way and you let out a sigh. "Edmund."

"I - " He exhaled, and you curled your tongue to stop yourself from talking. But he did not continue his sentence and fell speechless again. And after a little while, he picked up on his pending thought. "I don't know where to start." You saw his shoulders move as he laughed and you cannot help but smile. It has been a while since you've heard him laugh, even if it was a nervous one. "You'd think after being a king and ruling a whole country for many years I'd be sure of myself and be capable of having a simple conversation with my girlfriend."

His words failed to register in your head. You heard him loud and cleat, yet what he said made no sense and it served as a great fuel to your perplexity. You blinked, arms loosening their hold around your legs and back straightening from the arch it formed. "What?" You chimed in, puzzlement evident. "Do you mind repeating what you said? I thought I heard you say king and ruling a country, but that can't be right." You stated. "Sorry, Ed. I think I'm not in the right frame of mind right now and I think I'm hearing differently. How about we talk tomorrow instead?"

"No, you're hearing is fine. You heard right." Edmund turned towards you, solemnity encrusting his mein. You had never seen him this serious before, and it worried you just as it made you curious. Edmund walked over to you, looking down at your seated figure. "You asked me what happened in the Professor's mansion? I was a king, (Your Name). I ruled a country before I returned here."

Your confusion intensified. Brows burrowed, you regarded him warily. "Ed, I don't understand." You confessed. "What do you mean you were a king and ruled a country? Is this some kind of metaphor for something? You don't want to outright say what need to be said so I have to decode this . . . this, this something?" You were unable to find the right term for his statement. "Is that it?"

Edmund lets out a sigh, eyes fluttering to a close. "I knew this would happen. I'm aware of this but seeing it unfold right now, it's harder than I thought." He admitted softly and opened his eyes to look at you. "I know you don't believe me. I sound like a completely delusional child but you wanted the truth, so here I am, saying the truth no matter how stupid it will make me look."

His eyes shone, and you stared back at him, rid of the capability to speak out your judgement or thought.

You let out a gasp as Edmund knelt down and took your hand in his, and the warmth that left your palm as returned suddenly. He took in a deep breath, the amount of oxygen taken in making his chest expand before he eased. He seemed to be trying to calm himself. "Before I say anything else, before I make a fool of myself," He cleared his throat, gazing back at you heatedly. And there they were, the desperation, the pleading, in his eyes, but what got you pursing your lips was the love in his eyes. "I want to apologize for ignoring you, for not telling you the truth earlier. I thought it would be for the better you didn't know anything that happened back in the mansion, but I knew that was impossible. If there's one person I could never ever lie to, I could never keep anything from, it's you. I didn't want to hurt you, but I did, and to me, it was just me trying to protect you. I didn't realize it was a kind of breach in trust."

You said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

"I promise never to do that again." Edmund stated with firm finality, taking you aback. Edmund was never the one to be so sure of things unless he knows he definitely has something to gain from it. This firmness - an unbreakable promise. "I don't want to hurt you like this again, to make you feel unwanted, insecure. Never again."

Your heart swelled. You cooed, "Edmund," You brushed the back of your hand on his cheek. "I forgive you. All I wanted as an apology and an explanation."

He chuckled. "I haven't even said anything."

"I mean you did say you were a king who ruled a country." You laughed, not noticing the way he swallowed the saliva that accumulated in his mouth. "King of a country club, for sure."

"(Your Name)," Began Edmund, and you halted your antics, looking back at him. The solemnity was yet to subside from his visage. You mirrored his expression and sentiment. "Whatever I say to you, promise me that you'll believe me. No matter how ridiculous everything I say may seem to you."

"Of course, Ed." Concern overtook you and you leaned forward to inspect him. "What's going on?"

"I mean it, (Your Name). Promise me." Edmund bellowed, his hold on your hand tightening. "Promise me you'll believe no matter how crazy I might sound."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just promise me, please."

Edmund have always hated how others fabricate his identity and made him out as someone who he isn't. He definitely hated being called insane or a maniac, so hearing him begging you to believe him in fear of having you see a distorted view of him - it hurt you.

"I promise," You affirmed. "Now, tell me - what happened back in the Professor's place?"

Edmund moved and nestled himself beside you, hand leaving yours and back slanting against the tree trunk. He stared off at the distance first before locking eyes with you. "You won't believe me - "

"Oh, bloody hell, Ed," Your quip startled Edmund. "I already said I will believe anything you say no matter how ridiculous it may sound. Let's not go back and forth and just tell me already."

Edmund observed you for a second, then another, and then, he continued. "When we got to the mansion, for the first day at least, everything was normal. It was just four siblings trying to get used to the place they were going to stay at." He began. "There wasn't much to do. We can't go out to explore and play, so we decided to play hide and seek - don't look at me like that - it was Lucy who suggested it - " He rebuked once he saw your smile appearing.

"But you had fun, right?" You pressed on.

Edmund nodded. "Yeah, I guess," But soon after, he halted. "For the first few minutes, I guess. Lucy found this wardrobe to hide in, and literally seconds later, she came out from it like she was gone for hours." A pause. "She said something about meeting a Faun. You know, half man - "

" - half goat, yeah, I know." You replied.

"Yeah, she said she met a Faun named Mister Tumnus because apparently, there was an unknowm world inside the wardrobe called Narnia and a witch had cursed it. They had tea, listened to Narnian songs, and exchanged stories of their own world."

It took you a while to process everything he was saying. A Faun? A witch? Curse? Wardrobe? Narnia? What in the world?

"Imagination is strong. It's understandable, Lucy is still young." Remarked you, and you waited for Edmund to agree, but to your surprise, he did not.

"That's what I thought too, that's what Peter and Susan thought too. Just someone who had a strong imagination. Until," He took in a deep breath. "I also found Narnia."

You didn't know how to take this. How were you supposed to take in this kind of information? Edmund was not like to say things like this, magical things, and if he did, it was out of jest. But there was no humor right now. Just a plea for you to listen, and you did.

"When I got to Narnia, I met the witch, the White Witch. The witch who put Narnia to an eternal winter for a long time." He went on and all of a sudden, you were more than just invested. Something happened with him and that White Witch. You can tell by how his eyes darkened at the mention of her. "She was kind and warm - I know, weird for someone who put an entire country to winter - and that should have been a warning itself, but I still trusted her, just as she wanted."

Edmund took hold of the end of his shirt and pulled it up, revealing the scar on his torso. You flinched at the sight of it. You haven't seen the initial damage to the skin, but you knew the wound had been deep, and must have been a large gateway for his blood. You wondered how much in pain he was.

"Remember this?" Edmund queried.

"Yeah, you said there was an accident in the kitchen." Edmund told you something happened in the kitchen in the mansion when it was his turn to cook but you knew this was a complete and utter lie. His explanation of the accident was too bizzare, and you asked Susan if there had been turns on cookinf and there was none. And, Edmund did not know how to cook. "I know it's a lie, Ed."

"Perceptive, as always. Want to know how I really got it?" He questioned, and you nodded. "I got stabbed, by that Witch."

A gasp of horror escaped your lips at what you heard, back straightening and a hand finding its way to his arm. He sent you an appreciative smile but he still did not let his shirt cover his wound. In fact, he seemed to be transfixed by this ugly scarring and you did not blame him, for the story behind it must have been awful. He was yet to tell you what exactly transpired in this world he called Narnia, but Edmund, regardless of how much he denies it, shows more emotions than he thought.

"Well," You started. "She's called a witch for a reason."

Your little joke bubbled a genuine laughter from Edmund and it enlightened your spirits, even a little. But the inkling hatred for the witch drove your blood to a boiling temperature that you were surprised you weren't squirming on your position with the need to release your pent up aggravation. But Edmund knew you as much as you did with him, and he knew you were effectively masking your anger.

And then reality caught you and your eyes fell - Why am I angry with a witch I don't even know is real? Everything Edmund is saying is so unreal. A world called Narnia inside a wardrobe where his sister met a Faun and he met the, uh . . . White Witch who put said place to winter, a long winter. Nothing sounded real. It's like listening to a children's book. You thought, gulping. But Ed could never fake his feelings. Not to me.

"That happened many years ago. You don't have to worry about me. I'm over it. It's just that . . . the memories, you know." Edmund grew silent again, and you waited for him to speak. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

You breathed out. "No, not at all."

"But you don't believe me."

And you found your mouth unable to move. Nothing he said made sense, nothing of what he told you could be applied to the real world. There is no such things as Fauns and witches and eternal winter and his explanation of how he got his scar in the so called accident in the kitchen made more sense than what he had expounded earlier. All you heard was a fairytale, a make believe made for children. But the way Edmund spoke, the way his eyes shone and darkened, the way pure joy lit his face whenever he mentioned Narnia - this could never be a fairytale, and it shall never be one. You had never seen that look on his face before, this was the first time you have seen him so joyous. He had never looked at you like this, not anyone.

Whatever this Narnia is, you want to see it, you want to experience this indescribable happiness you can see on Edmund's face, you want to know and learn everything about Narnia, with Edmund. You want this joy with him.

But as of the moment, you could feel nothing near of it. Nothing but the strong pull Edmund was emitting.

Logic grounded you, but something - something very close to magic - was tearing you away.

"No, I believe you." You declared. "I really, really do. It might be stupid to say that but - " Your hands clenched. " - I believe you."

You took in a deep breath. "It may be hard but I believe you, and I believe in this Narnia place you're talking about. Plus, you promised me you won't lie anymore, right? I don't have the heart to doubt you." You wanted to believe him. Edmund stared at you with dilated hues, eyebrows raising as astonishment struck him. You smiled and took his hand, this time you were the one enveloping him with your comfort. "Edmund," You began. "I trust you."

Edmund breathed out, relieved. "I trust you too."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "So, can you tell me how long you've been a King? And just how did you become one?"

Edmund took you by surprise when he pulled you to him, connecting his lips with you. You responded back after while and once the two of you pulled away, Edmund chuckled. "It wasn't only me who was royalty and ruling Narnia. There's Susan and Lucy too. I'm King Edmund, the Just. Queen Susan, the Gentle. Queen Lucy, the Valiant."

"What about Peter? Was he not a king?" You questioned.

Edmund feigned confusion. "Who's Peter?"

He laughed when you smacked his chest. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Spouted Edmund. "Peter wasn't only a king. He was the High King Peter, the Magnificent."

"Ooh, High King Peter, the Magnificent. Sounds like something that would make his head big." You jested.

"It did, but he was a great leader who won many battles against neighboring kingdoms and countries who wanted to wage war against Narnia. He's a dependable High King."

"So you all got your maturity from Narnia." You murmured.

"Yeah, we became adults there and we ruled over talking beasts and magical creatures and wow," Edmund breathed out. "I can't believe I'm talking about Narnia so freely with you."

"You don't have to it all inside of you anymore. You can tell me everything about Narnia and how you lived there." You said. "But I never asked you," You began again. "If you loved Narnia so much, then why did you leave?"

Edmund lets out a sigh. "I don't know either. None of my siblings know either. We were just . . . back here, and back to our younger bodies. We spent many, many years there but in this world, it felt like we had only been gone for an hour of three." He briefly took a moment to collect himself. "We tried going back but . . . "

You smiled sympathetically at him. "I'm sorry."

Edmund regained his composure and chuckled. "You sound like Narnia got killed or something. Don't worry, I know it's still there." He stated. "We're just waiting for it to take us back in."

He smiled. "Plus, it's not all bad. I mean, I'm finally back to you. I missed you when I was in Narnia. All I could think of was you."

Realization sets place. Edmund said he lived in Narnia until he was an adult. "Hey Ed,"

Edmund frowned at the sudden change of tone. He shifted, puzzled. "What?"

"Did you . . . " You curled your lips, pouting. " . . . never mind."

Edmund nudged you. "Come on, spit it out. If I can't keep anything from you, then you shouldn't keep anything away from me, That's how it works."

"I can't disagree with that. Blimey, you usually overlook this sort of things."

Smugness overtook Edmund's face. "I've been negotiating with royalties for years, (Your Name). I think I can pick up a thing or two from my experience."

You let out a sigh. "When you were in Narnia," You began, red tinting your cheeks. "Did you have someone else?"

Edmund stared at you blankly for a few moments, not a nudge of expression on his visage, and before you could conclude you broke him or worse, he was thinking of how to tell you that he had another woman back in Narnia without hurting you, until he burst out laughing.

"Are you jealous, (Your Name)?" Asked Edmund chortling. "Oh, this is gold!"

Redness tinted your cheeks as his laughter travelled through the plains, and you turned your head away in embarrassment. Stammering, you spoke up, “I-It’s a reasonable question to ask! As someone you have apparently left for years without me knowing, I have to know!”

Edmund startled you when he wrapped his arms around you and tugged at you until your back is flush against his chest, his legs on either side of you, bent. “You don’t have to be worried because I had no other woman. There’s only one you.” He confessed. “I’m more surprised you still got to ask me that kind of question when literally seconds ago I said you’re all I could think of.”

    “I’m all you could think of?” You hummed out. You turned to look at him, a playful smile on your brims. “Sounds like you’re in love with me, King Edmund, the Just.”

 Edmund scoffed. “I think that should be obvious. I was the one who confessed to you, remember?” He leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of your head and you closed your eyes in delight, relishing in his affection. “Now if you say something about this, no more Narnian stories for you.”

You pouted, eyes narrowing at him. “Unfair. Tell me more about Narnia!" You pushed. "Come on, after a long time of keeping it from me? You need to make it up to me right now. Tell me more, tell me more, tell me more," You recited over and over, shuffling on your spot.

Edmund shook his head at your antics. “Of course, I will. I’ll tell you everything about Narnia.” He ran his hand through your hair, and a comfortable silence wrapped the both of you. You wanted to say something but you did not want to shatter the serenity between the two of you. “Or maybe I don’t have to.”

You looked back at him again, neck craning. “What?” You questioned, aghast. Where was this sudden change coming from? Earlier it was all too ready to tell you everything he knows and remembers of Narnia. “Edmund,” You turned around to face him, knees on the ground and hands on his chest. You stared in his eyes deeply. Edmund stared back at you just as intently. “What are you talking about? You just said you’d tell me - “

Edmund took your hands in his own pair and had you wrap your arms around his neck. He put his hands on the small of your back and embraced you. “What if you came to Narnia with me?”

Your eyes glittered at his proposition. “Go to Narnia? With you?” You murmured, hopeful. But then you shook your head, realizing the insanity. “No, no. That’s impossible.”

Edmund frowned, his hold around you loosening. “I thought you believed me.” Asked he, and the hurt and hopelessness in his voice breaking your heart. “I’m confused, (Your Name). Are you playing with me?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You reprimanded firmly, voice hardened with the need to correct him immediately and Edmund was rendered quiet. “I told you I believed you, Ed.” Your eyebrows met in the middle, showing him the disappointment in your eyes. “I believed you in a short amount of time and that might be stupid to others but I choose to believe you and your words. Don’t doubt me now.”

“Right, sorry.” Whispered Edmund. “I guess deep down inside of me I know Narnia is still a hard thing to believe in if I told anyone about it.” He cleared his throat. “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean is,” You hesitated. “I-I mean . . . if Narnia didn’t want me in the first place, what makes you think it’ll accept me now?”

Edmund took your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing the sides of your face. His touch was gentle and you closed your eyes. “You believe in Narnia, don’t you?” He asked, voice dead serious. 

You let out a shuddering breath. “I do.”

Edmund offered you a large smile, and your heart fluttered. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes glistening as well as yours. “Then you’re sure to get in.” He claimed. “I’m not going to leave you for the second time.”

You giggled and rubbed your nose against his, and he wrinkled his nose. “Stop being a baby, Edmund. I thought you were a king!” You pulled away, still giggling. “Where did your maturity moments ago went? You should be taking all my affection with bravery of a royalty!”

“A king still gets flustered every now and then.” Remarked Edmund, and he inhaled. “(Your Name),”

You hummed. “Yeah?”

He poked your nose lightly. “I can’t wait until you experience Narnia with me. With you there, I think Narnia will be more than a just paradise.”

“Cheesy, and cheeky.” You teased him, but in reality, your heart was palpitating with thrill. You wished to see Narnia more than ever, and you knew sooner or later, you will, with Edmund. Everything that took place in the house vanished in thin air, and the strain in your relationship has been lifted and you could breath more properly now. “So, King Edmund, the Just,”

“Oh great, I’m already regretting telling you about this whole Just thing.” Edmund complained as he rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s cute and fitting, shut up.” You tittered, beaming. “So, can you tell me about what happened to you in the Professor’s house to Narnia? Every single detail of what happened, tell me. I’m very curious.”

Edmund began running his hand through your hair again, droning. “I suppose I can tell you. But you’re only going to hear the side of my story. Peter, Susan, and Lucy had other experiences than me. Especially in the beginning.”

“I’ll be sure to ask them their own story.” You promised. “Tell me, now. Before I get impatient.”

“Hmm, where do I start?” Bellowed Edmund. “Perhaps I can first start everything by introducing Aslan.”

At the mention of the name, you felt the wind pick up and it howled in the plains. Your eyes glimmered as the name echoed in your ears.

Edmund chuckled. “You have the same reaction as the other three did.” 

“Oh shush, Ed, just tell me about Narnia and this Aslan man.”

“He’s actually a Lion.”

“A Lion? A Lion! Tell me more!”

[pollenat]

“In cold flesh” | kyh.

➛ DAY6′s Young K. Angst. Vampire!au. All the pretentious talk is meant to be pretentious - they’re artists from the past. I’m too tired to put this in specific time period, sorry friends.

➛ Word count: 1763.

Melancholy, the feeling of emptiness because you miss something so much, your spirit is hollow. Nothing, other than the past, seems able to fill the void. But the past, as wonderful and overtaking as it is, has to be left to its devices. So you’re here – on a gondola, making your way down dark canals – to say the goodbye.

“So… You’re here for a lover?”

Lover is a distant word. One that makes you want to lean forward and ponder upon its meaning. But years of looking for answers are long behind you. The now is shaped like waves of salty water.

“I suppose – you could say so.”

The gondolier cannot take his eyes off of you. Enchanted, he stares at a profile that death made perfect. But he doesn’t know that.

“You’re a strange one.”

“Wouldn’t be first time I’ve heard something similar.”

Someone looks out a window. It’s a woman with hooded gaze, staring at your gondola in clear interest. The gondolier salutes in her direction. There’s no response. He stops the boat shortly after.

“And so we’re here. Shall I-“ The young man doesn’t finish his question, maybe realizing how desperate he sounds. But you’re not the adventure he’s looking for.

“There’s no need. Goodnight.” It’s a not-so-rare sight of someone who wants more than just the payment.

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. Just takes a moment to stare at your back before pushing the gondola forward. The staring woman is gone, but will certainly be back soon.

You look around, searching for a number someone has given you, and the red door with mold – a characteristic to simplify your task. It helps. Your eyes take in the piece of wood that’s  almost useless. A rat must’ve bitten through what mold has weakened. There’s a hole at the very bottom of the door.

“Coming, coming!” Muffled voice calls after your second knock. It’s hesitant.

Footsteps resonate. Light peaks through the hole. Mechanism creaks. The red door opens.

Were you unaware of the time, you’d have said you made a mistake. But you’re not. After all, a ghost of the past is what you are. And neither the few starker wrinkles, nor the greying hair are a surprise. The shock factor is Younghyun himself – an image hidden under Father Time’s sands. Have you smoothened the skin on his forehead, everything would come in place.

“You’re dead.” Is a fact, in more ways than one.

Moonlight reflects in his widened eyes. Fear? He cannot be afraid of your picture, rather the meaning – perhaps that he has gone mad. But that’s just an assumption.

“I can’t be seeing a ghost!” Door is pushed to close. You stop it with a foot. The meeting hurts. Not enough to force you into retreat, but enough to fill you with relief – you aren’t dreaming.

The wood doesn’t press. Younghyun lets go of it to take a few steps back. You walk inside. When the door closes, you offer him a doubtful gaze. The man doesn’t look convinced by it. But the emotions on your face are surely real. The little of what you have inside twists and tightens. So much you are afraid of.

“I was there when they buried you.”

A sunny day you remember well. Light comes from a room to your right. You need a better look at what the present is made of. Apparently, Younghyun’s life is a product of metals. Cogs, screws and other things you cannot name lie in a disorder on desks and shelves. Some are packed into boxes, but the chaos inside causes you to turn around. Younghyun follows you inside. On the wall behind him, a number of clocks hangs. They all tell different time.

“In an empty coffin?”

“It wasn’t empty…” But the seed of doubt is already sown. “I saw it. I saw your body. I must have.”

“You’ve always been a little bit old-fashioned. According to the standards, of course.” One of the clocks is shaped like a boat. Younghyun retreats as soon as you step closer to have a better look at his other creations. “You’re a clockmaker now? Not the life of a party among elites? Not even a poet appreciating the blooming flower of old age?”

He sighs in disbelief. Now, in this specific moment when his chest rises and falls, he looks exactly like you remember him, signs of age excluded.

“Those were… dreams of a child. I’ve got what I need here – a job, home and… something to keep my mind occupied.” Younghyun wants to say more, but his meaningful gaze at your features speaks instead.

“I’ve noticed pages filled with words. You’re still writing. You haven’t completely given up on the child’s dreams.” Your words cause him to look behind you, at his desk. Shame crosses anxious features. A part of his life he’d rather hide, even from you. Perhaps especially from you.

“It’s a way to help me figure thoughts out.”

Younghyun limps towards the desk. He isn’t quick in collecting the notes, though he seems like he wants to be. Dark eyes get lost in their words, scanning paragraphs, putting them together. After a second or two, he forgets he was meant to hide the words from you. Footsteps have no effect on him. Breath on his neck does.

“Through the hardships, he prevailed. And wondered, and missed. And lived, and died-“ The card is turned around, so you cannot finish, but the other side shows more words.

Now he’s desperate to escape the art he created. A drawer opens and closes, barely containing stacks of carelessly abandoned papers.

“As I said – figure thoughts out. Doesn’t mean they have to make sense.”

You’re standing in place, barely apart. His hands rest on the desk’s counter, scarred and thin. He used to play. Wrote quite a lot for his mother’s piano, but there’s no instrument in the work space.

“The world could benefit from your writing.”

A scoff. “Are you some ghost of regret? Here to trouble me, because I’ve promised it to the face you stole?”

So he does think you a mare. Truth be told, were you in his place, you’d have thought so too.

“If anything, I’m the one fighting regret.” You step away, to breathe in scents that aren’t just him. Younghyun turns around to follow your departure.

“Why?”

“I abandoned you, didn’t I?” He says nothing to that. “When I woke up, you were gone. And so was my life. Nobody to turn to, nobody to ask. I watched my family go on. So much has changed. My reappearance – was too scared to show a corpse’s face. And so I left.” Eyes abandon your gaze. “But I suppose you can never escape the past. Ended up looking for you. To say goodbye – had you gone on, to see for myself – had you decided to stay.”

He pushes the paper-filled drawer to make sure it stays there. Fingers drum against wood nervously.

“Looks like neither of us escaped, though you’re just my mind’s creation.”

Again. He speaks to assure himself. You cannot be a thought – you’re the one thinking.

“Insufferable. I’m standing right in front of you – in cold flesh. Undead, thinking, being, and you cannot just agree with it.” The man shakes hid head. “If it’s that difficult, then just act like I’m real for the duration of my short stay here.”

“Then what do you want?” Though the words are just words, the phrasing feels back-stabbing. You miss his poetry and all-telling essays. “Why are you here?”

“To make amends. Say goodbye and see you one last time.”

“And where are you going next?”

“I’m not sure. Since the moment I died, this” You motion between your pair. “has been my ultimate goal. I wanted to say goodbye and apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who-“

“-who needed me and was abandoned.” He goes silent.

One of the clocks announces midnight. You cannot be sure it’s precise. The one next to it shows afternoon. Another mechanism says the midnight will happen in a matter of minutes. It’s infuriating.

“How do you live with this chaos?”

A look back at the clocks causes him a smile. The first one you’ve seen so clearly since… A distant point in the past.

“Weirdly, it helps me.” At your confused gaze, he continues. “I’m not contained by time. Day and night – that’s all I know. Work happens when it happens. Sleep overtakes me when I’m tired. I eat when I’m hungry.”

The only thing in Younghyun contained by time is his body, because the soul you’ve fallen in love with long ago is still the same. You take a glance at the limping leg.

“So much time has passed, and yet – you didn’t change a bit.”

“Same could be- should be said about you.” Conflicted, the man walks up to you. “Am I really not dreaming? I’m dead, is that right? There’s no other explanation.”

“You’re not dead, Younghyun.”

He sighs at your cold touch on his hand. Neither of you break the physical contact, though you’re afraid the ice may hurt him. It’s sad – hating the thought of parting and being aware that prolonging the contact will inflict nothing but more pain.

“This is impossible. It’s like you froze in time.” Now, he’s eager to explore more.

The other hand skims your face, ignorant to the cold, persistent to every valley and hill. As if he was a creator, drawing your face to his design. Warmth travels up and down, left and right, stronger and weaker. His eyes follow where the fingertips lead. You want him to go on, do this forever, but Younghyun stops. Fingers close on your chin to angle it properly.

“You know, I’m so happy I stopped caring for the truth.” His eyes search your for the sparkle of life behind glossy surface. “Even if you’re some demon, here to gamble my soul, I can give it to you – for a moment longer in your presence.”

“Keep your soul. I just wanted to make sure you still had it.” Now, his smile is what you’ve wanted it to be – meant for you, caused by you and real.

Younghyun cannot shake the grin off, though he tries. In his attempts, the man lets go of your limbs to embrace you instead. He doesn’t comment the cold. Palms spread on your back, nose hides in your skin, lips breathe warmth. You can even feel the fluttering of his eyelashes.

“Then let’s not say goodbye again.”

Another clock announces midnight.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 6

A/N: Shortest part yet, but I promise more is coming tomorrow and I just couldn’t bring myself to figure out a good stopping place other than here :)

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing...I think that’s it for this one? 

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

The next morning, you guys took out the HMS Pogue, before realizing the only way you could figure out the location of the wreck and with it, the gold, was to get access to the internet and plug in the coordinates.

Of course, with the power out on the Cut, there was no way you could get online from home. JJ worked as a busboy at one of the fancy hotels on the kook side, and offered to let you guys in.

As always, the familiar warmth of the sun felt nice on your skin. Somehow, after the events of yesterday, it felt like forever since you guys had just hung out on the boat—tanning, swimming, drinking.

You felt uncomfortable today, uninterested in your usual bikinis and shorts. Instead, you borrowed one of your brother’s long-sleeved shirts, usually saved for the winter, and pulled on some faded, worn skinny jeans over your bikini bottoms.

Of course, Kiara noticed, giving your ass a friendly slap as she asked, “What’s with the fit today?”

You threw an arm over her shoulder, hers circling your waist as you walked towards the van. “I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.”

“You’re gonna get real hot, real fast. It’s breaking 100 today.”

“I’ve got my suit under. If worse comes to worse, I’ll just strip down to that.”

“Suit yourself.”

It was rare that you felt insecure. You weren’t ashamed of your physical appearance, no. It might’ve been the realization that your dad had intentionally abandoned you that had shaken you so much. You were feeling vulnerable already and being exposed all day would be a physical manifestation of your fear.

You were quieter than normal, but the pogues didn’t question it, noticing the opposite in John B. It was as if last night had given your brother purpose, something concrete he could actually put his mind to, rather than wonder for days on end.

Once inside, you guys had found out it was about 900ft down, almost off the deep end, but reachable. Though not totally legal, the pogues hatched a plan to ‘borrow’ the drone from the salvage yard that JJ’s dad used to work for.

You asked if you could sit this one out, and, taking one look at your defeated figure, no one disagreed. “I’m going to go and try and write for a bit today, alright?”

You had been a part of a band with a few kids from school, scoring gigs here and there to scrape in whatever money you could. It allowed you a living while doing something you loved at the same time. You were thankful for it, and for Kiara’s dad, who made sure you knew that the band was always welcome to play at the Wreck and earn something for the time they performed. Part of it had to do with the fact that the band always improved business, people staying longer for dessert just to hear you play one more set, but part of it was that he just liked you. Though you were just as crazy, if not crazier than the other pogues, it was easy to see that you had an idea for your future and that’s all that Mr. Carrera ever wanted for his daughter. Though the band had broken up before the summer, with both the drummer and the lead guitarist having graduated high school and moved out of the outer banks for college, you still wrote from time to time. It was your own sort of therapy, the cathartic ritual of trying to reach somewhere within your mind to actually create something. 

Kiara grinned. “Yeah! You should definitely come down to the wreck later tonight; it’s karaoke night!”

You assured her you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

John B gave you a pat on the back as you exited the van. They dropped you off at the Chateau and drove off, JJ shooting finger guns at you and making you smile.

You spent the day at the Chateau, working through your songs and nursing a rare bottle of old wine you had managed to hide from the others underneath your bathroom cabinet. 

You contemplated the last few days, not just about how unloved you felt by your parents, but also the growing thing between you and a certain blonde haired boy. 

You smiled as you strummed the guitar that your brother had given you for your thirteenth birthday as you remembered when you and JJ had first met. 

The third grade was hard enough without a twin brother that radiated energy, leaving you looking like the evil twin who lived in the shadows and collected the limbs of barbies in different containers. Which you did, but you didn’t expect to be so ostracized for it. 

You were alone that day at recess, walking across the black top with your arms hugging yourself. Your dad had done a poor job of helping you with your hair, leaving it a stringy mess across your back. 

Suddenly, your face met the ground and you groaned, turning your head to see a halo of gold behind you. You blinked quickly, pushing yourself up to see a blonde boy with crooked teeth apologizing profusely. 

“Dude! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, this guy—”

You noticed something in his hand. A Gameboy?

Behind him, a pudgy boy with a sweater vest and khaki shorts was quickly approaching and you soon understood what was going on. So this blonde little boy was a thief?

On instinct, you grabbed the gameboy from the blonde boy and shoved it in your backpack as his attacker came running up. 

He shoved the blonde boy to the ground and shouted. “Where is it? You took it, you thief!”

Furious at the violent treatment of the blonde, even though he had stolen, you threw yourself at the bully, your nails scratching him. 

In the end, all of you got in trouble, but when you walked to the bus that day, you gave the blonde boy the game boy and invited him to your place, where you had your own. He gave you a wicked smile, before giving you a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, pretty. I’m JJ.”

You didn’t know why, but you had always been protective of the boy, without a single good reason. He had always hidden his best qualities, but maybe some part of you recognized a part of yourself in him instantly. A kindred spirit of sorts. A hotheaded mess that was awful at suppressing his emotions but didn’t know how to deal with them any other way. A boy that would do anything for his friends. You didn’t know it at the time, but you found a mirrored version of yourself in that nine year old boy, and you brought him home with you. 

At sunset, you gave up on your songwriting. You had made little progress anyways, instead heading to the Wreck as you promised Kiara. 

When you walked in, the pogues were already shoving their faces happily after a long day. Kiara gave you a huge smile and beckoned you in to hear what had gone down. 

You gave JJ a kiss on the cheek for no reason at all, and he blushed, quipping, “Hey, wifey!”

You pulled your brother and Pope in for a big hug, feeling nostalgic after your lingering thoughts of childhood memories today. 

Before the pogues could comment on your drastically improved mood and sudden need for affection, you suggested that you all get started on karaoke before downing a beer, getting all of them excited.

You danced with Pope John B’s awful, fast-paced rapping of fifty-cent, but that was the point of karaoke, you guessed. 

Pope twirled you, before grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him, shaking his head in a silly fashion. You threw your head back and laughed, catching JJ smiling at the sight from his seat. 

You continued dancing with Pope as Kiara kept vibing on her own a few feet away. She finally had enough of John B’s voice and stole the microphone from him, replacing his screeching with her gorgeous velvet tones as she began singing her go to — Come and Get Your Love. You watched as JJ finally stood up, striding over shyly, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you in question. You let John B whisk Pope away as you pulled JJ to you by his forearms. 

You turned around, letting him cage you from behind as you swayed within the comfort of his arms. John B and Pope were waltzing beside you, making you chuckle. 

JJ sang softly to some of the lyrics, so low that you barely heard, only catching some when he bent close to your ears. “What’s the matter with your mind...And you’re mine, and you look so divine...If you want some, take some.” You tried to keep down the goosebumps, but of course, you failed, the fluttering of emotions you always tried to bury making its way up your throat. Or was that the alcohol?

He dropped his head to your shoulder, smiling as his hair brushed your collarbone. “You smell nice.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and turned in his arms. “I haven’t even showered today!” 

JJ shrugged. “You always smell nice.”

The beer made you giggle, “Do I? Are you getting soft on me, Maybank? You dance and sniff girls’ hair now?”

JJ scoffed, before saying. “Soft? Me? Get outta here, Trouble.” He added smoothly, “And it’s only your hair I sniff.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s a little stalkerish, don’t you think? Should I be concerned? C’mon Bear, you’ve gotta live up to your rep.”

JJ shook his head, pulling you back towards him so that you were chest to chest, forced to wrap your arms around him to keep your balance. “Fuck that, just dance with me for fuck’s sake.”

You felt Kiara’s eyes on you, smiling as she moved on to another song. 

Eventually, you got tired and let Kiara pull you away from the guys for a breath of fresh air. 

You walked across the beach, arms crossed over your abdomen. Kiara kept looking at you with that teasing smile and you finally had enough. “What?”

Kiara shook her head. “Nothing, just, you know it’s kind of obvious? You’re so thick headed sometimes, but you clearly –”

“Have feelings for JJ?” You finished for her. She looked at you in surprise as you turned back to the waves. “I’m not so thick-headed. I know what I feel. I’m not stupid.”

She nudged your side, giggling. “Well, he’s really feeling you, too. Like all the butterflies and shit, I swear.” Kiara gave you jazz hands, emphasizing the jittery feeling of a crush.

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You knew JJ liked you. You knew it in the way he was always looking out for you, no matter what was going on or what he was doing, his focus was involuntarily always on you. Even your own twin brother didn’t pay that much attention to you. There had always been a tension in the air between you two, a sort of understanding of mutual attraction. It weighed heavy, not just in the air, but on your shoulders, on your heart. Because you knew that you couldn’t let anything come of it. 

Kiara stopped, holding your elbow to keep you from walking any further. She looked confused. “Then why don’t you do anything about it? The rule’s bullshit, anyways.”

You took a deep breath, looking at your friend with heavy guilt as you tried to put into words why you knew that it was a bad idea. “Because we’re so similar. Neither of us have our heads screwed on right. We’d eventually destroy each other. And the worst part is...After the chaos, I wouldn’t have my best friend to help me pick up the pieces.” You shrugged. “I figure if there’s one time in my life I’m going to think before I act, it’s with this. Because this is one of the most important things in my life and I know there wouldn’t be any coming back from that.”

Kiara opened and closed her mouth multiple times, before finally asking, “But what if it works out? What if you create something beautiful?”

You laughed in denial, your throat tight. “It wouldn’t, Kie. It kills me to say it, but I know myself. I can’t be what he needs. I can’t bank on what ifs, anyways.”

Kiara pulled you towards her, wrapping you in a warm embrace. She looked behind you at the guys, who, from the looks of things, were beginning to get suspicious of you guys.

You and Kiara began walking back. Right before the two of you were within earshot of the rest of the pogues, Kiara took your hand and said to you, with complete surety, “For the record, Y/N, I think you guys are being idiots. You were lucky enough to find something real and you’re throwing it away. Because what? Because you’re scared? I just—I just don’t get it.” She scoffed, shaking her head as walking back inside, leaving you back at square one, wondering if you were being foolish and cowardly.

Masterlist

Tag List (If there is a strike through your user it’s bc I couldn’t tag you bc tumblr is wack sometimes...)

@hurricane-abigail @omigodyall​ @timotaychalabae​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​@caswinchester2000​ @meghanisdeadinside​ @harrysbbby​ @official-maddibrown @xdelicates@maybebanks@yourwonderbelle @treestarrrrrrrr @loco-latte@sspidermanss@theradvibes @eviction-notice-no666@screamingnewsies @the-fandom-life-forever @dolanfivsosxox@vibin-n-thrivin @em-aesthe  @the-real-jort @riverdaleserpent04@free-pool-trash @mileven-reddie @drewswannabegirl@queen1054 @eternalharry@alwayshopelesss @superqalifragilistik@smileyxdolans@fangirling-all-day @dianaillusion@catonthesideoftheroad @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise​ @thelovelydreamer17 @http-cherries​ @pit-zuh​ @kisssmefree​ @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies​ @outerbankstings​ @oliviadrake1​

I’m also kind of new to tagging and rlly bad at it so if something is wrong, I’m sorry and pls let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it!

I also lost my updated tag list i’m so dumb so let me know if I told you i would tag you and i didn’t oop

Stay safe and stay healthy!

[abbystanaccount]

Owen’s Aquarium Analysis

I was thinking about the various aspects of Owen’s Aquarium when it’s at its peak, during the Winter visit, and I just wanted to talk about it, throw some of my thoughts and interpretations out there.

This is where Owen has frequented for the past three years whenever he wanted to get away from the WLF. Abby has maybe been there a few times since their first discovery, but she hasn’t been in a long time. Personally I LOVE the way Owen reacts when he first sees her at the door. He’s very surprised, she asks him a question and it takes a second to answer because he’s busy thinking of how happy he is that she showed up at his home, the place he’s found solace in for the past few years.

The Aquarium is basically representative of Owen’s mind and his headspace. Owen’s in a pretty good spot when Abby comes to visit him in this flashback. He has games set up, he’s completely cleaned up the Aquarium trying to making it homey. But the fantastical set up is also a bit of a façade, Owen still has some issues with where he is in the world. His relationship with Mel is good (she can be really sweet sometimes), but Owen is hesitant to talk about Mel because whenever Abby is here, that’s all he can really focus on. When Abby gets there, all he wants to do now is hang out with her because he missed her. They’re playful, bantering, flirting a little, giving each other a hard time, it’s the Abby/Owen way 😌. He has a “selective memory”, and this Aquarium has many of his good memories.

The hooch. In this flashback and the present we see Owen drinking his homemade hooch, here it’s in celebration that Abby came to visit, later it’s because he’d drowning his sorrows. The fact that he makes his own alcohol, has a beer pong table, and can stand the taste of the hooch while Abby can’t, points to him drinking at least somewhat frequently. 

I’d also like to equate the hooch to his dreams of sailing away from it all and finding the Fireflies again. Owen has been making his own hooch and has also been trying to convince the other Salt Lake Crew that they should all look into the leads about the Fireflies. Up at the cafe when he offers Abby some, he enjoys it and he invites her to stay and see the view, Abby rejects both things like she did his notion of finding the Fireflies. Later on the boat he is consumed in his idea to leave and find the Fireflies (parallel to his drinking), then when he offers Abby some and to come sail away she declines.

Owen’s mural... he adds to Max’s mural and creates Salt Lake City on the wall, you can see the zebra’s and giraffe’s from Abby and Ellie’s memories in the foreground. The zebra memory and being in St Mary’s with Abby before Joel arrived were the last real happy memories they had, the last time they were still innocent and carefree. Owen memorializes these happy times through his art and puts it in a place he can look at frequently.

Abby also has a similar landscape painting she took from her dad’s office, it might also but of Salt Lake City, so she much like Owen kept those memories close. However I don’t know if Owen painted this one too, might be a little weird to paint your supervisor and secret gf’s dad a painting, idk. 🤷‍♀️

In relation to the Aquarium being like Owen’s mind, Owen projects to the world he’s happy with Mel, he tries to not think about Abby and get hung up on her, but because she still exists, she’s still around, that’s very hard for him. He is hesitant to write Abby on the board even though he says Mel won’t care, he knows that Mel will a bit, because it’s announcing that Abby was here. I feel like it had often been a discussion between Owen and Mel whether or not Owen was over Abby and Owen tried to convince her and himself he was, but it’s really not true.

Owen is a really sweet and creative person, he’d much rather be chilling in his Aquarium, getting it nice, or painting a mural or sketching (like his drawing of Abby). He warms up the entire place, except for maybe the hole in the roof he thinks it too much work to finish.  That’s probably very true, he is only one guy, but even besides the hole Owen shows an intense dedication to making the place fun, he lugged over party supplies seemingly by himself. 

Owen also doesn’t let anyone really know about the Aquarium. Manny only knew at the end because Abby told him, and Nora only knew from Manny. So for years it was just Owen’s thing. He offers to let Abby come “if she’s nice to him,’ he does want to share with her. It’s open to interpretation that maybe she never returned until this point because of her “skeleton” comment but I don’t like that so I like to think she did come back at least a few times, maybe it was less cleaned up though. It seems like since they broke up though, Owen has dedicated time to improving his Aquarium and starting anew. Once Owen starts dating Mel he eventually shows her the Aquarium and he hopes she’ll embrace it more than Abby did, which she does.

Their relationship became draining because of Abby’s revenge mission, and after they break up they both dedicate themselves to new things, Abby really ramps up her training and Scar killing, Owen tries to build a relationship with Mel and transform his Aquarium into something he can enjoy and live it. The issue there is Abby’s mission is just digging her deeper into a hole, and Owen can’t move on with Mel when Abby exists and he’s still in love and hung up on her.

This shot is pretty obvious, Abby is right in front of the Mel stocking, blocking it out. In another timeline where she wasn’t so caught up with Joel, it would have been her stocking there instead of Mel’s, Owen would have decorated the Aquarium for her and not Mel, and I think she sees that here. She’s even facing the Ferris wheel where they first ran away to. Owen is looking at this entire scene, and he can see it as well, it’s a gut punch to him that these are the circumstances. 

Owen still wants Abby to move on, he was overjoyed to have her visit him, play his archery game, just chat. It’s a rude awakening when he finds out she was there to just tell him that they’d found a lead on Joel, and that she’d already told the rest of the Crew including Mel about it. He’s feeling a bit betrayed by Abby here and pressured to join them. Owen wants what Abby wants, but he already sees how much pain its caused her and he doesn’t want more people than necessary getting hurt. But everyone else already said they would go and at one point or another he promised Abby they were in this together, and he’d never go back on his word for her.

I just want to touch on the state of the Aquariums when we see it, when we first see the Aquarium it’s not really Owen’s yet, it’s been abandoned and he had yet to put his work into it. Then three years later, it’s full his and representative of who he is. We see it after Jackson too, but it’s much more subdued and dreary because he’s been suffering mentally. If you focus on Owen during the Joel torture scenes you can really see how shook he was seeing Abby shoot Joel’s leg off, and he had to leave the room with Mel while she tortured Joel. Owen blames himself for not stopping her on this revenge quest, she’s finally doing it and it’s horrible to watch. 

Afterwards, Owen has retreated from others completely. The others are pissed at him when he disagreed about letting Ellie and Tommy go. How Abby behaved scared him. He doesn’t even want the new life with Mel, he just wants out of here by himself, everything else is too painful. When he shoots Danny, Owen realizes leaving is his only option is to go because he can’t stand to be in the WLF anymore. Owen wants to go back to a time when he was happy and working towards a real cause: the Fireflies. He still faces major hurdles though, the boat is broken and the WLF are going to come after him. Abby finds him curled up, retreated as far as he can go into his safe place. Waiting for someone to come and kill him for what he did. 

Then last time we go to the Aquarium, it is completely silent, eerie, and dead, Owen’s dreams of escaping to a better, happier life, shattered.

Sorry to end it on depression but that’s how it is 💔 except in happier au’s like mine lol.

Also side note, Abby saying “of course” when she sees the boat light on and not assuming he’s in the cafe or something, makes me think they returned there together at some point and more spent time there. So maybe that’s a less sad note.

[p1nkwitch]

If I can request one more lonelyeyes than can I have 36?

Its still lonelyeyes but with James/Peter first because you stumped me completely, I was on a soft roll!! What have you done? Is it because I never write sad stuff for realsies isn't it?

Jokes on you, I can still turn this boat around and get fluff at the end :)

36- “We can never be together” kiss

James was being difficult and it was starting to piss him off, they have been going out, not speaking well, which for him is quite the feat. The older man was… well he was handsome and he would have to admit that he enjoyed his company, perhaps-

Perhaps a little more than that, but lately he had been acting off and Peter was getting very frustrated, he even has been slowly making attempts at showing interest for something… more.

He was somewhat clumsy since he was not used to that kind of stuff, however he was calmly rebuffed, even if months ago the man would laugh a little and flirt back with interest. The sting of rejection was delightful in its own way, but he really did want the other one to reciprocate.

It was maddening.

So he invites him for dinner when he is in land, James was about to deny him, but he said it was in that particular restaurant that he likes, reserved and prepared just for them. He sees the hesitation crumble and he accepts.

Feeling much more pleased he tells him the time and date and disappears from his office. Now with a better mood he gets some clothes fit for the occasion and makes sure everything is set perfectly, with any luck this time he won't get rebuffed, or if he is he will ask for an explanation.

Peter is aware of the age difference between them, very much so, but its not so much the body rather than the man who despite his looks is sharp and funny in his own way, who delights on their own wagers and knows when to drop it and leave him alone if they get into a fight.

So yes, Peter is charmed despite everything. Forsaken curls and uncurls around him, trying to figure out what to do with him. He won't abandon it, that's also the reason why he likes the man, he understands his connection to his god and is aware that he won't choose him before it, a relationship between them would be nothing if productive for both.

Finally the day arrives and he gets there a little bit late 15 minutes or so, not wanting to give the man the inkling that he was expecting him. Of course James merely gives him a look, raises an annoyed eyebrow and walks inside, leaving him feeling cold and delighted.

The dinner goes off without a hitch, they talk and joke, make a few comments about sacrifices for their gods, it all goes well. He looks at James while sipping some wine and sees a small smile that lets him know it's not all going bad, maybe this changes his mind finally!

So it goes and he shifts ever so slightly towards him during the course of it. He doesn't comment or rebuff him, so things are looking up.

Finally its time for desert and he asks for some cake, the man looks delighted and eats it rather happily, Peter asks for a slice of apple crumble rather than the chocolate cake, so after giving it a few looks the other man sighs and asks if he wants to try it. Grinning he nods and tries to steal some, but its stopped by him who takes a piece with his fork and offers it at him with a challenging smirk.

He stops, too close, but also not enough.

Ugh-

James rolls his eyes and eats it instead, offering the plate, making him huff. Still he tries it and its very good, mmm maybe he should make some chocolate muffins before he goes away again its been a while-

Anyways, once done he offers to go along with him to take him home and that's when he sees him frown and stiffen. Peter hesitates a little bit unsure of what the issue was.

“Peter… i appreciate the company i do, but this is not… whatever this is, its not going further. It can't, i apologize if i gave you the wrong idea” He blinks rapidly and tries to understand, he flirted back, he knows he did, he-

Did he read it wrong this entire time? Forsaken is tugging at him to disappear and forget this now, to erase any shame or embarrassment and let him be released from it. But-

No, he needs to figure it out first, it can have been just him!!! He saw the beholder smiles and flushed faces, it's not just him.

“Why? You flirted back, im not, its not just me, so what is the problem!” He is a little bit more annoyed at it and he can already hear the distorted sound of the lonely around them, keeping people out from seeing them or hearing them. James' face goes hard and blank at the same time making him clench his teeth.

“I'm afraid it won't work, plus… i believe you are a little bit young, i'm sure someone closer to your age would be far more fitting than me” The way he said that sounded a little bit odd to him, but he ignored it.

“I don't care, i really don't!” James stares him down and he feels the sensation of eyes piercing his head.

“Stop that!” It subsides. The man sighs and steps closer to him, making him give a step back. He smiles somwhat nastily.

“Peter i mean it, we cant in fact i will ask of you to not contact me again beyond that of business, people are really getting the wrong impression about me and i cant have that now” He shuts his mouth close and steps forward just right in front of him. He sees his lips twitch and his eyes briefly look down to his mouth and in a fit of childish pettines he leans down and kisses him briefly. It's short and bitter, he intends to be a goodbye before leaving, but he feels him lean forward and like magnets they end up coming together, the kiss becomes deeper and he fights him all the way through, James sneaks his hands around his neck and pulls him closer still, slotting them perfectly. The warmth and the bitter knowledge that he won't change his mind make him stop with a gasp, but the other just moves and bites his lip before giving him a short peck and steps back.

“I'm sorry Peter, but we can't really be together like this” Peter who is not used to strong feelings feels his face contort in fury.

“Fine, be that way mister Wright. Goodbye” He is pulled away and misses the stricken face the other makes before going back to a neutral one.

He leaves for almost a year and refuses to go to any meeting, merely sending in the money requested from the institute. Better like this he figures.

Eventually after two years of that his uncle scolds him in his… own way and tells him to go.

So he does.

It's not what he expected at all, instead of James Wright a very young man named Elias Bouchard sits as head of the institute.

“Ah the elusive Mister Lukas, i was expecting you my predecessor left some notes about you-”

“What happened to James?” He is still puzzled, did he retire? Elias' face does a complicated journey that settles in a fake smile.

“He unfortunately died last year and I have been his replacement since. It was honestly quite sudden a heart attack out of all things” It sort of shuffles around his mind trying to comprehend what the man was saying, he… died ? he missed the funeral then, one of those calls he ignored-

“Oh” And that's all, he sits, lets the man speak, and even if it sort of feels familiar in a way he just shrugs his way around signs the papers pointed at him and goes. Again he does not see the disappointment in Elias' face.

So he comes and talks with him and then he leaves, rinse and repeat, Peter learned his lesson by now and its rather happy to not pay attention to the new beholder. Covering himself with the fog more and more and leaving him ruffled at his passiveness. He has a very light thought that he is sounding more and more like his uncle as time goes by, which is a frightening prospect but at his rate not unwelcomed. 

Elias asks him out eventually and he declines.

That sets him off in the end.

“Oh my god Peter this has gone on for too long, i thought it was some fancy but i'm really getting tired of your attitude. I apologize for how things ended but please can you fucking look me in the eyes and tell me what you see!?” Now absolutely baffled he gives him a look and shakes his head.

“What are you-”

“I was going to switch! I couldn't keep you around during that! Plus people were speaking and while i tried to get Elias it would look bad so i needed to make it less suspicious. I did want to date you. It just wasn't the right time that's all” He is starting to get angry now because he had been rifling thought his mind and was using it-

“Don't mess with me and spy just to play an awful prank on-” Elias groans, gets up, walks to him, making him step back and grabs his face making him look directly at him. He freezes at the contact, the last person he touched and was this close to was James almost three years ago.

“Look into my eyes you see weaded idiot” He stares they aren't that special, they are just grey just like Jam-

“No” He grins and its so bloody familiar and unnerving he gasps.

“Oh yes, i have been looking after my institute all this time and i wasnt about to stop now” His mind reels and he sort of gapes a little until he mumbles the name.

“Jonah Magnus?” Elias grins is positively vicious but he can see it twitch and his eyes go softer. Oh my god-

“Hi” Peter stares far longer than he ever has to another human face. Once his mind finally sorts everything out he kicks him in the leg making him let out a yell and he grabs his face before kissing him deeply. That shuts him up. Elias was shorter than James by a few inches which were hell for his neck, but ultimately he was more concerned with just kissing him harder, something the man was happy to reciprocate.

They end up making out on the couch in his office for the next 20 minutes, all between curses and questions.

“Why you-” He gets a bite on the jaw and he clutches his waist in warning.

“Told you the body was old, gossip was going around. And i-” Peter kisses him and bites his neck, making him moan a little bit.

“I panicked, i did like you, hell i wanted to take you to my place and do this and more, but my body was seriously getting in the way-�� Another peck on the lips.

“Is that- fuck is that wh you said that about me finding someone younger?” He nods and goes to attach himself to his neck.

“Yes- it was a reference to Elias. Plus I thought… you weren't being serious about James” Peter has mixed feelings, lots and lots of mixed feelings that he will ignore and maybe just maybe parse through once he is alone at sea, but for now-

“Stupid, i dont care how you look as long as its you” He feels his cheeks burn and forskaen hiss at him more for that than the making out, but its betetr to let it out now.

“i will only say this time, so get it in your head” James/Jonah/Elias nods and kisses him again, he sees him flush and smiles a little bit before laughing and hiding his face on his neck. Both of them embarrassed for different reasons.

“Say do you want to marry me?” He hears him choke and Peter grins, perhaps its a crazy idea and out of nowhere, but he is rather happy with it.

Elias doesn't answer yet, merely berates him. 

But once he is about to leave he tells him to give him a ring and ask again right.

“Is that a yes?” He gives him a look that would be terrifying if he wasn't staring at the small hickey in his neck barely peeking from his shirt.

“Its not a no, now go you already messed up my afternoon”

“Sure thing little starfish” The offended sound follows him back. Oh they will make each other possibly miserable, but they will have fun though it.

[from-the-clouds]

Hold Out - Marty Byrde x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Reader has worked for Marty since the Byrde's first moved to the Ozarks, and finds him vulnerable and alone after a fight with Wendy.

Words: 1.8k

A/N: I warned ya’ll I’d write something for this show!! im currently obsessed, so please enjoy this. i have felt badly for marty since season 1, and feel like he just needs a love interest who's soft and gentle with him??? i have a whole world planned around these two if you'd like to see more. i know this is a very niche fandom but if you like this at all, please let me know! it was fun to write.

**********

She wasn’t sure what time it was when she stumbled into the clearing. Well past sundown, but not quite midnight. Her arms and legs stung where she’d been scratched by thorns and branches faltering through the forest. It’d been hours since she’d last heard from him. Each call that went unanswered made her more and more frantic. It was unlike him.

After searching all over town, all the spots she’d usually find him when he was hard to track down, she’d come up with nothing. And she had her phone pressed to her ear with Wendy’s number dialed in before she thought of one last place she hadn’t checked.

Gravel spit from the back of her tires as Y/N turned too quickly off the road and parked her car, throwing open the door and nearly sprinting through the woods to the small meadow.

She’d been going here since she was a little kid. It was her own little park she’d stumbled upon one day ambling around town. Very few locals knew about it, let alone any tourists. Tall grass and wildflowers nipped at her knees along with the mosquitoes, and stars glittered against the black abyss above, the moonlight reflecting off the lake. And despite the late hour, she could see everything, including Marty, standing with his back to her, toes over the edge of a rock that hung over the lake at least a hundred feet below.

Her heart lurched. “Marty,” Y/N said his name before she could stop herself, concerned for a moment she might startle him into the unthinkable. But when he didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder in response, she wondered if he’d even heard her.

Treading forward lightly, she paused a foot or two behind him, carefully reaching out. “Hey,” she said, fingers clasping around his wrist, above his expensive watch. He didn’t take the hint, didn’t budge, didn’t look at her, eyes still on the lake. It rippled placidly, lapping against the jagged rocks below them, but he was looking beyond its tranquil appearance, the emptiness beneath the surface that could swallow him whole, like he wanted it to.

Despite the chill of the evening, he was still dressed for work, in a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the moon reflecting off his dress shoes. She stepped a little closer to the edge alongside him, just to see his profile.

A slight tug on his wrist prompted him to step backwards, and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Marty’s chest began heaving, like he just realized where he was standing, his eyes shifting towards her like he finally noticed she was there.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked without thinking, and it was a stupid question, she knew.

He didn’t answer, and she didn’t expect him to. In the dark, she guided him away from the ledge, one hand between his shoulders. Marty tripped over himself, eyes red-rimmed and glazed over. He’d been drinking, or crying. Or maybe both.

He didn’t lose his cool. Even though it seemed they were always getting the short end of the stick, always scrambling to clean up a mess, ten steps behind where they should be. Despite this, he was always a force. Steady. But not now.

Of course she didn’t like being out of the loop. And he did a good job of communicating with her. So whatever this was, whatever could have caused this, she’d almost rather be ignorant to.

“How’d you find me?” was all he asked, and despite the distress on his face his voice was characteristically even. There was an old rotting picnic table they sat down at, with her next to him, looking over the lake, out at the pitch dark sky and the glimmering lights in the distance of a few boats still on the water.

“It took some time,” she said. “I looked everywhere.”

“You should be in bed,” he said flatly.

“Well I’m not,” she chewed on her lower lip, taking a deep breath, her chest catching on the ache in her heart.

“Did you need something?” he asked, his voice had the same frost she saw in the air when she exhaled, and she felt it clutch around her chest, her words coming out choked and stuttered.

“I- I didn’t want….the things I said the last time we talked...to be the last thing I ever said to you...”

“They wouldn’t have been,” he said, although not so convincingly. He still refused to look at her, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

“Are you sure?” she asked, feeling a bit more emboldened.  “Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, or what you’re doing here. But I’m not stupid.”

He didn’t answer her, just leaned forward, elbow to his knee as he rubbed his temple between his thumb and forefinger. She could see clouds rolling in, the wind picking up. It was supposed to storm, and she didn’t want either of them to get caught up in bad weather.

“How’d you get here?” she asked. “I didn’t see your car on my way in.”

“I walked,” he said flatly. They were miles away from anything, let alone his house.

“Let me give you a ride home,” she said. All she wanted to do was help him. He’d helped her before, so many times, probably when he didn’t want to. So she knew she had to do this for him. She wanted to. Even if she couldn’t give him what he really needed.

“I can’t go home right now,” he muttered into his hand.

“Then stay at my place,” she said softly, she felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She hated herself for feeling the way she did about him. Marty was a criminal. He’d made her one, too. But she was stuck on him, for some inexplicable reason. The only man who’d ever truly seen her. And right now, he looked so broken.

Surprisingly, he didn’t argue.

By the time they got to the car, she could hear the thunder rumbling in the distance, and the rain had started to come down.

The ride home went quickly. She was wet and shivering. Neither of them uttered a word and she was partly thankful for it, though with each moment of silence she felt more and more desperate to know what was wrong.

Marty had the decency to pull off his shoes at her front door, sitting on the couch in her living room while she put on some hot water for tea and changed into dry clothes. When she returned to her living room with the mug, towels and a blanket, she found him staring blankly ahead, one elbow resting on the edge of the couch.

He started when she pressed the mug into his free hand, and she frowned as she sat down next to him.

“Are you staying up with me?” he asked, turning to her as she tucked her legs underneath her on the middle cushion.

“If you want me to,” she said, leaning against the back of the couch.

Marty didn’t answer, he took a sip of his tea and then grimaced, abandoning it on the side table next to him. That meant yes. In his never ending quest to remain unreadable, she’d figured out a few things in the years she’d known him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she prompted.

“I got into an argument with Wendy,” he said flatly.

In the time it’d taken her to drive him here, he seemed to have pulled himself together enough to be back on the defense, much more collected than before. “That’s all?” she asked, skeptical.

He shrugged. “You know everything else there is to know.”

And most of what he’d been through was enough to make anyone crack.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. She knew things between him and Wendy had always been tense, but she always assumed it was just because of work. They didn’t seem to really love each other, but it was none of her business. It was probably better not to press.

“I’ve only ever wanted to get us out of this mess,” he said, shaking his head. “And she….well we both...have only gotten in deeper.”

“I know,” she said softly. Marty buried his head in his hands, hunching forward. Tentatively, she reached out, placing her hand at the base of his neck, then slowly working her thumb against the knots she could feel rippling underneath the skin of his shoulders. Marty exhaled, lifted his head up from his hands to look at her, finally.

His normally steely blues were rimmed red and glassy. Whether he’d been crying or not, the strain was evident on his face, somewhere between the dark circles that hung beneath his eyes and his sunken cheeks. Tense was an understatement, and the constant pressure the past few years had taken their toll. It’d been awhile since she’d been this close to him, and she could see the gray in his hair, sprouting up around his ears and along his hairline, the stubble on his jaw.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, near pleading, desperate to provide some sort of solace. She never felt the need to fill empty space with words, but she was scared for him. But at the same time, she felt she couldn’t be enough to comfort him.

He answered her with a sad smile. His hand rose to clasp her own, still resting at his shoulder. Gooseflesh rose on her arm as she was drawn closer, and if this were any other man, she’d expect him to kiss her.

Y/N reached out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. It was impulsive, and she expected him to jolt away, at first. He was warm, his shirt still damp from the rain. His arms wrapped around her torso, she felt his steady breath on her neck, his head tucked under her chin.

“This is enough,” he whispered.

The rain came down steadily outside, thunder rumbling above, and she closed her eyes. She’d stay this way as long as he needed her. It was a long time, then, she only realized, when his breathing became light and even and she, too, drifted off.

When she woke up the next day, alone on her couch with a blanket draped carefully over her, she knew what to expect from Marty. He’d carry on like it never happened. Like she hadn’t let her lips brush over his temple, like he hadn’t whispered ‘thank you’ before he fell asleep in her arms. And she thought maybe it would be better off for her to believe it’d all been a dream.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Land Mammal | Feeding Habits Update #7

Hello! We are back for another Feeding Habits update, but this time we’re chatting chapter 8, aka Land Mammal.

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline & excerpts under the cut because this one is a long one! If you missed previous updates or are new to the project, check out the novel intro page (which links all the updates) HERE!

Taglist (please ask to be added or removed): @if-one-of-us-falls @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @ev--writes , @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories , @august-iswriting, @berinswriting​​

Scene A:

After Harrison enters his apartment to find his ex Lonan hanging out in his kitchen in chapter six, he nopes to his room and tends to his German Shepherd puppy, June.

His mother, Suzanna interrupts him and attempts to explain that he can’t run away from his problems, and after the two argue, Harrison exits his room to find Lonan mopping up Harrison’s tracks of seawater from chapter six.

Scene B:

Harrison brings Lonan to a kiosk for canoe rentals and rents a canoe. Harrison sets up their journey whereas Lonan refuses to enter the water after subtly announcing a new fear of it. Instead, he collects beach stones from the sand. They have their first conversation in months where Harrison eggs Lonan on until he finally gets in the canoe. They set out on the water where Harrison questions Lonan regarding his relationship with Eliza (who he presumes he’s still in a relationship with) who is not there with him. Harrison accuses Lonan of murder and subsequently capsizes the canoe so they reunite underwater.

Scene C:

Harrison wakes up alone the next day on a hay bale, having stolen Lonan’s money (and shirt tea tea tea). We can assume he’s abandoned him and has travelled to the barn mentioned in chapter six. Here, he decides he needs an excuse for why he’s there early to the homeowners. He decides, since they hired him to fix up their barn, he’ll just say he was trying to be a good worker and get a head start.

However, as he approaches the farmhouse, the door is opened for him by Sharleen Harvey, his boss’ wife. He bullshits his excuse for being there so early just as Sharleen leads him to the breakfast table where Lonan sits (lol). Everyone there knows Harrison is clearly lying.

Scene D:

Harrison eats pancakes on the porch with the Harveys’ dog when Lonan joins him.

Scene Ea:

We dive into what happened after Harrison capsized their canoe. Harrison gets a lil unhinged and things get a lil murdery oops. This leads to shenanigans!! That is all I will say!!!

Scene Eb:

A very short, poetic paragraph that collects details from sentences in scene Ea that follow a Blue [NOUN] structure.

Scene Ec:

A two-sentence nudge at the ~the shenanigans

Scene F:

Harrison notices Lonan wears the ring he and Harrison tracked Eliza down to retrieve, and questions him as to why he didn’t propose to her with it. He goes on a desperate rant on why they should’ve gotten married before Lonan insists it’s now time for him to bring him home. The end of this scene signals a very slight glimpse of Harrison finally humanizing Lonan after a chapter of demonizing him (and also Harrison’s failing mental state).

Scene Ga:

Harrison falls asleep on the car ride back to his apartment in the city and doesn’t wake up until a day later. In this time, Lonan has stayed with him. He eventually wakes up and immediately notices Lonan fiddling with the guardian angel pendant he gifted him. Harrison seems to finally realize the weight of Lonan’s humanity in this scene and allows himself to trust him once again to some extent.

Scene Gb:

A second poem paragraph that references the water shenanigans that occur in scene Ea

Can you tell I’ve been really into poetry lately the poet in me said hello!

Excerpts:

This is a ~tender excerpt that explains Harrison’s mindset!

Suzanna is prettier in bad light. The tungsten of his bedroom’s cheap lightbulb cratering her waterline so the smudge of kohl shifts, the zip of her crow’s feet, the shimmer on her cheeks, all the soft things about her. She holds a beach towel, cactus print. This new life a second try neither asked for but committed to, this move back to the east their thing. Window-shopping for kitchenware on Sundays, snatching samples of bratwurst and sauerkraut for each other at the market, sharing each other’s toothpicks, burning caramel popcorn and renting the wrong DVDs, inventing new takes on boeuf bourguinon, sending postcards to each other even though they share an address. Undeniably theirs. A life unappreciated, and yet what he says next is “Where’s Eliza?” instead of I don’t want this life to end. Harrison pets the dog.

The following is the entire scene of the boys’ first interaction in months. TW: homicide, religious content, suicide, nods to self-harm

A canoe-rental kiosk ruching the Hudson River. Harrison pays for a two-hour timeslot with the last of his savings and lugs it to the shoreline by himself. It is nearly midnight, the sky clogged with fog and moonlight.

Lonan will not enter the water. Back near the kiosk, he fiddles with a beachstone, bathing in tungsten from the streetlamp above him. He gave no reason for his rejection, just picked stones as they walked along the boardwalk, through the parking lot, to the kiosk. As if he’d polish them, feed them through a rock tumbler as if he has the patience for that, tend to them like infants, shape, polish, burnish, sell them for thirty dollars a piece and donate the money to an animal sanctuary, as if has the mind to.

Harrison shifts the canoe perpendicular to the water and steps in. The boat cranks under his weight, its coldness seeping through his jeans.

Lonan stoops for more stones. His knees luminescing in white sand. His hair oilslick, cropped to his scalp like blunt grass. His fingers arrowing through sand, a raven filching seed. He unearths the stones with urgency, a paleontologist, a gravedigger.

“You’ll never make a sale on those,” Harrison shouts from the canoe. His voice splinters the night and puffs with the sand.

Lonan nearly drops his handful of stones. It takes him a moment to look up, and when he does, he searches the treeline first, the windows of a parked SUV, the gaps between a thicket of lifejackets before reaching Harrison, and he’s so deerlike, Harrison thinks, he’s so limp, so feeble, so susceptible. His hair jutting briefly from his scalp like an accordion, badly cut probably because Eliza likes it that way. His skin nearly lilac in places, a gauntness in his face, a hunger.

“My mother tells me you like her cooking,” he continues. “That you’re here for your sister. That you’re here alone.”

Lonan reaches for another stone.

“Eliza wants you to look like a deacon.” Harrison frills a hand toward his hair, snaps his fingers like scissors. “So holy. I could ordain you right now. Make you born-again. There’s so much water.”

“I don’t swim,” Lonan says. He reaches for another stone, then another so his palms turn into one.

“You don’t? You’re a land mammal. Rhinoceros. Hippopotamus. Is it the stones? You’re afraid they’ll sink you?”

“I’m not keeping the stones.”

“Then why search for them?”

Lonan sets the pile down. They clatter into the sand and toil into new holes, a sand cloud disguising them in the minute he rises, dusts himself off, limb by limb, and walks toward the canoe.

“Is it supposed to be avant garde?” Harrison asks as he gets closer. “The hair. So avant garde. So high fashion. Everyone wants you.” And then, “You’re scared of water now. The last time I knew you that’s where you wanted to be buried. It’s a good opportunity. Take the stones with you. Company that serves a purpose.”

Lonan hikes into the canoe. He takes a seat opposite Harrison and grips the paddle as if it’s a murder weapon ready to save him.

“She might be dead,” Lonan says. They push from the shore, and Lonan scores the water with the paddle until the kiosk shrinks. His hands jitter, unsteady, but takes them through the water. “She’s not with me.”

“Are those things related?” Harrison shifts closer to him, that haunted, lilac, hungry face, the edges of him he knows, he’s touched, the nose he’s nudged, the eyelids he’s dabbed, the ears he’s breathed into and out of, the mouth he’s spoken into and spoken out of. That hunted lilac hungry face, searching for a place where he can be sustenance, a place he knows, a place of comfort. The holes all closed. Those pores no longer constellations he’s memorized. That haunted lilac hungry face no longer his. “How did you do it?” Harrison asks. He stares at Lonan’s hands, the hands he should know, nailbeds he’s scored with his own, fingers he’s matched with his own, palms he’s stamped with his own. “Asphyxiation? Death by drowning. Death by land mammal.” He tries his wrist next, tendons flexing with the paddle, that expanse of skin a flute of ivory, those veins he should know, where they conjoin, where they branch like an oakwood. Those scars he knows the stories of—accidents, non-accidents, safety pins, lighters, cigarettes, ballpoint pens. Harrison could recite those stories a year ago and now they’ve dissolved, unmemories.

“It was an accident.”

“You’re a murderer.”

“I’m sorry.”

They’ve paddled so far from the kiosk, it’s like they’re on their own planet. A planet of only water. A planet uninhabitable, where land mammals sink and never come back up. Lonan’s eyes glisten with moonlight, and his waterline should be recognizable, dampening now, cattled with wet eyelashes, should be memorable, what it felt like to touch their ledge. All foreign. He’s foreign. So foreign. His anti-hair, anti-face, anti-hands, anti-wrists. He’s crying and immemorable. He’s crying and sorry.

Harrison shuffles forward until their knees touch. He reaches. He makes contact. He touches his skin. He touches his ear. He touches cheek. He touches eyes, fingerprints his irises, wrings the tears from his waterline, pulls his face by the jaw, cradling his land mammal. He is crying. They should both cry. They are both crying. Their own lake puddling in Harrison’s palm. Theirs as Harrison dips his free hand into the water. Theirs as he hushes Lonan’s writhing. Theirs as he christens him, the water gorging his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Theirs as he promises it will be okay. Theirs as he says he will get to know this stranger. Theirs as they promise to both regrow. Theirs as Harrison jerks the canoe. Theirs as they capsize. Theirs as they reunite in fizzing tide, caught in the river, both animals trapped in amber.

Tea:

The next time he is dry, he is lying on a bale of hay, wearing the wrong shirt, a hundred dollars richer. All of these things are related. The hay only because he paid for a cab with money he only has because of the shirt, five twenties easily slipped into the breast pocket when Lonan wasn’t looking. Twenty on the cab ride to Brooklyn, and now he’s face-first in a spool of hay that is better than sleeping in his own bed.

Harrison being chaotic and embarrassing lol:

A seagull on a ceiling beam gorges on a French fry. It eats with conviction, the fry lost in its throat before he even blinks. It flies through the hole in the roof as Harrison rises off the hay bale.

He did not announce his arrival to Theodore Harvey. In fact, he entered the property like it was his own, picked the barn’s lock with the edge of one of Lonan’s beachstones—he did keep one, in the pocket with his shirt, right behind the money—and slept without worrying what his mother would think. His third life is no longer necessary—it has already been disturbed. It is more efficient to deescalate than renew.

He decides he will not tell Harvey of his stay but lie and say he arrived at the farm early, 6AM, a good man trying to start his work early. Trying to impress. He’ll lie, say he tried picking up a tray of raspberry danishes from the bakery but it was too early for anyone to have opened. He’ll lie, apologize to Harvey’s wife Sharleen for showing up empty-handed. It’s rude to bring no offering.

Harrison fixes himself in the reflection of an overturned wheelbarrow, its silver belly clouded with rust. He exits the barn dry, well-rested, a richer, more fashionable man.

Before he even finishes ascending the veranda of the Harvey house, Sharleen opens the door. Her white hair is pearled into a bun. She wears a paisley patterned apron, chartreuse.

“Raspberry Danishes,” Harrison says. “All I wanted was to bring you some fresh raspberry Danishes, but all the bakeries were closed.”

Sharleen rolls up her sleeves. Her hands are caked with flour and fat.

“I considered tulips, but realized I’ve never asked for your favourite flower. Is it tulips? Hydrangeas? Chrysanthemums?”

Sharleen juts open the screen door and holds it open for him. He enters the foyer, and it smells like cinnamon, like sugar.

“I’ve heard marigolds are helpful for warding off squirrels,” he says, taking the hand she offers for his jacket. Sharleen doesn’t jump when he runs his finger across her wedding band and pecks her knuckles with his mouth. She doesn’t even speak. “Is that true?” as they usher toward the kitchen. “Pretty and purposeful. Sounds fake.”

Sharleen dusts her hands on her apron and jars open the kitchen door.

“Could be a double whammy. Or a scam. Or an old wife’s tale,” Harrison is saying as they walk into the kitchen, so occupied with the marigolds he does not notice when Sharleen returns to the stove to flip a pancake, so occupied, when he turns to the kitchen table, expecting only Harvey but seeing Lonan, all he says is, “Sounds too good to be true.”

Lonan joining Harrison on the porch after the above:

Harrison eats his pancakes on the porch. The Harveys’ dog joins him, a golden retriever named Leila. He cuts her a rift of cake and slots it into her mouth when she whines. One bite for him, another for Leila. Him, Leila, him, Leila. The good news is since he fixed their coffee machine, he now drinks drip.

It does not take long for Lonan to follow him outside. Harrison’s known this was inevitable and has dreaded the last five minutes because of it. He slits another triangle of pancake and feeds it to the dog.

It’s too cold to be out without a jacket. Wind nips Harrison’s ears and icicles his fingertips. Lonan’s shirt, the pale blue button-up he nabbed knowing he’d have cash, brays under the breeze, barely denser than a tissue.

TW: This gets a bit murder-y!

Suspended in water, Lonan was aquatic. Blue eyes turning into blue skin into blue lips into blue throat, chest, wrist. Shards of his sheared hair slung in sheathes of bubbles, his face blissfully marred by their movement. Blue collarbones, blue earlobe, blue shoulder blade, blue pinkie finger.

Harrison pulled him by the shirtsleeve before he could swim back to the surface, contorting them under the hex of the overturned boat. Him and the water a double team as they took Lonan by the shoulders and held him underwater, an insect stilled and ready to be inspected. Saltwater burned Harrison’s eyes as he stared, but that wasn’t a deterrent. If he only had a moment to look, he wanted it to be in stillness, in a place time unravels. Blue knuckles, blue abdomen, blue forearm, blue tibia.

When Harrison dragged them toward the six-inch gap between the water’s surface and the canoe’s dome, he held them both there, sheep and shepherd, slain and slaughterer. His hands cupped around his throat like butterfly wings, holding him there for safekeeping. Blue nose-bridge, blue sclera, blue cheekbone, blue teeth. He coughed water.

Iconic dialogue (TW: this is also a bit murder-y!):

“Pull me under,” Lonan said, spitting water, his voice grating under pressure. He trembled, his limbs his betrayal, tremoloing in the waves.

And Harrison did. Dousing him by the shoulders and holding him under so only he floated in the miniscule gap of air, Lonan a sunken, thrashing speck. It was thrilling, holding a body in his hands, determining its fate. And equally as thrilling to hold it as he lulled Lonan back up and over his shoulder where he deflated, gasping. At first Lonan coughed, once twice, heaving saltwater and saliva. But then a birdlike sound, compact but jittering, the wisp of a laugh, and Harrison couldn’t help but wonder if he was thrilled, too

“Do you feel accomplished, Harrison?” Lonan asked, his teeth prattling like an accordion. His hand trailed up the tail of his jacket, scrawling along the soaked leather. Lonan shifted, his body dead weight nearly drowned. And there was the sound again, chirping, “You’re not the first person who’s tried to kill me this year. Congratulations.”

Harrison angst in its prime:

Harrison adjusted his grip around Lonan so one arm supported his torso and the other scored his jaw. His fingers pressed against the skin there so it paled, exploring along that blue skin, blue mouth. The facts were: Lonan was not there for him, or so he told Suzanna, and so he was a changed man, uncoupled, unromanced, a clean restart. They would get out of the water. Harrison would climb into the backseat of the car Lonan drove instead of the passenger’s side because he wouldn’t want to look at him, and they would return to the apartment and not speak again. Suzanna would intervene in the next morning, maybe get up early to make breakfast, French toast, or crepes, or single-serve omelettes, and they would look at each other and it would be easier to forgive Lonan for a decision Harrison made. Suzanna would say he shouldn’t feel rejected when he was the one doing the rejecting and apologize a few hours later, blame it on the side effects of her cough drops. So it would be fine. They would be friends, or whatever they were before Eliza, and Harrison would live his cyclical life with a new-old person who didn’t come searching for him. Glamorous.

This is scene Ec if you were wondering what that looked like:

After, in a wash of cattails, saltwater in their mouths. Their bodies keeling over the other’s like the matrix of a ribcage. Snowmelt turning them both blue.

I find this description v cute ok I need a Harrison flannel:

Lonan is on his fifth button. His skin crests from underneath the squares of orange and red. The fabric smelling dangerously of Harrison: cigarette smoke, cinnamon.

Harrison badgers Lonan about not marrying Eliza and then it gets PURE:

“Why won’t you marry her?” Harrison asks. “You could have children. A honeymoon.”

Lonan stuffs his free hand into his pocket. His breath fogs with every exhale, his nose pinkish with cold. Harrison doesn’t feel any of it, the breath, the cold, his hands. He doesn’t move to button up his flannel. He doesn’t want to move.

“You’re going back to her. You’re here to check on Reeve, and then you’re going back. To get married. To have children. To honeymoon forever.”

Lonan’s hair is awful. Spoking from his scalp like a raven’s wings, some sections ragged, uneven. Not a haircut, but punishment.

“You’re perfect,” Harrison says. He should being shivering, be freezing, but he feels nothing. “Why can’t you say you’re perfect?”

Lonan moves first. They could reabsorb. Go back to blue. But Lonan only reaches for the flannel with his free hand and drapes it around Harrison’s shoulders. Arm by arm, slotting them through the sleeves. Button by button, securing it up his abdomen, his chest, right up to his throat. If Harrison looks closely, one of his eyes is rimmed with scarlet, like a vessel there popped, and a pool of lilac simmers, almost undetectable, across his temple.

“You could’ve married her,” Harrison says. His voice has dropped to a whisper. Lonan swings his jacket around his shoulders, securing his arms through each loop of leather, one, two. Zipping so his exposed skin may rewarm.

“I need to take you home,” Lonan says. Lonan with the broken eye. Lonan with the blackberry skin. Lonan with the teeth-shorn shirt. Lonan with the mowed hair. Lonan with the burned palms. Lonan with the wedding ring that was never really a wedding ring. Lonan who looks as if he’s always prepared to blink, just in case something comes out to get him.

The following is from scene Ga:

Harrison sleeps in the car on his way back and doesn’t wake until the next day. In that time, Suzanna slots takeout boxes through the unrolled window, three full meals: sweet corn and tomato fusilli, beef stifado, meatless cassoulet. What she doesn’t know is they sit, untouched, under the passenger’s seat, not because Lonan is averted by her cooking, but because he’s saving them to share, just in case. She brings a vacuum sealed bag of extra comforters the first evening when flurries dot the windshield, Harrison is swathed in them all by the time the snow reaches half an inch. One lined with Sherpa closest to his skin when he stirs, the bulbs of fabric like cottage cheese. In the time he’s in the car he dreams. Of driving into the ocean. Of haircuts. Marriage.

When he opens his eyes, Lonan is nuzzled against the windowpane, his arms folded over his chest. He wears only the corduroy jacket, the layers of blankets piled over Harrison’s arms in dense tufts, like the Pasteis de Nata he and Suzanna watch the bakers laminate at the local bakery.

The only valid thing about snow is that I can get these descriptions out of it:

The snow has levelled to a healthy four inches. In sunbeams, it griddles with light, fractals picking the windshield, Lonan’s eyes. And for a few minutes, this is it: the blanket life-ring, the sun coiled in the space between them. Suzanna makes apple cider in weather like this. Cinnamon to pair with the subtle remnants of winter, cloves to warm, turmeric and ginger to surprise. Inside the apartment, Harrison imagines her stirring a saucepot bobbing with fruit and rind, skinning oranges, lemons, turning the kitchen lights on, off, on, off, until her son comes home.

And to end this update, here is the final “poem-y” paragraph:

Land mammals in the water. Spitting bubbles and rims of wave. Their mouths caverns, limbs rattlesnaking, lungs inflating. Land mammals in the water. Coasts apart now re-seamed, kicking up sand, knocking teeth, touching spines. Land mammals in the water. Eyelashes drowning, mouth to mouth. Land mammals in the water, gaping at each other’s throats.

Thank you for reading! Hope y’all enjoyed this very chaotic chapter!

--Rachel

[lizacstuff]

EPISODE 34 - Sen Çal Kapımı/Edser Asks

(asks under the read more)

Anonymous said: Thoughts on the episode? I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel which is the end of this current storyline. Very much looking forward to Eda & Serkan being reunited at which point I will delete episodes 30-34 from my memories. This episode to me had the same vibe as 32 which overall had the feeling of actual progression for Eda & Serkan. It has been said before but the amnesia storyline and Serkan falling in love with Eda again could have been much more enjoyable with better writing and no Selin or Deniz but this is the plot we were given. So hoping for another Edser filled episode that includes Serkan professing his love to Eda in front of everyone.

YES, LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. Me too. I think we’re close to being rid of Selin and Deniz. 

As for the episode, it was a LOT better than the last one and was probably the easiest episode to watch since 28, but it’s still part of this unenjoyable arc. I agree that it had a similar vibe to 32, which was one of the best of this stretch. The writers seemed to have fixed the Edser screen time issue that plagued the last episode. I always want more, but there was enough in this episode to where at least I didn’t feel cheated. The episode was a lot lighter and had more of a romcom feel than any since Serkan lost his memory and I welcomed that as well. There were a number of very enjoyable Edser scenes AND the icing was very little Selin. 

That gave the episode room to breath, and room for Serkan and Eda to breath, which was much needed. 

Their bickering, starting at the station was fun to watch. And while I was pretty skeptical about an episode centered on Serkan trying to get Eda to admit her engagement is fake, it lead to some fun scenes. Him taunting her in the office about love gave us back some of that old romantic comedy sexual tension. Engin’s couple game gave us a few good moments, but, wow, it was really, really poorly constructed. Seriously, Serkan, you have to find someone savvier to do this sort of work for you. Leyla would have been better, even Erdem would have done better! Probably.  But the looks that Eda and Serkan were giving each other through that sequence gave me life. Squinting, peering one eye open, but always finding one another. Good stuff. 

As for the boxing, I’m glad they waited to do that sequence for a time when she had some anger at him to deal with! It just wouldn’t have been the same if they’d been playfully sparring. I equally enjoyed her beating the shit out of him and how hot her climbing all over him was. 

The catwalk was hot. Like really, super duper, 5 alarm fire, hot. I love that the editors made a 30 foot runway seem like it was 300 feet. And when they turned and she put her hand on his shoulder. I swooned. I don’t even care that it makes no sense to ask your architects to walk in a fashion show... though when one of your architects is as next level beautiful as Eda, you can see why they’d want her. (Sorry Selin, they probably saw you walk at the charity show too, but passed) Though why did they want Deniz? He’s not famous or attractive. It would have made more sense if they’d wanted the famous and handsome Serkan Bolat from the start. Though this way was more fun. GO MELO. BEST FRIEND EVER. Can we get her some sort of prize? She has her dada’s back, ALWAYS.  Serkan and Eda are going to owe her for life.

Having Eda fall off the boat was... extra. Especially since I’m sure she will be fished out no worse for the wear right off the top. Is it too much to ask that Serkan accuses Selin of pushing her? Please!?!?!?

Anonymous said: is it bad that deniz is now annoying me more as a villian than selin.. granted, last ep selin had very little screentime (thank god) and when she was there was usually playing third wheel to edser.. but deniz is slowly getting worse and worse.. manipulating eda into continuing their fake game and now basically pulling the puppet strings with selin. as much as i hated how ceren told serkan about the fake engagement, i WAS rooting her on when she yelled at him about him taking advantage of eda.

Deniz needs to take a long walk off a short pier. Good gawd he’s really turned into a psycho, hasn’t he? 

Look, I know Eda and Serkan are both awesome. They’re insanely good looking and charming and smart and successful, BUT, PEOPLE, even they are not worth losing your dignity and your sanity over. Balca, The Prince, Selin and Deniz... all gone crazy over them.

With Selin this episode, though, she sort of struck me as resigned to her fate. Like she’s still going through the motions of being a psycho stalker and playing the game, but deep down she knows she’s lost.  She’s seen this movie before, she knows what it looks like when Serkan is falling in love with Eda, and she knows it’s happening again and that she doesn’t stand a chance. She’ll keep trying on the off chance Eda gets hit by a bus (or falls off a boat) and because she is seriously not right in the brain, but she’s lost all her swagger. 

Think about all StalkerSelin has witnessed. In 30 she saw them having intense moments by the fire, in 31 she saw them having intense moments on the boat. She knows Serkan took off on her birthday to go help Eda with the project and they spent all day together. Then later that same day she was abandon by him before she could blow out her candles so that he could go save Eda, then she saw him sleep snuggling with Eda, all so they could come back and she could go spy on him planting terrariums with Eda and then he lies to her face and she watches him go to meet Eda for dinner. In this episode, Eda and Serkan were bickering about whether or not Serkan was staring at Eda and they didn’t stop when Selin entered the office and neither one even seemed to noticed her! Serkan is fixated on Eda and Selin knows it. 

She was acting defeated before she got the photos. Now that she has them... what will she do? Crawl in hole and die? One can hope!

Anonymous said: just general thoughts: i was able to enjoy this episode way more than the previous ones and not cause there was miracle occurrence in the episode.. but because there was minimal selin lol. the selin fatigue is real!!! it also helps that while yes, serkan was teasing and trying to rile eda up, he wasn't using selin to do it this episode. for some reason with how it's going (and with neslihan's emoji spoilers for next ep) i do believe he's gonna remember at the end of next ep.

The Selin fatigue is real.  They really ruined what could have been an interesting and good batch of episodes by inserting her unnecessarily into the plot. I really think amnesia was enough drama and enough of a stumbling block without this aggravating nonsense. Every second she is on screen is a chore to watch. 

As for him remembering at the end of next episode, it’s possible. A lot of people are out there selling spoilers (which almost every source of spoilers has been so wrong so many times, that I’m not sure why anyone pays attention to any of them anymore) that he remembers by the end of the next ep. 

Here’s the thing though, he has to tell Eda he loves her before he remembers.  That’s what all of this has been leading to, him falling in love with her again from scratch, so as long as that happens, it’s plausible. But any theory that involves him getting his memories back and then going after her... doesn’t ring true to me. I mean with this batch of writers anything could happen, (because they have some issues) but if they do that, then I have no idea what this entire arc has been about. 

Anonymous said: The mystery person has got to be Ferit, right? ever since that first episode back, they've been sure to throw in one scene each episode where he's delivering some sort of warning to Selin telling her to knock it off. Unless its a random new/returning character that we haven't seen as part of this arc yet.

I don’t know. He’s definitely a suspect, but here’s my thing with that theory, a) Ferit is not the sharpest tool in the shed b) Ferit is usually such a straight forward, honest character. I mean this is the guy that blurted out in episode 1 how happy he was that Serkan was engaged to such a beautiful woman because he considered him his rival for Selin. No filter. 

It’s hard for me to believe he’s become this diabolical and sneaky and savvy. I feel like if he had the photos he’d just hand them to Serkan. But we’ll see. 

He’s on my list of potentials, but I also wonder if someone hired a PI or someone to follow Selin, and on that list of suspects for me is Aydan, Babaanne, Alptekin and Serkan himself. 

Anonymous said: one of my fav scenes from last ep was weirdly the girl talk scene between melo, eda, and ayfer. them talking about eda's feelings and encouraging her was much needed. and for once in the entire show, ayfer actually spoke some sense.. guess her little stint with alex woke up her eyes to love or something lmao. we need more scenes like that where character motivations are laid out plainly.

Ayfer made up for a LOT with that one scene. Wow, she actually wasn’t thinking selfishly and put Eda’s heart first and didn’t immediately vilify Serkan. A miracle! 

It was a very good scene. And when I rank characters (in my head) from best to worst, she’s now above Piril and Ceren! Oh man, Ceren really out did herself with the way she framed Eda’s fake engagement to Serkan. I really don’t understand where her rage at Eda came from, but she better seek help soon if she wants any chance at redemption. 

Also I know it’s terrible, but when Piril was upset about Engin potentially cheating... I LAUGHED out loud. I think I might have also yelled, “SUFFER BITCH!” I really can’t stand her and I loved seeing her miserable. After enabling Selin she deserves the pain. 

Anonymous said: So I kind of felt bad for Serkan because of Eda’s strong reaction to him kissing her but at the same time, not. His out of the blue invitation to dinner and the kiss with no explanation was just never going to go over very well after his recent behavior. And of course she was going to think he got his memory back because in her mind it is the only explanation for him kissing her at this point. But at the same time it would have been really interesting to see how he reacted to her just pulling him in for another kiss. He clearly would have been totally into it and then who knows how the rest of the episode would have gone 🤷🏻‍♀️. They are stuck in a bad cycle, he overlooks her sensitivity to things due to not remembering their past and she is unable to overlook his insensitivity due to their past together. And the writers want to keep dragging this out so Eda & Serkan are constantly interrupted before they can talk stuff out.

They did a nice job of finally having Eda talk about what’s going on in her brain box. She wants her Serkan back just as he was before. Which is understandable, but she’s pinning all of her hopes on Serkan remembering and when he doesn’t she loses it. 

Thank goodness Melo and Ayfer were there to gently talk some sense to her. It isn’t his fault that he doesn’t remember and he’s not doing it on purpose. And as Melo said he’s falling in love with her again, him walking in and kissing her was a big sign of that. I think we all worried he was going to say something jerkish to her after the kiss, but he didn’t. He was just honest that he didn’t remember, and I think slapping him was a little harsh. I mean she’s definitely not in the wrong here, he’s been a whole jackass at times, but she’s putting all her effort into getting him to remember, and she’s not succeeding, but she should maybe recognize when she’s making other headway with him. You know, like him arranging a dinner and walking up and kissing her. Maybe ride that wave and see where it goes! 

As you said, if she’d kissed him again, things would have ended differently. Or if instead of getting angry she had said, “Okay, you kissed me but you still don’t remember, where do we go from here?” However, slapping him in that moment is very true to her character. We know she reacts emotionally, and her spontaneity and volatility are a part of her, and he loved all of her. 

Anonymous said: I guess the writers pay attention to some details - seems the project that got cancelled in 32 was the same Serkan said was going badly in 28. But not other details - Leyla puts down the papers to say the project was cancelled without telling Serkan, knowing that he'd see them on his desk right away, and he does. So wouldn't he have noticed the envelope the day of the surprise dinner? He had plenty of opportunity. I thought this ep it would be revealed he saw the pics but he didn't seem to know.

I find it hella hard to believe that those photos sat on his desk all day and he didn’t open them (in 33) or that they hit his desk this episode after Eda handed them to him and he didn’t open them. So, yeah, either he’s seen them or this was a big writing fail. (Right now I’m thinking it was a big writing fail).

Though personally, at this point, I don’t want them to be found until after Serkan declares his love for Eda. Let him make the decision and then lets have the evidence that makes everything guilt free and easier to humiliate and punish S/D.

Anonymous said: Is Deniz trying to trick Eda into a real legal marriage? is that what is about to happen here? I can't decide if he is worse than Selin now. I'm going to need Ayfer to bring back her threat to expose everything.

They can be equally psycho and bad. I’m not sure overall he’s worse, yet, but he was definitely way worse this episode. How has Eda not noticed that he has interrupted intense moments between her and Serkan too many times to be helpful? That’s one thing I hate about this storyline is that they have had to dumb down both Eda and Serkan to make it work. 

I have no idea what Deniz’s end game is. Is he going to trick her into marriage? But even so, what then?  If she thinks it’s a fake ceremony, but it’s real, what does he think Eda is going to do? Does he really think she’ll think his lies and tricks are charming, and stay married to him? 

Or does he think that if he gets Eda to the wedding day, and Serkan doesn’t make a move, Eda will just go “Okay, then I guess I might as well marry you for real.”  Good grief. The guy is delusional. 

I admit that I yelled, “FUCK YOU” multiple times during his scenes. This was a very vocal episode for me. I was so happy when Melo outmaneuvered him at the fashion show. Finally, someone was able to turn the tables on him. 

Anonymous said: I am so tired of hearing on Twitter that the Eda is entirely to blame for Edser not being reunited yet. Nope, that does not rest entirely on Eda or Serkan’s shoulders. The writers have created a never ending cycle of the two of them hurting each other directly & indirectly and also being manipulated by their so called childhood friend/fiancés. This Serkan does not even believe in true love and has been manipulated to think Eda is an awful person. Eda has been watching the love of her life getting cozy with Selin and he has repeatedly told her that they do not have a future together not to mention Deniz’s manipulations as well. Regardless of what they are each feeling, they do not think the other person feels the same way. The fake engagement with Deniz is awful just like Serkan’s real engagement with Selin is but again not solely Eda’s fault. And saying that Eda needs to be the bigger person because she has her memories is not fair. She does not know if he will ever get them back and again he has repeatedly said they have no future together & he is with Selin. Eda walks into that office everyday to be close to him and she puts up with his crap comments and the bs from Selin in the hope that things turnaround. And for the boxing scene, yes, it would have been great if Eda has poured out her true feelings but not 100% sure the writers would have let Serkan reciprocate in that moment not to mention Deniz showed up 3 seconds later. The real people to blame are the writers that came up with this plot where no one wins.

Someone said Eda is entirely to blame for Edser not being reunited yet? Where are you hanging out on twitter? You need to find better people to follow who understand that Serkan HAS AMNESIA and is being manipulated. No need to play the blame game on this one, it’s a horrible situation for both of them. 

Eda has been dealt a lousy hand, very lousy, she and Serkan are both victimes here trying to find their way out. That being say, she decided to go on the offensive and play a game, and in that game she’s made some tactical errors. Which is not laying blame it’s just saying she’s made some missteps. 

Where she’s going wrong, as I said above, is that she is doing everything to get Serkan to remember, and she isn’t focused in on the fact that he’s falling back in love with her regardless of his memory. That’s pretty extraordinary! 

I really think when she answered “Yes” to loving Deniz and wanting to marry him, that was one of those missteps. A big one. I’m not saying she should have bared her soul right then and there, but I think she probably would have been better off not answering the questions at all. Perhaps telling him that he can’t ask her that while he’s engaged to Selin. Turn it back on him, but saying she loves Deniz when they were having a very serious, raw moment... mistake. And that’s why the whole thing is going to go right up until the wedding day.  Let’s hope one of them puts their stubbornness aside before she’s shackled to a psycho. (Don’t worry, they will). 

[kaetastic]

New York Guider

pairing: Luca Changretta x Mob!Italian!Reader

summary: Y/N arrives at New York to discuss some deals, until she stumbles upon an Italian mafioso. [requested: @supermegapauselouca​]

warning: just fluff ? lol

word count: 4.6k (a writer’s block that took a week to write this lmao)

note: i am not italian + i do not know the language so please be merciful to my translations lol. anyways, sorry for the time it took for this to post! my brain had been gushing of ideas but nothing is being typed lolol

Blurs of haze cast over the chilly leather seats, seeping through each layer to vaporize each inch of possible material. It smeared over the seats with its unbearable sizzling temperature. Since it had concocted the surface for an area of possible cooking, an egg could be fried in an impeccable haste speed. There was a slight guarantee that the sides would be frayed and crunchy to the tongue. However, it did not budge those who had accustomed to such temperature. 

Hence, they laid their skin over the scorching surface without flinching back, splaying over metal as if it had been a chilly summer breeze. Almost as if they had been immune to such pain. On the other hand, those who had not grown their skin into the new surges of heat were scribbling down notes in their head for the future. Well, in hopes that they would survive this assessment. 

The usually harmless source of heat had become an irritating nuisance recently, something the civilians had only picked up when they realized their coats that were as thick as a bear’s fur had been stuffed deep in their closet. It was covered by layers of dust, sprinkles of cobwebs and things they preferred they didn’t get answers to. Too busy with their heads embedded in their work, they hadn’t brought up the new change in factor. 

Now, the streets were overrun by sheets of munched on newspapers. All sides were covered by articles and endless paragraphs talking about the abnormal heat and the measures people would take to fight in the unbearable battle.

One had amusingly been- The West Deck, A Hot Spot For Cooling. Will Boats Have To Be More Careful? While some papers draped from posts, a handful had dotted the streets as if rolling haybales. It was abandoned after it was used for its short and temporary utilisation, a makeshift fan. 

Despite the scorching sun that pinned high in the sky for nearly two weeks, the realization had only settled down languidly. Meaning, the peak of complaints had only risen at its highest point recently. It had been nothing but complaints.

The sun that pierced rays of heat surges onto the New York civilians was as if it sat behind a blind; paused everybody in a daze to not realize the heat. There were all sorts of complaints: about the sweat dripping down their back or the sweat painting their suits, quite visibly; the street stench of the sticky liquid.

Even though they had spent some time on the road to get to the desired location their boss had ordered, the swivelling of the clock’s arm had not bothered them a bit as everything had gone to plan. Well, nearly everything since there was some trouble on the port to which they had resolved by a quick utter of her notorious lips. Those that sat in the car was a mental person as they subjected themselves to pain and torture of the sizzling metal roof. So, why had they been in the car forever? 

Some bodies didn’t bat an eye to the heat. It was not the same for the man who was behind the wheels, responsible for the valuable life in the backseat. Three were straight out plucked from the Mediterranean, and one had lived his life in the dazzling place of New York City. The roads they had swerved on were accompanied by towering buildings and clutters of people; however, it had decreased as they inched closer towards the wanted street. 

Too busy with the safety of the critical and important guest who sat at the back, the driver tolerated the bites of heat in his suit, the fabric inched tighter as seconds pass. As if his clothing had suffocated his ribs. The back of his palm had been smeared over with the waterfall of sweat crawling down his forehead. Despite his technique of ignoring the heat and focusing on the drive, he had no control over his mind. It felt as if every time he had thought of plunging himself in the chilly water of his tub, it was a method of torture. 

Sparkles of light danced in the air, wavering side to side as sunlight blared through the glass pane, radiating onto the prominent specks of dust. It seemed like an endless cycle of repeated movements. Speckles of dust rocked themselves down the ground then somehow manage to quiver back up. An amusing ride. Though, it wasn’t the same for the punished car and the driver. Y/N’s tongue poked her inner cheek, the tip of her tongue had been desperate for relief of water. Water. It would’ve been the last drink she would call for in a bar. In situations like these, she would take anything.

The residue of red wine that plastered in the crook and crannies of her mouth poked her tongue. Teasing and taunting her as the short supply had, unfortunately, run out. The only available source of hydration she had bought for the journey she had underestimated for being short. It was anything but.

Y/N was sure there wouldn’t even be a drop of the liquor she had brought since it was she who chugged every millilitre of it. She couldn’t help but to wish she had the ability to somehow- magically refill it to the brim. If only. How could she have let the last drop slide down her throat without her reminiscing on the moment? Too lost in her thoughts and approaching negotiations, Y/N didn’t even realize she was getting parched.

Glancing down at her lap, her thumb pressed onto a nuisance string of dust that attached itself to her recently bought dress. The elegant green looked as it had heavily cost, expensive. Even though she had brought a bag specifically for her jewellery which was one of the reasons the driver’s shoulders was crying moments ago, she had worn her beloved golden necklace. Well, she did love each and every jewellery she owned, the low hanging gem was just different. 

Y/N felt slightly guilty for holding her love for the necklace slightly higher than the other’s she owned. Almost like those parents who liked one child more. It wrapped around her neck in an adoring way, capturing every glint of the sunlight. The award for stealing the spotlight would’ve been awarded to the painful investment of a necklace. Her brother might’ve been the one to try to hold her back whenever her eyes graze over the sparkling sins; however, it doesn’t always go as planned.

No matter how big of a closet, full of gold and strings of diamonds she had, Y/N will not be stopped until the room is overrun by the jewellery. Sure, there had been times when her mother had tried to knock some sense in her head for purchasing such luxurious items as soon as she glanced at it. But, it was a little quirk she claimed as hers. A quite shameless one that is. 

“Dove sono tutti?” (where is everybody?) Pietro inquired, eyes brushing over the silent street they had curved into. Seconds ago, every square of the street was packed with at least three people. It suddenly felt like they had entered a deserted land of emptiness. Despite the towering buildings of intimidating glass which were the ogling eyes of the skyscrapers, everyone would assume the commercial road would be streaming of people. That was not the case as the streets were as dry as a desert. There were only a handful of cars that were of the same model- half a dozen to be exact since it didn’t take too long to count such a small number on a said-busy street. Where were the tales of New York and its people? The boss’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

Her tongue poked out to caress her drying lips. Since the situation had felt somehow threatening and sceptical, Y/N already had her fingers pressed onto the bulge of the gun in her garter. Just one yank to finish a battle she hoped she wouldn’t have on American ground. Questions resounded off the walls of her head. There was no doubt that the leader of the territory would be hovered over the edge at her very much expected appearance. 

Was she to be welcomed by silence? The list of people she had to negotiate with had been separated into two: those who had greeted her, and those who didn’t bother to exert an effort. This was the latter’s case. It definitely ticked something in her which caused her tongue to smear of bitterness as if her presence was not appreciated. All the mobster wanted to do was go back to Italy, and munch on some finally good food. Those she had brought over the ship had been already devoured on.

Unfortunately for her, she had to get the business she was set less than a month to get over with. Some issues with the cargoes. One of the main topics that had been brought up during the family dinner by her uncle- one of the reasons she was even here. Damn you uncle Lorenzo.

“Probabilmente cazzo protestando per i diritti di lavoro, americani.” (probably fucking protesting for job rights, Americans) Vittorio snickered when his eyes brushed over the random, peculiar items littered onto the ground. It seemed as if the people had been escorted out quite forcefully in a short time span. There was a violet silk handkerchief puddled on the ground, smeared with a tint of dirt from the excessive amount of times feet had stomped over it. It was accompanied by a shoe that seemed freshly bought, a golden pocket watch, and a pen. All spaced away in great distance. 

Y/N didn’t say anything as she observed the silent road which had been roared by with her vehicle’s boisterous engine. The sound of the car’s plead to rest for a while after the exhausting journey bounced off the walls of the buildings to trickle into ears. She recalled on the time she had heard of the rise in opposition of the civilians to their dedicated work which was met with unfair pay. The Italian had read it on paper and her uncles who lived on the other side of the planet had mentioned it over a family meeting a couple of times.

Before she had the chance to mumble her order, a flock of men dashed out from the corner of a building. All in sombre oversized coats despite the heat, fedora hats attached to their heads, probably cowering around the lake of sweat that had been trapped inside. The pace of their steps echoed into the invisible cracks of the windows, “You’re not supposed to be here!” Leading the group was a man, slightly shorter than the rest; who had a caterpillar as a moustache, his voice sending quivers to run down the present buildings. 

She pressed her lips while her eyes ran over the group as a rapid observation of who she might deal with, “Resta qui e non tirarti fuori le pistole. Non ci serve un'altra guerra.” (stay here and don't fucking pull out your guns. we don’t need another war). There was a second seething in the vehicle before the words marinated into their heads. Pietro, the man who fiddled with the black fedora in his hands, parted his lips to amplify his uneasy thoughts about the situation. The slamming of a door slapped across his mouth. He let out an aggravated sigh from the expected action of his boss. 

The vein on Matteo’s forehead was visibly popping, branching down to slide between his eyes. His eyes were narrowed onto the vehicle which was exactly had he had said- not supposed to be there. Matteo’s pace hindered at the sight that left him astonished for a while. Although his eyes had glued onto the driver who had been drowning in his sweat, it had swiftly averted to another figure. The Italian hadn’t thought that a woman in a fluttering dress would be approaching him- or exit the car. The trailing men followed the same gesture, eyes beaming to gaze at the way the dress danced around her figure with every step she took; the way sparkles pierced back into their eyes from the tinted layer hovering over her eyes. 

It felt like every click of her heels interjected a pause in between a second to stretch time. And stretch time it was. Still in a daze, they watched as she pulled the sunglasses off with a click. The colour of her eyes glistened under the blaring sunlight, smearing over their astonished faces. There were endless of questions brought up in their heads; however, the most common one was, why was she in the car with three other men? It was safe to say all of the inquiries involved her.

“Good morning. I’m sorry if I’m disrupting something but I came here for business.” Y/N sent a quirk of her smile, fingers fiddling with the temples of her sunglasses. Matteo finally yanked away from his thoughts.

“The street is currently occupied.” 

Y/N pressed her lips in understanding before she craned her neck around to brush over the dead street, “Where’s everybody? It’s Monday, right?”

Matteo nodded, “It is. May I ask who you’re supposed to meet?”

“Travis Philip. With this empty street, there’ll be no one to lead me... would you guide me to his building? I heard it’s quite big, myself.”

Matteo quirked his eyebrows as faint chuckles from the men behind him echoed as a response to her indirect jest. The mention of the notorious name struck a chord in him. Travis Philip. The Italian had one and only one memory with the New Yorker. It was not good. There were words hurled around which was then followed by weeks of negotiations and conversations from the head of superiority that pinned over Matteo’s head. By superiority, Matteo meant Luca Changretta, “Travis Philip? What’s a woman like you tangling with a man like Travis Philip? He’s bad news.”

Y/N’s lip parted, wanting to answer his reply as vague as possible since there was a twinge in the man she could not point out. A twinge that would cause suspicion in her to rise. Just like those times she had to face those rising groups in her territory back at home. However, a raspy voice sprung onto the archery board before she had the chance to let go of the arrow, “What’s taking you so long?”

Luca stomped out of the building with anger seething from his ears in a steam of irritation and impatience. His shoulders were tense, rigid as if unbent metal blocks. The mafioso had sent down his accompanying men to check out the roaring noise of a vehicle.

Luca had expected them to kick out the unwanted people without uttering a word since the civilians of the city knew the faces they had to fear. When his eyes grazed through the heads of his henchmen, he was only left with unanswered questions. Questions he wouldn’t mind forgetting for it to torture his curiosity as he could gaze upon the sight. After sending a quirk of his lips, he turned to Matteo, “Mi prendi per il culo? Ho detto blocca la strada.” (are you fucking kidding me? i said block the road)

“L'ho fatto.” (i did) Matteo mumbled back.

“Perché è in piedi davanti a me allora?” (why is she standing in front of me then?) While the two engaged in a conversation- well, more like a scolding from the towering man to the other, Y/N couldn’t help but watch in amusement as she understood every single syllable and word gushed out onto the ground. There were few mentions of the name Luca which suits the towering man with his sleek hair. But what ticked her ears was the name, Travis Philip. The man she was looking for.

The shorter man rambled on, red creeping up to smear against his ears as huffs of mist evaporated out of his ears. Almost as if he was tolerating the annoyance of this, Luca, “Abbiamo bisogno di lui per darci i soldi. Mentre tu ti godevi il tuo tempo qui fuori, potevo solo tenerlo fermo.” (we need him to give us the money. while you were enjoying your time out here, i could only hold him down.)

“What did you do to the poor man?” The blotches of anger on the towering figure halted to crawl back into hiding. Luca pulled his body away from Matteo which he didn’t even notice was an inch away from his henchmen. He averted his focus onto the woman in confusion. Had she understood what he said? His doubts were then answered. “Save some pieces for me. Non essere egoista, lead me to him .” (don’t be selfish)

Sauntering through the crowding bodies of men, she passed the group before she screeched to a halt. There was the noise of a door slamming shut and distant feet approaching her; however, there was no familiar sound of feet shuffling that would usually follow after her from the stranger group of men. Y/N glanced at the narrowing eyes who lingered on the same spot, “So? Do I need to repeat in Italian also?”

Throwing confused gazes at their boss, the henchmen who were on duty were as struck as the superior Italian was. Luca nodded quite defeatedly while he pinched the bridge of his nose. He threw his hands in the air when no one seemed to understand his silent order, “Do I have to do everything?”

After what Y/N would call a successful deal, if you can call a couple of punches and strings of blood gushed to spray the walls a deal, she had realized it took nearly the whole day as the sky was smeared with gradients of orange and red, the sun waving a farewell. There was slight satisfaction on her side even though the bar was not full. 

Y/N could’ve done better- but she was no idiot. The woman was not on board with the idea of giving up thirty percent of the cargo pay to the transporter. He was out of his mind to jump from twenty-three to a whopping thirty percent. All because few shipments had suspiciously not landed onto its designated ports, “You know, I reserved a table at this nice restaurant. Thought of not going because what kind of loner would I look like sitting alone, right?”

The wavering warm light plastered over the Italian who paced beside her with his hands stuffed in his pocket. Y/N could vaguely recall to what led to her being walked to the place she was staying at by a man she had recently just met. Not only an Italian like her but one who possessed the same power in his hand. 

There were fragments she could try to piece together, though, it didn’t seem quite right. The possibility of the situation she was stuck in was hovering over the chances of her men yanked by an urgent call. The corners of Y/N’s lips curled up at the indirect question, “Are you asking me out to dinner, Luca?”

The Italian man pressed his lips, fingers fiddling with the curling cloth that erected out of its stitching line. Oh, how irritated his insides are from the minor fault. Luca hummed, eyes throwing a glance at the woman, “I am.”

“Well, I hope you can push that reserve later because I’m going to be running around this whole week.”

Despite the previous week flying past her in a blink of an eye, Y/N’s whole body ached and quivered like a rattling stick on the furious waves of the ocean. It had been exhausting. There were so many issues she had to multi-task and make sure to recall it by engraining the problems in the back of her head. The men she had dragged from Italy could only do so little. Overlapping her attempts at remembering these tasks she would have to keep her tabs on, she had to face negotiations with other business partners. Even though she had come mainly for Travis Philip, there were strings of names she had to deal with on behalf of her organization.

All of the muscle aching and brain crying vanished as she now sauntered under the howling night towards the building she was to stay at temporarily. It all evaporated in a hasty exhale of waves from her body. No matter what she had done to recover from the period of exasperation, nothing had worked. Unfortunately, she had to learn this first-hand since the list of what her men would usually do had not served the same results to her. That was until the approaching dinner had arrived. 

“You know, usually, I get sent home in cars.” Y/N chided. She couldn’t help the curling of her lips at her words that pierced into the Italian man who chuckled at her jest. The woman was sure that they were midway to her stay since her men had used the same path to send her to her lodge. Somewhere hidden under flaps of thoughts, Y/N didn’t want the night to end after the fulfilling meal; Luca’s presence. She didn’t know what it was about the man, but she knew she had never met somebody like him. Italy possessed a spectrum of people. However, Luca... he was different in ways she could not point out. 

Maybe it was the way his hair was sleeked, or the way his somewhat oppressed Italian accent budged into his English sentences. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the comforting fact that he knew of the world she lived in. Without a doubt, one could see the pair as equals as they stood practically on the same labelled position. Luca Changretta grew up with the knowledge of how the mafia worked, how the organization ran, and the sacrifices they had to commit. All to wear a hefty golden crown on their head. 

While the tranquil street was echoing with the clicking of her sharp heels and the light shuffling of Luca’s steps, she noticed the lack of vehicles on the road. It was usually run over by wheels and honking vehicles even though it was nudging to rising of the sun. One of the things Y/N had learned after a stretched-out meeting that had hovered over the end of a day. The Italian woman would be in the back seat of the car and watch as people engulfed the streets, and vehicles occupying each inch of the road. But now, it was just them and sprinkles of slumbering cars, “Enough experiences, have you?” 

Y/N shook her head at the unexpected reply. Despite the dinner being simple and casual, she couldn’t help but feel it was more than that. Simple was underwhelming to the way her heart fluttered at every mumble of words from his lips or the way she couldn’t help but send a genuine smile after he quirked the corner of his lips.

There was something cowering in the crack in the corner of the restaurant while they munched on the food that was worth salivating for. It lingered its eyes onto the two as they ate. However, the woman held back. It wasn’t a feeling that she was sceptical of or had a bad feeling for. Instead, it was the feeling she had been described to when she was tucked in her bed by her parents. The stories of an emotion that had led people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. The tales of love. 

The Italian woman had a handful of attempts at finding this story- well, more like confirming its existence. Because after some times, she had lost hope and felt that the tearful stories said by her mother were just lies. Lies that she falsely believed in. So, was this it? The way her gut twisted in peculiar angles whenever Luca would do the slightest like quirk his eyebrows while she went on rambling. Now that she noticed, she was slightly more open with the man. Never had she felt in her own skin when talking to someone out of her blood relatives. 

During the simple dinner, she had learned many things from the man. Not only from his stories, but from her observation that she hoped was not too obvious. There were countless of times the Italian male had tried his best to suppress his vulgar words even though she had said not to worry.

It was amusing to see Luca string of from ‘fuck’ to a rather peculiar and random word to finish off in front of the lady. He justified it when he said it wasn’t right to curse in front of a woman. Then, he proceeded to hurl ‘fuck’s and ‘shit’s after he had accidentally nudged his glass cup onto the ground which gushed into fragments of infant shards. To which he threw an excessive amount of money (more like a wad of money) on the desk. It was worth for one table set.

“Enough for me to know that there is a reason for you to tire out a lady’s legs.” Luca grinned, his fingers cladded with his sparkling rings pierced on the stubborn scar that would torment his face forever. The memory of something he wished he could have forgotten. The permanent marking that would remain on him to remind him of the pathetic moment of his youth life. 

The Italian man nodded in understanding, “Yeah, but you can have a better view of the moon when you walk,” Y/N shook her head at his excuse for making her knees cry out for rest. “Plus, you get really good exercise.” 

“I hope you’re not indicating for me to exercise. I’ve done a lot of walking this past week.”

“What kind of a man do you take me as?” Luca inquired as he stuffed his fingers into the pockets of his jacket. 

Silence engulfed the two after Y/N’s quick chuckle. It wasn’t one of those that occurred when the moment had felt wrong. No, it was more than that. It was far more than that. A silence of enjoying the fact that the other was still here. His radiating warmth had coated her arm. She knew it would be a lot warmer if she was just nudged into him. The period of time hadn’t been interjected by a mumble before Y/N’s eye grazed over her lodge, “This is it.”

The pair lingered in front of the wooden door. Luca watched with his hat in his fingers. Although her body swerved to nudge to her left, time smeared in a blur.

Luca caressed her chin with his thumb, fingers gingerly and softly pinching to tilt her up. Even though the night where every civilian had prayed for cooling and a miracle surge of wind, the faint whistling of breezes had failed their hopes. There was only a tease of puffs in the air as if it taunted those who were drowning in their own sweat. With the twinge of cooling breezes, it was vanished once their warm lips generated a temperature hotter than that of the waves of heat in the bright morning.

Y/N didn’t want it to end, the feeling of his fingers brushing a trail to place against her cheek so softly as if she was a cargo of fine wine; the taste of his lips. But it did. Unfortunately, “I’m leaving in two weeks.” She breathed out, eyes ogling up to face the man who had plastered over her with a feeling she had never felt before. It was foreign. Y/N needed more of it.

“Well, then, it’ll be two unforgettable weeks.” 

[emperorsfoot]

abandoned Star Wars fic #1

This was an AU I started a while back (2014) based off the pre-Disney Buyout version of the Expanded universe. It’s basically just “what if Luke did join the Empire like he was discussing with Owen and Beru back in A New Hope?”

My original plan was for the fic to be a trilogy, following the same main events of the original trilogy. I abandoned it because I got discouraged (for the same reason I always get discouraged when writing fic for a fandom that’s been around since the dawn of time), because the Star Wars fandom is so big and there are so many amazingly talented writers in it that this AU has probably already been written, and probably written better than I could ever write it. 

So, I never even posted it. 

Until now... 

(Oh! Also, it was gonna be a Luke/Mara ship. All my Star Wars fics are Luke/Mara.)

...

[ImpPilot]

Chapter One:

"I'd like three quarters of my pay to go to this account, please. If I can do that." Luke asked. 

Even heading strait to the Fleet's financial office immediately after his graduation ceremony instead of going out to celebrate with his bunkmates, it still took an absurd two and a half hours before he could see an actual officer -nothing more than a glorified accountant, really. 

"You'll meed to fill out form 6-23-A." Without even looking up from his personal terminal, the financial officer passed Luke a data pad with the blank form already open on it. "You're not the first boy wanting to send money home to his silver-haired mommy. Be sure all the routing numbers are correct and specify whether or not its a savings or checking account, or if its a business account. For business accounts you'll need to fill out an additional form."

"Uh… I think its a domestic checking account…" Luke said. More thinking out loud than actually speaking to the officer. The moisture farm was, technically, a business, but he didn’t think Tattooine was sophisticated enough for business accounts. At least, not reputable ones. 

"There's a terminal in the lobby you can use if you need to call home and ask. Regular holo-net fees apply -which this office will not compensate you for." Once again, the financial officer did not look up from his desk. 

Right. As if Uncle Owen would even answer. Neither he nor Aunt Beru had answered any of his calls since he left home and signed up with the Fleet. 

But they just didn't understand. Luke couldn't spend his life in the day to day routine of moisture farming, watching the rest of the Galaxy turn around him. He wanted to get out and get away. See the world beyond the backwater dust-ball of his childhood and explore brave new worlds in his adulthood. But the Lars hadn't have much money and it wasn't like Luke's late parents (of which very little was spoken of) had seen fit to leave either him or his guardians any money or property of value, there were little avenues or opportunities open to him to get off world. In fact, there were only two possible ways for a poor desert brat like him to get off world. 

Join up with a pirate or smugglers crew. Or sign up with the Imperial Space Navy. 

So, Luke chose the lesser to two evils. 

He signed up for the navy.

At least it was legal. 

He went out early the morning of his sixteenth birthday after his mind was made up. Sneaking out of the farm house and into the garage, Luke intended to take the speeder into Anchorhead. Owen was waiting for him in the garage. Intent to stop him. Apparently, his sneaking wasn't too stealthy. 

He gave a speech about the stupidity of what he was about to do. That it was foolish and he was just fixing to get himself killed. That he was just like his father -he was a damn fool too!- and that he would just end up hurting everyone else who cared about him. Luke ignored everything his uncle had to say though. His mind was made up and there was nothing Uncle Owen could do to stop him. 

Aunt Beru was a bit gentler with him, but still just as disapproving. She met him outside the garage, as he was trying to maneuver the speeder around the complex. She brought him a sandwich lovingly wrapped, as if he were just going out to do maintenance on the vaporators. She asked Luke not to think poorly of his Uncle, he was just trying to protect him. There was a war on and the reason why the Fleet was so eager to lock new recruits into contracts was because they needed more and more bodied every day. That's all he would be to the Navy, just another body to throw into the war. 

That time Luke did pause. He placed his hand over hers, resting on the side of the speeder. He assured her that this was something he had to do and that he wouldn't die the death of a nameless soldier. He couldn't explain how or why, but he could feel it. This was something he had to do, and he would not become just another body counted in the war. He would be something. 

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because a shadow of fear crossed her face. But it was there and gone in the space of a second. She turned her hand, resting under his and grabbed his wrist, stronger than he thought she was capable of. "Don't… don't use the name Skywalker." She said suddenly. "Its a common name out here on the Rim, but it's a dangerous name to have closer to the Empire. Don't enlist under Skywalker. Use our name. Use Lars."

Luke blinked at her. "Why?"

But she didn't answer and he was in to much of a hurry to wait and pester her. 

That was the last he ever heard from either of them. Neither his aunt or uncle either called him or returned any of his calls during his time at the Academy. There was no reason to assume they would answer the comm for him now. In fact, Luke wasn't even sure if they would take his money now that he would actually be earning some. But they had raised him. And the farm wasn't easy or cheap to maintain. Maybe with the extra money, his uncle could hire a few more hands to help them out. 

Luke just filled out the form the best that he could and handed it back to financial officer. 

"Alright, Lars, your request should be processed in another eight to ten standard days. Everything should be in order by the time for first earning statement is payed." He said looking over the datapad. "Oh, and you forgot to fill out your pilot designation."

"Oh. Right, sorry. Its DS-42-6."

The officer began typing as Luke spoke, filling in the missing information on mental auto-pilot. "D… S… -Wait? DS? Death Star? They assigned a green kid like you to the Death Star!?" He gaped up at the kid, actually looking at him for the first time. 

"Top pilot in my graduating class." Luke said, not at all ashamed of the pride that seeped into his voice. Being the top flight student was a significant achievement and not even Uncle Owen could deny that. "I guess they wanna deploy their best people on the most important postings."

"What was that number again?"

"Squad forty-two, pilot number six." He answered. 

"Well, Luke Lars, I imagine you going far.

…

Most of Luke's bunkmates went out to celebrate their graduation almost immediately after the ceremonies. That meant that they all had a few hours head start on him and would probably be to faded to be good company when he did arrive. But that still didn't stop Luke from stopping in at the tapcaf they agreed on for their after grad party. 

As to be expected, of the twelve men Luke had shared a barracks with for the past two years, only three of them remained when he walked through the door. One of them was just paying his tab, a woman Luke had never seen before under one arm.

"I'm telling ya, baby, I ship out tonight." He was saying to her. "Oh, hey Lars, ya made it! A bit late. Maybe you can scoop Vard and Ika up off the floor."

He left. 

Vard and Ika were leaning over a table against the back wall. With a sigh, Luke crossed the tapcaff to assess them. Of the twelve bunkmates that Luke actually got along with, Ika was probably the closest one he would come to calling a 'best friend'. They weren't nearly as close as Luke had been with Biggs, but then, Biggs had to go off and desert on his first tour and place Luke in an uncomfortable situation with ISB right at the start of his second year at the Academy. Some great friend he turned out to be. 

But Luke wasn't gonna think about that now. This was the eve of his graduation from the Imperial Naval Academy. This was a happy day. Even if he was about to spend it taking care of his two drunk bunkmates that -in all likelihood- he would never see again. With a conscious effort, Luke pushed Biggs from his mind. 

Ika seemed to be past out on the table. A disposable coaster his only cushion against the hard plasteel and vinyl of the tabletop. Vard was at least sitting mostly vertical, but by the looks of it no less drunk. He used one hand to prop his face up while the other shot into the air in an unnecessarily showy greeting. He flailed spastically. "Hey! Look who made it!"

"A bit late, I think." Luke said as he slid into the booth next to Ika. 

"Nah. I's cool. We'll just get a new bottle." He flagged down a serving droid. "Another round for me and my buddies. And make the late arrivals a double -to make up for lost time."

"Belay that." He said to the droid. Luke just shook his head. He was in no mood to get drunk tonight. The fact that he was to report for transport and deployment absurdly in the morning or risk missing the boat aside, he just had a feeling it was in his best interest not to get completely sloshed. "We'll have a round of caff instead. And make their's a double." 

Vard scoff. "Ya know, Lars, for a guy who never had a daddy growing up, you act an awful lot like my father." With no small amount of effort, he pushed himself to his feet and jerkily maneuvered out of the booth. "Forget this. I'm going to finish cleaning out my bunk."

Staggering mildly, he made his way to the door, where he flagged down a transport. Well, at least he would be safe taxieing back to base.

Luke turned to look at Ika. He should probably call a transport for him too. 

Standing, Luke crossed to the public holo-net, passing a very pretty red-head on his way and he lamented the fact that he had to take care of his drunkard friend. She probably wouldn't want to stay and chat with someone who associated with rowdy or irresponsible soldiers like them. Suppressing a sigh, he dialed the public transport company's number that had been very boldly posted over the terminal's key-pad and ordered a taxi to take Ika (and probably him too) back to base. 

It didn't take long for the transport to arrive and when it did, Luke helped the driver carry his passed-out friend into the back seat. But Luke didn't feel much like going along. He had come to this tapcaff expecting a party -it was the eve of his graduation, after all- he felt he was entitled to at least some form of celebration. Luke payed the transport driver and went back into the tapcaff.

It was only after he sat back down at their table that the serving droid appeared with their three cups of caff. 

Luke's face fell into the palm of his hand.

The pretty red-head by the holo-net terminal gave an amused laugh. 

Luke looked back at her and their eyes met over the empty tapcaff. Her eyes were brilliant, and deep, and very very green. The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he felt a wonderful and glittering feeling of exhilaration at the fact that a pretty girl was looking at him with a smile. That glittering feeling was quickly scrubbed away, however, when Luke remembered that he had no idea how to talk to girls. 

Back home, he'd hung out with Fixer's girlfriend. But that was always in a group setting and besides, she was already in a relationship with someone. There were a few female cadets at the Academy. But you didn't talk to them like girls unless you wanted to get punched in the dick. Luke really didn't wanna get punched in the dick by the pretty red-head.

Perhaps he hesitated a little to long after their eyes met because the red-head picked up her own drink and crossed the room to sit at his booth. "You gonna drink all those, Cadet?"

Oh, crap. The pretty girl was talking to him. What should he say? Should he make a joke? Or play it strait? Did girls like funny men, or strait forward men? Well, whatever he said, he better say something soon. Luke suddenly realized that his silence was stretching on into awkward territory. "Uh, uh… I, uh… Its 'Pilot'."

"What?" She blinked at him with those deep, sparkling, emerald green eyes. 

"I'm not a Cadet anymore." I explained quickly, his ears coloring self-consciously. "I graduated today. Now I'm a Pilot."

"Oh. I see. A pilot." She gave one of those smiles people give when they're humoring a small child and Luke suddenly felt like he had already messed up with this girl. The flushing of his ears spread to his cheeks. She must have noticed the blush (then again, how could she not?), because she took pity on him. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

Luke blinked. "Uh, not good at what?"

"Flirting." She said as if this should have been obvious. "Chatting up women. Attempting to entice them to leave with you. Shore leave doesn't last forever and you can't afford to waste time. I assume you're shipping out tomorrow?"

"Y-yes." He nodded. 

"So you've got, what, maybe seven hours before you have to report to your transport."

"Well, yes, actually." Luke had to pause. She knew an awful lot about military logistics. But then again, this was an Academy town. The locals must be used to young soldier-boys coming and going and trying to pick up their young women in between. 

"Well, Pilot, I've got even less time than that." She informed him, running a finger over the rim of one of the untouched caff mugs. "Ya see, I just came here for a quick job and now that the jobs done, I've only got a couple hours before I have to be lifting off and flying out."

"Oh, do you work for a shipping company?" Luke asked. Work was a polite subject to discuss, right?

She just shook her head, her red hair cascading round her shoulders in elegant waves. "No, no, you're getting this all wrong." She said. "Listen, Pilot, I have to ship out soon, you have to ship out soon. You're cute. I'm hot. And we're both lonely. You can't take me back to your barracks, and I won't take you to my ship. So, I was thinking of maybe one of those pay-by-the-hour places down the street from the port. We share a couple hours together, then go our separate ways. I don't tell you my name, you don't tell me your pilot designation."

Luke just blinked at her. It… it sounded like she was trying to proposition him. The blush on his face colored to almost scarlet. Oh, the things Aunt Beru would have to say if she heard this. "I… I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I don't do that sort of thing. I, uh, I wasn't brought up that way. But… if you like, I'll treat you to dinner."

With a sigh, the woman leaned back in her seat. "I don't suppose I've got the time to hunt down a better deal. Alright, Pilot, a chase little dinner date it'll be."

Finally feeling balanced for the first time since she sat down, Luke flagged down the serving droid. "Two menus, please."

She learned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "Well, Pilot, you're the first man to ever refuse my offer. So, either you're a perfect gentleman -which thought were just creatures of pure myth- or else I'm not your type of company." 

"Oh, I know I'm not a perfect gentleman." Luke assured her. He was idealistic and given over to fantasies and delusions of grandeur. Definitely not perfect. "But my aunt did raise me to be respectful."

"Good aunt." She took a sip of one of the abandoned cups of caff. 

"So…" Luke began awkwardly. "If you don't tell me your name, and I'm not allowed to tell you my pilot designation… what are we gonna talk about?"

"Good question." She nodded, tapping her bottom lip in thought. "What made you decide to become a pilot?"

"I was a little short for a Stormtrooper." He joked. "But actually, I always wanted to be a pilot. My father was a navigator on a spice freighter and a navigator is basically a co-pilot."

...

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE!

That was Mara Jade sitting with him at the tap caff, BTW. Luke wasn’t gonna see her again until after the destruction of the Death Star. 

Vader was gonna “sense a ripple in the Force” once Luke arrived on the Deathstar for his tour of duty. But he wasn’t actually going to take note of Luke specifically until Obi-Wan, Han, and... BIGGS DARKLIGHTER break onto the Deathstar to rescue Leia. 

In this AU, Biggs lives. He’s the one who makes the shot that destroys the Deathstar.

Luke and Vader are the only survivors. 

After their fighters (Vader’s TIE Advanced, and Luke’s shitty regular live-1 TIE fighter) are picked up by another Imperial ship, Vader confronts Luke face-to-mask.

Luke’s all like “I wanted to be a pilot because of my father.”

To which Vader replies “Owen Lars has never been, nor will he ever be, a pilot.” (Remember: Luke enlisted under the name “Lars”.)

Luke should be confused by Vader knowing so much about his uncle, but Luke’s also kinda dumb. So he just assumed Vader read his personnel file. He get’s all self-conscious and confesses to enlisting under a different name. Owen Lars is actually his uncle, not his father. His father’s name was Skywalker. 

Vader doesn’t visibly react, but behind his mask he’s just like, “OH SHIT!”

And that’s where the “A New Hope” volume of this AU was gonna end. 

[s-trawberryv-eins]

Daisy

NOT MY GIF

Daisy

Summary: Daisies on the beach, daisies in his bed. She didn’t really have much business whisking him away like that. But thank the gods she did.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, swearing, shitty writing, everything tbh. Gonna fuck ur feels up boo. Please don’t read if you’re under 18. I don’t want to deal with the consequences. 

Bucky x fem!reader

A/N: This is my entry for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​s writing challenge! My prompt was Mariners Apartment Complex by Lana Del Rey.

Word count: 3725

Reader Insert Masterlist

-

And who I’ve been is with you on these beaches

Your Venice bitch, your die-hard, your weakness

Maybe I could save you from your sins

Sandridge beach seemed like the perfect place to go. She needed the beach, said he did too. He never argued. Part of him thought this trip, holiday, whatever it was, was more for her than for him. It didn’t matter. He watched her a lot. He’d never noticed her before, not really. Not in any way other than the fact that she always smelled like daisies. Not in any way that didn’t require a gun or the room she came from.

Sitting out in the salty air, on something she’d called a Sarong, he swore he could count the amount of words they’d exchanged on two hands.

“Don’t know you very well. Not really. Who are you?”

“Who do you want me to be?”

Silence.

“Here on these beaches, I’m whoever you need me to be.”

-

“We’re kinda similar, don’t you think?” Smiles were sweet and sickly and she’d look at it forever if she could.

“If you think that’s the case, you’re worse off than I thought, Sarge.”

-

“I’m taking him someplace far. It’ll be good for him.”

“How would you know what’s good for him?”

“You’re not the only person he talks to, Stevie.”

So they left. She hadn’t looked back much since.

-

“Stop calling, Stevie. I mean it.” Pointy pink acrylics toss the phone on the bed where it lay abandoned, unwanted and imposing. A hindrance to healing, she’d called it.

“Darling, we’re going to the market.”

“The crowds, I don’t know.”

“You lose your way, just take my hand.”

“You smell like daisies.”

Daisies wherever she went.

-

I’m the board, the lightening, the thunder

Kind of girl who’s gonna make you wonder

Who you are and who you’ve been

“It’s important.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Shut up. Yes, it is.”

“Fine. I’ll humour you. Why is it important?”

“Because it is, Barnes. I see the way you look at yourself. List three things you like about yourself by the end of the day and tomorrow I’ll take you out for ice cream.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Stop acting like it then.”

A promise. To him, to Steve, to herself. But that’s not why she did it. She made the promise because he deserved it. She kept the promise because he deserved it. And maybe she did, too. Because if she could do right by just one person on this god forsaken planet, maybe she’d sleep better at night. But the fear that that notion reduced her actions to nothing more than a way to clear her own name kept her up anyway.

“I can’t do three.”

“One, then. Tell me one thing you like about yourself right now.”

He sucked in a breath and she saw any trace of comfort evaporate from his body. Torment gripped him silently, an image of every horrible thing he’d ever done flashing in his brain. A minute had passed and doubt pushed its way through her mind, trying to find somewhere comfortable to settle and tell her she’s making the man’s life worse.

“The colour of my eyes. I like the colour of my eyes.”

He rolled his eyes at the victory smile that appeared on her face.

“So do I.”

-

She wandered often. He followed, never straying from her side. After several weeks, he’d come to realise that she wandered and then she wandered. It dawned on him one sunny morning that she needed help too. She’d told him that he’d taken her sadness out of context, but he never understood her meaning. He followed anyway, knowing that she’d come back to him later on, when she was ready.

But this time, it was almost dark before she did. The sand beneath her feet grew cold and her heart threatened to stop beating as her breathing grew frantic. Her hair whipped around her face in the wind and despite how hard she wracked her brain she could not for the life in her remember where she’d left the bag with the fresh fruit in for tomorrows breakfast.

“Bucky?”

“Right here.”

And he was. Bag in hand, there he was.

“It’s okay. Don’t ever have to look too far. Right where you are, that’s where I am.”

And for the first time, he led, and she followed.

-

Catch a wave and take in the sweetness

You want this, you need this

Are you ready for it?

“Have you spoken to him today?”

“Yes. Have you?”

“Yes.”

Short and awkward and tight-lipped. Sunglasses pushed up into her sea salt laced hair, lips damp with iced tea and chap stick.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was an idiot-“

“You’re right, you are an idiot.”

“I’m tryna apologise here.”

“Sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m still adapting and you’re very persistent and you caught me at a bad time.”

“Okay.”

She knew he was waiting for more, but her head was a mess. Half the time she thought this whole thing was a mistake and that none of this was even remotely her business and nobody wanted her or her input.

“It’s hard for me too, you know. I sorta went into this blind, in case you hadn’t realised. I know I’m pushy and I mess up. I’m sorry, too.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke but he raced to stop them. Holding her face in his hands, he took her in. Sunkissed cheeks, the freckles that the sun had brought out dancing across her nose, shining eyes and he just wanted to take the whole morning and throw it somewhere far where she’d never think of it and it couldn’t hurt her. Thumbs brushed the wet marks away and she tilted her head up and oh-

Her kiss tore his heart apart in the sweetest way, and if this was all he’d ever feel he’d happily surrender himself to it. It occurred to him that her lips were far more important than oxygen and he let his lungs burn, not caring for a moment that the pain was increasing with every second of pleasure. Soft and sweet and the taste of peaches and salt and when she pulled away, he felt colder than he ever had.

“Swim with me?”

-

You’re lost at sea

Then I’ll command your boat to me again

Twice he’d tried to leave.

The first time; a few weeks in.

Fear. The thunder came as he slammed the door, the lightening as his bike peeled away in the darkness. The rain came when he returned, angry and guilty and full to the brim with apologies, sodden and dripping. Thunder again at the door, lightening as they fucked each other rough on the carpet, not making it all the way up the stairs.

The second time; an angel had died, and God mourned violently.

“You want to control everything! You’re a control freak!”

“I am trying to help you for crying out LOUD!”

“I don’t want your help! I NEVER asked for it! YOU brought me here. YOU decided you could fix me!”

“YOU’RE NOT BROK-“

“SHUT. UP. YOU DID THIS. I’M DONE.”

As God wept, so did she.

-

He’d returned under the cover of the night, creeping in through his bedroom window despite knowing she’d known of his every move since he left her. She hadn’t tried to hide it. She’d ask him why he came home eventually, but he didn’t know when.

He didn’t know why he came home.

Home?

Is that what this is?

More daisies.

The smell haunted him, only strengthening as he buried his head into his pillow.

Daisies in his pillow.

A girl in his bed.

She’d been in his bed?

Of course she’d been in his bed.

Where else would she go?

“You lose your way, just take my hand.”

Why’d he leave again?

-

It took her two days to speak to him again.

“Spoke to Steve. If you’re serious about leaving, he can come to pick your stuff up tomorrow.” He bled and he bled. He bled until he found the strength to take a stand.

“Tell him to piss off.”

She appreciated the sentiment but conveyed the message to Steve slightly differently.

-

Even in the dark I feel your resistance

You can see my heart burning in the distance

Restless nights or horror filled sleep; the former was preferable, but God were they long. Trained feet took him away, landing outside her door. Then again to her bedside. The bed dipped with the extra weight, but she knew he was there long before he climbed in beside her.

Fingers finding each other in the dark, tracing and just barely touching. The gap closed and his chest was against her back and before he could think his lips were on her neck and the sigh that fell from her lips tore his heart in two. She was good at that.

Her body moved from his and ice bloomed in his chest as the distance grew. As his walls crept back up, she caught his face in her hands, setting his gaze on her before peeling her clothes off. Watching as she peeled off her clothes, he dared not move an inch.

How could when all he could smell was daisies and slick and heat? Drunk off nothing at all, it burned in his blood and threatened to have him on his knees for the rest of time. Even in the dark his adapted eyes could see the chill on her skin from the sudden exposure, the way she made no attempt to hide herself from his view.

Undressing her, undressing him, lips ghosting over his skin, brushing every muscle and scar as he softened and hardened underneath her in equal measure. She took him in her hand and he cursed before pulling her in, his nose buried in her neck and daisies and as he moved to set himself on her lips she sank down, slow and damp, surrounding him and filling herself entirely. The noise that released itself from his throat would forever ring in her ears and she fought for control over her own body.

His hands lay at his side and god they itched to be everywhere else but he wasn’t entirely sure what was allowed and what wasn’t. Of course, she read his mind and worked to banish his resistance as she worked him so sweet that he knew nobody that came before came close.

They’d fucked before, just once. Messy and rough and quick. This was different in every way.

Soft hands on softer skin, hips feather light as she lifted up only to sink back down again earning a string of whispered curses from the soldiers lips. Whimpers and moans and everything hushed and finally, finally he found the courage to move his hands slowly up her thighs, fingers barely touching her skin until she moved at just the right angle and suddenly the grip on her waist was almost bruising as his back arched up and he sounded so perfectly sinful.

Pushing impossibly deeper inside his eyes screwed shut, and he knew it was an action he’d forever regret as he missed the look of pure sin on her face as she hit her high, too busy experiencing his own to watch. He’d cling to the sounds she made in the meantime.

Climbing away with a soft gasp, slick and mess trickling down her thighs, she headed towards the door and his heart began to slip. The sudden thunder of water against tile was too loud in his head and panic rose from the remnants of their shared moment when –

“You coming?”

He’d never been up and in the shower so quickly in his life.

-

They mistook my kindness for weakness

I fucked up, I know that, but Jesus

Can’t a girl just do the best she can?

“When are you coming home? Can we come and visit? It’s been three months.”

“Fine. I’ll see what he’d prefer, he’s kinda…protective over this place. We miss you Stevie, I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“Love you, kid. Both of you.”

-

They’d arrived at noon. Sam, Steve and Natasha. Steve insisted on making lunch; nobody protested. Three months apart made no difference. Old habits quickly resurfaced and she knew Bucky felt at home like this. It showed in the soft crinkles around his blue, blue eyes.

The early afternoon was spent catching up, five bodies huddled in around each other, the girls eager to be close after so long apart. Stories of the others were told fondly, and an entirely foreign homesickness settled in.

“Bucky, can we go to the beach?”

Soft eyes met bright ones, and he knew he couldn’t say no.

Not that he’d ever really wanted to.  

The girl beamed down at him, daisies on her skin and the sun in her smile.

He knew he’d taken too long to answer when he saw Sam smirk out of the corner of his eye.

-

The girls lay on the sand, towels spread out underneath warm skin, as the boys had abandoned them to wander to town. As they winded through the markets, enjoying the late afternoon sun, curiosity seemed to get the best of Sam, despite the warning he’d received from Steve before they arrived.

“So how are things? With you and her?”

“Things are good. It can be a little difficult sometimes, it just being the two of us, but we get through it.”

“Are we really gonna do this man?”

“Drop it.”

“She’s telling Nat as we speak, ya know?”

He’d never win. Truthfully, he wasn’t interested in winning this one. He hadn’t been fighting very hard to begin with.

“It’s good, Sam. It’s all so good.”

“All of it?”

“I’m done. I don’t know how else to say it but she’s it for me, man.”

There was a moment of silence and a look exchanged between Sam and Steve. It didn’t come as a surprise, not really.

He’d tell them one day.

He’d start from the beginning and he’d tell them everything she was.

But not yet.

-

“Since when does Bucky cook?”

“Turns out we were letting him get away with far too much back at the compound. He’s fairly talented.”

Natasha smiled brightly, happy to be beside her friend once more.

“He’s different. Lighter.”

“It took a while. We didn’t talk much at first. But he let me help him. He helps me too, more than he knows I think.”

She didn’t need to say much for Natasha to understand. Reading between the lines and requiring little to no explanation of what she could see. One question rang through her head, however.

“And when you come home? What then?”

A harsh inhale and a furrowed brow and a flash of denial and the girl admitted that she truly and honestly did not know. And her heart was breaking.

-

The frown on her face as she watched her friends drive off triggered a wave of guilt to pour through him like a flash flood. She’d left her home for him; her friends, her family. For him.

“Natasha was asking questions.”

Hm?

“A lot of them.”

Oh. They were talking?

“I couldn’t answer most of them.”

Why wouldn’t she meet his eyes?

“What uh…what kinda stuff?”

“One sorta stuck out. What happens when we go home?”

He didn’t have an answer. He stayed quiet. A mistake, he’d learn.

“I’m going for a walk. Don’t wait up.”

-

An hour had passed and despite the nausea gripping her stomach, she headed back to the house. The sand between her toes was cooler now the sun was gone, and although it wasn’t cold she couldn’t help the chill that she felt in apprehension of seeing him.

Or maybe she wouldn’t see him.

With every passing minute it became harder to decide which she’d prefer.

Maybe he listened when she said not to wait up.

“It’s been almost two hours.”

Relief and dread filled her bones in equal measure when his voice reached her ears.

“I figured you’d be half an hour. You didn’t even take your phone!”

“I’m sorry, Bucky. Needed to clear my head a bit.”

“Did it work?”

A pause.

“No.”

Another pause.

A stretch of silence.

The loudest she’d ever lived through.

“This is it, then?”

So vague. Why did he have to be so vague? There were a thousand possible ‘it’s and her heart begged to know how the next 5 minutes would play out before they did. The pain in her throat rapidly became unbearable and the girl cursed the Gods for having her fall so irrevocobly for the man she promised nothing but help to.

How cruel of her, to offer herself as a guide and a shoulder and a light and then to do something as selfish as love him.

Because she did.

She loved him.

She loved him and-

“I love you.”

And he loved her.

A sob tore from her throat and he was by her side a second later and taking the weight of her body when she couldn’t anymore. Tears fell without pause and her cries rang out and pierced his heart like a sharpened blade.

Hands crept around her body and lifted her from the ground before heading inside the house.

Their home.

Is this home?

Wrapping her hands around his neck, she buried herself within him, desperate to feel the words he uttered so candidly outside. As the door fell shut behind them, she wriggled free from his hold and landed clumsily on her feet. A cloud of uncertainty gathered above them and as she screwed her eyes shut she fought to banish it.

“Say it again, Bucky.”

There was no hesitation; only a peace in his voice that felt foreign.

“I love you.”

“Take me upstairs, Bucky.”

-

Catch a wave and take in the sweetness

You want this, you need this

Are you ready for it?

It was his turn now; to give her what she gave him that night in the dark. And again in the shower afterwards. So as he lay her on the bed, on his bed, he knew he wouldn’t rest until she knew how deeply his love for her ran.

Flicking the light on, he thought back to their last time and made sure to correct every mistake; he wanted to see her this time, to see her properly and entirely and witness everything that she was.

Lips latched onto the flesh of her neck, feather-light kisses and soft flicks of his tongue over the bruises he made, the bruises she’d come to adore as much as she did him. Staying quiet was both useless and entirely unwanted, so the girl didn’t bother catch the whimper that fell from her lips as his hands wandered underneath her dress, fingers grazing the skin of her thighs.

They undressed quickly and seemed to move in sync. She lay on the bed all but encased within the man above her and she savoured it, locking the feeling of him so close into her memory. Pausing his assault on her skin, he took her in; pupils blown and lips swollen, breath heavy and shallow and a crease in her brow that deepened as she whimpered underneath his touch.

His eyes never left her, taking in everything she’d give him as he worked her with his fingers. Slick and warm and trickling with the heat that he pulled from her body, it didn’t take long for her to unravel entirely underneath him and he saw everything. The way she bit her lip to quieten her moans and the way she grabbed herself when his fingertips grazed just the right spot and the way her mouth fell open in silent ecstasy as she hit her high.

Leaving her without a minute to recover he sank himself into her, full and hot. She tried and tried to bring him closer, burying her face in his neck as he brought himself into her time and again. Crying out as her teeth bit down on his skin, he snapped and oh harder, please and he obliged happily because she was so far gone and the noises she made were delicious and all for him.

Sweat slicked bodies gripped each other tightly, closer she begged and his body answered for him. Need clouded his vision and he slowed his movements and how she sang for him. Pressing hot kisses to her fevered skin, he felt her approach and eyes on me baby, please as she tightened, body rigid and the wet heat flowing between them and oh, gods.

Gasping for breath, her grip on the man loosened and she relaxed into the plush pillows that surrounded her body. Eyes met again and it burned her with a warmth that had her losing her breath once more and he didn’t waste a second.

It was unforgiving and filthy and bruising and so wet and she tried to hold on, but when she felt his hips stutter against her own she lost the fight. They gave everything their bodies had, emptying within and around the other with no care for the volume of their moans and whimpers.

He collapsed next to her and sleep beckoned her relentlessly, but-

“Baby, we can’t sleep like this.”

“Mm why not Buck?”

“We’re messy. A shower and then we can sleep in the other bed, okay?”

“Suppose so Buck.”

-

A freshly brewed pot of tea sat on the windowsill next to her as she watched the sun climb higher in its efforts west. Hair in a loose braid, decorated prettily with a daisy she’d picked the day prior. Last night’s lovemaking still evident by the soft glow of her skin and he knew he was looking at everything he’d ever needed.

“Bucky?”

She didn’t look at him, instead kept her gaze fixed on the sand and the sun and the water and the clouds.

“Yeah?”

It was nonchalant, the way she said it. Twirling a bunch of dying daisies between her fingers, gaze still fixed on the horizon.

“Can we go home?”

 -

You want this, you need this

Are you ready for it?

[crashingmeteorz]

saw u were taking requests- perhaps a sukka blurb? cute, domestic stuff, if you're up for it!

fun fact, when i got this notification i assumed it was a like on an ask i had reblogged and didn’t realize someone was actually sending ME a prompt until i opened the app. thank you so much for thinking to ask me, it absolutely made my day. i hope this is okay!

-

It’s late, well past midnight, when Sokka’s boat docks at the Kyoshi port. Suki’s pacing the island - she hasn’t been able to sleep the whole night through since before she left to help with the war effort. Not since she was captured by the fire princess.

Suki shudders at the thought. She’s been told that Zuko is trying to help Azula, rehabilitate her. She’s happy for him, that he might get a piece of his family back. But Suki doesn’t have any interest in seeing Azula again for a while. Forgiving Zuko was easy - Zuko, who fought fair and left when his target did. It was harder to forgive Azula after their more...personal interaction.

“Look at you, the leader of the Earth Kingdom’s most famous warriors,” the younger girl had said all those years ago, in her deathly calm voice. “And you’re stuck in a cage.”

“The Earth Kingdom won’t fall to you,” Suki had hissed back. Azula smiled.

“Maybe,” the princess had agreed. “But either way, you’ve left them vulnerable. I can’t help but wonder - if you hadn’t failed, if you’d captured me instead, maybe this war would be over?”

Suki was silenced. She knew this was just a ploy to get in her head, but the guilt was overwhelming.

“Oh, well,” Azula had said with a cruel smile, “guess we’ll never know.”

“Okay, something’s wrong,” says a familiar voice that brings Suki back to the present, its owner emerging from the island’s shadows. “I’ve never been able to get the jump on you before.”

“Sokka!” she exclaims, running to him and leaping into his arms.

“Hi,” he says softly, resting his head on top of hers, hugging her tightly. Every reunion with him feels like a miracle, like they’ve beaten impossible odds just to be together.

To be fair, they have.

They go back to her house and have tea, talking all the while. Sokka produces four portraits he made of her, each one slightly better than the last.

“You’re getting really good at these,” Suki tells him, smiling at a half-decent sketch of her in her warrior uniform.

“Really?” he asks shyly, rubbing the back of his neck while she looks through the papers. “Toph said the same thing. Then I realized it was Toph, so...”

Suki laughs, picking up the drawings and placing them next to the others he’s made over the years, between the slats of her wall. She waits a moment before rejoining him at the table, looking proudly over her personal art gallery.

“Zuko only gets one portrait,” Suki says to him smugly. “I get dozens.”

They discuss what they’ve been up to - Sokka spent the last couple of months at the Northern Air Temple with Toph. Together with Teo they’ve been working on a language system for the blind.

“They’re thinking of starting a school. Isn’t that great?” Sokka says excitedly. Suki nods, genuinely happy for them. It’s a relief to know how many people respect Sokka for his ingenuity - Suki’s known it from the first few days they met, but he tends to forget. He deserves this recognition, this joy.

“What have you been doing?” he asks her, reaching across the table to hold her hand. She turns her hand so that their fingers are interlocking, and she tells him the truth: not much. Things finally calmed down enough in the Fire Nation capital that the Kyoshi Warriors finally felt comfortable going back home. And now that they’re here - well, they’re certainly back home.

“It’s nice to have a break, but...” Suki feels her eyes begin to brim with tears, and she swallows, hard, refusing to cry over something so selfish.

“Suki,” he says gently, reaching out his other hand and covering hers. “You can talk to me.”

She heaves a big sigh and it comes out stuttering with the effort of trying not to cry.

“Did I abandon the Earth Kingdom?” she whispers, the candlelight fading so that their faces are little more than shadows. “Zuko’s my friend, and I’d gladly help him again but...I came back and everything’s changed without me. I was supposed to protect them, and I left.”

She begins to cry openly, and Sokka stands, rounding the table to hold her. He lets her sob, and it goes on for so long Suki begins to wonder if there’s something wrong with her.

“I’m sorry,” she says wetly once she’s cried her fill. “I haven’t - I haven’t even thought about this until just now and, and it’s just so nice to have you here-“

“Suki, you don’t have to apologize,” he tells her in that same, calm voice that always fills her with ease. “To me, or to the Earth Kingdom.”

She blinks at him, wiping her eyes.

“You can’t be everywhere at once - you protected the Firelord and prevented another war from breaking out. You advocated for the Earth Kingdom and its needs. That’s more than anyone else I know. Well. Besides Aang and Katara. But they don’t count, they’re the Avatar and a wannabe revolutionary.”

“Sokka, Katara is a revolutionary,” Suki says laughing a little.

“Yeah, well, she’s also my bullheaded baby sister, so, to me she’s a wannabe,” he says flippantly, not even able to mask his pride behind the gruffness.

“You wouldn’t know anything about being bullheaded,” Suki teases. He grins sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she whispers, kissing his cheek. “I don’t...talk about these things much.”

“Me neither,” he whispers back, blushing and reaching up to touch where her lips had brushed his skin. “Maybe we should work on that?”

Suki agrees - her chest feels lighter than it has in weeks. Talking about these things might be...nice.

-

a couple of things: 1. i absolutely believe azula deserves redemption and love. i also believe forgiving her is probably hard for people like suki and the kyoshi warriors, and mai and ty lee. azula specifically mentions speaking with suki during the day of the black sun, and since she knows suki and sokka were together, we can assume it’s true. knowing azula, it probably wasn’t the most pleasant conversation. 2. the great thing about suki and sokka’s relationship is how they can lean on each other, both during battle and emotionally. this was meant to explore the latter - i’d eventually like to write about suki and sokka talking about kya, as well. 3. once again, thank you so much @beepboopbitch for the ask. i really hope you enjoyed it!